Bert Lloyd's Boyhood: A Story from Nova Scotia Page 15

  CHAPTER XIV.

  AN HONOURABLE SCAR.

  Bert was not learning very much at Mr. Garrison's school. He had someglimmering of this himself, for he said to Frank one day, after they hadreturned to their seats from having gone through the form--for really itwas nothing more--of saying one of their lessons:

  "It's mighty easy work getting through lessons at this school, isn't it,Shorty?" And Shorty, being of the same opinion, as he had happened notto be asked any questions, and, therefore, had not made any mistakes,promptly assented.

  "That's so, Bert," said he, "and the oftener he asks Munro and you tosay the whole lesson, and just gives me the go-by, the better I likeit."

  But Bert was not the only one who noticed that his education was notmaking due progress. His father observed it too, and, after somethinking on the subject, made up his mind that he would allow Bert tofinish the spring term at Mr. Garrison's, and then, after the summerholidays, send him to some other school.

  The winter passed away and spring drew near. Spring is the most dilatoryand provoking of all the seasons at Halifax. It advances and retreats,pauses and progresses, promises and fails to perform, until it reallyseems, sometimes, as though mid-summer would be at hand and no spring atall. With the boys it is a particularly trying time of the year. Thedaily increasing heat of the sun has played havoc with the snow and ice,and winter sports are out of the question. Yet the snow and ice--orrather the slush they make--still lingers on, and renders any kind ofsummer sport impossible. For nearly a month this unsatisfactory state ofaffairs continues, and then, at length, the wet dries up, the frostcomes out of the ground, the chill leaves the air, and marbles,rounders, baseball, and, later on, cricket make glad the hearts and tirethe legs of the eager boys.

  This spring was made memorable for Bert by an occurrence that left itsmark upon him, lest, perhaps, he might be in danger of forgetting it. Infront of the large building, in one room of which Mr. Garrison's schoolwas held, there was a large open square, known as the Parade. It was abare, stony place kept in order by nobody, and a great resort for theroughs of the city, who could there do pretty much what they pleasedwithout fear of interruption from the police. On the upper side of thissquare, and over toward the opposite end from Mr. Garrison's, wasanother school, called the National, and having a large number ofscholars, of a somewhat commoner class than those which attended Mr.Garrison's. It need hardly be said that the relations between the twoschools were, to use a diplomatic phrase, "chronically strained." Theywere always at loggerheads. A Garrison boy could hardly encounter aNational boy without giving or getting a cuff, a matter determined byhis size, and riots, on a more or less extensive scale, were continuallytaking place when groups of boys representing the two schools wouldhappen to meet.

  Bert was neither quarrelsome nor pugnacious by nature. He disliked verymuch being on bad terms with anyone, and could not understand why heshould regard another boy as his natural enemy simply because hehappened to go to a different school. More than once he had quite anargument with Frank Bowser about it. Frank was always full of fight. Hehated every National boy as vigorously as though each one hadindividually done him some cruel injury. As sure as a collision tookplace, and Frank was present, he was in the thick of it at once, dealingblows right and left with all his might.

  In obedience to the dictation of his own nature, strengthened by hisfather's advice, Bert kept out of these squabbles so far as he possiblycould, and as a natural consequence fell under suspicion of being acoward. Even Frank began to wonder if he were not afraid, and if it werenot this which kept him back from active participation in the rows. Hesaid something about it to Bert one day, and it hurt Bert very much.

  "I'm not afraid, Shorty; you know well enough I'm not," said he,indignantly. "But I'm not going to fight with fellows who never did meany harm. It's wrong, that's what it is, and I'm not going to do it. Idon't care what you say."

  "But you ought to chip in sometimes, Bert, or the boys will think thatyou're a coward," urged Frank.

  "I can't help it if they do, Shorty," was Bert's unshaken reply. "Idon't feel like it myself, and, what's more, father doesn't want me to."

  The very next day there was a row of unusual dimensions, brought aboutby one of the Garrison boys at the noon recess having started a fightwith one of the National boys, which almost in a twinkling of an eyeinvolved all the boys belonging to both schools then in the Parade. Itwas a lively scene, that would have gladdened the heart of an Irishmanhomesick for the excitement of Donnybrook Fair. There were at least onehundred boys engaged, the sides being pretty evenly matched, and thebattle ground was the centre of the Parade. To drive the other school inignominious flight from this spot was the object of each boyishregiment, and locked in hostile embrace, like the players in a footballmatch when a "maul" has been formed, they swayed to and fro, now oneside gaining, now the other, while shouts of "Go in, Nationals!" "Giveit to them, Garrisons!" mingling with exclamations of anger or pain,filled the air.

  Bert was not present when the struggle began. In fact, it was well underway before he knew anything about it, as he had lingered in theschoolroom to ask Mr. Garrison some question after the other boys hadrun out. On going out upon the Parade, he was at first startled by theuproar, and then filled with an intense desire to be in the midst of thebattle. But, remembering his father's injunctions, he paused for amoment irresolute. Then he noticed that the National boys were gainingthe advantage, and the Garrison boys retreating before them. The nextinstant he caught sight of Frank Bowser, who had, of course, been in theforefront of the fight, left unsupported by his comrades, and surroundedby a circle of threatening opponents. Bert hesitated no longer. With ashout of "Come on, boys!" he sprang down the steps, rushed across theintervening space, and flung himself into the group around Frank withsuch force that two of the Nationals were hurled to the ground, andFrank set at liberty. Inspirited by Bert's gallant onset, the Garrisonsreturned to the charge, the Nationals gave way before them, and Bert wasjust about to raise the shout of victory when a big hulk of a boy whohad been hovering on the outskirts of the Nationals, too cowardly tocome to any closer quarter, picked up a stone and threw it with wickedforce straight at Bert's face. His aim was only too good. With a sharpthud, the stone struck Bert on his left temple, just behind the eye, andthe poor boy fell to the ground insensible.

  Instantly the struggle and confusion ceased, but not before Frank, in apassion of fury, had dealt Bert's cowardly assailant a blow that senthim reeling to the ground, and had then sprung to his friend's side.

  "Get a doctor, some fellow," he shouted, holding up the pale, calm face,down which the blood was trickling from an ugly wound. "Let's carry himinto the school!"

  A dozen eager volunteers came forward. Carefully and tenderly Bert waslifted up, and carried into the schoolroom, which, fortunately, Mr.Garrison had not yet left. Placed upon one of the benches, with Frank'scoat for a pillow, his head was bathed with cold water, and presently herevived, much to the relief and delight of the anxious boys standinground. A few minutes later the doctor arrived. With quick, deft fingershe stanched the wound, covered it with plaster, enveloped it withbandages, and then gave directions that Bert should be sent home in acab without delay.

  "Why, Bert darling, what does this mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Lloyd, as sheopened the door for him.

  "Ask Frank, mother; my head's aching too bad to tell you," repliedBert, putting up his hand with a gesture of pain. And so, while Bert layon the sofa, with his mother close beside him, and Mary preparing him arefreshing drink, Frank told the story in his own, rough,straightforward fashion, making it all so clear, with the help of a wordnow and then from Bert, that when he ended, Mrs. Lloyd, bending over herson, kissed him tenderly on the forehead, saying:

  "You know, Bert, how I dislike fighting, but I cannot find it in myheart to blame you this time. You acted like a hero."

  In this opinion Mr. Lloyd, when he came home, fully concurred. He hadnot a word of blame for Bert, but made the b
oy's heart glad by tellinghim to always stand by his friends when they were in trouble, and thenhe would never be without friends who would stand by him.

  Bert's wound took some time to heal, and when it did heal, a scarremained that kept its place for many years after. But he did not sufferfor nought. The incident was productive of good in two directions. Itestablished Bert's character for courage beyond all cavil, and it put anend to the unseemly rows between the schools. The two masters held aconsultation, as a result of which they announced to their schools thatany boys found taking part in such disturbances in future would be firstpublicly whipped, and then expelled; and this threat put an effectualstop to the practice.

  The days and weeks slipped by, and the summer vacation, so eagerlylooked forward to by all schoolboys, arrived. None were more delightedat its arrival than Bert and Frank. Their friendship had grown steadilystronger from the day of their first acquaintance. They had fewdisagreements. Frank, although the older and larger of the two, let Berttake the lead in almost all cases, for Bert had the more active mind,and his plans were generally the better. Happily for the serenity oftheir relations, Bert, while he was fond enough of being the leader,never undertook to "boss" his companions. If they did not readily fallinto line with him, why he simply fell into line with them, and that wasan end of it. His idea of fun did not consist in being an autocrat, andordering others about. He very much preferred that all should worktogether for whatever common purpose happened to be in their minds atthe time; and thus it was, that of the boys who played together in theold fort, and waded in the shallow water that rippled along the sandbeach at its foot, no one was more popular than Bert Lloyd.

  They had fine fun during this summer vacation. Neither Frank nor Bertwent out of the city, and they played together every day, generally inthe fort; but sometimes Bert would go with Frank to the HorticulturalGardens, where a number of swings made a great attraction for the youngfolk, or down to the point where they would ramble through the woods,imagining themselves brave hunters in search of bears, and carrying bowsand arrows to help out the illusion.

  The greatest enjoyment of all, however, was to go out upon the water. Ofcourse, they were not allowed to do this by themselves. They were tooyoung for that yet, but very often Mr. Lloyd would leave his officeearly in the afternoon in order to take them out in the pretty skiff hekept at the fort, or the whole family would spend the long summerevenings together on the water.

  Bert was at his happiest then. Under his father's directions he wasvigorously learning to row, and it was very stimulating to have hismother and sister as spectators. They took such a lively interest in hisprogress, that he did not mind if they did laugh heartily, but of coursenot unkindly, when sometimes in his eagerness to take an extra bigstroke he would "catch a crab," and roll over on his back in the bottomof the boat, with his feet stuck up like two signals of distress. Bertaccomplished this a good many times, but it did not discourage him. Hewas up and at it again immediately.

  "Don't look at your oar, boys! Don't look at your oar! Keep your facestoward the stern," Mr. Lloyd would call out as Bert and Frank tuggedaway manfully, and they, who had been watching their oars to make surethat they went into the water just right, would answer "Ay, ay, sir!"in true sailor fashion; and then for the next few moments they wouldkeep their eyes fixed straight astern, only to bring them back againsoon to those dripping blades that had such a saucy way of gettingcrooked unless they were well watched.

  A more delightful place than Halifax harbour of a fine summer eveningcould hardly be desired. The wind, which had been busy making "whitecaps" all the afternoon, went to rest at sundown. The ruffled waterssank into a glassy calm, the broad harbour becoming one vast mirror inwhich the rich hues of the sunset, the long dark lines of the wharves,and the tall masts of the ships sleeping at their moorings werereflected with many a quaint curve and curious involution. Boats ofevery kind, the broad-bottomed dory, the sharp-bowed flat, the trimkeel-boat, the long low whaler, with their jolly companies, dotted theplacid surface, while here and there a noisy steam launch saucily puffedits way along, the incessant throb of its engine giving warning of itsapproach. Far up the harbour at their moorings off the dockyard, thehuge men-of-war formed centres around which the boats gathered innumerous squads, for every evening the band would play on board thesefloating castles, and the music never seemed more sweet than when itfloated out over the still waters. Sometimes, too, after the band hadceased, the sailors would gather on the forecastle and sing their songs,as only sailors can sing, winning round after round of applause fromtheir appreciative audience in the boats.

  All of this was very delightful to Bert. So, too, was the paddling abouton the beach that fringed the bottom of the fort's grassy slope, and themaking of miniature forts out of the warm, dry sand, only to have themdissolve again before the advancing tide. Just as delightful, too, wasthe clambering over the boulders that marked the ruins of an old pier,searching for periwinkles, star-fish, and limpets, with never-ceasingwonder at the tenacity with which they held on to the rocks. Playingthus in the sunshine almost from dawn to dark, Bert grew visibly biggerand browner and sturdier, as the days slipped swiftly by.