The Hero of Garside School

J. Harwood Panting

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• Publié par: abbo
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 41
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Hero of Garside School, by J. Harwood Panting This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Hero of Garside School Author: J. Harwood Panting Release Date: August 22, 2008 [eBook #26392] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERO OF GARSIDE SCHOOL*** E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau, Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) THE HERO OF GARSIDE SCHOOL By J. HARWOOD PANTING Author of "Clive of Clair College," "The Two Runaways," etc. WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS LONDON FREDERICK WARNE & CO., LTD. AND NEW YORK (All rights reserved ) PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN FALCON WAS DEAD.... TO MAKE GOOD HIS ESCAPE, NO TIME MUST BE LOST. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE MOTHER'S PRAYER CHAPTER II. THE MESSAGE CHAPTER III. THE C RY OF THE PSALMIST CHAPTER IV. SHADOWS OF THE EVENING CHAPTER V. THE LITTLE H UNCHBACK CHAPTER VI. H ARRY MONCRIEF ARRIVES AT GARSIDE CHAPTER VII. A BAD C OMMENCEMENT FOR THE TERM CHAPTER VIII. FOR THE SAKE OF A C HUM CHAPTER IX. GOOD ADVICE CHAPTER X. TORN FROM THE BLACK BOOK CHAPTER XI. FOR THE H ONOUR OF THE FORM CHAPTER XII. THE FORUM CHAPTER XIII. A C HALLENGE FROM ST. BEDE'S CHAPTER XIV. THE C HAMPION OF HIS FORM CHAPTER XV. WHAT H APPENED AT THE SAND-PIT CHAPTER XVI. "H E MIGHT HAVE BEEN A LEPER" CHAPTER XVII. THE "GARGOYLE R ECORD" CHAPTER XVIII. PAUL WRITES A LETTER CHAPTER XIX. THE SCHOOL OF ADVERSITY CHAPTER XX. WYNDHAM AGAIN TO THE R ESCUE CHAPTER XXI. THE C HASM WIDENS CHAPTER XXII. H ATCHING A PLOT, AND WHAT CAME OF IT CHAPTER XXIII. THE LAST BOND OF FRIENDSHIP CHAPTER XXIV. THE R AFT ON THE R IVER CHAPTER XXV. ON A VOYAGE OF ADVENTURE CHAPTER XXVI. WHAT H APPENED ON THE R AFT CHAPTER XXVII. THE OLD FLAG CHAPTER XXVIII. H IBBERT ASKS STRANGE QUESTIONS CHAPTER XXIX. AN U NEXPECTED VISITOR ARRIVES AT GARSIDE CHAPTER XXX. H IBBERT FINISHES HIS STORY CHAPTER XXXI. A MYSTERIOUS D ISAPPEARANCE CHAPTER XXXII. H OW THE OLD FLAG WAS TAKEN FROM GARSIDE CHAPTER XXXIII. FRIEND AND FOE CHAPTER XXXIV. THE MYSTIC ORDER OF BEETLES CHAPTER XXXV. A R EMARKABLE D ISCOVERY CHAPTER XXXVI. THE "FOX-HOLE" CHAPTER XXXVII. THE LETTERS AT THE TUCK-SHOP CHAPTER XXXVIII. "FORGIVE, AND YE SHALL BE FORGIVEN" CHAPTER XXXIX. THE MISSING FLAG CHAPTER XL. H OW THE FLAG FOUND ITS WAY BACK TO THE TURRET CHAPTER XLI. FRIENDS IN C OUNCIL CHAPTER XLII. U NEXPECTED TIDINGS CHAPTER XLIII. THE STORM BREAKS CHAPTER XLIV, IN THE GARDEN CHAPTER XLV. H OW THE VOTE WAS C ARRIED CHAPTER XLVI. WATERMAN DOES A STRANGE THING CHAPTER XLVII. IN THE FOX'S H OLE CHAPTER XLVIII. THE BURNING SHIP CHAPTER XLIX CHAPTER L. THE PETITION—WHAT BEFELL IT A SERIES OF EXCELLENT STORIES ILLUSTRATIONS FALCON WAS DEAD.... TO MAKE GOOD HIS ESCAPE, NO TIME MUST BE LOST. "'I AM MR. MONCRIEF,' SAID THAT GENTLEMAN, STEPPING FORWARD." "AS ILL-LUCK WOULD HAVE IT, HIBBERT RAN FULL TILT AGAINST M . WEEVIL, JUST AS HE R REACHED THE OUTER DOOR." "SLIGHTLY RAISING HIMSELF FROM HIS POSITION ON THE ROOF, CRICK LIFTED THE FLAGSTAFF FROM ITS SOCKET , AND DREW IT QUICKLY BENEATH THE TRAP-DOOR." "THE BOY WAS KNEELING BESIDE HIM,—IT WAS MONCRIEF MINOR.... 'ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?' CAME IN A WHISPER FROM THE BOY." THE HERO OF GARSIDE SCHOOL CHAPTER I THE MOTHER'S PRAYER "God grant that it may never happen, Paul; God grant that England may never be invaded, that her foes may never land upon our shores." And the lips of Mrs. Percival moved in silent prayer. Paul regarded the loved face of his mother for a minute or two thoughtfully, as though he were longing to put to her many questions, but dared not. At length he said, breaking the silence: "Did father ever speak of it?" It was one of the greatest griefs of Paul's life that he had never known his father. He had been a captain in the Navy, but was unfortunately cut off in the prime of his career by a brave attempt to save the life of a man who had flung himself overboard. The man was saved, but Captain Percival was drowned, leaving a widow and son to lament his loss. Paul at that time was only a year old, so that it was not till the years went on he understood the greatness of his loss. Often and often his thoughts turned to the father who had been snatched from him by a sudden and untimely death, especially when he saw the boys of his school who were fortunate enough to possess both parents; but often as his thoughts went to his father, he rarely spoke of him to his mother. He could see that the pain and sorrow of his death were still with her—that the awful moment when the news came of that sudden, swift catastrophe had written itself upon her heart and memory in writing which would never be effaced. Paul did not find out all that he had become to his mother till some time after his father's death—not, in fact, till his first term at school had ended. He had never been away from home so long before, and he never forgot how she pressed him to her, and with what tender earnestness she said, "Ah, dear, you do not know how I have missed you." That same night, when she had thought him fast asleep, she entered his room, looked long and earnestly in his face by the light of a candle, and then stole gently out. And that Sunday, when he went to the old church with her, he felt her hand steal into his as the vicar read the Litany; and the pressure of her hand waxed closer as the vicar's voice sounded through the church: "From lightning and tempest; from plague, pestilence, and famine; from battle and murder, and from sudden death." Then rose the fervent response from the congregation, "Good Lord, deliver us." And none prayed it more fervently than the widow as she knelt by the side of her son. It was not only that Mrs. Percival had lost her husband at sea, but she had lost a brother, a promising young lieutenant in the Navy, while on active service in China; and Paul's grandfather had lost his life many years back while fighting under Nelson at Copenhagen. It is little to be wondered at, therefore, that Mrs. Percival rarely spoke about the sea to Paul. She feared its fascination; she was anxious to keep his thoughts from it. He was all that was now left to her, and she had no wish that he should go into the service in which the lives of three near and dear relatives had been sacrificed. "Yes, your father sometimes spoke of it," Mrs. Percival answered. "His father —that is to say, your grandfather—lived in the time when there was such a great scare about wicked Napoleon invading England; but that is long ago, and it was all ended by Nelson's last great victory at Trafalgar. Ah, Paul, these scares and wars are terrible. I sometimes think that it must be monsters ruling the world rather than men. If the prayers of mothers and wives and orphans could only be heard, I am sure that war, and the danger of war, would soon be over. But why are you worrying about an invasion?" "Well, Great Britain has a good many enemies, you know, mother, and people are talking about a possible invasion. Besides, I've got to write something about it next term, and it won't do for the son of a captain to make a mess of it altogether." "Write something?" questioned Mrs. Percival, turning pale. Ah, the terrible fascination of the sea! Was it going to claim her son as it had claimed her husband? "How is that?" "A prize has been offered for the best paper on 'The Invasion of Great Britain.' I may as well have a cut in." "By all means, Paul; but for my sake—for my sake"—placing her hand upon his shoulder—"don't think too much about the sea." She leant forward and kissed him; then went hurriedly from the room. Paul knew that it was his duty to do as his mother told him, but he found it very hard. He was a stalwart lad of fifteen, with the blood of two generations of seamen in his veins, so that it seemed as though his very blood were part of the brine of the ocean. He stood by the window, looking from the old Manor House in which he lived to the road. Presently he saw Job Brice, who did odd jobs about the house and garden, walking across the grounds to the paddock. Job had been a seaman in the Navy at the same time as his father, and for that reason had been given employment, to add to his pension, at the Manor House; but he rarely spoke about his seafaring life to our hero. Paul suspected that this, in a large measure, was due to his mother, for whenever Job did speak, he always dwelt on the most unattractive side of a sailor's life. So soon as Paul caught sight of Job, he seized his cap, and went after him. He came up with him just as he had entered the paddock. "I say, Brice, I've just been talking to mother about father. I don't like to question her too much, for I can see it gives her pain." "Quite right, Master Paul; it does give her pain," said Job, turning his scarred, weather-beaten face to the boy; "and it's very good of you to think of her. It ain't all boys who're so thoughtful of their mother." "Oh, don't butter me, Brice, for I'm long chalks from deserving it. But perhaps you wouldn't mind answering me a question I could never quite make out. I've heard that father died in saving another man. And that is all I do know, for mother never speaks of it, and I can't keep boring her with questions. How did it happen?" "Well, no one knows exactly. So far as could be made out, some pirate—some furrin sneak—got into his cabin while we were in port, and got at his private despatches. He was imprisoned in the hold by the captain's orders. The next day we were to make for Gibraltar, where the spy was to be tried by courtmartial. The next night was a dirty one—no rain to speak of, but dark and blustery. While it was at its height, the prisoner in the hold managed to escape, and jumped overboa