Loe raamatut: «Sea-gift», lehekülg 13

CHAPTER XVII

Father awoke us by coming into our room with the lamp and telling us that Horace was waiting with the carriage. We were up and dressed by the time William had carried down our trunks. We went down to the dining room, where the gas was burning with the sleepy glare it always has in the morning, as if it had just waked from a sound nap. I felt no appetite, but gulped down an egg, a bit of steak and some coffee, as if it were medicine. Horace sent in word that we had best hurry, as he had heard the engine blow for backing down some time ago. I slipped on my linen duster, pulled on one glove, told the servants good-bye with half a dollar each, pressed father’s hand, received mother’s fond embrace and fervent “God bless you, my child,” and touched Carlotta’s lips with a thrill the hurry could not damp, and Ned and I were rattling over the pavement to the depot. As soon as my eyes recovered from the glare of the gaslight I found that day had dawned and objects were plainly visible. The dwelling houses were all closed, except where an extra smart housemaid here and there had opened the shutters, and was sweeping off the steps. Nobody was astir in the streets yet except one or two butchers’ carts, rattling on to the market house with their loads of beef. We rolled on down through the business part of the city, where sleepy porters, in their shirt sleeves, were taking down shutters and sprinkling and sweeping out the stores; on past the newspaper offices, where they were still working by gaslight, and where little newsboys were coming out with bundles of damp papers; on down Market street, past drowsy drays, with lazy negro drivers slapping the fat, sluggish horses with the ends of the reins; on, till we whirled round the corner at the river, where the chilly morning breeze was rippling the water and clicking the wavelets against the sides of the vessels and rafts that lay on the gray river, without other signs of life than a sailor leaning over the railing, dipping up water with his bucket and rope, or a negro cooking his breakfast at the door of his raft’s cabin. The rigging, wet with mist, stretched like immense spider webs from yard to yard, and the jack, left out all night, drooped straight down the mast. How familiar is every log and piece of timber in the wharf! Every barrel and hogs head is an acquaintance, and every spot we pass the scene of some boyish frolic. Everybody that sees us bows and says good-bye, and we almost feel sure that the town will pass resolutions of regret at our departure.

We reach the train just in time, and find Frank already on board, with seats reserved for us. He is pleasant towards me, and seems to bear no ill feeling for my rudeness. Being a good talker, he enlivened the tedium of travel with accounts of college life, and gave us many valuable points in regard to our demeanor, instructing us how to “dodge devilling,” and offering his assistance with as much conceit as kindness.

When we reached Raleigh, there was a delay of some minutes, and the train was soon crowded in the aisles with those getting out and those coming in. As we sat watching them Frank suddenly exclaimed, “Yonder’s Carrover and Brazon, as I am a sinner!” and I saw two young men lounging up the aisle from the rear door. One of them filled my idea of what a senior ought to be. His beaver was tipped just a little on one side of a head covered with a profusion of rich brown curls, his face handsome, though pale, and ornamented with a dainty moustache and goatee; his form tall and graceful, and his dress very elegant but not foppish. He also carried a gold headed cane, larger and heavier than Frank’s. His companion impressed me very disagreeably. He was short and thick of stature, with a bold, red face, staring pale blue eyes and a carrotty frizz of hair. He was dressed in very flashy style, and his linen was frowzy and rumpled. He greeted Frank with boisterous cordiality, and took the seat immediately behind us. The tall and elegant young man, I thought, greeted Frank very coolly, as if there was not much intimacy between them. He took a seat some distance off, and taking the British Quarterly Review from his travelling bag, was soon buried in its pages.

Brazon, as soon as there was a pause in Frank’s conversation, leaned over and asked us politely how far up the road we were going.

“Only to Durham’s station,” I replied, feeling complimented by his notice.

“Then you are going to Chapel Hill?”

“Yes,” I said, turning in my seat, so as to look at him; “you have been at college there, have you not?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied, his pale eyes twinkling maliciously. “May I ask what class you intend to join?”

“The Fresh, I suppose, unless the professors – ” but before I could finish the sentence he shouted in a loud tone: “Hello! Frank! here are a couple of Fresh, regular green ones, too. That’s right,” he said, addressing us, and patting me on the shoulder, “sit together on the same bench, like good little boys. Did mamma and papa tie you together, for fear you’d get lost? That’s clever, my children, do as your pairients tell you and the devil will give you candy some day.”

I was so taken by surprise at the sudden change in his tone from the polite to the jeering, that I sat with a burning face under his ridicule, while the car was shaking with the laughter of the passengers at our discomfiture, and never thought of resenting it. Frank, however, who had gone to the other end of the car to get some water, returned and saw the position of affairs. He caught Brazon by the arm, exclaiming:

“What the devil are you doing, Brazon? These gentlemen are particular friends of mine. You must have forgotten yourself.”

“No I didn’t, either. How could I know they were your friends when you said nothing about them? But since they are, I beg pardon. Introduce me and we will shake hands round and be friends.”

It was with some hesitation I took his proffered hand; but I felt that it were best to make no enemies on my first entrance into college.

We all talked pleasantly together during the few minutes it took the train to reach Durham’s, and, getting off there, found a number of hacks waiting to convey us to the Hill. There were many others going there, so we hastened to secure the best hack, and were soon jogging over that worst of roads. Carrover secured a seat in another vehicle, but gave it up to a lady and child, and took a place with us.

We stopped only once to cool out the horses, under some large trees by a well, when Carrover opened his travelling case, and taking out a silver flask offered it first to Ned and myself. We both declined, but I found that, in this my first temptation, it was difficult to refuse, so afraid was I of seeming boyish. The other three all complimented its contents by a plentiful inhibition, as the driver checked up his horses’ heads and we resumed our journey.

When we reined up at the hotel we found the steps thronged with the Sophs, waiting for the hacks to bring in their victims. As soon as we got out we were surrounded by a score of them, all leering in our faces and yelling “Fresh! Fresh!” as if they had the article to sell.

With most impudent effrontery they gathered around us, each vieing with the others in casting ridicule upon us; nor were witty sallies alone the extent of their teasing; many of the coarsest personalities were indulged in. No one seemed to enjoy it much, and only an absurd sense of what was due a foolish college custom urged them on.

“Look what a big trunk,” said one, striking my solitary piece of baggage with his cane hard enough to nearly blister the leather; “I’ll bet he has homespun cake in there. Fresh, let me sleep with you,” he continued, taking my arm, with every appearance of friendship, “but no, you are too dirty,” releasing me with a gesture of disgust.

“Hoopee! what a foot!” said another, stooping down to take an exaggerated measurement of my foot. “Fresh, how do you get your boots on without a crane to lift your feet?”

“Well, Fresh,” said a pert little fellow to Ned, “what is the price of tallow where you live? It ought to be very cheap if that is a sample in your face.” As Ned was really very sallow this remark called forth a general laugh, during which we walked up the steps into the office, the crowd opening before and closing behind us in a continuous yell of ridicule and shame, heaped on us in every conceivable way.

Frank’s friends all seemed glad to see him, but, even amid the storm of persecution that surrounded us, I could not help noticing that they all wore flash clothes, and had inflamed eyes and a profane swagger. Frank told us that it was out of his power to shield us from devilment in such a crowd, but that he would get us rooms for the night and we would be safe in them. He went in to see the proprietor and we were left standing in the midst of a deriding throng. 1 never felt so much like a culprit in my life. Nowhere could I look and find a single glance of sympathy. On every side were hoots, hisses and vulgar witticisms; and the attempt to utter a word was only the signal for such a roar as would drown every syllable. While standing thus, a tall, languid youth, with drooping side whiskers and a pair of gold eye-glasses, pushed his way through the crowd and asked, “What Fresh are these you have here? Introduce me.” Some one shouted: “That is Mr. Danvers, Fresh; speak to him.”

“How do you do, gentlemen? I am most happy to see you with us,” said Danvers, offering his hand in the most cordial manner. Eager to touch somebody’s hand that would sympathize, I extended mine gladly, but ere I touched his he drew it back with the sneer, “Oh, no, Fresh, you must wash yours first; you’ve been travelling, you know.”

“Shame! shame! Danvers. A Junior devilling Fresh!” exclaimed several voices.

“I confess,” said Danvers, turning off, laughing; “but it was such a good thing. They are greener than verdure itself, and will swallow anything you offer!”

Frank now came to us and said he had secured rooms, and that we could go up now if we wished. Of course we wished to do so, and once in, and the door locked, we gave vent to our feelings in no measured terms, both feeling assured that neither Huguenots nor Waldenses ever felt the bitterness of persecution as we did, and both wishing at heart that we were again at home.

We had scarcely bathed and gotten rid of the dust of travel when the gong sounded for supper. We went down and found the tables occupied entirely by the students, as there was little or no travel to such a retired village, from the outside world. A bevy of Sophomores rose on our appearance and escorted us to the table, and, drawing back our chairs, held them for us. Bewildered by their strange attentions, we attempted to seat ourselves, but, of course, found the chairs non sub nobis. I recovered myself, but Ned plumped heavily down upon the floor, to the boisterous merriment of the whole room.

At last seated, and served by the regular attendants, we attempted to eat, but every mouthful was declared enormous by those watching us, every action said to be ill mannered, and our whole demeanor so criticised that our appetites departed and we felt no desire for food. If we had, there would have been little opportunity for its gratification. If I chanced to turn my head, a teaspoonful of salt went into my tea. If I asked the waiter for a biscuit, my tormentor across the table would pour a dozen into my plate. Silver forks and napkin rings were dropped into my pockets, and the proprietor called to identify his property. When we rose we were escorted from the room by the same guard of honor, even to the door of our room, where they left us for the night.

Ned and I sat down on the side of our beds and looked out of the windows at the red evening sky, fast paling into twilight, and we felt dreary and lonely indeed. Frank was off with some of his friends, and we were afraid to venture out lest a renewal of purgatorial tortures should assail us. After awhile we could hear the noisy throng down stairs going away in twos and threes for their evening stroll, and, discovering from the window that they had all departed, I proposed to Ned that, as it was fast growing dark, we slip down stairs and take a stroll, as it was too sultry to remain in our room. As we came out into the hotel porch a lazy Senior, who was sitting with his feet on the railing, quietly smoking, with the enviable tranquillity of might, said to us —

“Ah, Fresh,” as we went down the steps, “don’t let the Sophs find you before you get back. Whenever you see a party of more than two approaching, cross over, for only the Sophs go in numbers.”

We thanked him, and walked up the street to the very road by which we had come in. We turned into this, and walked on till we came to a small eminence overlooking a little landscape, and on this knoll we sat down to gaze on the scene and to condole with each other in our troubles.

The woods and plains below were bathed in the glorious light of the full orbed moon, which had risen, like a goddess of serenity, from the horizon. White night clouds floated lightly across her face, shaking off flakes of fleece into the blue sea around them.

“Ned,” I said at length, “I look on the moon now as an old friend. It is the only familiar thing I can see, and I feel a positive affection for it.”

“So do I,” he replied, “and it seems doubly dear when I remember that, while it is beaming so placidly on us, it is also looking down upon the dear ones at home, and that, while we are so far apart, yet we can both gaze up at the same object, and imagine it a great mirror, in which each of us can see the others.”

“Ah! ‘home, sweet home!’ I never knew the depth of meaning in the words before. I wonder what they all are doing there now. Would you not give a great deal just to drop in among them for a minute or two?”

“I would, indeed; but yonder come some of our tormentors. I think we had better turn back and meet them.”

A half dozen or more students were approaching, laughing and talking loudly; and, judging from their tones and appearance that they were Sophs, we thought the best we could do would be to pass them, if possible, on the shaded side of the road, and, by an unconcerned air, to go by unnoticed. We had not got opposite before they detected us, and, with a shout of “Fresh! Fresh!” surrounded us. Every form of insult capable of conveyance by language was heaped upon us, yet so rapid and constant the stream that no one in particular could be selected on whom to resent it.

They turned back with us and impeded our progress by every conceivable means, thrusting their faces in front of ours, so that to advance would be to touch theirs; standing in front of us, so that we were compelled to go around them, and yelling with all their vociferous might into our ears the traditional Fresh song or chant, whose diabolical burden is the harsh and brutish bellowing (with a leader and a chorus) of these syllables: “Toot, toot, toot-tat-toot. Ba-a-a-h!” We had returned nearly to the hotel in this undignified manner, the throng of persecutors gathering strength as we entered the streets, till we were completely surrounded – those in front walking backwards, and stopping every now and then suddenly, that we might be jostled against by those who were thronging behind, all bellowing the pandemoniacal chorus, without words and still less tune. Sedate professors looked gravely at the noisy procession, as it successively passed their gates, and made a pretence of trying to recognize the offenders in the moonlight; young ladies came to their doors and laughed, as we marched by like culprits; and even negroes stopped in the streets to gaze and snicker at our predicament. I was choking with rage and indignation, but did not well know how to help myself. Ned, usually so quiet, was, I could see, terribly roused, and his prudence was fast yielding to his wrath. As we approached the hotel he could contain himself no longer, but, stopping short and taking advantage of the momentary lull, said:

“A foolish custom gives you the right to tease and worry me inside of college bounds, and I am willing to bear my part there, but I deny that right in the public streets, and shall treat all further molestation as an insult. Let me pass, sir!”

This last remark was addressed to a coarse, burly fellow, who was standing immediately in front of Ned, with his eyes open very wide, as if in wonder. As Ned ceased speaking he thrust his great red face right into Ned’s with a derisive laugh. The next instant the blood was gushing from his nose, as Ned struck him with all his might in the face. This was the signal for a general melee. I had hardly time to spring forward and ward off a blow from Ned’s head when a cane fell heavily on my own, making the whole place dance around with me, and increasing my sphere of stellar observation wonderfully. I made out to grapple with the nearest adversary, while Ned went down under twice his weight. The fencing saved me from a similar fate, and I had almost succeeded in turning my antagonist under, when the cry of “Faculty! Faculty!” was raised, and, as if by magic, every student fled, leaving Ned and me to claim the honors of the field, if the couple of tall gentlemen in dark clothes that were now seen approaching were disposed to accord us any.

“Ned, are you hurt much?” I inquired anxiously, assisting him to rise.

“No; are you?” he replied.

“No, only a little thump on the head; but yonder are some of the Faculty coming, and, if we do not wish to be involved in a long trial, we’d better run.”

“I am surprised at you, John. Run! what for? I should act precisely the same way under the same circumstances again.”

The two figures we had seen had come up to us by this time, and proved to be only a couple of students, members of the Senior class, and one of whom I recognized as Mr. Carrover, my travelling acquaintance.

“What’s the row?” he said, looking at us inquiringly, as we were brushing the dust from our clothes. “Oh, I see, Sophs devilling you and you resisted; right, too. They have no privileges beyond the campus. Come, go back with us, we will see that you are not molested further to-night.”

We were about to proceed to the hotel, when Carrover’s companion spoke, for the first time, with a soft, rich voice:

“Charlie, you forget me. I shall have to introduce myself. DeVare is my name – ”

“DeVare, I beg your pardon,” said Carrover, hastily, “let me introduce you to Mr. Cheyleigh, of Wilmington, and Mr. Smith, of the same place.”

“I am very happy to know you both,” he said pleasantly, offering his hand, “any assistance Charlie or myself can give you in dodging the Sophs will be cheerfully rendered.”

We thanked him, and brushing the dust of conflict from our clothes with our handkerchiefs, walked back with them to the hotel. The porch steps were thronged with students talking about our difficulty.

“The scamps showed fight, did they,” said one, as we approached; “that’s too high for Fresh – they must be taken down.”

“Yes,” echoed another, “a good smoke will bring ’em ’round .”

“How came they to fight? Was anybody hurt?” asked another.

“Why, we were just devilling them a little,” said the first speaker, when one of ’em asked Burly to let him pass, as if he were the Sultan, and, because Burly didn’t make his obeisance, put a smasher on his nose. Ellerton tapped one a little with his cane, and I was choking the one that hit Burly, but the mutton-headed Faculty broke us up.

We had reached the steps by this time, and passed through the crowd without molestation. Carrover turned when he got in the porch and said, addressing the students:

“It was mean enough to devil Fresh in the streets, without a dozen of you trying to beat two. If anything further is attempted to-night DeVare and myself will remain with them and help them to defend themselves.”

“Whoo-ee,” shouted a half dozen voices, “that won’t do, Carrover; too plain a bid. Drum for your club more secretly.”

We only noticed that this sally rather confused Carrover, when, thinking it prudent to withdraw, we slipped off to our room unnoticed, and locked and bolted the door. We lit our lamps and examined the results of our struggle. A little knot on my head, and a torn collar on Ned’s part, completed our list of casualties. Summing up the events of the day, we came to the conclusion that college life was not such a very fine thing after all, and that John Howard Payne was extremely sensible when he wrote

 
“There’s no place like home.”