Captain of the Crew
CHAPTER II
INTRODUCING DICK HOPE
The sun was almost out of sight as Dick Hope crossed the yard towardMasters Hall, and the shadows of the buildings, stretching far over theground, seemed to harbor many little gusts of icy wind, and looked darkand dismal in contrast with the broad expanse of golden, sun-bathedmarsh across the river. Dick pulled his coat closer about him, ran upthe old, worn granite steps of the dormitory, and gained the hallwaywith a sense of comfort and homecoming.
Securing his key from the matron’s room, he leaped up the first flightof narrow stairs and, half-way down the corridor, unlocked a dingydoor which bore a big black figure 16, and, below it, a card with theinscription “Richard Fowler Hope.” The room was filled with the mellowlight of the setting sun, and here and there the rays were caught--bythe glass doors of the bookcase, by the metal top of the inkstand,or, less sharply, by the silver and pewter mugs ranged along themantel--and were thrown back in golden blurs that dazzled the eyes.
Dick laid aside his coat and cap, took off his gloves, and thrustinghis hands into his pocket, surveyed the apartment smilingly. It wasawfully jolly to get back, he thought happily, as his gaze took inthe shabby, comfortable furnishings and the hundred and one objectsabout the room so intimately connected with three and a half yearsof pleasant school life. An array of worn and soberly bound bookslined an end of the leather-covered study table, and he took one upand fluttered its pages between his fingers; it was a good deal likeshaking hands with an old friend. With the volume still in his clasphe moved to the mantel and examined the knickknacks thereon, the cupsand photographs and little china things, all cheap enough viewed from amoney standpoint, yet to Dick priceless from long possession. He felta momentary heart-flutter as his eyes fell on one pewter mug ornatelyengraved with his name.
As he looked the mantel and wall faded from sight, and he saw a stretchof cinder track, pecked by the spikes of runners’ shoes; at a littledistance a thin white tape. He saw himself, head back, eyes staring,struggling desperately for that white thread across the track. Againhe heard the thud and crunch of the St. Eustace runner’s feet almostbeside him; heard, far more dimly, the shouts of excited onlookers, andagain felt his effortful gasps as he gained inch by inch. The captainof the track team had been the first to reach him as the tape flutteredto the ground and he turned, half reeling, onto the turf. And he hadthrown an arm about him and lowered him gently to the welcome sod andhad whispered three short words into his ear, words that meant morethan volumes of praise:
“_Good work, Dick!_”
The vision faded and the boy, with a sigh that expressed more happinessthan a laugh could have done, turned away from the mantel. The crimsonsilk sash-curtains, drawn to the sides of the two windows, glowed likefire, but the shafts of sunlight had traveled up the walls to theceiling, and the study was growing dim. In the fireplace a pile of woodand shavings was ready to light, and Dick, scratching a match along themantel edge, set it ablaze and drew an easy chair to the hearth. Withthe shabby school-book in his hands, he settled comfortably against thecushions, and, his gaze on the leaping flames, let his thoughts wanderas they willed.
There was plenty to think of. Before him lay five of the busiest,most important months of his school life, months that would be filledwith plenty of hard work, much pleasure, and probably not a littleworriment, and which might be crowned with a double triumph for him,for his hopes were set upon graduating at the head of his class andupon turning out a crew which in the annual boat-race with Hillton’swell-loved rival, St. Eustace, would flaunt the crimson above the bluein a decisive victory. To attain the first result many long hours ofthe hardest sort of study would be necessary, while the last wouldrequire never-flagging patience, tact, courage, and skill, and woulddemand well-nigh every moment of his time not given to lessons. Theoutlook did not, however, frighten him. He had returned to schoolfeeling strong and confident and eager to begin his tasks.
When, the preceding June, after a sorrowful defeat by St. Eustace,the members of the Hillton crew had met to elect a new captain,Richard Hope had been chosen because he above all other candidatespossessed the directness of purpose, the gift of leadership, and theuntiring ability for hard work requisite to form a winning eight fromunpromising material; even the defeated candidates for the post,which at Hillton was the highest and most honorable in the gift ofthe school, applauded the choice, and, with a possible exception,honestly felt the pleasure they expressed. The possible exception wasRoy Taylor, one of the best oarsmen at Hillton. Taylor had striven hardfor the captaincy and had accepted defeat with far less graciousnessthan had the other three candidates, though he had tried to hide hisdisappointment under a mask of smiling indifference. The recollectionof Roy Taylor was this evening almost the only source of uneasiness toDick as he watched the mellow flames leap and glow.
Presently he pushed back his chair, lighted the drop-light on the tableand drew the blinds. It was almost supper time. Throwing aside hiscoat, he unpacked his satchel, distributing several presents about thestudy. Then, with his toilet articles in hand, he opened the door intothe bedroom and started back in surprise. Between the two narrow ironbedsteads stood a pile of luggage. A dilapidated tin trunk, paintedin ludicrous imitation of yellow oak, flanked a handsome leatherportmanteau, while upon these was piled a motley array of bundles andbags; a tennis racquet and two cricket bats were tied together withthree brightly colored neckties; a battered golf bag fairly bristledwith sticks; a pair of once white flannel trousers were tied aboutat the ankles with strings, and were doing duty as a repository fordiscarded shoes, golf, tennis, and cricket balls, and sundry othertreasures. The improvised bag had fallen open at the larger end and haddisgorged a portion of its contents in the manner of a huge, strangelyformed horn of plenty. Crowning all was a soiled clothes bag, vividwith purple lilies on a yellow ground, whose contour told plainly thatit held books.
Quickly following his first moment of surprise came to Dick a knowledgeof what the presence of the luggage meant, and his grin of amusementwas succeeded by a frown. The boy who had shared his quarters withhim at the beginning of the year had left the academy in October, andDick had held sole possession of the rooms until now. He had beentold that with the commencement of the winter term he would have aroommate, but until that moment he had forgotten the fact. He wonderedas he spluttered at the wash-stand what sort of a chap his future chumwas, and drew ill augury from the queer collection of luggage. Withtowel in hand he walked around the pile and studied the labels andthe initials that adorned trunks and bags. The former were numerous;plainly the owner of the yellow tin trunk had traveled, for a Cunardsteamship label flanked a red-lettered legend “Wanted,” and the twowere elbowed by the paper disk of a Geneva hotel. The initials “T.N.” told him nothing, save that the owner’s name was probably Tom.Well, Tom was a good enough name, he thought, as he applied the brushvigorously to his brown hair, and as for the rest he would soon learn.
Drawing on his coat and lowering the light, he hurried across toWarren Hall and supper. The dining-room was well filled, and as hemade his way to his seat at a far table he was obliged to return adozen greetings, and had he paused in response to every detaining handthat was stretched out he would scarcely have reached his seat inthe next half hour. It was pleasant to be back again among all thosegood fellows, he thought as he laughingly pulled himself free fromthe clutches of his friends, and pleasanter still to know that theywere glad to have him back. His heart beat a little faster than usual,and his cheeks were a little more flushed as he clapped his nearestneighbor on the shoulder and sank into his chair, only to leave itthe next moment and detour the table to shake hands with ProfessorLongworth, who had bowed to him smilingly across the board.
“Vacation seems to have agreed with you, Hope; you look as hearty asyou please. You must let Mr. Beck see you before the bloom wears off;he’d rather see one of you boys looking fit than come into a legacy.”
“I’m feeling fine, sir,” laughed Dick, “
and I’m so glad to get backthat even trigonometry doesn’t scare me.”
“Hum,” replied the professor grimly. “Just wait until you see what I’vegot ready for you.”
Dick was soon busy satisfying a huge appetite and listening to theveritable avalanche of information and inquiry that was launched at him.
“St. Eustace has chosen the negative side in the debate, Hope, and oldTinker’s tickled to death; says he’s certain we’ll win, because----”“Dick, come up to my cave Saturday afternoon, will you? Burns isn’tcoming back, and he’s written me to sell his stuff, and we’re going tohave an auction; Smith junior’s going to be auctioneer, and we’re goingto hang a red flag out the window, and----” “Did you hear about thatupper middle chap they call ‘’Is ’Ighness’? He nearly upset the coachthis afternoon, they say, and Professor Wheeler’s going to put him onprobation. Chalmers says he told Wheeler that----” “We’ve got somedandy hockey games fixed, Hope; Shrewsburg’s coming down Monday next ifthe ice holds and St. Eustace about the first of Feb.” “You ought to’vebeen with us, Hope, last Saturday. We went fishing through the ice, andJimmy Townsend caught four regular whales; and we cooked them at thehut on the island and had a fine feast, only the silly things wouldn’tget quite done through, and tasted rather nasty if you didn’t hold yournose and swallow quick.” “Say, have you seen Carl Gray? He told me totell you that he’d be up to your room after supper; wants to see youmost particular, he says. Don’t forget I told you, ’cause I promisedI would.” “I’m going to try for the boat, Hope. When shall I report?”“When you make the crew, youngster, I’ll win a scholarship; and thatwon’t happen in a thousand years!” “Speaking of the crew, Dick, RoyTaylor says we’re goners this year.”
Dick helped himself generously to the blackberry jam.
“How’s that?” he asked calmly.
“Says we haven’t got good material.”
“If we had seven other fellows as good as Taylor we’d be all right,”responded Dick. “And as it is, we’ve turned out cracking fine crewsbefore this from even less promising stuff. Well, I’m off. Never mindwhat Todd says, Jimmy; show up with the others and have a try. I onlywish there were other chaps as plucky!”
And amid mingled groans of reproach and derision Dick pushed back hischair and left the hall. When he reached the second floor of Masters hesaw that the door of Number 16 was ajar, and that some one had turnedup the light.
“Gray’s waiting, I guess,” he told himself. “Wonder what he wants?” Hepushed the door open, and then paused in surprise on the threshold.
In Dick’s big green leather armchair, his slippered feet to the blaze,a book in his hands, reclined very much at his ease the youth who haddriven the stage-coach.