27. At Lord's
Mike got to Lord's just as the umpires moved out into the field. Heraced round to the pavilion. Joe met him on the stairs.
'It's all right,' he said. 'No hurry. We've won the toss. I've put youin fourth wicket.'
'Right ho,' said Mike. 'Glad we haven't to field just yet.'
'We oughtn't to have to field today if we don't chuck our wicketsaway.'
'Good wicket?'
'Like a billiard-table. I'm glad you were able to come. Have anydifficulty in getting away?'
Joe Jackson's knowledge of the workings of a bank was of the slightest.He himself had never, since he left Oxford, been in a position wherethere were obstacles to getting off to play in first-class cricket. Byprofession he was agent to a sporting baronet whose hobby was thecricket of the county, and so, far from finding any difficulty inplaying for the county, he was given to understand by his employer thatthat was his chief duty. It never occurred to him that Mike might findhis bank less amenable in the matter of giving leave. His only fear,when he rang Mike up that morning, had been that this might be aparticularly busy day at the New Asiatic Bank. If there was no specialrush of work, he took it for granted that Mike would simply go to themanager, ask for leave to play in the match, and be given it with abeaming smile.
Mike did not answer the question, but asked one on his own account.
'How did you happen to be short?' he said.
'It was rotten luck. It was like this. We were altering our team afterthe Sussex match, to bring in Ballard, Keene, and Willis. They couldn'tget down to Brighton, as the 'Varsity had a match, but there wasnothing on for them in the last half of the week, so they'd promised toroll up.'
Ballard, Keene, and Willis were members of the Cambridge team, all verycapable performers and much in demand by the county, when they couldget away to play for it.
'Well?' said Mike.
'Well, we all came up by train from Brighton last night. But thesethree asses had arranged to motor down from Cambridge early today, andget here in time for the start. What happens? Why, Willis, who fancieshimself as a chauffeur, undertakes to do the driving; and naturally,being an absolute rotter, goes and smashes up the whole concern justoutside St Albans. The first thing I knew of it was when I got toLord's at half past ten, and found a wire waiting for me to say thatthey were all three of them crocked, and couldn't possibly play. I tellyou, it was a bit of a jar to get half an hour before the matchstarted. Willis has sprained his ankle, apparently; Keene's damaged hiswrist; and Ballard has smashed his collar-bone. I don't suppose they'llbe able to play in the 'Varsity match. Rotten luck for Cambridge. Well,fortunately we'd had two reserve pros, with us at Brighton, who hadcome up to London with the team in case they might be wanted, so, withthem, we were only one short. Then I thought of you. That's how itwas.'
'I see,' said Mike. 'Who are the pros?'
'Davis and Brockley. Both bowlers. It weakens our batting a lot.Ballard or Willis might have got a stack of runs on this wicket. Still,we've got a certain amount of batting as it is. We oughtn't to dobadly, if we're careful. You've been getting some practice, I suppose,this season?'
'In a sort of a way. Nets and so on. No matches of any importance.'
'Dash it, I wish you'd had a game or two in decent class cricket.Still, nets are better than nothing, I hope you'll be in form. We maywant a pretty long knock from you, if things go wrong. These men seemto be settling down all right, thank goodness,' he added, looking outof the window at the county's first pair, Warrington and Mills, twoprofessionals, who, as the result of ten minutes' play, had put uptwenty.
'I'd better go and change,' said Mike, picking up his bag. 'You're infirst wicket, I suppose?'
'Yes. And Reggie, second wicket.'
Reggie was another of Mike's brothers, not nearly so fine a player asJoe, but a sound bat, who generally made runs if allowed to stay in.
Mike changed, and went out into the little balcony at the top of thepavilion. He had it to himself. There were not many spectators in thepavilion at this early stage of the game.
There are few more restful places, if one wishes to think, than theupper balconies of Lord's pavilion. Mike, watching the game making itsleisurely progress on the turf below, set himself seriously to reviewthe situation in all its aspects. The exhilaration of bursting thebonds had begun to fade, and he found himself able to look into thematter of his desertion and weigh up the consequences. There was nodoubt that he had cut the painter once and for all. Even afriendly-disposed management could hardly overlook what he had done.And the management of the New Asiatic Bank was the very reverse offriendly. Mr Bickersdyke, he knew, would jump at this chance of gettingrid of him. He realized that he must look on his career in the bank asa closed book. It was definitely over, and he must now think about thefuture.
It was not a time for half-measures. He could not go home. He mustcarry the thing through, now that he had begun, and find somethingdefinite to do, to support himself.
There seemed only one opening for him. What could he do, he askedhimself. Just one thing. He could play cricket. It was by his cricketthat he must live. He would have to become a professional. Could he gettaken on? That was the question. It was impossible that he should playfor his own county on his residential qualification. He could notappear as a professional in the same team in which his brothers wereplaying as amateurs. He must stake all on his birth qualification forSurrey.
On the other hand, had he the credentials which Surrey would want? Hehad a school reputation. But was that enough? He could not help feelingthat it might not be.
Thinking it over more tensely than he had ever thought over anything inhis whole life, he saw clearly that everything depended on what sort ofshow he made in this match which was now in progress. It was his bigchance. If he succeeded, all would be well. He did not care to thinkwhat his position would be if he did not succeed.
A distant appeal and a sound of clapping from the crowd broke in on histhoughts. Mills was out, caught at the wicket. The telegraph-board gavethe total as forty-eight. Not sensational. The success of the teamdepended largely on what sort of a start the two professionals made.
The clapping broke out again as Joe made his way down the steps. Joe,as an All England player, was a favourite with the crowd.
Mike watched him play an over in his strong, graceful style: then itsuddenly occurred to him that he would like to know how matters hadgone at the bank in his absence.
He went down to the telephone, rang up the bank, and asked for Psmith.
Presently the familiar voice made itself heard.
'Hullo, Smith.'
'Hullo. Is that Comrade Jackson? How are things progressing?'
'Fairly well. We're in first. We've lost one wicket, and the fifty'sjust up. I say, what's happened at the bank?'
'I broke the news to Comrade Gregory. A charming personality. I feelthat we shall be friends.'
'Was he sick?'
'In a measure, yes. Indeed, I may say he practically foamed at themouth. I explained the situation, but he was not to be appeased. Hejerked me into the presence of Comrade Bickersdyke, with whom I had abrief but entertaining chat. He had not a great deal to say, but helistened attentively to my narrative, and eventually told me off totake your place in the Fixed Deposits. That melancholy task I am nowperforming to the best of my ability. I find the work a little trying.There is too much ledger-lugging to be done for my simple tastes. Ihave been hauling ledgers from the safe all the morning. The cry isbeginning to go round, "Psmith is willing, but can his physique standthe strain?" In the excitement of the moment just now I dropped asomewhat massive tome on to Comrade Gregory's foot, unfortunately, Iunderstand, the foot in which he has of late been suffering twinges ofgout. I passed the thing off with ready tact, but I cannot deny thatthere was a certain temporary coolness, which, indeed, is not yet past.These things, Comrade Jackson, are the whirlpools in the quiet streamof commercial life.'
'Have I got the sack?'
'No official pronouncement has been made to me as yet on the subject,but I think I should advise you, if you are offered another job in thecourse of the day, to accept it. I cannot say that you are preciselythe pet of the management just at present. However, I have ideas foryour future, which I will divulge when we meet. I propose to slidecoyly from the office at about four o'clock. I am meeting my father atthat hour. We shall come straight on to Lord's.'
'Right ho,' said Mike. 'I'll be looking out for you.'
'Is there any little message I can give Comrade Gregory from you?'
'You can give him my love, if you like.'
'It shall be done. Good-bye.'
'Good-bye.'
Mike replaced the receiver, and went up to his balcony again.
As soon as his eye fell on the telegraph-board he saw with a start thatthings had been moving rapidly in his brief absence. The numbers of thebatsmen on the board were three and five.
'Great Scott!' he cried. 'Why, I'm in next. What on earth's beenhappening?'
He put on his pads hurriedly, expecting every moment that a wicketwould fall and find him unprepared. But the batsmen were still togetherwhen he rose, ready for the fray, and went downstairs to get news.
He found his brother Reggie in the dressing-room.
'What's happened?' he said. 'How were you out?'
'L.b.w.,' said Reggie. 'Goodness knows how it happened. My eyesightmust be going. I mistimed the thing altogether.'
'How was Warrington out?'
'Caught in the slips.'
'By Jove!' said Mike. 'This is pretty rocky. Three for sixty-one. Weshall get mopped.'
'Unless you and Joe do something. There's no earthly need to get out.The wicket's as good as you want, and the bowling's nothing special.Well played, Joe!'
A beautiful glide to leg by the greatest of the Jacksons had rolled upagainst the pavilion rails. The fieldsmen changed across for the nextover.
'If only Peters stops a bit--' began Mike, and broke off. Peters' offstump was lying at an angle of forty-five degrees.
'Well, he hasn't,' said Reggie grimly. 'Silly ass, why did he hit atthat one? All he'd got to do was to stay in with Joe. Now it's up toyou. Do try and do something, or we'll be out under the hundred.'
Mike waited till the outcoming batsman had turned in at theprofessionals' gate. Then he walked down the steps and out into theopen, feeling more nervous than he had felt since that far-off day whenhe had first gone in to bat for Wrykyn against the M.C.C. He found histhoughts flying back to that occasion. Today, as then, everythingseemed very distant and unreal. The spectators were miles away. He hadoften been to Lord's as a spectator, but the place seemed entirelyunfamiliar now. He felt as if he were in a strange land.
He was conscious of Joe leaving the crease to meet him on his way. Hesmiled feebly. 'Buck up,' said Joe in that robust way of his which wasso heartening. 'Nothing in the bowling, and the wicket like a shirt-front.Play just as if you were at the nets. And for goodness' sake don't try toscore all your runs in the first over. Stick in, and we've got them.'
Mike smiled again more feebly than before, and made a weird gurglingnoise in his throat.
It had been the Middlesex fast bowler who had destroyed Peters. Mikewas not sorry. He did not object to fast bowling. He took guard, andlooked round him, taking careful note of the positions of the slips.
As usual, once he was at the wicket the paralysed feeling left him. Hebecame conscious again of his power. Dash it all, what was there to beafraid of? He was a jolly good bat, and he would jolly well show themthat he was, too.
The fast bowler, with a preliminary bound, began his run. Mike settledhimself into position, his whole soul concentrated on the ball.Everything else was wiped from his mind.