The Journeying Boy (3 page)

But in this prognostication Mr Thewless was wrong. As a consequence of his visit to Sir Bernard Paxton, an altogether fuller life was presently to be his. And in this his fate was to contrast markedly with that of the young man whom he had glimpsed in the library.

The Spanish library had a good deal impressed Captain Cox, and now the Chinese study impressed him too. Nevertheless, the marked deference with which he shook hands with Sir Bernard Paxton was only partly a tribute to wealth. Captain Cox, quite as much as Mr Thewless, respected genius. And Sir Bernard certainly had abundance of it. He could, likely enough, show you how to press a button and blow up any gang of rascals who were making a nuisance of themselves on the other side of Europe – and was it not something of a red-letter day to be in the presence of
that
?

The mind of Captain Cox as he made this reflection quite kindled to the idea of science; there floated before him such vague images of its unfolding wonders as the genius of the American people has given to the world through the medium of strip fiction. Sir Bernard had a head like an egg, which was entirely as it should be; and he was probably mad. ‘Honoured to meet you, sir,’ said Captain Cox, quite carried away. Then, feeling the shockingly foreign lack of restraint in this, he blushed deeply. ‘Warm day,’ he added hastily. ‘Wonderful season, I’m told, up in the north. Birds strong on the wing.’

Sir Bernard Paxton bowed. Having among his other endowments a substantial insight into human nature, he saw at once that the muscular young barbarian before him was not a bad fellow. It was for this fundamental fact of character, no doubt, that he had been so highly recommended by persons enjoying Sir Bernard’s confidence. For an intellect, clearly, he represented something like absolute zero. But, of course – thought Sir Bernard confusedly – that might be all to the good.

For in undoubted fact Sir Bernard
was
confused. In that part of his life which concerned itself with family responsibilities his son Humphrey had reduced him to sheer muddle-headedness. He was devoted to the boy, and this although he seldom had more than ten minutes of the day in which to think of him. Yet in Sir Bernard obscure forces had come to ensure that when a decision about Humphrey had to be made that decision would generally be wrong. This was hard on Sir Bernard, and of course a little hard on Humphrey too; certainly it did not contribute to the building up in him of the purposive young scientist whom Sir Bernard desired to achieve. And now Sir Bernard, preparing to swallow Captain Cox whole, was no doubt making an error which could have been pointed out to him by his gardener or his cook.

‘There are directions,’ said Sir Bernard, ‘in which my son has been over-stimulated for his years. I fear that the society which I tend to draw around myself might be charged with being excessively intellectual, and this has reacted unfavourably on the boy.’

Captain Cox nodded. ‘A bit too much of a book-worm, I suppose? Still, we’ve caught him young, and it ought to be possible to get back to a healthier state of affairs. I generally recommend horses.’

‘Horses?’ Sir Bernard appeared slightly at sea. ‘No; it is not that Humphrey has become over-studious. It is rather that he has reacted against the intellectual – or at least the scientific – bias of his home. The stimulus has led him – um – to overcompensate in other directions. I do not know even that his morals are good.’

‘Ah! Well, I should be inclined to say that the answer was cold baths. And perhaps I would cut out the horses at first. Fishing would be better.’ And Captain Cox, who, like Mr Thewless, was not without his repertory of tricks, appeared to consult some fount of inner experience. ‘Yes; the thing to do will be to get him out with a rod and line.’

‘As a matter of fact, I am thinking of sending him to Ireland now. And there will be plenty of fishing with the relations to whom he is to go. As to horses, I cannot say. My recollection is that people keep donkeys in such places.’ Sir Bernard paused, aware that this was not a very well directed line of thought – aware too that he was somewhat disingenuously concealing the fact that the Irish visit represented Humphrey’s own determination. ‘I have no doubt that an outdoor life would be most desirable. But, as a matter of fact, there is School Certificate to consider. Humphrey should have got that this summer.’

‘Don’t worry, sir – don’t worry over that at all.’ And Captain Cox shook his head dismissively. ‘I’ve found it to be just a matter of mugging up the old papers and seeing how the examining blighters’ minds work. We’ll wangle him through that in no time. It’s not as if it were Higher Certificate. There it does seem as if you have to know the stuff.’

Sir Bernard frowned – this being not at all his conception of the right way to pass an examination. But the spell of Captain Cox – of Captain Cox’s remoteness, even weirdness – was upon him. Humphrey plainly needed an altogether new type of approach. And no doubt this was it. Cold baths, fly-fishing, possibly equitation whether on horses or donkeys – assuredly this was what a demoralized – or at least problematical – boy required.

And Captain Cox was consulting a diary. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘the sooner we are off the better. Those relations got a shoot? We must decide about a gun. Nothing more important for the lad than that. And I think I know how just the right thing can be picked up. What’s his height, sir? Perhaps we’d better have him in.’

‘Perhaps that would be best.’ And Sir Bernard hesitated. It was more difficult, he found, with this young man than it had been with Mr Thewless to confess to the distressing fact that Humphrey was not choosing to show himself.

And the simple Captain Cox, misinterpreting this hesitation, again blushed beneath his healthy tan. ‘That is to say, sir, if you do by any chance think of taking me on. I’d do my best to pull the little blighter together for you, and all that. But perhaps some other fellow–’

Sir Bernard was in a quandary. He recalled Mr Thewless, an experienced person in whom some traces of what might be called mental life had been discernible, and he felt a lingering doubt. And now the healthy automaton before him had brought the matter to an issue. Being not quite able to decide, Sir Bernard adopted the resource of being carefully explanatory. ‘Captain Cox,’ he said, ‘you misinterpret my hesitation. I was merely reflecting’ – and here Sir Bernard’s courage fairly failed him – ‘that Humphrey may not at the moment be available.’

The effect of this speech was startling – being nothing less than a whoop of satirical laughter from behind a door on the far side of the room. There was a moment’s silence, and now it was Sir Bernard’s turn to blush. He rose, strode to the door, and threw it open. Only an empty ante-room was visible.

Captain Cox took this shocking interruption very well. ‘Not quite the thing, eh?’ he said. ‘But boys do get out of hand from time to time. I don’t know that I’d be severe. Just try to explain, you know, that there are things one doesn’t do. Start by insisting quietly on good manners and other matters will probably dry straight.’

‘It is possible that you are right.’ Sir Bernard doubted whether this simple code, admirable in a general way, would, with Humphrey, quite see Captain Cox through. But his opinion of the young man rose; he would at least not be brutally heavy-handed, which was clearly the danger with his type. Yes, those who recommended Captain Cox had no doubt substantial reason for doing so.

‘Perhaps,’ suggested Captain Cox helpfully, ‘I might chase him up now and explain that it is only in comics that people listen at keyholes? It’s not quite a thing one should let pass.’

‘On the whole, I judge that it would be better not.’ Sir Bernard disliked having his beautiful rooms turned to the uses of a bear-garden. And Humphrey, he knew, whose mental age was bewilderingly variable, would be quite capable of answering the proposed admonitions by seizing a priceless Han vase and pitching it at Captain Cox’s head. ‘The truth is that I have been obliged to enter into a sort of compact with the boy.’ Before Captain Cox’s respectful but uncomprehending gaze he again hesitated. ‘If he is to have a tutor for the holidays, it is to be not before he sets out for Ireland – where, I ought to have explained, he much wishes to go.’

Captain Cox, being out of his depth in such a family situation, wisely held his tongue. And Sir Bernard led the conversation back to School Certificate and then to the cousins with whom the holiday was proposed. One of them – actually a sort of nephew – had recently called and shown a disposition to improve what had hitherto been only a slender acquaintance, inviting both Sir Bernard and Humphrey to Ireland. That, of course, was impossible, for Sir Bernard had a great deal of work on hand. For years, indeed, holidays had been things unknown to him. But the invitation had suggested a possible solution of the problem of Humphrey’s vacation… Sir Bernard talked on, aware that he was not really getting anywhere. And as he talked the clock moved on too. At length he tried to settle the matter. ‘Captin Cox,’ he said abruptly, ‘I would like you to–’ And then a last twinge of doubt assailed him. ‘I would like you to stop to luncheon, if you are not engaged.’

And the luncheon – at which Humphrey did not appear – was quite a success. Sir Bernard, who rarely sat down at table in company other than that of fellow members of the Royal Society, did his best to accommodate his conversation to the interests of his guest. He ought, after all, to know more about this prospective tutor than he did. He proceeded therefore to draw him out. This proved not at all easy – and that for reasons which were entirely to the credit of Captain Cox’s good sense and modesty. Already Sir Bernard knew that the young man was something of a fire-eater; now he gathered that he had been a good deal about the world upon missions in which courage and steadiness were required. And in the war he had certainly seen his share of fighting. Pursuing this theme first with pertinacity and then with downright authoritativeness, Sir Bernard eventually extracted from Captain Cox the admission that he had been awarded the Victoria Cross. And Sir Bernard, who was as impressed by this circumstance as any normal schoolboy would be, wondered how it would strike Humphrey. It might be a strong card – on the other hand, to this too that unaccountable child’s response might be a hoot of satirical mirth… Sir Bernard, still doubtful as to a decision in this matter of tutors, found that the mere progress of the meal had made that decision for him. Over the soup it was an open question, but the serving of the sole virtually committed him – and to this commitment Sir Bernard’s butler, moving softly about the room, was a sort of gloomy witness. By the time that Captain Cox plunged his fork into a second pancake it had become apparent that there was no drawing back. Sir Bernard, therefore, went forward.

‘It will be best’, he said, ‘that you should leave on Thursday, should that be convenient to you.’

‘That’s A1 by me, sir.’

‘I am glad to hear it. The Heysham boat-train leaves Euston at four fifty-five, and I will arrange that the necessary bookings shall be made.’

Captain Cox produced a pocket diary. ‘In that case, I had better be along here about half past three.’

Sir Bernard hesitated. ‘I am afraid,’ he said, ‘that it is a matter in which Humphrey must be a little humoured. I shall bring him to Euston myself and introduce you there.’

‘I see.’ Captain Cox sounded slightly dubious. ‘In fact, Humphrey and I will be pretty well pigs in a poke to each other until we are on our way together?’

Sir Bernard nodded a little stiffly. ‘I trust that you will not find him objectionable. Although difficult, he is really a very attractive lad. Nor do I think that you will find the relations in Ireland altogether uncongenial. They are near a place called Killyboffin. The name is Bolderwood and the family is most respectable.’

‘Ah,’ said Captain Cox. ‘They wouldn’t be the Bolderwoods I know.’

Sir Bernard, who took this for a pleasantry and found it not quite to his liking, signed to the butler for a final glass of claret. ‘I was remarking that the Bolderwoods are of considerable antiquity – I believe in the county of Kent. Latterly, however, the main branch of the family has lived much in South America, where I understand them to have considerable interests. We must not disparage commerce, Captain Cox – provided, of course, that it is on the large scale.’ And Sir Bernard (in whose eyes, as we have seen, shone the awe of one whose universe is on a very large scale indeed) sipped his claret with some complacency.

Captain Cox, who appeared not given to undercurrents of satirical feeling, concentrated upon writing ‘Bolderwood’ in his diary – a quite new diary, unseasonable to the time of year, which he might have bought for the express purpose of recording the requirements and occasions of his prospective employer. ‘And the address?’ he asked.

But Sir Bernard’s mind had strayed elsewhere. ‘Humphrey–’ he began – and paused as he observed Captain Cox’s pencil once more travel over the paper. It was perhaps a sleepiness following upon the excellent Paxton claret that this momentarily reduced the young man to an automatism so accurately recalling the jurors in
Alice in Wonderland
. Becoming conscious of what he was doing, he blushed and hastily thrust the diary into his hip-pocket – this apparently as the most inaccessible place he could at the moment command.

‘Humphrey–?’ said Captain Cox.

‘I was about to remark that Humphrey, not unnaturally, has a good deal interested such schoolmasters as he has had. It is a pity they have not managed to make a little more of him. Understanding, I am sure, is what he needs. But these people have at times written quite voluminous reports, and it occurs to me that you might usefully run through them. If we take our coffee in the study, it will be possible for you to do so.’

If Captain Cox reflected that Humphrey himself might be a good deal more illuminating than his reports he had the tact not to say so, and Sir Bernard’s plan was accordingly adopted. Many of Humphrey’s previous preceptors, it turned out, had expatiated at some length on his abilities and shortcomings in Latin, Maths, Geography, Scripture, and similar intellectual pursuits, while others had made remarks on his industry, degree of personal cleanliness, attitude to manly sports, table manners, veracity, loquacity, and sundry other character traits commonly coming beneath a schoolmaster’s eye. Captain Cox conscientiously perused these memorials for about an hour, and at the end of this period informed Sir Bernard that no very clear picture of the boy emerged. Sir Bernard, approving of this honesty, gloomily concurred. He then wrote out a cheque, requested the new tutor to buy a shot-gun and any other necessary gear, led him out into the hall, and bade him farewell.