Ande Trembath: A Tale of Old Cornwall EnglandKemp, Matthew Stanley
General
Ande Trembath: A Tale of Old Cornwall England
Kemp, Matthew Stanley
Cornwall (England : County) -- Fiction
No modifications being advanced the captains returned to their stations
and began to arrange their men. Then Ande anxiously consults with Dick
and the other leaders of his side. He is once more outlining his
signals. He has a small boatswain's whistle. One blast signifies close
up on the ball; two sharp blasts means scatter out in the rear; three
blasts, in quick succession, call the attention of the dogs to expected
action on their part. Jordan nods his head gravely, as he listens to the
captain, Dick shakes himself like a great mastiff, as if he would rather
be engaged in active play than listen to rules. The gentlemen are sizing
up the players and putting bets on either side, according to their
fancy.
The heavy players, with Dick in the centre, are well up in front. There
are some twenty of these, and they will make their weight and prowess
felt ere the game is over. Back of them stands the captain, and back
still beyond him, some ten players of lighter build, upon whose
quickness and agility depend much. But who are those some two hundred
yards farther back on the road to Helston? They are lighter players from
the fourth and third forms, hard as pine knots, trained to perfection in
fleetness of foot, and able to dodge and race like hares. They are the
captain's latest addition to the efficiency of his team. They are to
serve in the capacity of "dogs," as Ande calls them. They are to watch
their chances; not to engage in the scrimmages where weight will tell,
but to grasp the ball when opportunity comes, and speed with it to their
own goal. Notice them playfully wrestling with each other, filling in
the time until the game opens.
The Breage men are not thus trained or lined up. They depend more upon
individual action and weight of their numbers than tactics. But now
there is a movement up in front. The players are all in position.
"Are you ready?" shouts a gentleman, preparatory to casting off the
ball. He is standing to one side, in front of the other gentlemen and
spectators, and is holding the new hurling ball in his hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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