Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction; Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction
"I dare say you have, but recollect I can bite; you'd better be quiet,
granny, or, as the master says, `it will end in a blow-up.'"
"Only hear the little wretch," said my granny, lifting up her hands; "I
shall see you hanged yet, you ungrateful child."
"I'm not ungrateful," replied I, throwing my arms round Milly's neck,
and kissing her with fervour; "I can love those who love me."
"Then you don't love me?" said my mother, reproachfully.
"I did yesterday, but I don't now; but it's time for me to go, aunt; is
my basket ready? I don't want father to take me to school, I can do
without him, and when I don't choose to go any more, I won't; recollect
that, mother." So saying, I seized my basket and quitted the room.
There was a long consultation, I found, after my departure: my mother,
when my aunt had informed her of Mr O'Gallagher's conduct, wished to
remove me instantly; my grandmother insisted upon it that there was not
a word of truth in what I had said, and threatened that if I did not
remain at that very school, she would leave Chatham, and take my aunt
with her. As my mother could not part with aunt Milly, the consequence
was, that my grandmother gained the day.
I arrived in good time, and took my seat near my master. I preferred
doing this, as I had had a long conversation with Captain Bridgeman who
told me that although Mr O'Gallagher had put the ruler down as
punishment Number 1, the ferrule Number 2, and the birch as Number 3,
and of course they were considered to be worse as the number rose, that
he considered it to be the very contrary, as he had had them all well
applied when he was at school; he ordered me, therefore, never to hold
out my hand to the ferrule, by which refusal I should, of course, be
flogged; but he assured me that the birch, especially when it is given
often, was a mere nothing. Now I considered that the surest way to
avoid the ruler was to sit close to my master, who could then have no
pretence for sending it at my head; the fact was I had determined to
save the more noble portions of my body, and leave Mr O'Gallagher to do
what he pleased with the other: to do him justice, he lost no time.
"Come here, Mr Keene," said he, "where's your manners? why don't you
say good morning to your preceptor? Can you read at all?"
"No, sir."
"D'ye know your letters?"
"Some of them--I think I do, sir."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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