Chapter 61
For he made no secret at all that he was a youth of depraved tastes and habits, and insisted on addressing me as though I resembled him in these respects. He gave me what he doubtless intended to be a highly entertaining and spicy account of many of his escapades and exploits in town and country, appealing to me every few sentences as to what I should have said or done or thought in similar circ.u.mstances.
And when he had exhausted his stories of himself he told me stories of his friends, some of which were disgusting, some horrifying, and some stupid. But with it all he had an air as if he believed everybody at heart was bad, and as if morality and sobriety and unselfishness were mere affectation and cant.
Has any of my readers ever met such a one as Masham? I hope not. If he should, let him beware of him as the worst enemy a boy could encounter.
For no poison is more deadly than that which strives to make one man lose all faith in his fellow-man.
I was so far infected by his manner that, though I felt ashamed to be sitting and listening to his bad talk, I dared not protest, for fear of appearing (what he would be sure to consider me), a hypocrite.
And so, unprofitably, the journey was beguiled, not without frequent stoppings and refres.h.i.+ngs, each of which had the effect of exhilarating Whipcord's spirits and making Masham's tongue looser and looser.
At length Windsor was reached, and I looked forward to exchanging my undesirable companion for more interesting occupation in seeing over the town with its grand old castle.
But in this I was woefully disappointed. Whipcord drove straight up to an inn in the town, where he ordered the horse and trap to be put up, while we all entered the smoky coffee-room and discussed the desirability of having dinner.
"I thought we were going to picnic out of doors?" I said, mildly, in answer to Masham's appeal whether we should not order dinner where we were.
"All very well if you could get your liquor laid on," said Whipcord. "I fancy we'd better stay where we are. What do you say, Hawkesbury?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint Batchelor," said Hawkesbury, smiling, "but I really think we shall get dinner more comfortably here. We've no plates or knives; and, as Whipcord says, there would be a difficulty about the beer."
I was outvoted, and had to give up my idea of a rustic meal in the open air.
It was not a very pleasant
"How are you getting on, Batchelor?" said the former presently to me.
"Don't be afraid of that bottle, man, it's only whisky!"
"Don't you believe him; it's gin," laughed Whipcord.
"I thought you said it was brandy," said Hawkesbury.
"There you are!" said Masham. "One says one thing, one another, and one another. Now I tell you what, Batchelor shall be umpire, and we'll each put five s.h.i.+llings on it, eh? What do you say to that?"
"I'd rather not bet," replied Hawkesbury, "but I'd like to know what Batchelor says it is."
"I'll go half-sovs. with you on it," said Whipcord.
"Done with you!" said Masham; "but Hawkesbury must go too, for if it's brandy we both lose."
"I'd rather not bet," said Hawkesbury, "but if it will spoil your fun if I don't I'll join."
"Thanks. Now, Batchelor, fill up, old toper, and give us your verdict."
"I really am no judge of spirits," said I. "Innocent babe," said Masham, "how well he does it! But he doesn't seem to know the rule in these cases," added he, winking at the other two. "What rule?" I asked.
"Why, about hanging back. Half a tumbler for every twenty seconds, isn't that it, Whipcord?"
"I thought it was a whole tumbler!"
"Ah, wouldn't you take your time to decide, eh? Come now," said Masham, taking out his watch, "we'll start now."
"Hold hard," said Whipcord. "Surely we are to have gla.s.ses too, to see if he guesses right."
"Very well, fill all round. Now, Batchelor."
"I really can't do it," I said, faintly. "Five seconds gone!" bawled Masham, laughing. "Please, don't be so foolish," I cried, getting alarmed. "Hawkesbury, please stop them!"
"Ten seconds gone, eleven, twelve!"
"I tell you, I--"
"Seventeen, eighteen," said Masham, rising and reaching out his arm for the bottle.
There was no help for it. I seized my gla.s.s and gulped down its contents. It made me cough and sputter, and my eyes watered, greatly to the amus.e.m.e.nt of my persecutors.
"What is it?" they all cried.
I could scarcely speak for anger and the burning in my throat.
"It's a shame!" I began.
"That's not what it is," cried Whipcord. "Come, give it a name, or you'll have to drink another!"
"Oh, brandy," I almost shrieked, willing to do anything rather than that. "I say, Hawkesbury," I said, reproachfully, "I didn't expect you were bringing me to this sort of thing."
"It is a shame," he said to me aside. "I would have stopped it if I could; but don't you see they were eager about their bet, and it was the only way of quieting them. Never mind."
The rest of the afternoon pa.s.sed away much as it had begun. After dinner we went down to the river and took a boat, in which Masham and Whipcord lay and slept all the time, while Hawkesbury and I rowed them about. It was with difficulty, about five o'clock, that we got them ash.o.r.e again, and half led, half dragged them back to the inn.
"Come," said Hawkesbury to Whipcord, "it's time to be getting the trap ready for the start back, isn't it?"
"Is it? Go and tell the fellow, some of you," replied our driver.
"I'll be ready pretty soon," said he, moving once more towards the bar.
"You surely aren't going to drink any more," cried I, taking his arm and trying gently to stop him.
He wrenched his arm loose and gave me a push back, saying, "Young prig!
what's it to do with you?"
"I think he wants to come too," said Masham. "Come along, Batchelor."
I had positively to run away to elude them, and made the pretext of going to the stable to see after the harnessing of the horse.
When this was done I sought for Hawkesbury.
"Do you think it's safe for Whipcord to drive in the state he's in?"
"Oh, yes. With a horse like that too. He's pretending to be a great deal worse than he is, just to horrify you."