When we were told he was accompanying me to school the first thing he asked was ‘They won’t make fun of . . . you know . . . will they?’
‘Of course not,’ I’d replied vehemently. ‘You’re going to a decent school not a village kalwerhok.’fn1
The relief in his eyes was so intense that I quickly looked away. Was there far back in the long tunnel in my mind a faint cackle of cock-crow? Was I really so certain? But I gave myself no chance to discover doubt and repeated firmly: ‘We’re not at all that kind of school.’
Later, on the day of our return to school, as our train came to a standstill at the platform and we got ready to leave our compartment, again his broad hand clutched by arm and he asked: ‘They won’t – will they, Ouboet?’
It was on that occasion, for the first time, that I pretended not to know what his question meant.
I exclaimed irritably: ‘Won’t what?’
He was utterly taken aback. For a moment he stared speechless at me, then said in a frightened whisper: ‘Mock me because of – Oh God, you know what, Ouboet!’
‘Oh, that!’ I answered noticing how heavily he was taking it to heart and continuing as if it were all too trivial for words: ‘I’ve told you already, we’re not that kind of school.’
I think the question was again on his lips when I did my rounds of the dormitories last thing that night. But if it was he dared not ask it. He just looked at me with such eloquent apprehension that I turned away hastily and bade him a curt: ‘Good night.’
My rounds done I went to join the heads of the other three houses in the study of the Captain of the school. I had done that walk between my house and the school many times, yet that night it felt to me as if I had never done it before. Every detail had taken to itself the mystery of all things. The moon was so bright that I could see the shadow of our greatest mountains at the end of the plain many miles away. The round white-washed stones beside the gravelled drive might have been skulls adorning the approach to a barbaric court. The cactus in the rock-garden raising its arms high to heaven was a Maya priest, knife in hand, sacrificing to the moon. The shadows of the trees were inky pools of tidal water lying forgotten among glistening rocks, and the whole night was hissing urgently as if the moonlight were the sea and the earth an outward-bound ship parting the surf at the bar of some harbour mouth. Between the school and distant town, night-plovers cried continuously, like gulls over the stormy Cape.
It all made such an overwhelming impression on me that I stood for a while in front of the Captain’s door, wondering. Even the stars moved as if they were sparking off messages in their own confidential code. Noticing it, I was sharply harried by the fancy, which came out at me like a watch-dog in the dark, that perhaps they really did carry some special message for me? Impatiently I dismissed the notion as clearly absurd. I was there to discuss with the Captain of the school and others the ordinary business of the term. The five of us had met, thus, on the eve of each re-assembly for the past eighteen months. The idea that there would be any extra significance on this occasion even made me impatient with the splendour of the night.
I rapped on the door and went in to be warmly welcomed by the Captain and heads of the other three houses. After a cheerfully busy hour or two the Captain said: ‘This brings us now to the little matter of tomorrow’s initiation. I take it you’ve all interviewed the newcomers in your houses. Have you any youngsters you think should be excused?’
Yes, said the man next to me, he had a boy with a weak heart who’d brought a doctor’s certificate to that effect. The next, grumblingly, said he’d got a chap who was as blind as a bat, with lenses thick enough for a septuagenarian! He’d probably better be excused all the physical rites though there was no reason why he shouldn’t be available for the rest of the fun. The third pleaded similarly for a boy still recovering from a long fever. Then came my turn. Firmly I said I had no one needing to be excused.
The Captain looked keenly at me. ‘No one?’
‘No,’ I repeated carefully veiling the surprise I felt at his question and looking him steadily in the eye. But to my amazement he didn’t leave it at that.
‘You’ve got a young brother in your house, haven’t you?’ he asked.
‘I have,’ I answered, my whole being springing to attention.
‘What about him?’ the Captain asked.
‘Well, what about him?’ I parried so sharply that the others laughed.
The Captain smiled. ‘I was merely wondering if he was all right –’
‘Of course he’s all right.’ My answer was quietly vehement yet the Captain persisted.
‘Forgive me, old chap,’ he said, almost shyly. ‘I don’t want to badger you. If you say he’s all right we all accept it. But, knowing you, we realize the last thing you’d ask for would be special dispensation for a relation. So if you’ve any reason for wanting your brother excused tomorrow we’d none of us think of it as favouritism.’
A spontaneous murmur of applause went round the table. I found myself blushing. ‘Awfully decent of you but there’s no reason, honestly.’
‘Well, then, that’s that,’ said the Captain, evidently well satisfied with the way the claims of business and decency had been met, and he bade us a hearty good night.
On the way back I found myself perturbed and not a little sad, and I was unable to explain it to myself. It is only now that I know that between my impatient rap on the Captain’s door and the moment when it opened and shut behind me again as I stepped out into the unbelievable moonlight of that wheeling night, the master-nothing of which I have spoken previously had caught up with me and was moving fast into place.
A second example of this, if I may use so positive a phrase for so negative a phenomenon, arose next morning right at the beginning of school.
Prayers over, the Captain came up to me and said: ‘I’ve got to see the Head immediately after classes this afternoon. Would you keep an eye on things for me until I get back?’
He was referring of course to the ‘round-up’ of newcomers which always took place on the opening day between the last class and the first prep.
‘D’you mind if I don’t?’ I asked at once.
‘Of course not.’ He paused. ‘I didn’t really think you’d want to. But as you’re head of the senior house I felt I had to ask you.’ He smiled and put a friendly hand on my shoulder before moving on.
I had a suspicion of his feeling but my intimates saw to it that I soon knew the full meaning of his words. Apparently after our conversation the Captain had told them all of my refusal to take charge of the school during the ‘round-up’, and he had explained that he was certain it was done out of respect for the traditions of the school and in order to ensure that my popular presence in a position of authority should not influence the crowd to treat my brother differently from any other unprivileged newcomer. He had even added that it was exactly what he’d expected of one with such a scrupulous sense of fair play.