The following account refers to events that took place in the early part of 1970 when I was in the Fifth Form of a prestigious Australian boarding school. I was a precocious child and as a result of this, I had been allowed to begin my secondary education two years younger than was normal, so at this stage I had only recently turned 14 years old.
After this length of time at the school, I was completely acclimatized to the environment and I was now considered to be a senior student. Academically I was one of the strongest students in my Form - in all modesty, probably the strongest - and I had started to work exceptionally hard. In my early days at the school, I had been rather poorly behaved, I am afraid. Ill disciplined, impulsive, more than a little dishonest, but over time my behaviour had improved markedly and so by this stage I think that it is fair to say that I was reasonably well respected in the school by those in power and authority, I was bright, hardworking, and generally well behaved. This didn't mean, though, that I was free from the fear and fact of corporal punishment. In fact, to an extent, the opposite was true. I was seen as having real potential that needed to be preserved and nurtured. If I misbehaved, it was considered that much more important to bring me back on track. In a real sense, once we entered the Fifth Form, I feel that the school tended to deal more severely with those they had the highest hopes for. I wasn't punished anywhere near as often as badly behaved boys, but that was because I misbehaved much more rarely. When I did misbehave, my punishments tended to be more severe. The school also streamed its pupils into groups based on ability and achievement and I was in the top stream for every subject that I was doing. In some cases there was only one stream, but generally this meant that I was grouped with those others who were deemed to show real potential. So the practice of treating us a little more severely than was normal, was something I had to deal with all the time. Not every member of staff did it. But enough did to make it rather noticeable.
At the start of Fifth Form, they generally gave boys four weeks to get back into decent schoolroom habits. And when the fifth week came, that's when real and serious learning started. And that's when this story takes place.
I was already working hard before this fateful week arrived. I had slacked off my very first week back, but a 'discussion' with my House Master convinced me that this was rather unwise and so for three weeks, I had been working hard. I was doing a lot of subjects - more than was normal - and there were a couple that I had deliberately taken because I thought they would be easy. One of these was History.
The teacher of this subject was one of our fairly rare female teachers - a Mistress rather than a Master. Miss Gill was quite young - perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties - and hadn't been at the school long. I believe this was her second year there. She was a nice enough lady who generally ran a fairly relaxed class. We knew which of our teachers were strict disciplinarians and which weren't - she was somewhere in the middle I suppose. She expected results and hard work, but she didn't normally obsess about minor issues and she had never in anyone's experience used the cane.
I'll be honest - about half the boys taken her class, like myself, regarded it as a place to get easy results. And so, we didn't take it as seriously as we should have. To be honest, it was probably a bit rude to someone who, as far as I can recall, was a very good and very dedicated teacher.
It was our last period of the regular school day, and I had my first inter-school debate that evening. I had recently become Captain of Debating (something I was very proud of) and representatives of another prominent school were coming to our school and I had to be organized to meet them and take them to dinner. My two team mates were in this class with me, and we were looking over our notes at the back of the room, trying to be inconspicuous. There was quite a lot of talking going on, all around the room and Miss Gill told us all to settle down.
We did for maybe two minutes I suppose, before the chatting started up again. She let it go on for a few minutes, before she again called for quiet. This time she seemed a little angry, so we did quiet down properly.
Three minutes later, one of my teammates slid a note across to me asking a question about the debate and rather than write a note back - passing notes was rather more frowned on than talking, I whispered to him: "Let's talk about it after class."
"Rysher!"
I jumped and sat up straight. Miss Gill sounded very cross, a great contrast from her normal pleasant tones. "Yes, Miss."
"Were you talking?"
"I was just -"
"Were you talking?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Go and see Mr Keanes and tell him that you have repeatedly disrupted my class."
I was a bit shocked. Mr Keanes was our Deputy Headmaster and the most feared disciplinarian in the school. And I do mean feared. He really was, at this stage of my schooling, the only master who I was genuinely frightened of. Being sent to Mr Keanes was a serious threat. It was also quite a common one among teachers who didn't use the cane themselves. But it was a threat - it was rarely acted upon. It really didn't seem fair to me at the time that I was being sent to Mr Keanes without explicit warning - if she'd said "Be quiet or I'll send you to Mr Keanes", I would have had no complaints - and I also wouldn't have whispered. But her warning hadn't said that, and I really did feel this was a little unfair.
Now, in reality, Miss Gill had done nothing wrong at all. I had knowingly broken a classroom rule and another teacher might well have caned for that. She was fully justified in sending me to see Mr Keanes, but it just didn't feel right.
The simple honest truth is that I was genuinely scared of the cane. And I was genuinely scared of Mr Keanes. Add it together and as I slowly stood up, I was feeling, just a little mistreated.
I left the classroom and headed down to the main building where Mr Keanes had his study. I was a little upset already. Mr Keanes always caned - everybody knew it. If she'd sent to my Form Master, or even the Headmaster, I might have had a realistic chance of not being caned - or of getting just a token stroke or two. But Mr Keanes - he caned so readily, and being in the Fifth Form, the chances of me getting less than three were truly remote.
I don't want to give the impression that Mr Keanes was some sort of sadist. That would be very unfair and I have no absolutely no reason to think that. In my view, he was simply a very old fashioned master in an already old fashioned school. Our Headmaster treated the cane as a necessary evil. He'd use it and he'd use it well, but if he could find an excuse to avoid using it, then he probably would avoid it. I don't think that ever would have even occurred to Mr Keanes. To him, the cane was simply another teaching tool, like chalk or a blackboard. Where appropriate you took it out, you used it, and then you put it away. It wasn't pleasant to use it - but it wasn't anything to worry about either. He had very close to the same powers of punishment as the Headmaster (possibly the same - there's one grey area, I've never been sure about). He could cane a boy across his trousers as any Master could - but he could also flog a boy on the bare bottom and he did do that on occasion (although never to me, thankfully - though that did happen twice at the hands of the Head, himself).
As I entered the main school building, I was hoping that, perhaps, Mr Keanes might not be there. I'd then have to return to my classroom where it could at least be hoped that Miss Gill might let me off on further reflection. But as I approached his study, I could see that his door was open and I could hear him talking inside. So I resigned myself to the inevitable and sat down to wait until he was free.
"You are in a great deal of trouble, Clayton. Refusing to take a caning from a Master is a very, very serious thing. I should flog you right now without question. But you're very new here, so I'll give you a chance. Go back to class and take your punishment and we'll say no more about it."
"But I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Mr Cannon says you did, and I have to believe Mr Cannon. Now once again, will you go back and take your punishment like a man or do I have to flog you?"
"I won't be caned."
"I assure you, you will be."
"I WON'T." A second later, a young boy came running out the door next to where I was sitting and began sprinting down the halls passed me. Three or four seconds after that, Mr Keanes appeared at the door, saw me sitting there, and snapped "Rysher, bring him back."
I jumped to my feet and gave chase. He was pretty fast for a twelve year old, but I had a couple of years on him spent in a very physical environment and I knew the school much better than he did - he was only in the First Form and had only been at the school a month. He almost made it to the gates - he was a day boy and I think he was trying to make a bid for home. I overhauled him, and grabbed his arms. He struggled a bit until I told him that if he didn't calm down, I'd give him a good thumping. For some reason he believed me and stopped struggling. But he refused to move.
"Come on, kid. Back to Mr Keanes."
"No! Please let me go!"
"I can't do that, sorry. If I don't take you back, I'll be in even more trouble and I don't want that to happen. I'm already going to get the cane, I don't need any more of it."
He started, reluctantly walking. I had my hand on his arm and I wasn't letting go, and I'd have dragged him if necessary. "What did you do, kid?"
"Nothing!"
"OK, what did they say you did?"
"Mr Cannon says I threw a spit ball at him, but I didn't. It wasn't me."
"Did you tell him that?"
"Yes, I did. But he wouldn't believe me."
"Well... you'll get away with stuff you did at some stage. It all evens out in the end." I spoke from experience. While most canings I had received were richly deserved, there had been a couple where I hadn't deserved it. But for each of those occasions, there were at least half a dozen where I'd got away with something I could have and should have been caned for. I'm not saying that made the unwarranted occasions, fair. But they were just a fact of life. Our Masters tried to be fair, they really did, I think. But they weren't perfect.
"It's not fair!"
"No, it isn't, you're right - Clayton, is it? It's not fair. But you've got a choice, kid - or maybe you have a choice if Mr Keanes is still offering. You can get two or three on your shorts, probably, for something you didn't do - the spitball - or you can get six on your bare bottom for something you did do which is refuse a caning. Maybe that's fairer - but speaking as someone who's been there, forget fair - take the lesser punishment."
We were close to the doors of main school again by this stage, and he saw this and dug his feet in and refused to move.
"Come on, kid. Don't make me carry you."
"What's the problem here?"
Coming around the corner was a sixth form boy, a newly minted prefect. He was a day boy and we didn't know each other well, but we knew each others name. And what he could see was an older boy - me - with his arm locked on a younger boy - Clayton - who seemed to be trying to get away from me. Naturally he needed to satisfy himself that I had some lawful purpose for manhandling a younger boy.
"Hi Campion - I have to take this first former back to Mr Keanes. He tried to do a runner."
"All right, Rysher... actually I think I'd better come with you. See he gets there safe and sound. You don't object?"
"Not at all." I knew he was doing his job. Making sure I was taking the kid to Keanes. Fact is, Campion may not have known I was now a paragon of virtue - it takes a while to overcome a reputation scarred by being beaten in front of most of the school. Clayton accepted the inevitable at this point. He might have got away from me. He wasn't getting away from two older boys.
Campion came with us to Mr Keanes study. When we arrived, Mr Keanes was standing outside waiting. Campion was about to move on, but Mr Keanes gestured to him to stop. The Deputy Head turned to Clayton and I tried to intervene.
"Sir, perhaps if you gave Clayton one last chance?" I hoped I'd convinced him to act sensibly. Mr Keanes looked a bit annoyed at my interference - for all I know he may still have intended to give Clayton another chance - and then asked the question.
"Will you take your punishment from Mr Cannon, Clayton."
Clayton shook his head, and I have to admit I admired the tone of his voice. "I WON'T BE CANED."
"Oh yes, you will. Bring him in Rysher, Campion, you come in as well."
I dragged Clayton to the desk, as Mr Keanes closed his study door and locked it. Then he stepped up and closed his window, pulling closed the curtains as well. Next to the door, Campion switched on the lights.
"Let him go, Rysher." I did so. "Pull your trousers down, Clayton."
"NO!"
"Grab his arms, Nathan. You grab his legs, Jacob. We'll have to do this the hard way."
I did as I was told and Jacob took his other end and we carried him despite his struggles to where Mr Keanes indicated next to an old armchair.
"Hold him over it - you both should know how it works."
I pulled Claytons arms forward and then pulled down, so I was crouching in front of the chair holding on. Campion was kneeling down next to Clayton's legs on the other side of the armchair, while the boy himself was bent over the top of the chair. Mr Keanes placed his hands into the waist band of the boys shorts and tried to pull them down, but the belt on the hips held them in place.
"Keep hold of him and stand up, Nathan, and you keep hold of him, Jacob. Turn him round so he's facing me."
The boy was struggling but I had a good grip and was stronger. Mr Keanes undid his belt and then the buttons of his short trousers and pulled them down. Then he placed his hands in the waistband of his underpants and tugged them down as well.
Clayton was still a little boy. No hair, his penis - uncircumcised which I noticed because it was rather unusual at the time - showed perhaps the early signs of growth, but puberty clearly was not a major factor in his life as yet, and realizing that I felt very sorry for him. A flogging was a serious punishment, and it seemed wrong to me that such a little boy was facing it. I realise now that he was actually a year older than I had been when I was first flogged, but I was a second former then and I felt older.
"Get him back over. And hold him still." He walked to an umbrella stand behind his door, and took out a cane, while we pulled Clayton back into the proper position. I was looking right into his eyes - they were wide and white, and his mouth was open. His face was red.
Mr Keanes took his line, drew the cane back and slammed it down HARD. The look on Clayton's face was hard to describe. Shock, pain, and then tears welled in the corner of his eyes. He looked at me almost pleadingly as the cane was drawn back and I gripped him harder. He yelped at the second stroke, and jerked and so did I, and then, mercifully he lowered his head down so I didn't need to look into his face. It had never occurred to me to turn away or to close my eyes. I was mesmerized by the experience.
Six strokes in less than twenty seconds, I think, but it's hard to judge time in this situation. I just bit my lip and held his wrists and watched the back of Clayton's head and listened to his yelps and sobs, until Mr Keanes had discharged the task at hand.
"Let him up."
I released his wrists and realised I'd left finger marks there. He straightened up rapidly and his hands flew around to his bottom. His penis flopped and it seemed to me to have lengthened slightly since I had first seen it. I wasn't sure what to make of that - but it had in all probability been pushed up against the fabric of the armchair, so I did wonder if that had had some effect. His face was red and tear stained. Jacob Campion put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off with a very petulant motion. I slowly stood up and waited to be told what to do next. For some reason I wasn't thinking that clearly.
"Pull your pants up, boy."
As he bent down to grab his underpants that were down around his ankle I saw his bottom - half a dozen (I suppose - I didn't count) angry red lines were becoming visible on the curved white flesh. He tugged up his underpants and his shorts and then began to run for the door. I moved to intercept, looking at Mr Keanes. He said quietly. "Let him go, it's over now," so I let him run away.
I stood looking at Campion as Mr Keanes returned his cane to the umbrella stand. He reached into his trouser pocket and drew out a couple of coins, "Here, boys." He gave myself one and Campion one - a fifty cent coin. I pocketed mine immediately. "You two can go."
I realised why I was there and stood my ground as Campion left the room. "Um, Sir... I was sent to see you."
He looked at me, a rather stern appearance on his face. "What for?"
"Talking in class, Sir." He raised an eyebrow. "After three warnings."
He pursed his lips and considered for about twenty seconds. "Don't do it again - and I mean it."
"Yes, Sir."
I shot off and returned to class. I went in and began to walk to my desk.
"What happened, Rysher?" Miss Gill called from her place near the board, her voice quite pleasant, once again.
"He let me off."
"What?" her tone had changed again.
"He let me off with a warning, Miss." I turned to face her, out of politeness.
She drew her breath. "Go and borrow a cane, Rysher?"
"Oh, Miss -"
"Go and borrow a cane."
"Yes, Miss."
I stepped out of the room again and went looking for an occupied classroom to see if could find a teacher who was carrying a cane. A few doors down, I saw Mr Cannon at the front of a class. Mr Cannon was another rather new Master and not very good at controlling a class from what I had heard. There was a cane sitting in open sight on his desk and I knocked on the door.
"Yes... Rysher, is it?"
"Yes, Sir. Please Sir, Miss Gill would like to borrow your cane."
"Come and get it."
As I stepped into the room, I could hear absolutely piteous sobbing off to one side. At the desk closest to the door, his head down between his arms resting on the desk was Clayton. He was sobbing his heart out on that desk and I felt a wave of mixed pity and contempt for him. Pity because I knew he was hurting. Contempt because of the way he was taking it, in public. You had to be strong.
Mr Cannon saw me looking. "Don't mind him, Rysher. He's had a bit of a bad time today." I continued walking to the desk and picked up the cane. I had other things to worry about besides Clayton's pain.
I returned to my classroom and handed the cane to Miss Gill. While I'd been gone she had placed her teachers chair almost in the centre of the front of the room.
"Bend over." She said it is a very firm voice. And I did as I was told.
The first stroke came with a second of my bending before I had any time to prepare myself and it hurt a bit but nothing particularly bad. The second stroke came very shortly after, very low, very poorly targeted but she hardly took time to aim. It missed my bottom completely, cutting in about two thirds of the way up my calves. I straightened up - something I nearly never did, because you were not meant to until you were told out of sheer shock. It hurt, certainly, but not incredibly. It was mostly a matter of where she had hit.
"That will do. Take the cane back."
"Yes, Miss." I walked out the door deliberately smiling at my classmates until I was in the hall outside when I leaned myself against the wall and breathed a few times to let the pain fade out as much as possible.
I returned to Mr Cannon's room and knocked on his door. He gestured to his desk and I walked over to put the cane on it. I could see the first formers looking at me so I made sure I showed no sign of pain at first. And then I heard another sob, deep and mournful from Clayton and dropped my pretence. I didn't exaggerate how I was feeling, but I dropped the happy act. It wasn't fair to him to make it look like a caning was a joke. With older boys, I'd have had no sympathy for him. But I knew, a month into their first form, most of these boys hadn't been caned yet and they were probably going to absorb the contempt us older boys would show for weakness without any understanding of how truly hard it could be to be strong. So as I walked back, I limped a bit, and let my hand just rub once. Let them see it hurt. I reached the door and stopped. And thought and turned.
"Mr Cannon, Sir. I think Clayton needs to go to the infirmary."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I saw what Mr Keanes did, Sir. And he needs to go. I'm sure Mr Keanes would have sent him after that, but he didn't hang around long enough to find out."
This was not on, really. It wasn't the place of a fifth form boy to say this to a Master. If Clayton had been in my House, I might have had some semblance of right to say this, but he was a day boy, nothing to do with me. Still I said it and Mr Cannon looked at me, and nodded.
"Could you take him then, Rysher, if he's really that hurt?"
"Sir. Come with me, kid."
I lead him out the door.
He was crying very heavily and it was a fairly long walk from where our classrooms were to the schools medical centre - boarding houses had their own infirmaries, the medical centre handled serious injuries but was also used by day boys for more minor issues. We walked in silence for a moment and then he spoke.
"Did you get caned too?"
"Yes, I did." I decided not to tell him that Mr Keanes had let me off, but my answer was still truthful.
"It's awful."
"Yes, it can be. But it's over now, kid."
"If I deserved it... but I didn't. It was... can I tell you who it was. I don't want to dob."
My contempt for him dropped back a bit. At least he understood how that worked.
"Yeah, you can tell me. It's only dobbing if you tell staff - sometimes prefects too. I'm just another boy."
"It was Landon. And he shoulda owned up, shouldn't he?"
This was a tricky one. Our rules on schoolboy honour were kind of complicated. It was really up to Clayton if he took a punishment for another boy. He couldn't dob, but if he was falsely accused all he had to say was 'Fair go' and it was then expected for the other boy to own his offence. You did take punishment for others sometimes - not that often, but the way some Masters were, and Mr Cannon might well have been one of them, sometimes all owning up did got both of you caned. So it was left up to the boy facing unwarranted punishment to decide.
But regardless - once it became clear that Clayton was to go to Mr Keanes, Landon - and thinking about it, I remembered Landon - he was a new boy in my House - should have owned up, regardless of the 'Fair Go' rule. You couldn't expect a classmate to take a flogging for you when all you'd get was - I felt it was likely that Mr Cannon might have handed out two, or at most three, for a spitball - maybe only one if a boy confessed like that. Landon should have owned up. But the nuances of how it worked, though clear to me after four years in the school, might have reasonably escaped a First Form boy.
"Yes, maybe he should have. It's hard to say. You should have called 'Fair Go.'"
Clayton stopped and his voice cracked as he almost wailed. "But I did!"
And that changed everything.
No doubt. No dispute. There were rules. There were understandings. There were codes. And that was a violation of one of the most important.
"I'm sorry, Clayton. I'm really sorry. That shouldn't have happened. And I'll try and make sure it doesn't happen again."
Landon was in my House. Now boarders relationships with day boys weren't always very good. although I think they were better at my school than they were at many other boarding schools. We didn't always treat day boys with complete respect though. And I felt what had happened here quite keenly. Day boys were to an extent, second class citizens - but for someone from my House to violate our codes like that with a day boy as its victim - that to me was adding injury to insult.
We arrived at the medical centre and I took him in. In the reception area sat one of the under-Matrons - these were nurses who acted to relieve our House Matrons when needed, and who worked in the medical centre most of the time. I knew this one fairly well, as she'd taken on my house more than once. She was one of the youngest of them.
"Hello Nathan. Have you been in the wars?"
"I'm just escorting Clayton here. I'll let him tell you why. But can you give me a slip?"
"You're Fifth Form, do you need one?"
Junior boys had to get a blue slip if they went to the infirmary during school time to prove where they had been. Senior boys - and I was one now - were trusted (to an extent - they'd sometimes check we'd been and if they found out we hadn't, there would be hell to pay) and didn't normally need slips. But I'd been sent on what was meant to be a minute long errand to return a cane, and that was probably close to ten minutes ago now - I was missing quite a bit of Miss Gill's class, all things being considered.
"It might be wise, yes."
So she wrote me a slip and I ran back to class.
When I entered Miss Gill was sitting at her desk and she meaningfully glanced at the clock. Before she could say anything, I walked over and handed her the slip. She looked at it and at me - and gestured for me to go back to my desk. I went and sat down and began copying some dates from the board until five minutes before the bell was due to sound.
"All right, boys. After you settled down, you've worked well, so you can take an early mark. Off you go - Rysher, could you stay for a moment?"
Oh great. Now, what?
As my classmates streamed out at the end of the day, I approached her desk.
"Miss, I'm sorry I talked. It was rude of -"
"Are you all right, Nathan?" Her voiced was very concerned. She was holding the blue slip and I suddenly realised that from her perspective she handed out a very rare caning (for all I know it could have been her first) and then I'd disappeared coming back with a note from the infirmary. "Did I hurt you?"
"Oh no, Miss. You didn't hurt me! Mr Cannon asked me to take one of his boys to the infirmary. That's nothing to do with you."
"Oh good." She was obviously relieved. Then she frowned a bit. "So I didn't hurt you?"
"Well, Miss... how can I put this. Yes, you did hurt me, but you didn't hurt me. I mean you did what you were trying to do, but I won't drop dead or anything."
"So that was effective?"
"Effective enough, Miss, that I don't want you to try again!"
"I'm glad - well, not that I hurt you. I wish I hadn't had to do that. But you were warned, Nathan. And I can't let you get away with just ignoring what I say like that. You understand?"
"I know, Miss. No hard feelings, Miss, I swear. I shouldn't have talked - I got what I deserved - but, Miss..." I wondered if I was going too far, but decided it had to be said. "You might want to aim more next time. I don't think you meant to get me where you got me with that second one."
"You're right. I didn't. But you're lucky - because I was going to give you three."
"All's well, Miss, then. Can I go. I have to catch the others so I can finish the conversation you so rudely interrupted."
"Don't be cheeky, Nathan. Yes, you may go, but be very careful."
I bolted, found my debating team and we set to discussing strategy for the night.
The debate did not go well that evening - no, that's not true. We lost but that was because we were beaten by the better team. We did a fair job, but they simply outclassed us. My mood was rather neutral as I returned to the House. I was annoyed we'd lost, and as I saw Landon crossing the hall in front of me, my mood did not improve. I wanted a word with him. I wanted to make it clear to him some basic concepts of school boy honour.
But I had to be fair. Maybe he didn't know what he'd done.
So I sought out our House Captain and I found him in his study/bedroom. Evening was winding down - prep was over (I'd been exempt because of the debate) and junior boys were starting to get ready for bed, but the senior boys still had quite a lot of time if they wanted to take it. Our House Captain for that year, and myself were quite different personalities. He was a rower, I was a swot. Two very different parts of the school hierarchy. But we got on well enough.
"Chris, I don't suppose you could tell me who Gary Landon's mentor was?"
Every First Form boy was assigned a Third Form boy as a mentor in his first couple of weeks in the school. It was the mentor's job - informally for the most part - to make sure he learned the rules, both official and unofficial - including the basics of our code of honour.
"Give me a sec, Nathan." He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a red notebook. "Landon was placed with Derek Gordon."
"Cheers, Chris."
Derek was actually a fairly close friend - despite being two forms younger and two years younger. Actually that was why he was a good friend - he was the only other boy in the House who like myself had been allowed to enter the school two years earlier than normal. Despite our age difference, that gave us a commonality and I took an interest in him. I'd also been his mentor when I was in third form. I found him cleaning his teeth in the bathroom.
"Derek, I've got a question for you. Gary Landon was your telem, this year?"
"Yes, he was. Why?"
"I need to check - did you tell him the codes? Specifically did you tell him about 'Fair go?'"
"Yes, I did. And, yes, I did."
"Are you sure? It's important."
"No doubt. I even tested him on them, because he didn't seem to be taking them that seriously. Written test - you can see it if you like?"
"You gave him a written test?"
"Of course."
"I didn't give you a written test."
"You didn't need to."
We went into the prep room and Derek rummaged through his desk. He pulled out a sheet of looseleaf and handed it to me. It was a written test on the code (and incidentally when I was House Captain the following year, I made copies and gave it to all our first formers - because I took these things rather seriously) and one question was on the code.
"If you do something wrong and another boy is being punished for it, and he cries out 'Fair Go' you have to own up to it." He understood the code. No doubt.
"Thanks Derek."
"Is Gary in trouble?"
"You don't want to know, Derek."
"All right."
That was for both their benefits. If Derek had known what I was going to do, he'd have been in trouble for not reporting me. If I'd told him what I knew Landon had done - well, Landon was meant to be able to go to Derek if needed, for help - and it might have soured their relationship if Derek knew the junior boy had broken the codes. Actually with Derek, it might not have mattered. He wasn't as into the codes as I was.
I waited until the First Form boys were trooping to bed, and then I walked past them. As a fifth former I had no real authority over junior boys - sixth formers had a small amount. Prefects had more, and the House Captain had a lot, but a fifth former really wasn't considered much different from a first former in the hierarchy (except in emergencies). But I was still older, and so what I did wasn't questioned by the first form boys.
"Junior common room is a mess - I need one of you to come and clean it - you Landon, you'll do."
He was wearing only his pyjamas - it was still a fairly warm time of the year, and he obediently trooped down to the hall with me. We stepped around the corner, and I turned and grabbed his collar and thrust him against the wall.
"Listen, you little toad. Did you throw the spitball that got Clayton caned?"
"Yessir."
"You broke a serious code today, and Cyril Clayton copped a flogging because of it. Now, I'm not going to hurt you. But if you ever break the code again, I'll make sure everybody knows it. Is that clear to you, mate?"
"Yes, Rysher."
"You'll apolo-"
"Rysher. Drop that boy."
Chris Bancroft, our Captain had rounded the corner and he looked very angry. "Landon, get to bed. Rysher, come with me."
I followed - I had no choice. As we got to his study room, he slammed the door in my face, and I waited until he opened it again. When he did, a cane was resting on his bed. I walked in and he shut the door.
"Bullying, Rysher?"
"No, Bancroft. It wasn't bullying."
"It certainly looked like it - you had a firsty pinned to the wall, Rysher. And he should have been in bed as well. What the... blazes is going on?"
"Landon let a day boy take a flogging today for something he'd done. And the kid called fair go - and Landon just let it happen anyway."
"I see."
"I just wanted to scare him. Let him know that it isn't on. We can't let a first former in our House get away with that - it's not good for the House."
"You should have told me."
"I wasn't sure he did it. The other kid's a bit wet to tell you the truth, and I wasn't sure who I believed. But Landon admitted it, just then. It happened. And I hope it won't happen again."
"Still... I understand why you're angry, Nathan. But that wasn't on."
"I wasn't going to hurt him. I just wanted to scare him."
Bancroft picked up the cane. "I believe you, Nat. But I'm going to have to cane you. I can't let that go on in the House either."
"I know. But it wasn't bullying."
"Would you agree with... menacing?"
"Yeah, I can't argue with that, I suppose."
"Put your hands on the bed, then."
I bent over, and he took up position behind me. The cane bit quite hard. He gave me three, nice hard ones. Not that severe - certainly less than I would have got for bullying - but more than enough to remind me of the correct way that problems in the House were meant to be handled.
When it was done, I stood up as he lifted his mattress and hid the cane under it - it probably means nothing to most but him letting me know where he hid his cane was actually in our understandings an expression of his trust in me.
We shook hands - and we didn't actually do that that often - and I headed out. I decided that I needed a shower before bed, so I grabbed my towel from my dorm and headed to the shower room. There was an assortment of fifth and sixth form boys in there, as was normal for the time of night. And nobody commented on my marks - in junior years you showed them off. In senior years, the cane was seen as just slightly shameful, so unless there was some special reason to comment - like an unusually impressive arrangement, or a very public punishment - people tended to pretend it hadn't happened.
Bancroft came in a couple of minutes later and I'm sure he looked deliberately - I know that when I was House Captain, I always took a keen interest in the quality of my work.
"Ah, Nathan." He was pointing at my leg. "That's not one of mine, is it?"
"No, Chris. That was Miss Gill."
"Ah, I'm not surprised. I've seen her trying to park her car as well."