Garman and Worse | Page 9

gentleman showed his weakest point. The next day
he rode into the town.
CHAPTER III.
_"Avoir, avant, avu_--that's how it goes! That's right, my boy; _avoir,
avant_."
The whole class could see clearly that the master was lost in thought.
He was pacing up and down, with long steps and half-closed eyes,
gesticulating from time to time, as he kept repeating the ill-used
auxiliary. On the upper benches the boys began to titter, and those on
the lower ones, who had not such a fine ear for the French verbs, soon
caught the infection; while the unhappy wretch who was undergoing

examination, sat trembling lest the master should notice his wonderful
method of conjugating the verb. This unfortunate being was Gabriel
Garman, the Consul's younger son. He was a tall, slender boy of about
fifteen or sixteen, with a refined face, prominent nose, and upright
bearing.
Gabriel was sitting in the lower half of the class, which was, in the
opinion of the master, a great disgrace for a boy of his ability. He was,
however, a curious, wayward boy. In some things, such as arithmetic
and mathematics generally, he distinguished himself; but in Greek and
Latin, which were considered the most important part of his education,
he showed but little proficiency, although he was destined for a
university career.
At last the general mirth of the class burst out in sundry half-stifled
noises, which roused the master from his reverie, and he again resumed
the book, to continue the examination. As ill luck would have it, he
once more repeated, "_Avoir, avant_," and then half abstractedly,
"avu." "Ah, you young idiot!" cried he, in a discordant voice, "can't you
manage avoir yet? Whatever is to become of you?"
"Merchant," answered Gabriel, bluntly.
"What do you say? You dare to answer your master? Are you going to
be impertinent? I'll teach you! Where's the persuader?" and the master
strode up to his seat, and, diving down into his desk, began routing
about in it.
At this moment the passage door opened, and an extraordinary and
most unscholarly looking head intruded itself into the room. The head
had a red nose, and wore a long American goat's-beard and a blue
seaman's cap. "Are you there?" said the head, addressing Master
Gabriel in a half-drunken voice. "Is that where you are, poor boy? Bah!
what an atmosphere! I only just came in to tell you to come down to the
ship-yard when you get out of school; we are just beginning the
planking."
He did not get any further, for at the sight of the long-legged master,

who stalked down from the desk, quite scandalized at this disturbance
of order, the head suddenly stopped in its harangue, and with a hearty,
"Well, I'm blest! what a ghost!" disappeared, closing the door after it.
It did not take very much to provoke the laughter of the boys, and when
at the same moment the bell rang to announce that the school-hour was
over, the class broke up in confusion, and the master hastened, fuming
with rage, to complain to the rector.
Gabriel hurried off as fast as he could, in hopes of catching up his
friend who had caused the disturbance, but he had already disappeared;
he had probably gone down to the town to continue his libations. This
friend was a foreman shipwright, who, since his return from America,
had borne the name of Tom Robson. His real name when he left home
was Thomas Robertsen, but it had got changed somehow in America,
and he kept to it as it was.
Tom Robson was the cleverest foreman on the whole west coast, but
his drinking propensities tried to the utmost both the patience and the
firmness of his employers. He had already built several vessels for
Garman and Worse, but he was determined that the one he was now
superintending at Sandsgaard should be his masterpiece.
This vessel was of about nine hundred tons burden, and was the largest
craft that had been built at that port up to the present time, and Consul
Garman had given orders that nothing should be spared to make it a
model of perfection.
Tom Robson was thus only able to get drunk by fits and starts, which
he did when they came to any important epoch in the building. On that
day, for instance, the time had just arrived for beginning to lay the
planking upon the timbers.
As Gabriel neither found his friend nor saw anything of the carriage
from Sandsgaard, which generally met him on his way from school, he
set off to walk homewards, down the long avenue which led to the
family property. It was a good half-hour's walk, and while he sauntered
along, swinging his heavy burden of the books he