Sir John Constantine | Page 5

to repeat it as they
drew nearer, until every voice was hoarse. As I remember, we kept up
this custom with no decrease of fervour through the heats of June 1756,
though they were such that our hostiarius Dr. Warton, then a new
broom, swept us out of school and for a fortnight heard our books (as
the old practice had been) in cloisters, where we sat upon cool stone
and in the cool airs, and between our tasks watched the swallows at
play. Nevertheless we panted, until evening released us to wander forth
along the water-meadows by Itchen and bathe, and, having bathed, to
lie naked amid the mints and grasses for a while before returning in the
twilight.

This bathing went on, not in one or two great crowds, but in groups,
and often in pairs only, scattered along the river-bank almost all the
way to Hills; it being our custom again at Winchester (and I believe it
still continues) to socius or walk with one companion; and only at one
or two favoured pools would several of these couples meet together for
the sport. On the evening of which I am to tell, my companion was a
boy named Fiennes, of about my own age, and we bathed alone, though
not far away to right and left the bank teemed with outcries and
laughter and naked boys running all silvery as their voices in the dusk.
With all this uproar the trout of Itchen, as you may suppose, had gone
into hiding; but doubtless some fine fellows lay snug under the stones,
and--the stream running shallow after the heats--as we stretched
ourselves on the grass Fiennes challenged me to tickle for one; it may
be because he had heard me boast of my angling feats at home. There
seemed a likely pool under the farther bank; convenient, except that to
take up the best position beside it I must get the level sun full in my face.
I crept across, however, Fiennes keeping silence, laid myself flat on my
belly, and peered down into the pool, shading my eyes with one hand.
For a long while I saw no fish, until the sun-rays, striking aslant,
touched the edge of a golden fin very prettily bestowed in a hole of the
bank and well within an overlap of green weed. Now and again the fin
quivered, but for the most part my gentleman lay quiet as a stone, head
to stream, and waited for relief from these noisy Wykehamists.
Experience, perhaps, had taught him to despise them; at any rate, when
gently--very gently--I lowered my hand and began to tickle, he showed
neither alarm nor resentment.
"Is it a trout?" demanded Fiennes, in an excited whisper from the
farther shore. But of course I made no answer, and presently I
supposed that he must have crept off to his clothes, for some way up the
stream I heard the Second Master's voice warning the bathers to dress
and return, and with his usual formula, Ite domum saturae, venit
Hesperus, ite capelloe! Being short-sighted, he missed to spy me, and I
felt, rather than saw or heard, him pass on; for with one hand I yet
shaded my eyes while with the other I tickled.

Yet another two minutes went by, and then with a jerk I had my trout,
my thumb and forefinger deep under his gills; brought down my other
clutch upon him and, lifting, flung him back over me among the
meadow grass, my posture being such that I could neither hold him
struggling nor recover my own balance save by rolling sideways over
on my shoulder-pin; which I did, and, running to him where he
gleamed and doubled, flipping the grasses, caught him in both hands
and held him aloft.
But other voices than Fiennes' answered my shout over the river--
voices that I knew, though they belonged not to this hour nor to this
place; and blinking against the sun, now sinning level across Lavender
Meads, I was aware of two tall figures standing dark against it, and of a
third and shorter one between whose legs it poured in gold as through a
natural arch. Sure no second man in England wore Billy Priske's legs!
Then, and while I stood amazed, my father's voice and my Uncle
Gervase's called to me together: and gulping down all wonder,
possessed with love only and a wild joy--but yet grasping my fish-- I
splashed across the shallows and up the bank, and let my father take me
naked to his heart.
"So, lad," said he, after a moment, thrusting me a little back by the
shoulders (while I could only sob), and holding me so that the sun fell
full on me, "Dost truly love me so much?"