“Ah, now you acknowledge saying what you before denied! That’s three lies you’ve told since you have been here! Now, get onto the top of that uppermost stool?”

So great had been the influence of the authority of old-cadetism on me that I obeyed Snipson’s orders, and with some difficulty climbed to the top of the stool. In an instant Snipson kicked over the lower stool, and I fell heavily on my side from a height of about five feet, the leg of the stool striking me on the shin.

Before I could recover myself, and when the pain from the blow I had received was gradually spreading, as it were, over my whole body, Snipson, who was grinning maliciously, said, —

“Put the stools in order and up again! Look sharp!” he shouted, as I hesitated to obey.

“I won’t get up again?” I said. “I may be injured seriously.”

“Then take that!” said Snipson, as he struck me with his clenched fist on the side of the head.

In an instant all fear of old cadets, of fagging, of corporals, and of trials by the seniors left me; and I remembered only Snipson’s repeated acts of cruelty to me when I first joined, his general sneering and self-sufficient manner, and his sneaking conduct relative to the neux he had so seriously injured by the very same proceeding that he was now practising on me. These thoughts flashed, as it were, over my mind like an electric message along a wire, and before Snipson could repeat his blow I caught him a fair shoulder-hit at a well-judged distance, and knocked him completely off his legs against his bed. If I had been given time to reflect after striking this blow, I should probably have taken any licking Snipson might have given me quietly; but I was not given time, for he jumped up and exclaimed, —

“I’ll half kill you for that!” and rushed at me, trying to close with me.

I believed that from his greater size and weight I should soon have got the worst of a close encounter, so I did not give him a chance of doing so, but met him with a right and left, which were delivered with all the force I had gained in hitting under Howard’s instruction, and driven by the additional energy derived from my long endurance of bullying. Snipson went down again like a nine-pin, and I now knew I could thrash him in fair fight; but I did not then know how great a coward he was, and how malicious he could be; but I soon found out my danger. Instead of getting up at once and again rushing at me, Snipson lay for a few seconds where he had fallen, and looked round the room. Suddenly he sprang up and made a dash at the fireplace, and seized the poker. He turned towards me, and I saw from his look that my life was in danger.

“Now it’s my turn?” he hissed, as he came round the table towards me, the poker held ready to strike.

In such positions as mine then was there sometimes comes to us a bright idea, which answers the purpose at the time, but which, when thought of in cooler moments, seems most unlikely to have been of any use, as it could be so easily seen through. The conditions, however, of excitement often induce a state quite unfit for calm reasoning, and most unexpected results are then produced which appear afterwards to be absurd.

As Snipson was coming towards me, with his poker ready to strike me, his back was towards the door, which, as I said before, was locked, and by which consequently no one could enter. I, however, looked over Snipson’s shoulder, and said, “Hullo, Woodville! you are just in time.”

Snipson instantly turned his head to see whether any one was there, and at the same moment I sprang on him, seized the wrist that held the poker, and, throwing my right arm round his neck, tripped him up, when we both fell on the floor, I being uppermost. In the struggle the poker had fallen out of Snipson’s hand, and I instantly gained possession of it, and, jumping on my feet, stood over Snipson, who now did not attempt to rise, but in a half-conciliatory, half-threatening tone, said, “Now you’d better mind what you are about, for the old cadets will give you an awful licking for this!”

“If you tell the old cadets that I hit you,” I said, “I’ll go straight to the Governor, and tell him it was you who injured your neux, and nearly killed him, and I’ll report that you tried to hit me with a poker.”

Saying this, I unlocked the door and rushed out of the room, and went to my own, which I luckily found empty. I closed the door and sat down to consider what I had better do.

I had heard that, shortly before I joined the Academy, a neux had struck an old cadet, and had in consequence been tried by a sort of court-martial by the old cadets, and had been severely thrashed. Not content with this, the body corporate of the old cadets had ordered that no neux should speak to the culprit, and, in addition, he was daily placed in arrest and turned out to drill.

The neux could not stand this ordeal, and ran away from the Academy to his friends. An inquiry into the matter afterwards took place, but a case of cruelty could not be brought home to any particular individual, and the cadet’s friends not having any interest, the affair was dropped. I anticipated that some such treatment would be meted out to me, for, in spite of Snipson’s proceedings, I knew that the offence of striking an old cadet was looked on as so heinous, that no extenuating circumstances would be allowed to outweigh the crime. My threat to report Snipson I did not intend to carry out, but made it with the hope that it would prevent him from telling the old cadets that I had knocked him down. After some minutes’ consideration I went off to D’Arcy’s room to tell him all about the fight, and consult as to what should be done.

When I described to D’Arcy how I had knocked Snipson down, and had escaped his attack on me with the poker, he was delighted. He told me also that the old cadets detested Snipson, and he did not believe they would back him up if he told them what I had done. “I’ll bet any money,” said D’Arcy, “that unless Snipson goes at once now he is in a rage, and tells some of the seniors, he won’t say a word about it.”

“Why not?” I inquired.

“Well, because he knows for your own sake that you won’t say anything, and he would probably be ashamed to own that a fellow so much smaller than he is gave him a licking. I’d advise you to keep quiet, and don’t tell anybody else.”

When we went into dinner I saw Snipson, who showed no signs of the recent set-to; he took no notice of me, and I could tell that as yet he had made no mention to the old cadets of my performance. The day also passed, and the next, without anything occurring, and I began to think Snipson meant to keep quiet; but on the following morning, after breakfast, Fenton, on returning to our room, said, “So Snipson gave you a thrashing the other day?”

I was so taken aback by this remark that I said, “Who told you so?”

“Snipson did,” replied Fenton. “He said you had been cheeky about him, and he had you over and licked you. He said you seemed disposed to show fight, but he soon took that out of you.”

I listened with amazement at this speech of Fenton’s; it was my first experience of the gross misrepresentation of facts which was possible when only two people were present, and I was astonished and amused at the absurdity of the report. It was my first experience of the wilful perversion of truth possible when two persons were together without witnesses. I wish it had been my last. There will probably be many among the readers of this book who have themselves had similar experiences, for, if they have not, their career must have been singularly limited and lucky. There are men – ay, and women too – who from an inability to represent facts correctly, or from interested motives, or from vanity, will misrepresent occurrencies and make out that black was white, and yes, no. There are men and women whom it is dangerous to speak to or be with without witnesses, and we believe that when all secrets are revealed it will be found that more perjury has been committed in connexion with tête-à-tête interviews than with any other event in life, from the days of Joseph to the present time.

During the day D’Arcy came to me, and laughed immensely as he told me that Snipson had told the old cadets what a licking he had given me. “He said you tried to escape from the room, but he locked the door and just polished you off. You are quite certain,” said D’Arcy, “that everything occurred as you told me?”

“Quite,” I replied, “and Snipson is a liar!”

“I believe you,” replied D’Arcy; “but you had better keep quiet, and you will now escape being thrashed by the old cadets, which is no joke, I can tell you.”

I followed d’Arcy’s advice, and did not even deny that I had been thrashed by Snipson, although I could not help adding, on one or two occasions, that “I should not mind such a licking being repeated.”

This was my last adventure with Snipson, who had been a thorn in my side since my first joining the Academy. As, however, it was not the last that I knew of his career, I may here mention what I knew of his future, and then expunge his name from these pages.

Before the end of the half-year Snipson was found drunk by the officer on duty. As he had been nearly four years at the Academy, and had but little chance of qualifying, it was intimated to his friends that they had better withdraw him from the Academy. Following this hint, Snipson suddenly disappeared, and his name was soon forgotten where it had once been a terror to all last-joined.

Twenty years after the events related in this book I was walking down Oxford Street when I saw coming towards me a man with a seedy, threadbare frock-coat, the arms of which were much too short for the wearer, and the collar of which came too high. The coat had evidently previously graced the form of another wearer, and when its youthful beauties had faded had become the property of its present owner. A portion of shirt was visible, and plainly indicated that it had been far too long absent from the washerwoman. A hat bent and without gloss surmounted a red face, with eyes somewhat like those of a crying child, and a beard of about four days’ growth. Brown trowsers, creased and frayed, stained and patched, hung over a pair of split, misshapen shoes, and completed the attire of a man whose type is now and then seen in London.

Something about the man at once attracted me, and I thus noted his appearance. The face, though altered, and indicating the effect of drink, I yet recognised; and as the man walked past me and turned his head so as to avoid showing me his face, I knew this wretched failure of a man was my once bully, Snipson. He had failed as a cadet and he had failed as a man; and from his appearance it was evident he had not done what some men do, who in their young days have failed, etc, begin again at the bottom of the ladder, and by steady work endeavour to recover, themselves; but he was always scheming to recover himself by one grand coup, and was always being disappointed.

I turned round quickly after I had passed Snipson, and saw him peeping at me from a shop-door. When he caught my eye he turned and walked on with an air and style that showed he had not yet suffered enough to make him sensible of his own defects, nor was he yet in a state deserving of sympathy.

One of the singular and yet universal peculiarities in the character of such men as Snipson is, that they assert, and evidently believe, that their unfortunate state is in no manner due to any fault or failing of their own. They can always assure you that if this man had not done so-and-so, or that man had not failed them in the most unexpected way, they would have been all right. They are themselves never wrong; they don’t ever admit a mistake; they are convinced of their own cleverness, and satisfied with their own knowledge. Former companions who have “got on” in life they speak of as “lucky beggars,” and have usually something to say in disparagement of such men, as a sort of attempt to drag down the successful to their own low level. They rarely, if ever, admit any merit or skill in others, and attribute all that others may win, by hard work and thought, to “luck,” and all their own failures to “bad luck.” This was Snipson’s state twenty years after he was a bully – idle and untruthful as a gentleman cadet.

Chapter Thirteen
Our Row at the Races

During this my third half-year there were some races by the officers on Woolwich Common, to which the cadets were given leave to go, and a tent was provided for us, in which we had some light refreshment, such as beer and bread and cheese. Now between what is usually termed the “louts” and the schoolboys in any good school in any part of England there seems a natural antagonism, and fights not unusually take place, brought on as much by the insult of the lout as by the natural pugnaciousness of the English well-bred boy. In former times at Woolwich this feeling of antagonism was by no means extinct, for as the cadets marched down the Common to the Arsenal, or out in the country, it was generally found that a number of louts would assemble and hoot them, mewing like cats and calling out “puss” – the term cadet being probably assumed by the unwashed to be an extension of “cat.”

To English boys such proceedings were most offensive and irritating, and more than once the louts had experienced somewhat rough treatment at the hands of cadets whom they had hooted and mocked in the manner described, and once or twice there had been kind of rough-and-tumble fights on the Common between the louts and the cadets.

On the evening after the races, several cadets were in their tent and were laughing and talking, when some louts assembled outside, and commenced imitating the laughter and then calling, “Puss! puss!” Such a challenge was not long in being accepted by the cadets, who suddenly dashed out of the tent and charged about twenty louts, who were assembled within a dozen yards of us. On the party of cadets rushing out (of which I was one) the louts took to their heels, but their clumsy efforts to run were useless, and we soon closed with them, when they turned and showed fight. I soon found myself engaged with a heavy-fisted big youth, who had as much idea of fighting as an ox, but who was heavy and strong. I had plenty to do to guard his blows, and shortly sent him sprawling, when two other louts came on me at once. I dodged and struck for some time, but should soon have got the worst of the fight if D’Arcy had not come to my aid, when the two bolted, as had most of the others.

Seeing the enemy in full retreat we gave up the pursuit and returned to our tent, and had just commenced to pack up the things we had used, when some stones were hurled at the tent, and some came in by the door. On looking out we saw that, instead of twenty louts who had at first appeared, there were now above a hundred, some of them being full-grown men. They were shouting at us, and mewing, and calling on us to come out. As there were not two dozen cadets in our tent, it was decided that I, being a fast runner, should run to the cadets’ barracks and call for reinforcements. This was a service of some danger, for we were almost surrounded by the enemy; but it was agreed upon to threaten a charge in the front of the tent, and when the enemy assembled there to resist us, I was to creep under the canvas and make a dash to the lodge.

The plan succeeded very well. All the louts gathered in front of our tent, and I had crept out and was on my legs and well away before I was seen; then, however, there was a yell, and shouts of “Catch him?”

“Stop him!” whilst about a dozen men and boys gave chase to me.

The distance from the tent to the lodge was about 300 yards, and as I had about thirty yards’ start of my pursuers, I knew that I could easily win my race and reach the lodge, provided it had been a matter of fair running; but the shouts of my pursuers attracted the attention of some other louts who were between me and the lodge, and who I saw were trying to intercept me. I made straight at them, however, and, when close, charged at the biggest. As I expected, he gave way and tried to trip me up. By giving a jump I avoided his leg, continued my course, and entered the Academy grounds in safety.

The news that there was a row had spread over the Academy, and fifty or sixty cadets were already provided with sticks or belts, and had assembled at the back of the Academy, ready to go to the rescue. I joined these, and we all immediately started to the rescue, and arrived only just in time, for the louts, finding they were about ten to one, had got very plucky, and were going to pull the tent down.

We charged down on the enemy, who, seeing our numbers were nearly equal to their own, turned and ran. We gave chase, and, overtaking some of them, administered a good thrashing.

By this time a body of police had come on the scene, and seeming to think it their duty to protect the louts, at once seized two or three of the smallest cadets, and were going to carry them off, when “To the rescue!” was shouted, and we charged on the police. The Peelers drew their truncheons and used them freely, but we were too many for them, and succeeded in recovering the prisoners. Not wishing to have a row with the police, who, we considered, ought to have protected us, we retreated rapidly to the enclosure of the Academy, and dispersed to our various rooms.

In about ten minutes after our entrance a check-roll was called by the officer on duty, and we were all confined to barracks in consequence of the row.

It happened that the senior under-officer had been in the tent from the first commencement of the row, and on entering the Academy he had at once reported to the officer on duty what had happened, and had told him the provocation had been given by the louts. He also said that we could scarcely avoid doing what we had done. Shortly after we had entered the grounds an inspector of police, who had received from his men their account of the row, came to the officer on duty and said several of his men had been seriously hurt, and that they wished for an opportunity of recognising the ringleaders of the party. To give this opportunity, a parade of the whole cadet company was ordered for the following morning at half-past eleven.

We were none of us aware of the importance of the row till we saw in the papers of the following morning a paragraph headed: “Disgraceful Riot at Woolwich by the Gentlemen Cadets!” We then read how the cadets had been drinking in a tent, and had suddenly commenced an unprovoked attack on some boys and women, had pelted them with stones, and had then assaulted and seriously injured the police who had endeavoured to protect the people. “It was hoped,” the article continued, “that the cadets would receive such punishment as their disgraceful conduct deserved.”

We were all very angry at this paragraph in the papers, because we knew how much the outside public is led by such statements, and as they had no means of judging of the truth of the report, they would probably believe what was asserted.

On the following morning, at half-past eleven, the whole of the cadets fell in on parade, and with them, and scattered here and there, were twenty-five cadets of the practical class, all of whom had been in study at the Arsenal during the row. The police assembled on the right of the line, and slowly examined each cadet, with a view to swearing to his identity. The first cadet selected was one of the practical class, who had a slightly black eye, which he had received from a blow by a racket-ball. He was fallen out, and took his station on the right of the line. Two other cadets, who had been well in the thick of the fight, were next picked out, then another cadet of the practical class. Altogether, twenty-five cadets were picked out as ringleaders, and sworn to individually by the police as those who had struck them and had taken part in the row.

We all now saw the plot that our captain had laid for the police. He suspected they were trying to make out a case against us, and so sprinkled the practical class among the others. The police, having declared that they recognised each of the cadets selected as those who had struck them, had committed themselves, for if they had made such a mistake in identity in five cases, which could be proved, it cast doubt upon the evidence in other cases, which were of a doubtful nature.

We were all confined to barracks for a week after this row, and were daily expecting some cadets would be discharged, but finally it ended in the police withdrawing their charge, in consequence, as we heard, of their mistakes relative to the practical class having become known to them.