The Willoughby Captains

The Willoughby Captains
By Talbot Baines Reed
CHAPTER ONE.
THE LAST OF THE OLD CAPTAIN.
Something unusual is happening at Willoughby. The Union Jack floats
proudly over the old ivy-covered tower of the school, the schoolrooms
are deserted, there is a band playing somewhere, a double row of
carriages is drawn up round the large meadow (familiarly called "The
Big"), old Mrs Gallop, the orange and sherbert woman, is almost beside
herself with business flurry, and boys are going hither and thither, some
of them in white ducks with favours on their sleeves, and others in their
Sunday "tiles," with sisters and cousins and aunts in tow, whose
presence adds greatly to the brightness of the scene.
Among these last-named holiday-making young Willoughbites no one
parades more triumphantly to-day than Master Cusack, of Welch's
House, by the side of his father, Captain Cusack, R.N. Cusack, ever
since he came to Willoughby, has bored friend and foe with endless
references to "the gov., captain in the R.N., you know," and now that he
really has a chance of showing off his parent in the flesh his small head
is nearly turned. He puffs along like a small steam-tug with a glorious
man-of- war in tow, and is too anxious to exhibit his prize in "The Big"
to do even the ordinary honours of the place to his relative.
Captain Cusack, R.N., the meekest and most amiable of men, resigns
himself pleasantly to the will of his dutiful conductor, only too pleased
to see the boy so happy, and pardonably gratified to know that he
himself is the special object of that young gentleman's jubilation. He
had come down, hoping for a quiet hour or two to see his boy and
inspect Willoughby, but he finds that, instead, he is to be inspected
himself, and, though he wouldn't thwart the lad for the world, he would

just as soon have dropped in at Willoughby on a rather less public
occasion.
Young Cusack, as is the manner of small tugs, assumes complete
control of his parent and rattles away incessantly as he conducts him
through the grounds, past the school, towards the all-attracting "Big."
"That's Welch's," he says, pointing to the right wing of the long Tudor
building before them--"that's Welch's on the right, and Parrett's in the
middle, and the schoolhouse on the left. Jolly rooks' nests in the
schoolhouse elms, only Paddy won't let us go after them."
"Who is Paddy?" inquires the father.
"Oh, the doctor, you know--Dr Patrick. You'll see him down in `The
Big,' and his dame, and--"
"And what's written up over the door there?" inquires Captain Cusack,
pointing up to the coat-of-arms above the great doorway.
"Oh, some Latin bosh! I don't know. I say, we'd better look sharp,
father, or they'll have started the open hurdles."
"What are the open hurdles?" mildly inquires the somewhat perplexed
captain, who has been at sea so long that he is really not up to all the
modern phrases.
"Why, you know, it's the sports, and there are two open events, the
hurdles and the mile, and we've got Rawson, of the London Athletic,
down against us in both; but I rather back Wyndham. He made
stunning time in the March gallops, and he's in prime form now."
"Is Wyndham a Willoughby boy?"
"Rather. He's our cock, you know, and this will be his last show-up.
Hullo! you fellows," he cries, as two other small boys approach at a trot;
"what's on? Have the hurdles started? By the way, this is my father, you
know; he came down."

The two small boys, who are arrayed in ducks and running-shoes, shake
hands rather sheepishly with the imposing visitor and look shyly up and
down.
"And are you running in any of the races, my men?" says Captain
Cusack, kindly.
He couldn't have hit on a happier topic. The two are at their ease at
once.
"Yes, sir, the junior hundred yards. I say, Cusack, your gov--your
father's just in time for the final heat. In the first I had a dead heat with
Watkins, you know," continues he, addressing the captain. "Watkins
was scratch, and I had five yards, and the ruck got ten. It was a beastly
shame giving Filbert ten, though--wasn't it, Telson?-- after his running
second to me in the March gallops; they ought to have stuck him where
I was. But I ran him down all the same, and dead-heated it with
Watkins, and Telson here was a good second in his heat."
"I was sure of a first, but that young ass Wace fouled me," puts in
Telson.
"And now it's dead-even which of us two wins. We both get five yards
on Watkins, and he'll be pumped with the long jump, and none of the
others