A Javelin for Jonah

“Either can happen to you here. One of those lads has got it in for me, so, although I can’t guarantee where a discus is going to fetch up, I’m not taking chances with this lot.”

“Couldn’t you move out of orbit?”

“No, because I’m measuring the throws. What did you want to see me about, did you say?”

“I was told you’d know what my duties are.”

“Let’s see, you’ve come to replace Merve while he’s in hospital. That means French and German, unless you’ve something more exciting to offer.”

“Russian and Chinese?”

“Are you serious?”

“Perfectly serious.”

“Oh well, that would make a change, then.” He left Hamish’s side to mark where a discus had ploughed into the turf. When he returned he said, “And, of course, you’ll be wanted mostly for the swimming. We aim to tire ’em out, so everybody here has to sweat like hell at something or other. Nothing like aching muscles to take the glamour out of a spot of mayhem.”

“I gather that you don’t go in for a summer vacation here. I was told that my work will be continuous until I leave in October.”

“That’s right, in a way, but the staff take turns at going on furlough. You’ll get your turn in September, when Merve used to have his. The students are never let out on the loose until they leave, of course.”

“And when is that?”

“When their people ask for them back, or when they reach the age of twenty-three. Not many stay as long as that, though. The fees are too heavy, I suppose. What did you make of Gassie?”

“He wants me to be known as James.”

“That’s hardly an answer—or is it?”

“I really think it is.”

“He’s an idealist, you know. At least, he thinks he is, but if one of the students clobbered him I fancy the Old Adam would soon pop up and show fight. Still, there’s not much fear of that. Keeps himself to himself, does Gassie. The only contact he has with the students, apart from trousering the vast sums their parents pay to keep them here, is to sympathize with their troubles and promise them to get rid of any member of staff who has brought those troubles about. Which same he does.”

“Good Lord!”

“Don’t worry. He’s seldom called in to arbitrate. The students prefer to deal with matters themselves if any cloud appears on the horizon.”

“As witness my predecessor? Was he a cloud?”

“Merve? Oh, well, I must admit that, when he stirred himself, Merve was a bit of a sadist. His methods might have intimidated little prep-school boys, but he ought to have known better than to think they would answer with this lot. After all, he used to be one of them. He ought to know how they tick.”

“Do the students gang up on us, then?”

“Occasionally. Not on the whole. They’re individualists and, of course, as you’d expect, extremely selfish. There’s not much brotherliness here.”

“Oh, well, anything to get away from the trade-union movement,” said Hamish.

“Duck!” cried Henry, as a discus flew dangerously close to their heads. Recovering himself, he marked the indentation where the missile had landed. “A hundred and eighty-one feet!” he said exultantly. “That was Rixie. I may venture to book him.”

The athlete came galloping towards them, a tall, long-haired youth wearing a string vest and track-suit trousers.

“How about that, then?” he demanded. “Good enough fqr the book?”

“Good enough for the book,” said Henry. He produced a notebook from his blazer pocket and inscribed the young man’s name. “Allow me to present you to James, who is going to introduce you morons to Russian and Chinese as soon as he gets the chance.”

“Mitt, James,” said the youth, extending a large, grimy hand. “Rixie here.”

“That was a damn fine throw,” said Hamish, shaking hands with him.

“A bloody fine throw,” amended the youth. “Guess I’ll call it a day now, Harry boy. It might discourage me if the next one fell a bit shorter. Besides, along comes Jonah. I don’t want to be ill- wished.”

“Is he typical of the men-students?” asked Hamish, as Rixie cantered away.

“Except for the fact that they’re mostly delinquents, there isn’t a type,” replied Henry. “Rixie slaughtered his father. It was brought in as accident, but his mother told us a few things and there’s no doubt whatever in my mind that it was murder. However, according to our standards, he’s almost a model student so far as conduct is concerned, and reasonably intelligent as well. On the whole our academic standards are not high. Gassie, in fact, lives in apprehension of the day when some wayward genius—a Shelley or a youthful Einstein—will turn up and have to be catered for, but it hasn’t happened yet. Hullo, Jonah! Finished for this afternoon?”

“I think so,” replied a stout man in a singlet and white flannels, an athlete, Hamish decided, who was running to seed. “I’ve just dislocated Derry’s right wrist. I didn’t mean to, of course, but I’m afraid I’ve made the other chaps angry, so I thought I’d better clear out of the gym for a bit and give Derry time to cool off at the hospital.”