Chapter 15 The Rout At Ripton

On the Saturday following this episode, the first fifteen travelled toRipton to play the return match with that school on its own ground. Ofthe two Ripton matches, the one played at Wrykyn was always the bigevent of the football year; but the other came next in importance, andthe telegram which was despatched to the school shop at the close ofthe game was always awaited with anxiety. This year Wrykyn lookedforward to the return match with a certain amount of apathy, due partlyto the fact that the school was in a slack, unpatriotic state, andpartly to the hammering the team had received in the previous term,when the Ripton centre three-quarters had run through and scored withmonotonous regularity. "We're bound to get sat on," was the generalverdict of the school.

　　Allardyce, while thoroughly agreeing with this opinion, did his best toconceal the fact from the rest of the team. He had certainly done hisduty by them. Every day for the past fortnight the forwards andoutsides had turned out to run and pass, and on the Saturdays there hadbeen matches with Corpus, Oxford, and the Cambridge Old Wrykinians. Inboth games the school had been beaten. In fact, it seemed as if theycould only perform really well when they had no opponents. To see thethree-quarters racing down the field (at practice) and scoringinnumerable (imaginary) tries, one was apt to be misled intoconsidering them a fine quartette. But when there was a match, all thebeautiful dash and precision of the passing faded away, and the lastthing they did was to run straight. Barry was the only one of the fourwho played the game properly.

　　But, as regarded condition, there was nothing wrong with the team. EvenTrevor could not have made them train harder; and Allardyce in his moresanguine moments had a shadowy hope that the Ripton score might, withcare, be kept in the teens.

　　Barry had bought a _Sportsman_ at the station, and he unfolded itas the train began to move. Searching the left-hand column of the middlepage, as we all do when we buy the _Sportsman_ on Saturday--tosee how our names look in print, and what sort of a team the enemy hasgot--he made a remarkable discovery. At the same moment Drummond, onthe other side of the carriage, did the same.

　　"I say," he said, "they must have had a big clear-out at Ripton. Haveyou seen the team they've got out today?""I was just looking at it," said Barry.

　　"What's up with it?" inquired Allardyce. "Let's have a look.""They've only got about half their proper team. They've got a differentback--Grey isn't playing.""Both their centres are, though," said Drummond.

　　"More fun for us, Drum., old chap," said Attell. "I'm going home again.

　　Stop the train."Drummond said nothing. He hated Attell most when he tried to befacetious.

　　"Dunn isn't playing, nor is Waite," said Barry, "so they haven't goteither of their proper halves. I say, we might have a chance of doingsomething today.""Of course we shall," said Allardyce. "You've only got to buck up andwe've got them on toast."The atmosphere in the carriage became charged with optimism. It seemeda simple thing to defeat a side which was practically a Ripton "A"team. The centre three-quarters were there still, it was true, butAllardyce and Drummond ought to be able to prevent the halves evergetting the ball out to them. The team looked on those two unknownhalves as timid novices, who would lose their heads at the kick-off. Asa matter of fact, the system of football teaching at Ripton was soperfect, and the keenness so great, that the second fifteen was nearlyas good as the first every year. But the Wrykyn team did not know this,with the exception of Allardyce, who kept his knowledge to himself; andthey arrived at Ripton jaunty and confident.

　　Keith, the Ripton captain, who was one of the centre three-quarters whohad made so many holes in the Wrykyn defence in the previous term, metthe team at the station, and walked up to the school with them,carrying Allardyce's bag.

　　"You seem to have lost a good many men at Christmas," said Allardyce.

　　"We were reading the _Sportsman_ in the train. Apparently, you'veonly got ten of your last term's lot. Have they all left?"The Ripton captain grinned ruefully.

　　"Not much," he replied. "They're all here. All except Dunn. Youremember Dunn? Little thick-set chap who played half. He always had hishair quite tidy and parted exactly in the middle all through the game.""Oh, yes, I remember Dunn. What's he doing now?""Gone to Coopers Hill. Rot, his not going to the Varsity. He'd havewalked into his blue."Allardyce agreed. He had marked Dunn in the match of the previous term,and that immaculate sportsman had made things not a little warm forhim.

　　"Where are all the others, then?" he asked. "Where's that other half ofyours? And the rest of the forwards?""Mumps," said Keith.

　　"What!""It's a fact. Rot, isn't it? We've had a regular bout of it. Twentyfellows got it altogether. Naturally, four of those were in the team.

　　That's the way things happen. I only wonder the whole scrum didn't haveit.""What beastly luck," said Allardyce. "We had measles like that a coupleof years ago in the summer term, and had to play the Incogs and Zingariwith a sort of second eleven. We got mopped.""That's what we shall get this afternoon, I'm afraid," said Keith.

　　"Oh, no," said Allardyce. "Of course you won't."And, as events turned out, that was one of the truest remarks he hadever made in his life.

　　* * * * *One of the drawbacks to playing Ripton on its own ground was the crowd.

　　Another was the fact that one generally got beaten. But your sportsmancan put up with defeat. What he does not like is a crowd that regardshim as a subtle blend of incompetent idiot and malicious scoundrel, andsays so very loud and clear. It was not, of course, the school that didthis. They spent their time blushing for the shouters. It was thepatriotic inhabitants of Ripton town who made the school wish that theycould be saved from their friends. The football ground at Ripton was atthe edge of the school fields, separated from the road by narrow ironrailings; and along these railings the choicest spirits of the townwould line up, and smoke and yell, and spit and yell again. AsWordsworth wrote, "There are two voices". They were on something likethe following lines.

　　Inside the railings: "Sch-oo-oo-oo-oo-l! Buck up Sch-oo-oo-oo-oo-l!!

　　Get it OUT, Schoo-oo-oo-oo-l!!!"Outside the railings: "Gow it, Ripton! That's the way, Ripton! Twisthis good-old-English-adjectived neck, Ripton! Sit on his forciblydescribed head, Ripton! Gow it, Ripton! Haw, Haw, Haw! They ain't nouse, RIPton! Kick 'im in the eye, RipTON! Haw, Haw, Haw!"The bursts of merriment signalised the violent downfall of somedangerous opponent.

　　The school loathed these humble supporters, and occasionally fastidiousjuniors would go the length of throwing chunks of mud at them throughthe railings. But nothing discouraged them or abated their ferviddesire to see the school win. Every year they seemed to increase inzeal, and they were always in great form at the Wrykyn match.

　　It would be charitable to ascribe to this reason the gruesomehappenings of that afternoon. They needed some explaining away.

　　* * * * *Allardyce won the toss, and chose to start downhill, with the wind inhis favour. It is always best to get these advantages at the beginningof the game. If one starts against the wind, it usually changes ends athalf-time. Amidst a roar from both touch-lines and a volley of howlsfrom the road, a Ripton forward kicked off. The ball flew in thedirection of Stanning, on the right wing. A storm of laughter arosefrom the road as he dropped it. The first scrum was formed on theWrykyn twenty-five line.

　　The Ripton forwards got the ball, and heeled with their usual neatness.

　　The Ripton half who was taking the scrum gathered it cleanly, andpassed to his colleague. He was a sturdy youth with a dark, ratherforbidding face, in which the acute observer might have read signs ofthe savage. He was of the breed which is vaguely described at publicschools as "nigger", a term covering every variety of shade from ebonyto light lemon. As a matter of fact he was a half-caste, sent home toEngland to be educated. Drummond recognised him as he dived forward totackle him. The last place where they had met had been the roped ringat Aldershot. It was his opponent in the final of the Feathers.

　　He reached him as he swerved, and they fell together. The ball boundedforward.

　　"Hullo, Peteiro," he said. "Thought you'd left."The other grinned recognition.

　　"Hullo, Drummond.""Going up to Aldershot this year?""Yes. Light-Weight.""So am I."The scrum had formed by now, and further conversation was impossible.

　　Drummond looked a little thoughtful as he put the ball in. He had beentold that Peteiro was leaving Ripton at Christmas. It was a nuisancehis being still at school. Drummond was not afraid of him--he wouldhave fought a champion of the world if the school had expected himto--but he could not help remembering that it was only by the verynarrowest margin, and after a terrific three rounds, that he had beatenhim in the Feathers the year before. It would be too awful for words ifthe decision were to be reversed in the coming competition.

　　But he was not allowed much leisure for pondering on the future. Thepresent was too full of incident and excitement. The withdrawal of thefour invalids and the departure of Dunn had not reduced the Ripton teamto that wreck of its former self which the Wrykyn fifteen had lookedfor. On the contrary, their play seemed, if anything, a shade betterthan it had been in the former match. There was all the oldaggressiveness, and Peteiro and his partner, so far from being timidnovices and losing their heads, eclipsed the exhibition given at Wrykynby Waite and Dunn. Play had only been in progress six minutes whenKeith, taking a pass on the twenty-five line, slipped past Attell, ranround the back, and scored between the posts. Three minutes later theother Ripton centre scored. At the end of twenty minutes the Wrykynline had been crossed five times, and each of the tries had beenconverted.

　　"_Can't_ you fellows get that ball in the scrum?" demandedAllardyce plaintively, as the team began for the fifth time the oldfamiliar walk to the half-way line. "Pack tight, and get the firstshove."The result of this address was to increase the Ripton lead by fourpoints. In his anxiety to get the ball, one of the Wrykyn forwardsstarted heeling before it was in, and the referee promptly gave a freekick to Ripton for "foot up". As this event took place within easyreach of the Wrykyn goal, and immediately in front of the same, Keithhad no difficulty in bringing off the penalty.

　　By half-time the crowd in the road, hoarse with laughter, had exhaustedall their adjectives and were repeating themselves. The Ripton scorewas six goals, a penalty goal, and two tries to nil, and the Wrykynteam was a demoralised rabble.

　　The fact that the rate of scoring slackened somewhat after the intervalmay be attributed to the disinclination of the Riptonians to exertthemselves unduly. They ceased playing in the stern and scientificspirit in which they had started; and, instead of adhering to anorthodox game, began to enjoy themselves. The forwards no longer heeledlike a machine. They broke through ambitiously, and tried to score ontheir own account. When the outsides got as far as the back, they didnot pass. They tried to drop goals. In this way only twenty-two pointswere scored after half-time. Allardyce and Drummond battled on nobly,but with their pack hopelessly outclassed it was impossible for them todo anything of material use. Barry, on the wing, tackled his manwhenever the latter got the ball, but, as a rule, the centres did notpass, but attacked by themselves. At last, by way of a fittingconclusion to the rout, the Ripton back, catching a high punt, raninstead of kicking, and, to the huge delight of the town contingent,scored. With this incident the visiting team drained the last dregs ofthe bitter cup. Humiliation could go no further. Almost immediatelyafterwards the referee blew his whistle for "No side".

　　"Three cheers for Wrykyn," said Keith.

　　To the fifteen victims it sounded ironical.