If the day happens to be fine, there is a curious, dream-likeatmosphere about the opening stages of a first eleven match.
Everything seems hushed and expectant. The rest of the school havegone in after the interval1 at eleven o'clock, and you are alone on thegrounds with a cricket-bag. The only signs of life are a fewpedestrians on the road beyond the railings and one or two blazer andflannel-clad forms in the pavilion. The sense of isolation2 is tryingto the nerves, and a school team usually bats 25 per cent. betterafter lunch, when the strangeness has worn off.
Mike walked across from Wain's, where he had changed, feeling quitehollow. He could almost have cried with pure fright. Bob had shoutedafter him from a window as he passed Donaldson's, to wait, so thatthey could walk over together; but conversation was the last thingMike desired at that moment.
He had almost reached the pavilion when one of the M.C.C. team camedown the steps, saw him, and stopped dead.
"By Jove, Saunders!" cried Mike.
"Why, Master Mike!"The professional beamed, and quite suddenly, the lost, hopelessfeeling left Mike. He felt as cheerful as if he and Saunders had metin the meadow at home, and were just going to begin a little quietnet-practice.
"Why, Master Mike, you don't mean to say you're playing for the schoolalready?"Mike nodded happily.
"Isn't it ripping," he said.
Saunders slapped his leg in a sort of ecstasy3.
"Didn't I always say it, sir," he chuckled4. "Wasn't I right? I used tosay to myself it 'ud be a pretty good school team that 'ud leave youout.""Of course, I'm only playing as a sub., you know. Three chaps are inextra, and I got one of the places.""Well, you'll make a hundred to-day, Master Mike, and then they'llhave to put you in.""Wish I could!""Master Joe's come down with the Club," said Saunders.
"Joe! Has he really? How ripping! Hullo, here he is. Hullo, Joe?"The greatest of all the Jacksons was descending5 the pavilion stepswith the gravity befitting an All England batsman. He stopped short,as Saunders had done.
"Mike! You aren't playing!""Yes.""Well, I'm hanged! Young marvel6, isn't he, Saunders?""He is, sir," said Saunders. "Got all the strokes. I always said it,Master Joe. Only wants the strength."Joe took Mike by the shoulder, and walked him off in the direction ofa man in a Zingari blazer who was bowling7 slows to another of theM.C.C. team. Mike recognised him with awe8 as one of the three bestamateur wicket-keepers in the country.
"What do you think of this?" said Joe, exhibiting Mike, who grinnedbashfully. "Aged9 ten last birthday, and playing for the school. Youare only ten, aren't you, Mike?""Brother of yours?" asked the wicket-keeper.
"Probably too proud to own the relationship, but he is.""Isn't there any end to you Jacksons?" demanded the wicket-keeper inan aggrieved10 tone. "I never saw such a family.""This is our star. You wait till he gets at us to-day. Saunders is ouronly bowler11, and Mike's been brought up on Saunders. You'd better winthe toss if you want a chance of getting a knock and lifting youraverage out of the minuses.""I _have_ won the toss," said the other with dignity. "Do youthink I don't know the elementary duties of a captain?"* * * * *The school went out to field with mixed feelings. The wicket was hardand true, which would have made it pleasant to be going in first. Onthe other hand, they would feel decidedly better and fitter forcenturies after the game had been in progress an hour or so. Burgesswas glad as a private individual, sorry as a captain. For himself, thesooner he got hold of the ball and began to bowl the better he likedit. As a captain, he realised that a side with Joe Jackson on it, notto mention the other first-class men, was not a side to which he wouldhave preferred to give away an advantage. Mike was feeling that by nopossibility could he hold the simplest catch, and hoping that nothingwould come his way. Bob, conscious of being an uncertain field, wasfeeling just the same.
The M.C.C. opened with Joe and a man in an Oxford12 Authentic13 cap. Thebeginning of the game was quiet. Burgess's yorker was nearly too muchfor the latter in the first over, but he contrived14 to chop it away,and the pair gradually settled down. At twenty, Joe began to open hisshoulders. Twenty became forty with disturbing swiftness, and Burgesstried a change of bowling.
It seemed for one instant as if the move had been a success, for Joe,still taking risks, tried to late-cut a rising ball, and snickedit straight into Bob's hands at second slip. It was the easiestof slip-catches, but Bob fumbled15 it, dropped it, almost held it asecond time, and finally let it fall miserably16 to the ground. It wasa moment too painful for words. He rolled the ball back to the bowlerin silence.
One of those weary periods followed when the batsman's defence seemsto the fieldsmen absolutely impregnable. There was a sickeninginevitableness in the way in which every ball was played with the verycentre of the bat. And, as usual, just when things seemed mosthopeless, relief came. The Authentic, getting in front of his wicket,to pull one of the simplest long-hops ever seen on a cricket field,missed it, and was l.b.w. And the next ball upset the newcomer's legstump.
The school revived. Bowlers17 and field were infused with a new life.
Another wicket--two stumps18 knocked out of the ground by Burgess--helpedthe thing on. When the bell rang for the end of morning school, fivewickets were down for a hundred and thirteen.
But from the end of school till lunch things went very wrong indeed.
Joe was still in at one end, invincible19; and at the other was thegreat wicket-keeper. And the pair of them suddenly began to force thepace till the bowling was in a tangled20 knot. Four after four, allround the wicket, with never a chance or a mishit to vary themonotony. Two hundred went up, and two hundred and fifty. Then Joereached his century, and was stumped21 next ball. Then came lunch.
The rest of the innings was like the gentle rain after thethunderstorm. Runs came with fair regularity22, but wickets fell atintervals, and when the wicket-keeper was run out at length for alively sixty-three, the end was very near. Saunders, coming in last,hit two boundaries, and was then caught by Mike. His second hit hadjust lifted the M.C.C. total over the three hundred.
* * * * *Three hundred is a score that takes some making on any ground, but ona fine day it was not an unusual total for the Wrykyn eleven. Someyears before, against Ripton, they had run up four hundred andsixteen; and only last season had massacred a very weak team of OldWrykynians with a score that only just missed the fourth hundred.
Unfortunately, on the present occasion, there was scarcely time,unless the bowling happened to get completely collared, to make theruns. It was a quarter to four when the innings began, and stumps wereto be drawn23 at a quarter to seven. A hundred an hour is quick work.
Burgess, however, was optimistic, as usual. "Better have a go forthem," he said to Berridge and Marsh24, the school first pair.
Following out this courageous25 advice, Berridge, after hitting threeboundaries in his first two overs, was stumped half-way through thethird.
After this, things settled down. Morris, the first-wicket man, was athoroughly sound bat, a little on the slow side, but exceedingly hardto shift. He and Marsh proceeded to play themselves in, until itlooked as if they were likely to stay till the drawing of stumps.
A comfortable, rather somnolent26 feeling settled upon the school. Along stand at cricket is a soothing27 sight to watch. There was anabsence of hurry about the batsmen which harmonised well with thedrowsy summer afternoon. And yet runs were coming at a fair pace. Thehundred went up at five o'clock, the hundred and fifty at half-past.
Both batsmen were completely at home, and the M.C.C. third-changebowlers had been put on.
Then the great wicket-keeper took off the pads and gloves, and thefieldsmen retired28 to posts at the extreme edge of the ground.
"Lobs," said Burgess. "By Jove, I wish I was in."It seemed to be the general opinion among the members of the Wrykyneleven on the pavilion balcony that Morris and Marsh were in luck. Theteam did not grudge29 them their good fortune, because they had earnedit; but they were distinctly envious30.
Lobs are the most dangerous, insinuating31 things in the world.
Everybody knows in theory the right way to treat them. Everybody knowsthat the man who is content not to try to score more than a singlecannot get out to them. Yet nearly everybody does get out to them.
It was the same story to-day. The first over yielded six runs, allthrough gentle taps along the ground. In the second, Marsh hit anover-pitched one along the ground to the terrace bank. The next ballhe swept round to the leg boundary. And that was the end of Marsh. Hesaw himself scoring at the rate of twenty-four an over. Off the lastball he was stumped by several feet, having done himself credit byscoring seventy.
The long stand was followed, as usual, by a series of disasters.
Marsh's wicket had fallen at a hundred and eighty. Ellerby left at ahundred and eighty-six. By the time the scoring-board registered twohundred, five wickets were down, three of them victims to the lobs.
Morris was still in at one end. He had refused to be tempted32. He wasjogging on steadily33 to his century.
Bob Jackson went in next, with instructions to keep his eye on thelob-man.
For a time things went well. Saunders, who had gone on to bowl againafter a rest, seemed to give Morris no trouble, and Bob put himthrough the slips with apparent ease. Twenty runs were added, when thelob-bowler once more got in his deadly work. Bob, letting alone a ballwide of the off-stump under the impression that it was going to breakaway, was disagreeably surprised to find it break in instead, and hitthe wicket. The bowler smiled sadly, as if he hated to have to dothese things.
Mike's heart jumped as he saw the bails34 go. It was his turn next.
"Two hundred and twenty-nine," said Burgess, "and it's ten past six.
No good trying for the runs now. Stick in," he added to Mike. "That'sall you've got to do."All!... Mike felt as if he was being strangled. His heart was racinglike the engines of a motor. He knew his teeth were chattering35. Hewished he could stop them. What a time Bob was taking to get back tothe pavilion! He wanted to rush out, and get the thing over.
At last he arrived, and Mike, fumbling36 at a glove, tottered37 out intothe sunshine. He heard miles and miles away a sound of clapping, and athin, shrill38 noise as if somebody were screaming in the distance. As amatter of fact, several members of his form and of the junior day-roomat Wain's nearly burst themselves at that moment.
At the wickets, he felt better. Bob had fallen to the last ball of theover, and Morris, standing39 ready for Saunders's delivery, looked socalm and certain of himself that it was impossible to feel entirelywithout hope and self-confidence. Mike knew that Morris had madeninety-eight, and he supposed that Morris knew that he was very nearhis century; yet he seemed to be absolutely undisturbed. Mike drewcourage from his attitude.
Morris pushed the first ball away to leg. Mike would have liked tohave run two, but short leg had retrieved40 the ball as he reached thecrease.
The moment had come, the moment which he had experienced only indreams. And in the dreams he was always full of confidence, andinvariably hit a boundary. Sometimes a drive, sometimes a cut, butalways a boundary.
"To leg, sir," said the umpire.
"Don't be in a funk," said a voice. "Play straight, and you can't getout."It was Joe, who had taken the gloves when the wicket-keeper went on tobowl.
Mike grinned, wryly42 but gratefully.
Saunders was beginning his run. It was all so home-like that for amoment Mike felt himself again. How often he had seen those two littleskips and the jump. It was like being in the paddock again, withMarjory and the dogs waiting by the railings to fetch the ball if hemade a drive.
Saunders ran to the crease41, and bowled.
Now, Saunders was a conscientious43 man, and, doubtless, bowled the verybest ball that he possibly could. On the other hand, it was Mike'sfirst appearance for the school, and Saunders, besides beingconscientious, was undoubtedly44 kind-hearted. It is useless tospeculate as to whether he was trying to bowl his best that ball. Ifso, he failed signally. It was a half-volley, just the right distanceaway from the off-stump; the sort of ball Mike was wont45 to send nearlythrough the net at home....
The next moment the dreams had come true. The umpire was signalling tothe scoring-box, the school was shouting, extra-cover was trotting46 tothe boundary to fetch the ball, and Mike was blushing and wonderingwhether it was bad form to grin.
From that ball onwards all was for the best in this best of allpossible worlds. Saunders bowled no more half-volleys; but Mikeplayed everything that he did bowl. He met the lobs with a bat likea barn-door. Even the departure of Morris, caught in the slips offSaunders's next over for a chanceless hundred and five, did not disturbhim. All nervousness had left him. He felt equal to the situation.
Burgess came in, and began to hit out as if he meant to knock off theruns. The bowling became a shade loose. Twice he was given full tossesto leg, which he hit to the terrace bank. Half-past six chimed, and twohundred and fifty went up on the telegraph board. Burgess continued tohit. Mike's whole soul was concentrated on keeping up his wicket.
There was only Reeves to follow him, and Reeves was a victim to thefirst straight ball. Burgess had to hit because it was the only gamehe knew; but he himself must simply stay in.
The hands of the clock seemed to have stopped. Then suddenly he heardthe umpire say "Last over," and he settled down to keep those sixballs out of his wicket.
The lob bowler had taken himself off, and the Oxford Authentic hadgone on, fast left-hand.
The first ball was short and wide of the off-stump. Mike let it alone.
Number two: yorker. Got him! Three: straight half-volley. Mike playedit back to the bowler. Four: beat him, and missed the wicket by aninch. Five: another yorker. Down on it again in the old familiar way.
All was well. The match was a draw now whatever happened to him. Hehit out, almost at a venture, at the last ball, and mid-off, jumping,just failed to reach it. It hummed over his head, and ran like astreak along the turf and up the bank, and a great howl of delightwent up from the school as the umpire took off the bails.
Mike walked away from the wickets with Joe and the wicket-keeper.
"I'm sorry about your nose, Joe," said the wicket-keeper in tones ofgrave solicitude47.
"What's wrong with it?""At present," said the wicket-keeper, "nothing. But in a few years I'mafraid it's going to be put badly out of joint48."
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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bowling
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| n.保龄球运动 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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fumbled
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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bowlers
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| n.（板球）投球手( bowler的名词复数 )；圆顶高帽 | |
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stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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stumped
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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regularity
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drawn
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marsh
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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somnolent
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| adj.想睡的，催眠的；adv.瞌睡地；昏昏欲睡地；使人瞌睡地 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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bails
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| （法庭命令缴付的）保释金( bail的名词复数 )； 三柱门上的横木 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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wryly
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| adv. 挖苦地，嘲弄地 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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