The Ingram-Lewis Chronicles Pt. 05

The Colonel had listened to all this totally stone-faced and anyone with half an eye could have seen that all Colin's pleading to save his arse had been in vain. He had sown his seed stony ground and it had not taken root.

"Colin, I was never very good at sums when I was at school so let me get this straight. The punishment you received at school in this unfortunate affair comprised six cut of the cane in the dorm for having the cigarettes, followed by twelve cuts of the birch for actually smoking them, to which were added a further six strokes of the birch as a penance for stealing. So, Colin what you are telling me is that in all in all you have received only six strokes of the birch to correct you for having stolen the the cigarettes."

"Well son, let me tell you that I consider six cuts a totally inadequate punishment for thievery. If it were one of my young soldiers who had been caught thieving, then I would have sentenced him to thirty strokes of a very painful cane across his naked buttocks. However Colin, I shall be somewhat lenient with you and give you only eighteen cuts of the cane. Now, boy, the discussion is over. Down with your trousers and under-pants and over the chair and I will, begin. Hold your backside well up, boy, so that I can see what I am doing; I like to make a neat job of any arse I beat."

Colin realised now that he had totally lost his argument and obeyed his father; there was little else he could do. Colonel Tomlinson, swished the cane a few times through the sir, tapped the middle of his son's arse several times as he took aim and them brought the rod down with tremendous force on the boy's naked flesh. A rich red weal was immediately visible across both globes. And from then on, systematically and precisely without the slightest haste, the Colonel applied the cane with great force to his son's backside. By the time he had finished with his eighteen strokes, the boy's buttocks were lined with a series of tight, livid red welts many of which were already turning purple.

Colin had had many beatings in his life, both at school and from his father, but the fury which his father visited upon his arse that day was unprecedented. He howled and yelped at every stroke after the third by which time he was totally reduced to tears. This was easily the most painful beating Colin had ever had in his life; his father was a real crack with the cane and not someone with whom to trifle. It finally dawned upon Colin that his father was not subject to the restrictions imposed by school regulations and could, in his own home, go much further that the school ever dared.

"Right Colin, get dressed and go and greet your mother, who is anxious to see you. The footman will provide you with a pillow to sit on at table this evening. But let me make one thing quite clear. If I have any other trouble at all with you over these holidays, and believe me son when I say this; Christmas or not, I'll have you back in here quicker than you can imagine and take the skin of your arse with the cane." And with that final admonition, he opened the door of his smoking room to show Colin out only to find his younger son, Thomas, with his ear close to the door.

"Thomas, what are you still doing here boy, lurking around outside this door, I thought I had told you to go and see your mother whilst dealt with your brother; so why are you still here?" Thomas looked guilty and wondered what to say to his father. "Thomas, I believe that you were eavesdropping at the door, trying to learn what was happening to your brother; come on, boy; out with it, were you or were you not eavesdropping?. I should tell you that eavesdropping is not a pastime in which a young gentleman should indulge. Eavesdropping, my dear Thomas, is an activity of which I totally disapprove and which inevitably leads to correction for the person caught in the act."

The Colonel had an aptitude for putting the fear of god into his sons, and indeed into those serving under him in the army; he was a man not to be trifled with, as well you might image. Faced with this tirade about eavesdropping, poor Thomas was already dreading what was about to happen. "No father, really, I was not eavesdropping; really I wasn't sir, I just thought that I would wait for Colin and that we would then go to see mother together."

"Total poppycock." roared the Colonel at his son. "You were eavesdropping and I caught you at it. Step inside here, boy, and I will see what I can do to rid you of this awful habit. I think a good dose of what I have just given your brother might well be the ticket."

By this time, Thomas was almost wetting his pants, trembling with the fear his father had aroused in him. He then made a fatal slip which sealed his immediate future meeting with his father's cane as he said: "Oh please father you are not going not give me eighteen cuts of the cane just for standing by the door; please father; please not."

The Colonel was in no mood to be lenient as he was still seething with rage that Colin had stolen his cigarettes and he seized upon what his younger son had just said: "You just told me, Thomas, that you had not been eavesdropping: listening at the door. Well then, just explain to me how you know that I gave your brother eighteen strokes of the cane. Come on, boy; just explain to me now how you know that fact. Yes Thomas, you are not only an eavesdropper but you are also a liar to boot; you professed that you had not been listening at the door. Pants and under-pants down my boy and let me see your naked arse well raised across that chair there. I intend to show you with a practical demonstration, of how I deal with boys who are untruthful and who eavesdrop."

The Colonel had, by now, reduced his younger son to tears and plead as he did, Thomas did not succeed in budging his father from the course of action which was about to inflict great pain on his arse. The Colonel became more and more exasperated as his son pleaded with him and said finally; "Thomas I will have no more arguments; I am going to beat you, boy, and beat you hard as you need to be taught a lesson in manners and not to tell lies."

A reluctant Thomas, with tears coursing down his cheeks, finally dropped his clothes, bent over the chair and waited for his father to begin. Colonel Tomlinson was not one to spare even his own son; and for what was really a very minor matter, he went ahead and thrashed the boy's arse without pity, leaving him with twelve neat deep red welts, evenly spaced across the full width of his buttocks. Poor Thomas could barely stand the pain, which was much worse than anything he had experienced at school, and wept bitterly the whole time, crying out in agony at every stroke. But the Colonel was totally impervious to the obvious distress of his son and simply thrashed on until he had administered the twelve cuts. Had anyone witnessed the thrashing they would have concluded that the Colonel was a sadist; and they would have been right! The Colonel was in fact a sadistic, late Victorian disciplinarian, of which there were many. Remember that these events were taking place at Christmas 1900 and Queen Victoria was still on the throne.

"Pull up your pants and go and see your mother and try to explain to her why both you and your brother have very sore bottoms." said the Colonel, totally unfeelingly. "And let me add the warning I gave your brother which applies equally to you; any further misdemeanour over the holidays and I will have you back in here and over that chair again, and if you think you have been badly done by now, believe me, son, you don't know just how hard I can beat a boy. So just make sure that you don't provoke me as I do mean what I say."

Thomas limped tearfully away from his thrashing to see his mother in the hope the hope of a sympathetic word. He came upon his brother, Colin, waiting for him, advisedly well away from the smoking room and together they went to greet their their mother. Alas, there was little sympathy for either of them from her, as she told the boys that as they had been naughty they deserved to be punished and that their father had just been doing his duty; empathy was not a quality wit which Mrs. Tomlinson was well endowed!. That first night, in the bedroom they shared together. Thomas climbed into bed with his elder brother and the two boys snuggled up together, sobbing with their pain as they tried to comfort each other. Tom said to his brother that he was happier at Rigby than at home: at least there , there were other lads for companionship and company whereas here in their own home all they seemed to receive was he cold shoulder.

It had been a sad homecoming to a miserable household in which to spend Christmas. It would have been nice to have been able to say, the thrashings over, that the boys passed a pleasant Christmas at home; be but it would not be true. Colonel Tomlinson was never a very approachable man at the best of times and these were certainly not the best of times; he remained grumpy and unapproachable for throughout the whole of the holidays and both Colin and Thomas were relieved when the day came for them to return to Rigby. Ingram-Lewis and his cane and the rigours of Rigby were a darn sight better than the wrath of Colonel Tomlinson. So both boys arrived back at Rigby School in the early New Year 1901, bearing fading battle scars on their bottoms.

CHAPTER 3

Returning now to Patrick and Roderick, the Christmas holidays were all too quickly over and the two young men took the train back to Rigby together. They arrived back in time to organise their affairs late in the evening, two days before the start of school. A few boys had already arrived back at school but the following day all boys arrived back in order to be ready for the start of the spring term next day. This would be the penultimate term for Patrick, who would be leaving Rigby forever at the end of the summer. So, as he looked at it, he realised that he now had two terms left in which to leave his mark on Rigby. Patrick had thought to himself could do little of any permanence to leave behind at Rigby when he moved on to his adult life. So, reflecting to himself, he decided decided that he would attempt to leave behind him the reputation of being the Head Boy who had thrashed more arses than any other before him. He had been appointed in loco domini by Mr. Godber, the old Headmaster and in loco domini, in place of the master, or better, as the master, he would act. He decided to be as strict as could be possible with the boys under him and to whack as many bare arses as he could in the time left to him as Head Boy.

In this he knew he would be supported by Mr. Godber, whose regular "lover" he had also become. As the Headmaster himself was a great protagonist of, and true believer in, the beneficial effects of corporal punishment, Patrick knew he would be on firm ground in exercising his powers to the full. Indeed it was Mr. Godber who had suggested to Patrick that the "standard tariff" as he called it, be raised from six to twelve strokes of the cane cross a boy's naked buttocks; a suggestion which Patrick had, with considerable enthusiasm, immediately adopted implemented.

"I don't think personally that a boy can be adequately corrected by just six cuts of the cane." Mr. Godber had said to Patrick. "I recommend that you increase the standard dose from six to twelve strokes, which will give you ample opportunity to teach any boy a proper lesson. A boy's backside should be on fire when he rises from the beating stool. Don't let a boy's howling put you off; just press on and beat him thoroughly. And don't abandon the birch either; if you feel a boy deserves a birching, then give it to him; don't hold back; it never hurt a boy to have his backside birched and it is the most painful of all the punishment which we are still allowed to administer under the benighted rules and regulations which successive reforming governments have foisted on us. In my day, when I was a boy, the whip was still used and if a little blood was drawn, well, it was not thought amiss. We really have become very soft in these modern times. I really don't know any more what things are coming to" concluded Mr Godber.

It was mid-morning of the day before the new term began and Patrick was roaming around outside the school buildings. As classes did not start until the next morning, boys who had arrived early were free to spend their time in the common rooms and around the school grounds. Patrick suddenly heard a fracas with voices shouting and jeering coming from a remote corner of the grounds hidden behind a tall yew edge. Approaching the source of the noise, he realised quickly that a group of boys were clearly encouraging and egging on two boys who were fighting each other: it was the typical school yard fisticuffs. Without his being noticed, further observation revealed that some dozen or so second formers were grouped around two boys who were going hammer and tongs at each other. Patrick waited for a few minutes, observing what was going on; the onlookers grew more and more enthusiastic and vociferous, encouraging the two protagonists to hit each other even harder. It was a typical manifestation of that hidden sadistic streak which many schoolboys have in watching one lad attempt to knock the stuffing out of the other.

"Stop what you are doing immediately." said Patrick as he emerged from behind a large bush where he had been standing watching what was happening, "We do not accept or allow brawling here at Rigby. The aim of this school is to turn out young gentlemen who can take their places in the civilised world. We are not turning out a set of street fighters. Now, you two who are fighting, let me take a look at you. And the rest of you; don't even think of sneaking off unobserved, for you are all as guilty as they are in that you encouraged them to go on with their senseless fight. So the lot of you; stay exactly where you are. Now you two young ruffians; step forward and give me your names."

The two lads who had been fighting stepped forwards and Patrick smiled inwardly as he recognised one of them immediately. He began rhetorically, as he knew full well whom he was addressing: "Tomlinson major, is it you that I see in front of me? I might have known that you were involved; you cannot keep out of trouble for more than five minutes at a time; and who is this you were fighting?"

"I'm Karl von Staufen, Ingram Lewis sir" replied the other boy, now trembling in front of a very menacing looking Head Boy.

"So, the pair of you; what have you got to say for yourselves? Why were you fighting before the start of term?"

Colin Tomlinson, Tomlinson Major, he of the facile word, he whose arse had been soundly whacked by his father at the start of the Christmas holidays, as ever, took the lead: "Well Ingram-Lewis sir, you have got it all wrong. We weren't actually fighting; we were just practising wrestling before the start of term. You see, Ingram-Lewis sir, what we were trying to..."

"Tomlinson major; go no further with another of your ludicrous excuses. You were no more practising wrestling than I was floating through the air when I caught you at it; you two boys were engaged in an unbecoming, bare knuckle fight and were being encouraged to knock each other silly by this on-looking crowd of your blood-thirsty classmates. So Tomlinson, I suggest that you hold your tongue and stop digging yourself more deeply into the hole in which you now find yourself. You boy, along with your opponent, are in deep trouble. And as for the rest of you; well don't think that you are going to escape from this unseemly exhibition unscathed. You are all going to be punished for participating in this unfortunate affair."

"Tomlinson and von Staufen; you two will report to my study in thirty minutes time, wearing only your gym kit; glancing at his watch Patrick added, that will be at eleven o'clock precisely. Do I make myself clear? Meanwhile Tomlinson, make yourself useful and make me a complete list of your gawping classmate onlookers here and bring it with you when you report to my study. And if you feel you have sufficient mental capacity, write down the names in alphabetical order. Now, as for the rest of you; well, all of you will present yourselves to the Court of Prefects this evening at eight o'clock, immediately after supper; and you also need only wear your gym kit. And don't let anyone of you fail to turn up at the appointed time; late comers will receive extra strokes of the cane. Oh, yes, in case any of you are in any doubt, you are all going to get your arses thrashed this evening. It will be a good way in which to celebrate the start of term and the New Year; it will be a memorable occasion for all of you; trust me, I shall see that you are not disappointed."

"Ingram-Lewis sir," began the ever inventive Tomlinson, "Today is not actually in term time and I don't think that the school rules should apply as term officially begins tomorrow morning."

"A very good try, Tomlinson: one of your more cogent arguments in the face of punishment; but I have to tell you that you are wrong. Once you arrive on the school premises, the masters and prefects are responsible for your well being; we all act in in loco parentis. So you see Tomlinson, you are already under our protection and on this occasion I assisted by the vigilance of the other prefects are going to protect the lot of you from the worst side of yourselves. I trust that I have made that clear. And if not, I might add that I intend to act both in loco parentis and in loco domini when I address your naked arses with the rod at eleven o'clock. Have no illusions, Tomlinson; you and von Staufen are in for a very disagreeable experience." Patrick concluded, having laid it on in spades

CHAPTER 4

Patrick returned to his study, arranged two armchairs with the seats facing each other and touching as he intended to thrash the two boys together and have them face to face with each other whilst he was applying the cane. He then spent a pleasant few minutes selecting which of the several mature, well seasoned canes given to him by the Headmaster, Mr. Godber, would be best suited for the occasion. Both boys were in the second year and should, strictly speaking, be punished with a junior cane; but as the pair of them were big for their age and had good well developed arses, Patrick chose a flexible senior cane and fitted it into the handle provided by Mr. Godber. He swished the cane up and down admiring the sound it made as it descended and then, to test its flexibility proceeded to bend it. The cane was so well used and flexible, that Patrick easily succeeded in bending it into a complete circle. This, thought Patrick, truly was a splendid implement of punishment with which to begin the new term and the New Year 1901. He looked forward with considerable pleasure to the moment when he would apply it to the deserving arses of the two young fighters.

Punctually at eleven, Tomlinson and von Staufen entered Patrick's study. They both blanched as they saw the two armchairs in position with the cane lying on Patrick's desk.

"Well now, which of you two is going to tell me what the fight was all about and who started it? Come on now, I'm waiting; let's be having the facts. Von Staufen, why don't you have first shot at explaining yourself, for usually your opponent, Tomlinson Major here, dominates the situation with what can best be described as verbal diarrhoea. So come along, von Staufen, speak up. I want to know know the truth about this lamentable incident."

"Von Staufen paused and collected his thoughts: "Well, Ingram-Lewis sir; whilst it is true that I am was the one who actually started the fight, I am not the reason for the fight, if you see what I mean sir; and I am afraid Ingram-Lewis sir, that is all I have to say."