THE MEN FROM THE ZOO (6)
Saturday (Probably about 09:30 hrs or so)
Saturday (Probably about 09:30 hrs or so)
Basset seemed to have been somewhat uninvolved in the proceedings until the next visitor arrived. The Prefects had already agreed that someone would have to stay to supervise Ross in his labours and, being Head Prefect, he himself had generously agreed to do so. As he put it, “Someone has to do it”. Bassett is all heart.
There was a short delay before the next two visitors called at almost the same time. Marginally, the first was Ross, who had taken the opportunity to get breakfast before surrendering himself, attired as he had been instructed. The second was a rather sweaty Ollie who had brought the news that the fatigue detail was ready to receive the Prefects and their “guests”.
Earlier in the year Ollie looked like a typical “farmer-boy” type: sturdy, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Now he looked knackered from his recent exertions and slightly sunburnt from his tendency to shun the use of sunblock – still like a farmer-boy, then. Yes, both you and I know that the mobile telephone would have been a rather more efficient messaging system but then what would defaulters have to do to keep them out of trouble? Ollie was quickly dismissed to re-join the advance party of the Men from the Zoo, and Thompson and Robinson prepared their party to join them. Meanwhile, Bassett appraised his victim. Ross couldn’t really stand with his arms folded all the while he had to present his prep but he did stand as smartly as he could with his books held in front of him rather like a butler presenting a tray.
Ross was a tall, slim, rather athletic example of a Second-Year pupil. Like some of the other recent criminals, he meant no harm and was a hard-working, and hard-playing member of the school community. He was also intelligent. Intelligent enough to do as the prefects told him without disputing its fairness. He was also one of the pupils whom the Prefects would encounter if they found out who was practicing for the “mountaineering” event next year.
By that hour of the day and well into Summer, being bare-footed and bare-chested wouldn’t be too bad; even the humiliation of being seen to act as a slave to the somewhat over-privileged prefects would be balanced out by being seen to bear his burden with fortitude if anyone should see him.
Ross presented his prep. It was more than acceptable but Basett did manage to look unimpressed. Ross was glad it wasn’t a day for French prep. He adopted the expected stance until Bassett told him to, “Use that chain on your ankles.” He indicated a fairly light chain and two padlocks that were laid-out on the table. Ross had seen that facility before. He sat on the floor and wound one end of the chain twice round his right ankle and padlocked it in place. Yes, he was usually an excellent student but he’d had his moments outside lesson times. Once he had locked the other end of the chain round his left ankle, he could not separate his legs very far apart but experience had taught him that he would still be able, with some difficulty, to negotiate the stairs between the Prefect’s Study and the ground floor. He stood himself up and folded his arms.
Bassett could see that the chain was not too loose but he did make a mental note to himself to check to see that it was not too tight after not too long. Bassett’s inspection showed that Ross had even made sure that his fairly short and rather baggy rugby shorts were immaculate. It even looked as though Ross might have ironed them. He had!
Having reminded Bassett about the nature of both his offence and his sentence, Ross was sent along the corridor to the cleaners’ cupboard. He collected a bucket of cold water, not the nicest part of his ordeal, some cleaning fluid, and a sponge. He knew he would not be allowed a long-handled sponge so that he would not be able to avoid intimate contact with the cars that he would be cleaning. At least it would not be too hot or, even worse, too cold outside. OK, so life wasn’t too bad: his wrists were not fettered and he noticed that there were only four cars that would need his attention. Unfortunately, one of those was Robinson’s old banger; Ross thought that it was only the mud that held the old rust-bucket together. He went straight down to the car park. At least he had not been told to move the vehicles across the tarmac to where Bassett would be able to see him while he worked. Nevertheless, he knew he had to make a good job of things. He also knew that he would end up wet, as would those rugby shorts that would end up clinging to him unpleasantly as they dried.
It took him about two-and a-half hours to complete his task. He even thought to mop down the stairs where he had spilt water each time he stumbled down them. He also had the sense to empty the bucket over the cars before returning for more water.
Ross gave the vehicles (and that rust-bucket of Robinson’s) a careful looking-over before reporting to Bassett. He really did not want to waste any more of his precious weekend time. He clanked upstairs for what he hoped would be the final time and reported to the Prefects’ Study. Bassett did manage not to smirk too much as Ross tried to stand with his arms folded behind him and the mop with its head in the bucket and its handle propped up against his chest. He simply couldn’t resist keeping him standing there while he made the usual insincere apologies and empty promises that his misdemeanour was unlikely to be repeated. Ross managed not to dislodge the cleaning implement.
Once he considered that he had enjoyed himself enough, Bassett ordered Ross to return the equipment to the cleaners’ cupboard and then to accompany him to inspect his work. Bassett was impressed and he nearly let Ross know it. He smirked as he pointed out that the defaulter had better hope that a certain old rattletrap had better not spontaneously fall apart in the next couple of days. Ross allowed himself a nervous giggle before reining himself in. Bassett let it go.
It was time to either release his victim or to announce any necessary extension to his ordeal. Basett was, for a Prefect, quite fair in the matter and presented Ross with a choice. He could choose to spend the rest of the weekend in full school uniform, as was usual for defaulters, or he could spend the rest of his Saturday until his bedtime in just those sodden shorts and, presumably, his jockstrap. No choice, Ross knew his shorts would soon dry out and he would not then be drawing attention to himself on Sunday so denying himself the use of any leisure facilities.
“Good Man,” said Bassett approvingly as he threw a key to Ross, “Bring that back before you go, won’t you?”
That might seem a bit weird. Why, “Good man”? Well, Bassett was never derelict in his duty but Ross’s choice would mean that he wouldn’t have to ensure that he was meeting the uniform conditions, thus wasting his own Sunday.
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All the while Bassett was entertaining his unwilling guest and once Ollie had been dismissed, Thompson and Robinson could turn their attention to the remaining three defaulters who had been trying not to move any more than was necessary in order to be able to keep breathing easily. Robinson checked that Nigel and Gary knew where they were supposed to be going but Thompson noticed that they had not been fitted with a lead for their guidance. He even suggested that, if either he or Robinson (or even Luke) could lead them, then they could also be blindfolded. Even for Thompson that was a bit extreme but, with their noses pressed determinedly against the wall, they couldn’t see his smile or the wink in Robinson’s direction.
“Wha’ d’y’ think, lads?” No one answered Robinson’s question but they expected the worst. “Tell you wha’: if I ask my friend nicely not to blindfold you, wha’ you goin’ to do for me in return?”
“Come on, Eric, you know they’re not too bright. give them time to think.” Other than the feeling of impotent outrage, the Third-Years were not even suspicious of Thompson suddenly becoming the nice(r) guy. Even being the pains in the arse that they certainly were, they didn’t really understand the games the Prefects chose to play to increase the torment of their subjects.
There was some discussion of the order of procession and it was decided that Nigel should lead Gary and that they should precede Luke. The suggestion that the Third-Years could thus form a soft cushion if Luke should lose his footing on the stairs was no encouragement to any of them. The party set off to where the rest of the occupants of Dorm 3z had pitched camp. Gary and Nigel managed to descend the stairs more-or-less side by side due to the width of the old staircase and Luke kept as close behind them as he could. He had taken the recent warning seriously. In truth climbing down stairs laden both fore and aft and without his arms for balance did make his progress very precarious. However, all five boys survived that part of the venture unscathed.
Robinson checked that Nigel and Gary knew where they were going (Luke could just follow on) and the party set off out of the school premises for the stream that fed the “Perfectly Round Pond”. It was a journey of about six kilometres, a pleasant enough walk for the prefects but a potential obstacle course for the younger lads.
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Readers might have noticed that the Prefects had not enforced the “Lance Private” ranks for the defaulters and had not themselves adopted Corps uniform. Well, they simply couldn’t be bothered: Gary had already suffered whatever standard ordeals they could come up with and Nigel’s somnolence was considered to be probably irredeemable; he was only being made to suffer as a matter of routine. Luke? He was just an unfortunate victim of collateral damage.
TBC
