Caleb's Crossing by Brooks Geraldine

Author:Brooks, Geraldine [Brooks, Geraldine]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: Fourth Estate
Published: 2011-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

XII

I woke to a clatter of feet above my head, followed thereafter by a bustle of young bodies jostling each other down the narrow stairs. When the last pupil had crammed himself into Master Corlett’s chamber, I heard the door close and the master’s quavering voice rise to lead the prayer.

I got up, stiff and weary still, to take the measure of my new surroundings. Throwing a shawl over my shoulders, I stepped out into the garth. It was true, what grandfather had reported; the college was not a stone’s throw away. The older building was a large clapboard structure, which must have seemed very fine when they first built it on these wild coasts, almost twenty years earlier. It was a full three floors, with three wings set off at right angles to the main structure. In the center was a tall turret with a bell tower. It seemed a remarkable thing, to have raised such a place as this, at the very dawn of settlement, when material cares and the very business of survival pressed so hard upon the colony. I had heard that some had deemed the college building too gorgeous for a wilderness. But the grace of its design cannot have been matched by skill in its construction, for its shingle roof sagged woefully in several places and the sills showed signs of well-advanced rot. The neat new brick building beside it—which I guessed must be the Indian College—only emphasized the decayed condition of the larger and more venerable structure.

I turned back into the kitchen, to assess the place that was my more immediate concern. A single large kettle and small selection of pans hung above the pot well. There were eating utensils on the dresser—pots of chipped slipware and three good pewter tankards which, upon examination, proved to have pupils’ initials scratched crudely on the base. Likewise the trenchers were of worn wood, except for three pewter plates, also etched with initials. So there were some better off pupils, who had brought their own things—Makepeace would be mortified when he learned of this, as I knew he had not thought to pack anything of that nature.

I soon enough learned the names of the “pewter platers,” as that trio tended to give the most trouble and make most demands upon my time. One set of initials, JD, belonged to Joseph Dudley, the former governor’s son and the most difficult. He was one of the elder scholars, who would also attempt the matriculation examination. He was a well-favored youth with an unlovely manner, haughty and cocksure. During my first days at the school he treated me in a most peremptory way. While the other boys folded their soiled linens and set them on their pallets for me to collect on washday, he dropped his upon the floor. At board, when the other boys carried their dishes to the trough after meals, he rose from the table and left his as they lay.

The second week, when he once again left his linens scattered, I did not trouble to pick them up.

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