William the Good Read online

  Ginger and Douglas, carried away by this flow of eloquence, cheered loudly.

  William collected his ‘bow an’ arrer army’ with surprising speed. The holidays were drawing to a close and most of his school friends and acquaintances were growing tired of their own resources and were willing to follow William wherever he led them. Some of them already possessed bows and arrows. Others bought them. Others made them. William assembled them on the first day on which they were fully equipped and harangued them.

  ‘Soldiers,’ he said, ‘we’ve all gotter learn bow and arrer shootin’ so as to be ready for when all the gunpowder in the world gets finished up which, of course, it must do sometime, same as coal, we’ve gotter be ready for when a foreign enemy comes suddenly over in ships by night an’ is here right in the middle of England before anyone finds out. They’d be disguised, of course, till they started fightin’. Well, we’ve gotter be ready with our bows and arrers to fight ’em an’ hold ’em at bay till the real army’s got together an’ got its guns an’ gunpowder an’ things, an’ then we’ve gotter be ready to fight ’em again when all the gunpowder’s used up. That’s what we’ve gotter do, we’ve gotter be ready,’ William as ever was at this point fired by his own eloquence, ‘we’ve gotter be ready to save our country from the enemy, same as people like Moses an’ Napoleon did. . . .’

  ‘Napoleon din’t,’ said a small child in the rear.

  ‘Moses din’t either,’ said another.

  ‘Oh, they din’t, din’t they?’ said William threateningly, annoyed at the interruption.

  They looked at William. William after all was more real than Moses and Napoleon. It didn’t matter what Moses and Napoleon had done. It did matter what William might do.

  ‘All right then,’ they agreed pacifically, ‘they did then.’

  ‘Course they did,’ said William, ‘an’ that’s what we’ve gotter do. Save the country from the foreign enemies.’

  His faithful band waved their bows and arrows and cheered enthusiastically.

  At first all went well. The Bow and Arrow Army practised diligently under William’s leadership. They set up a target on a tree, stood in a long line one behind another, and as each came to the front on the word of command from William shot at the target, while the result was noted on a slate by Ginger. So far so good. But the archers with the perversity of human nature soon began to grow tired of it. They weren’t content to stand in a row, step forward at William’s word of command, shoot, and have the result noted on a slate by Ginger. It was all right just at first, but after an hour or so it became boring. True, the small boy who had challenged the historical truth of William’s reference to Napoleon introduced a diversion by shooting William calmly and deliberately by a well-aimed arrow in the middle of his stomach and running off, leaving William writhing in agony on the ground. William, however, quickly recovered and was on the point of furiously pursuing his assailant when he was held back by Ginger who pointed out, truly enough, that if William were to leave them the bored archers would probably straggle off to other diversions. So William, ever an opportunist, turned the incident to account. He made another speech.

  ‘Soldiers,’ he said. ‘You can jus’ see from me being nearly killed then, what a deadly weapon a bow’n arrer is. That’s what you’ve gotter do to the foreign enemies of the country, hit them in the stomach nearly killin’ ’em like what John Francis did me. And,’ he ended simply, ‘when I catch John Francis I’ll jolly well show him.’

  The archers, because cheering is a change from shooting at a target, cheered.

  But the fact remained that the archers were growing bored. They preferred William as leader of lawless expeditions to William as Commander-in-Chief of a disciplined band of archers. Shooting at a target is thrilling enough for the first day, becomes less thrilling on the second and is boring in the extreme on the third. None of them dared to vary the monotony as had John Francis by shooting William. John Francis, it transpired, had acted thus quite safely in the knowledge that he was going away the next day on a fortnight’s visit to an aunt, and it was a known fact that no insult ever lived in William’s memory for longer than a week. William’s life was too full to admit of his cherishing vengeance against anyone for longer than a week.

  The scarecrows were William’s idea. It was indeed such an idea as could have been no one’s but William’s. William realised that his band of warriors was growing daily more listless and discontented, that it was held together solely by the hope – daily diminishing – that something exciting really was going to happen soon, and they only did not desert in a body because they were afraid of finding afterward that they had missed an adventure.

  So William thought of the scarecrows.

  He realised that a target lacked human interest and he realised that in almost every neighbouring field stood a fairly lifelike scarecrow which might well serve to represent the foreign enemy to whose destruction he had so often urged his gallant band. Moreover all the fields were ‘trespass fields’, and between William and the neighbouring farmers there waged a deadly feud which would lend to the expedition that element of lawlessness and adventure without which William as well as the archer band was feeling the whole thing to be rather flat.

  Upon hearing this the archer band brightened perceptibly and set off behind their leader lovingly fingering their bows and chanting joyous songs of battle. The adventure did not disappoint them. They had a glorious day, a day that glowed brightly in their memories for many months. They surrounded every scarecrow in every field and shot at it with bow and arrow till it collapsed realistically and blood-curdingly into a heap on the ground. When the result did not take place quickly enough, they hastened it by a few discreetly placed stones. A scarecrow, as an enemy, possesses the supreme advantage (to its assailant) of not being able to do anything back. From two or three of the fields they were chased by irate farmers which gave the game the piquant edge of excitement they had all hoped for.

  William would have liked his men to shoot at the farmer enemy as they retreated but even he had to admit that this was more difficult than it sounds. He tried it, hit Ginger by mistake and fell over a ploughed furrow at the same time. William had never heard of the Parthians but if he had, would have had a deep, deep respect for them. They retired, however, fleetly and in good order, leaving none of their number in the hands of the enemy who finally gave up the chase, and purple-faced with breathlessness and fury, contented themselves with standing and shaking their fists at them till they were out of sight. It was altogether a glorious and thrilling day. But William realised with something of apprehension that it could not be repeated indefinitely. It was doubtful even whether it could be repeated once. The scarecrows were completely demolished and if new ones were set up it was pretty certain that they would be closely guarded. No, the band must not expect a day like this every day. They must be content with routine work for some time after this – with drilling and shooting at targets. Before they disbanded William delivered one of his stirring speeches.

  ‘Now we’ve seen today,’ he said, ‘what we can do to a foreign enemy if one lands an’ comes right into the middle of England. We can knock ’em to pieces same as we did the scarecrows,’ he ignored the convenient passivity of the scarecrow enemy which had assured the victory, and continued, ‘an’ then if they start runnin’ after us we can get out of their way same as we did out of Farmer Jenks’ an’ Farmer Hodges’, and then when they’re too tired to run any more, we can shoot at ’em again same as we could have done at Farmer Jenks an’ Farmer Hodges if it hadn’t been teatime. An’ – an’ now we’ve gotter go on practising quietly for a bit so’s to be ready, ’cause – ’cause we never know when we’ll wake up one mornin’ an’ find all the fields full of foreign enemies what have come over in the night.’

  The band of archers, inspirited by the events of the day, cheered enthusiastically.

  The next morning William woke early and looked out of the window. His eyes opened wider and w
ider and wider. He rubbed them and looked again. It was true. The fields near the house were full of soldiers and tents. He dressed himself in a state of stupefied amazement. It had really happened. A foreign enemy had really crossed over in the night and had entrenched itself in the fields about his home. William descended to breakfast still feeling dazed.

  ‘I say,’ he said, ‘there’s soldiers. All over the field.’

  ‘It’ll be the manoeuvres,’ said his sister Ethel casually.

  ‘How do you know it’s the mou – what you said?’ said William sternly. Ethel looked at him.

  ‘There’d be a fortune,’ she said, ‘for anyone who would invent a hairbrush that would make a boy’s hair look tidy.’

  ‘But they’d never use it even if anyone did,’ said William’s mother gloomy.

  William snorted and sat down before his porridge plate. That was just like his family. A foreign enemy only a few yards away and all they could talk about was his hair. Probably when the foreign enemy started shooting at them and killing them they’d still be going on at him about his hair or his face or something. Nothing – nothing – could ever stop them. Bitterly William wondered whether such people were worth saving.

  After a hasty breakfast he hurried out to his archer band. He found them mildly excited.

  ‘But they’re English soldiers,’ said one with a certain disappointment in his voice. ‘I’ve heard ’em talkin’ English.’

  ‘Course they talk English, silly,’ said William crushingly, ‘but that doesn’t prove they’re English. Course they taught ’em English before they brought ’em over. Do you think they’d bring ’em over talking foreign langwidges an’ arousin’ everyone’s suspicions. Course not. Course they c’n talk English. I bet they saw you listening an’ started talkin’ English jus’ so’s not to arouse your suspicions.’ William had come across this phrase in a Secret Service story the night before and was proud of having an opportunity of using it, ‘but you go’n listen to them when they don’t think anyone’s listenin’ an’ I bet you’ll find ’em talkin’ foreign langwidges.’

  Obviously the majority of the Archer band was impressed by this. But one small doubting warrior piped up:

  ‘Well, when I told my father this mornin’ that I’d seen ’em, he said, “Oh, yes. It’ll be the manooverers” – or something like that – “an’ I don’t suppose they’ll be here more than a day or two.”’

  ‘Yes,’ said William excitedly, ‘that’s jus’ it. That’s jus’ what they knew people’d say. They come here dressed like English soldiers an’ talkin’ English so as not to arouse suspicion and they know that the English people’ll jus’ take for granted that they’re English till they start fightin’ ’em and then it’ll be too late. English people are like that. They look out of their windows an’ see a lot of soldiers in English clothes talkin’ the English langwidge an’ they say, “Oh, yes, it’ll be the – the – mooverers” – same as what George’s father said, an’ Ethel said, and they start talkin’ about my hair jus’ as if they weren’t goin’ to be killed the next minute.’

  ‘What does it mean?’ piped up a small archer in the background.

  ‘What does what mean?’ said William to gain time.

  ‘That word you said – Mooverers.’

  William cleared his throat.

  ‘It’s – it’s a French word meanin’ English Soldier,’ he said. His stern eye wandered among his Archers daring any of them to deny it. No one did deny it because everyone believed it implicitly.

  ‘Well, that’s wot I say,’ went on William relieved, ‘they knew that when English people saw they were dressed like English soldiers an’ talkin’ the English langwidge they’d say, “Oh, they’re jus’ mooverers,” an’ not to do anythin’ to stop ’em. They’ll stay here till they’ve learnt all about the country, then they’ll conquer the village an’ then they’ll go on an’ conquer all the rest of England. But – we’ve – gotter stop ’em.’

  The Archers waved their bows and arrows and cheered enthusiastically. This was better than practising at a target. This was better even than shooting scarecrows.

  ‘Let’s go now,’ said William and added cautiously, ‘jus’ to have a look at ’em first. We mus’ make plans careful before we start fightin’ ’em.’

  The band of Archers marched joyously down the road still cheering and waving bows and arrows.

  At the gate of the large field they stopped and gazed at the scene. There were small tents and big tents, and everywhere soldiers were hurrying to and fro or standing talking in groups.

  ‘There’s some officers in that tent,’ said William, ‘an’ I bet if you went up to it you’d find ’em talkin’ foreign langwidges.’

  ‘Well, go up to it an’ see,’ challenged Ginger.

  ‘All right, I will,’ said William promptly accepting the challenge.

  Watched in a thrilled silence by his Archers he went further down the road till he was just behind the tent, then he wriggled through the hedge. William had through long experience brought wriggling through hedges to a fine art. Then he crawled up to the tent and daringly lifted it an inch or so, placing his ear to the aperture. Inside were two young officers. The first had just said:

  ‘I saw this old man coming out of the Blue Boar this morning.’ And just as William lifted the flap and applied his ear to it, the other was replying:

  ‘Honi soit qui mal y pense.’

  William replaced the flap, crawled back to the hedge and wriggled through to the road.

  ‘They were talkin’ foreign langwidges,’ he said excitedly, ‘foreign langwidges wot I couldn’t under stand a word of—’

  The Archers cheered loudly. So stimulated were they by the prospect of adventure, that they would have been bitterly disappointed had William brought back any other report.

  ‘Well, we’ve gotta make plans,’ said William, assuming a stern and thoughtful demeanour.

  ‘’Sno good rushin’ at ’em, straight away. There’s more of them than what there is of us. We’ve found out – I’ve found out, I mean – that they’re a foreign enemy. Well, we’ve gotter save the country from ’em. That’s what we’ve gotter do. But it’s no good rushin’ at ’em before we’ve made plans. We’ve gotta make plans first. An’ we’ve gotter be cunnin’ as well as brave ’cause there’s so many more of them than what there is of us. We’ve gotter find out first who’s the head of ’em an’ we’ve gotter do it without – without arousin’ their suspicions.’

  The Archers cheered again lustily.

  They would have cheered William now whatever he had said. The longed-for adventure had come. They were willing to trust themselves blindly and joyously to William’s sole leadership. Ginger felt that William was having rather more than his fair share of the limelight.

  ‘I’ll find out who’s the head of ’em,’ he offered. ‘I bet it’s a dang’rous thing to do but I bet I do it all right.’

  The Archers cheered Ginger.

  ‘I bet it’s no more dang’rous than seein’ if they were talkin’ in foreign langwidges,’ challenged William.

  Ginger’s proud spirit had been assuaged by the Archers’ cheers. He felt that he could afford to be generous.

  ‘No, it’s just about the same,’ he conceded.

  He wriggled through the hole which had been left in the hedge by the passage of William’s solid body and began to creep very cautiously along the tents, peeping under each to see their interior. At one he evidently made a discovery of a sensational nature. He turned round, made excited but incomprehensible signs to the Outlaws who were watching over the hedge, then began to crawl back. He plunged through the hole and began at once.

  ‘I’ve found the head of ’em. He’s a big fat man with a red face an’ a white moustache an’ he’s sittin’ at a table lookin’ at a map.’

  ‘Well, that proves it,’ said William equally excited, ‘that proves it. If he wasn’t foreign he wun’t need to be lookin’ at a map, would he? If he was really English
like what they pretend to be he wun’t need to be lookin’ at a map of England. He’d’ve done England at school in Geography.’

  The Archers agreed that the logic of this was unassailable.

  William continued:

  ‘Well, now that’s the first thing we’ve gotter do. We’ve gotter take his map off him. I said it was no use rushin’ at ’em an’ we’d gotter be cunnin’. Well, that’s the first cunnin’ thing we’ve gotter do. We’ve gotter take his map off him an’ then you see he won’t know what to do or where he is or anythin’.’

  ‘Well,’ said Ginger hastily, ‘I’ve done enough findin’ out about who he is. I’m not goin’ to take his map off him.’

  ‘No,’ said William, ‘it’s time Douglas did something.’

  The Archers cheered this.

  It was well known that Douglas did not care to expose himself unnecessarily to danger. But Douglas received the suggestion with stoic courage. Despite his preference for a quiet life, Douglas was no coward.

  ‘All right,’ he said resignedly, ‘jus’ tell me how to do it, an’ I’ll do it.’

  But the discussion was interrupted by the sight of the big fat man with the red face and white moustache emerging from his tent, map in hand.

  ‘There he is!’ hissed Ginger. ‘Din’ I tell you? Map’n all!’

  With eyes starting out of their heads the Archers watched the progress of the red-faced warrior as he came slowly down the field his eyes still fixed on the map outspread in his hands.