I was the only one at Merivale who understood his weird case, and when he first came, I let him fag for me; but he was awful as a fag, and such was his over-anxiety to please and shine that he never did either. I had, in fact, to chuck him. At sixteen years and eleven months of age he led rather a lonely life; but when the War broke out, he said he was very interested in it, and asked me sometimes if I would be so good as to explain military matters to him. Which I did in the simplest words possible, as anything like regular military terms would have been far beyond him. On hearing that aeroplanes have great difficulty in descending by night, he invented a scheme of stretching strong nets with a big mesh on poles ten feet above the ground, spread over half a mile of landing-place, to catch them. This showed mind in a way; but he never appeared to have any real martial instinct, and when once a girl in Merivale handed him a white feather, he stopped and took off his hat and said:
"I quite understand what you mean, but I shan’t be seventeen for a fortnight yet."
This the girl naturally refused to believe, and the "Turbot" came to me and complained about it.
As a matter of fact, I rather backed up the girl--not for giving "Turbot" a white feather, which is a vulgar and silly thing to give anybody, because you never know, as the great case of Fortescue showed--but because she didn’t believe "Turbot" when he said he was only just about to be seventeen. To look at him, he might easily have been married, which shows appearances are very deceptive. But, anyway, I said:
"You can’t blame a flapper for thinking you are of age to join the Army, Bradwell. Anybody would think so, and lots of younger-looking chaps than you have said they were eighteen, and been passed without a murmur, though their birth certificates would have given them away. But anybody six feet high and with a clearly visible black moustache, and with your muscles, would pass the authorities, and you may bet that many have."
He merely goggled, and said no doubt I was right.
I must tell you that "Turbot" had no father or mother, and, in fact, nobody but a single, oldish aunt who lived at Plymouth. But he had a guardian, who sent him to Merivale when his family unfortunately died; and at first he stopped at Merivale in the holidays. But once the aunt took him for a fortnight at Easter; and she appeared to like him, for, after that, he always went to her. The guardian did not, however, like "Turbot," and "Turbot" would have been quite content to stop at Merivale in the holidays, rather than spend his time with the guardian, who had no friendly feeling for him. In fact, you may say that "Turbot" was a duty rather than a pleasure to the guardian.