Read Online Good Enough For Nelson by John Winton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Winton
Tags: Comedy
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always crying out for them to take them and just as you’ve got things going nicely, you can bet your old boots, whango whango, up the hill everybody, play cricket. I’m told they’re even getting people out of the sickbay,’ the Bosun added bitterly. ‘Giving ‘em pain-killing drugs and all, to keep ‘em on their feet while they play cricket.’
The Bodger did not actually see anyone up on the playing fields under the influence of pain-killing drugs, but almost everybody else in the College was there. The Nine Cricket Games, as they came to be called, were the sort of concerted mass activity which the College always did well. It was team endeavour, translated on to a massive, almost a Homeric, scale. So many games of cricket had probably never been held simultaneously in the college before, but the problems had been overcome. The challenges had been surmounted, gear had been obtained, extra pitches marked out, and the games had all begun. Everywhere The Bodger looked, there was a game of cricket. The main pitches were all occupied and subsidiary ones had been created beside them. Some fielders were so close together and so uncertain of the rules that they were not sure which game they were actually playing in. Not all the pitches had proper stumps and not all the stumps proper bails. Not all the wicket-keepers had proper gloves, and some had improvised with leather gloves, fives gloves or woolly mittens of their own.
The word had gone round and the games were being watched by a vast crowd, in carnival mood. Some of the College wives were there, wearing straw hats and summer dresses, and pushing children in push-carts. Older children eddied to and fro, in and out of the fringes of the nearest game.
The divisional officers were also out in strength. One of them, Charlie Charleshaughton, also a gunnery officer, and in charge of the Jellicoe Division, strode round the field, singling out individual Jellicoes for his own brand of encouragement. ‘Bags of go, Jellicoe!’ he barked, wherever he recognised one of his flock. ‘Bags of go, Jellicoe!’ came the phrase, rising and falling, fading and strengthening, louder and softer, with a sort of divisional doppler effect, as Charlie Charleshaughton tacked around the field.
The Gromboolians were in general delighted to be invited to play cricket. Some of them already played at home, and all of them considered it an essential part of coming to England, like watching the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. For those who did not know the laws of the game, John Jemingham explained.
John Jerningham, known as the Hon. John, was as near to the immaculate conception of what a very parfait naval officer should be as any naval officer ever could be. His linen was always perfectly clean, his tie always tied with an extra large and shiny knot, his uniforms always cut and worn with a flair that nobody else could ever quite match. The Bodger had served with him in the old Superb and knew that under the affectation of indolence, the Hon. John was a very able man.
‘Cricket is a very subtle game.’ the Hon. John was saying to an audience, mostly of Gromboolians. ‘It is probably the most subtle game in the world. But the rules are very simple. There are two sides, the batting side who are ‘in’, as it is termed, and the fielding side who are not in, but out, out, that is to say, on the field. Each side has one innings each, in some matches, two innings. To start an innings, the fielding side go out first, and then two batsmen from the side who are in go out, out on the field that is. Those two batsmen are in until the fielding side get one of them out in which case he comes in and another batsman goes out and he is in until they get him out. As each batsman is out he comes in and another one goes out until ten batsmen are out. The whole side are then out, and everybody comes in, including the eleventh batsman who is not out. However, although he is not out, he still
The Bodger did not actually see anyone up on the playing fields under the influence of pain-killing drugs, but almost everybody else in the College was there. The Nine Cricket Games, as they came to be called, were the sort of concerted mass activity which the College always did well. It was team endeavour, translated on to a massive, almost a Homeric, scale. So many games of cricket had probably never been held simultaneously in the college before, but the problems had been overcome. The challenges had been surmounted, gear had been obtained, extra pitches marked out, and the games had all begun. Everywhere The Bodger looked, there was a game of cricket. The main pitches were all occupied and subsidiary ones had been created beside them. Some fielders were so close together and so uncertain of the rules that they were not sure which game they were actually playing in. Not all the pitches had proper stumps and not all the stumps proper bails. Not all the wicket-keepers had proper gloves, and some had improvised with leather gloves, fives gloves or woolly mittens of their own.
The word had gone round and the games were being watched by a vast crowd, in carnival mood. Some of the College wives were there, wearing straw hats and summer dresses, and pushing children in push-carts. Older children eddied to and fro, in and out of the fringes of the nearest game.
The divisional officers were also out in strength. One of them, Charlie Charleshaughton, also a gunnery officer, and in charge of the Jellicoe Division, strode round the field, singling out individual Jellicoes for his own brand of encouragement. ‘Bags of go, Jellicoe!’ he barked, wherever he recognised one of his flock. ‘Bags of go, Jellicoe!’ came the phrase, rising and falling, fading and strengthening, louder and softer, with a sort of divisional doppler effect, as Charlie Charleshaughton tacked around the field.
The Gromboolians were in general delighted to be invited to play cricket. Some of them already played at home, and all of them considered it an essential part of coming to England, like watching the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. For those who did not know the laws of the game, John Jemingham explained.
John Jerningham, known as the Hon. John, was as near to the immaculate conception of what a very parfait naval officer should be as any naval officer ever could be. His linen was always perfectly clean, his tie always tied with an extra large and shiny knot, his uniforms always cut and worn with a flair that nobody else could ever quite match. The Bodger had served with him in the old Superb and knew that under the affectation of indolence, the Hon. John was a very able man.
‘Cricket is a very subtle game.’ the Hon. John was saying to an audience, mostly of Gromboolians. ‘It is probably the most subtle game in the world. But the rules are very simple. There are two sides, the batting side who are ‘in’, as it is termed, and the fielding side who are not in, but out, out, that is to say, on the field. Each side has one innings each, in some matches, two innings. To start an innings, the fielding side go out first, and then two batsmen from the side who are in go out, out on the field that is. Those two batsmen are in until the fielding side get one of them out in which case he comes in and another batsman goes out and he is in until they get him out. As each batsman is out he comes in and another one goes out until ten batsmen are out. The whole side are then out, and everybody comes in, including the eleventh batsman who is not out. However, although he is not out, he still
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