Roll call each morning and afternoon held in the school room had two items on the agenda. It was a time for the usual run through the register when each boy was called and gave a reply of confirmation that they were present. Always after this event came the naming by Mr Lansdowne of any boy who was to be on the receiving end of a public beating known by the boys as a pub tan. On this particular day, Fountain knew that it was his turn for the inevitable call out of line. What he did not know was that something was going to be different.
"Fountain" Mr Lansdowne called, "step forward to the centre of the room. Fountain moved out and stood awaiting the declaration of his fate. "Fountain", Mr Lansdowne said, "I have decided that you shall be birched at 8 o'clock this evening." Fountain became suddenly alert to the seriousness of his situation,"Return to your place." were Mr Lansdowne's instructions. He returned to the line feeling the inevitable butterflies in his stomach, a long time to wait for such an ordeal, he wished that it could be done now!
Standing at his dormitory window, looking out at the trees with the leaves rustling in the slight breeze, he looked over to the left and recalled the previous afternoon when with O'Hara he had cut switches off a birch tree, which they had unknowingly made into the instrument of punishment that would soon be descending on his bared bottom. Fountain had never been given a public birching before, although he had witnessed his dearest friend, O'Hara at the receiving end of such a punishment. At this moment he recalled the bravery he had displayed at the hands of what he frequently referred to as the "champagne" of instruments.
The time was now five to eight though, it seemed to have taken an age to come, when unexpectedly O'Hara was saying to him. " You must put on your cap and follow me. Fountain, reached for his cap which laid on the bed. But before he did so, O'Hara put his arms on his shoulders and looked directly at him, warmly and said with affection "Be brave" Fountain placed his cap on his head and strode nervously, but determinedly out of the dormitory. He followed his friend along and down the long school corridors which were empty and silent save for the sound of their footsteps echoing through the halls. The traditional waiting place was at the foot of the South wing stairs, facing the banister the sixth step at eye level.These were those same stairs that were out of bounds to boys in normal times but which lead to Mr Lansdowne's study on those occasions when 'official business', usually of a corrective nature, permitted boys to ascend them.
Fountain's vigil began. put in front of his very nose on the sixth stair was a bucket in which had been placed the very rod that he had helped to construct, steeped in brine and disinfectant. The strong smell permeated the hall and penetrated his nostrils. He could not help staring at it mesmerised by its tortuous potential, one which he had helped construct, for use now on his own tender bottom. It was black and evil looking yet for all that he could not take his eyes away. Time stood still for him.
Along the corridor he could hear quiet scuffling as the other boys gathered under O'Hara's direction for the ritual. Quietly almost reverently he addressed them.
" Now I want us to conduct ourselves with dignity and decorum. This is a solemn occasion and one which our comrade who is to be flogged will not easily forget. Remember too that any one of us may find ourselves in a similar position and we should behave as we would wish others to do in like circumstances."
These words spoken, softly but clearly, were a comfort to Fountain as he waited, knowing his schoolfellows were close by and thinking of his plight, not mockingly but in boyish sympathy and understanding, but also willing him to take his punishment in a manly way.
At eight o'clock sharp the duty boy or 'serf' as he was known, was despatched to acquaint the Masters that all was prepared.
Noises were heard at the top of the stairs. Fountain's heart skipped a beat. Was this the time? Slowly a small procession made its way down the stairs. In the lead was Mr Lansdowne clad cap-a-pied in his full academic rig of gown,fur-lined hood and mortar board. Close behind less formally dressed came Mr Riversyde and behind him Dryden, the junior boy sent to fetch the Masters.
As the procession cleared the foot of the stairs the Headmaster indicated to Fountain to take up the bucket containing the birch and follow behind. So in a silence broken only by the soft swishing of Mr Lansdowne's gown the group made its way past the collection of boys lined up along the wall outside the room where Fountain's flogging was to take place.
O'Hara directed the boys to follow the procession into the room and they turned facing the punishment block. There was a short almost immeasurable pause before the Head spoke.
"Fountain" As in all his formal speeches he paused for effect. "Remove your blazer and cap" As Fountain did so Dryden stepped forward and took them from him, as a second would in a duel. Indeed this is what to the casual onlooker it may have resembled. A passage of arms between two old protagonists, the one a boy with a frequently and well beaten bottom and the other a Master who knew exactly how to make an impression on such a one. The duel was of the mind as much as of the body.
For Fountain time and events were a blur. An essentially existential experience had now begun and his recollection of events and feelings afterwards was as blurred and unsure as the experience was powerful at the time. Never perhaps in his whole life had he ever felt so much alive and yet so concentrated on one aspect of his being. Like all victims before the executioner perhaps?
He moved to the block as directed. At the instruction "Take down your trousers.", he unfastened his grey shorts and let them slip to his ankles. Shortly after his underpants followed. Then having had to bare his bottom he went down onto the block his knees tightly against the corner and his body well stretched over the top.
O'Hara who had meanwhile positioned himself took another 'second's' part and standing at Fountain's head pulled back the tail of the boy's shirt to his midriff exposing his buttocks even more to the rod. He place his hands firmly but carefully on the boy's shoulders, less to hold him down than to steady him against the ordeal to come.
"Twenty strokes. Mr Riversyde count them if you please" The Head removed the rod from its container and swished it experimentally, splattering minute drops of liquid. A slight shiver went through the frame of the recumbent boy as he waited anxiously for the first stroke to fall.
Then the Head took up his stance like a fencer poised on his toes and swinging both his body and the ascended rod delivered the first of the twenty.
"Swash" The birch has a unique sound unlike any other. The boy's right buttock twitched as it bit home and pale pink lines immediately showed themselves on his fair skin.
"One" came a quiet voice.
O'Hara felt his friend move slightly under the impact but otherwise he seemed to be alright, as the Head prepared the next stroke.
"Two" Fountain took this well and hardly moved.
"Three" Now his shoulders quivered as the ends of the birch twigs bit into the tender outer flesh. It was beginning to get through already. O'Hara moved his hands slightly down his friends shoulders as if to say "Its alright, be brave"
The Head stepped to the right of the boy to inspect his handiwork and assure himself that no unreasonable and unacceptable damage was ensuing. Always a fair but firm man he believed in confining chastisement to that portion of a boy's anatomy he considered ideally constructed for the purpose and nowhere else, but with all due dexterity and effect nonetheless.
The next six strokes were taken quietly and bravely as the Head gradually built up the feeling and intensity of pain in the boy. For Fountain this was a new experience. As the birch struck his skin he did not at once feel anything much and then sharp stinging pain on the outer edges of his buttocks occurred which each time seemed worse than before, leaving a burning, hot sensation. He had never felt so exposed either, not even when as had often happened his bare bottom had lain across a Master's lap for a spanking or slippering. Somehow this was different. At the same time he could sense the presence of the other boys in the room and felt comforted by it and by their warm support mute as it was.
On number ten a new phase was entered upon and O'Hara felt the boy in his hands quiver and tremble at the blow. Again the Head paused and looked carefully. At eleven it happened again only more intensely and O'Hara squeezed Fountain's arms tightly to restrain the trembling. The atmosphere in the room was now electric and tense. Would Fountain be able to take his punishment? Few doubted it but there is always a lingering fear on behalf of the publicly chastised victim that his ordeal will be too much and his composure broken.
On number twelve the trembling was violent and a low slightly tearful noise came from the boy being flogged.
The Head paused again, for slightly longer, and then in an unprecedented gesture, placed his hand gently on the boy's bare back to steady and comfort him and to feel for himself the extent of his discomfort. He knew no boy liked to admit defeat and was not partial to suspending any part of a punishment once begun but was equally conscious of his role as the caring parent and guardian rather than as a cruel implacable martinet.
This warm gesture seemed to help Fountain for all that the next four strokes hurt like the very devil needing all of his courage and energy to sustain. By now the pain was ever present sharp and growing in intensity. The gaps between strokes were almost as hard to bear as the strokes themselves so painstakingly and carefully did the Head deliver his punishment.
O'Hara comforted and helped the trembling boy as best he could. Between strokes he placed his hand on his friend's neck softly and warmly and rubbed his hands along his forearms and shoulders to try to give him strength for the rest of the ordeal. This seemed to help for the last four strokes while delivered no less firmly and accurately were received with a calmer reaction, if slightly more vocally, as if his voice rather than his body acted as a lightning rod to conduct away the energy of the beating.
As the call of "Twenty" died away a silence descended. The Head inspected the damage once more. Fountain was told to get up, but before he was hardly aware of it the ceremony was over and the Headmaster and Mr Riversyde swept out of the room.
At a sign from O'Hara his fellows discreetly left too and Fountain fell into the waiting arms of his dear friend. The floodgates opened.
As he comforted his friend he praised him for his courage, kissed away his tears and held him close. Then he applied some soothing ointment to his wounds. The Headmaster was not one of your cut and slash floggers, no cutting strokes that tear a boy's skin so the damage was not so fearsome to inspect for all that it stung like mad.
As the boy's tears subsided, O'Hara looked into his eyes and said.
"Tomorrow I will want you to do the same for me. I'm to be swished at eight too you know."
Fountain smiled and looked at his friend "Of course" He said.