Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 3 (2/3) By Frank Beill 1886: Hull, Yorkshire

(1/3), (2/3), (3/3). Part 1 Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Part 2 Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3.

The smell of carbolic scrubbed boys was everywhere. I carried my new day clothes wrapped in a bundle up to the dormitory and tried to avoid tripping over the trailing hem of my nightshirt. Sal put me right about the dormitories. They were the place where we went to sleep and not some monstrous camel that lived at altitude. George just said this to tease me. Sal was going to put me right on many things.

She and Mrs G were going to fulfil the role of mother for me while I was in the home. Sal and her twin were chalk and cheese and the best friends I ever knew. Although a couple of quick tucks were sewn into the bottom of the nightshirt, it still hung on the floor. Mrs G promised that when the girls came in to do their sewing another one would have its hem taken up. I would then have my regulation supply of nightwear but such things were new to me. I never wore a nightshirt before, always sleeping in my day shirt if it were cold and most nights felt cold after Mam's death. The oil lamp at the top of the stairs cast long shadows. I would have been frightened but for the laughing voices of other children coming from further along the upstairs corridor. Dormitory Five was where I was told to go. I opened the door. The babble stopped instantly and all heads turned to look at my 'Wee Willie Winkie' figure in the doorway. The silence was broken by a friendly voice calling from the row of beds to my left. 'Sammy! Get down here!' It was George, who like the rest of us was dressed in a stiff white nightshirt. He was sitting on the edge of the last bed with his back to the tall window at the end of the room. George's smiling face made me feel welcome and I marched down the aisle between the two rows of double beds. I felt very self-conscious. My face felt hot. The other boys were sitting on their beds and watching me by the light of flickering oil lamps. Something slipped from inside my bundle. It was my book: the only thing left from my former life. I shoved it back into my clothes. This was the one thing I would never let go.

'You're sharing with me.' George patted the mattress alongside him. 'Hope you don't snore!' 'Don't think so.' I hoped he didn't either. Grandmother's rasping snore could wake the dead, especially if she took a nip from the bottle she kept by her bed. A nightcap she called it. I always tried to get to sleep before she did. 'Not slept with nobody for a long time. Not since Mam died.' I always shared her bed when father was at sea, that is until Mary was born. Often as not all three of us slept together. I only needed to say I was frightened and she would let me squeeze in.

'We all share here.' George nodded. 'Put your things on the chair. We'll sort out a chest in morning. It'll be lights out soon. Ger in and let's get the bed warm.' He swung his long legs under the sheets. I did as I was told, first hiding my book in my nightshirt and then under my pillow. I tried to snuggle but the sheets were rough and cold. On the bed head was a brass plate on which was engraved the legend 'F.A.Barnett, Maker, Bristol.' Later, I discovered this same plate was on every bed, which made me think Mr Barnett must be an industrious man to make all these beds by himself. The pillows were made of flocks and the bed was covered with a blue counterpane underneath which was a blanket. When we came to make the beds I found every blanket was stamped with big letters: 'U.S.A.' They were made originally for the United States Army in their Civil War but were not delivered to them for reasons I never discovered. I came to think of this as some sort of omen. Anyway it helped me to dream of the American frontier. Well, I tried to persuade myself this was true. 'Did you have this bed all to yourself afore I came?' I tried to isolate myself on the far edge but before George replied, he turned over and came to my side of the bed. I felt something icy cold on my leg. 'Your feet are cold!' I was nearly out of the bed and onto the bare wooden floor. 'Sorry! S'pose I'd better keep me socks on.' His voice was remorseful. I could hear others in the room laughing. The offending feet were pulled back to his side of the bed. 'Used to share with Daniel Sargeant but he left to go to sea three weeks ago. Well, he was fourteen and ready to leave.' 'Is that when we leave here?' I still had no idea what lay ahead of me or for how long. Grandmother told me nothing. 'Yes, that's when we finish our schooling an' are ready to go to work.' George's head was nodding on the pillow.

Continued Next Page

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