Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 5 (4/4) By Frank Beill 1886: Hull, Yorkshire

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4), (4/4). 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.

'I'm not a nigger!' Months of irritation welled up inside me; months of sniggered remarks, usually only half heard when I walked past small groups of boys. Here was someone who said it to my face: a focus for my pent up anger. I screamed and leapt at him, although he was head and shoulders taller than I. Surprise gave me the advantage and I knocked him to the ground.

From out of nowhere a crowd of boys gathered and stood around us in the yard, stamping and making animal noises to urge on the fight. I would have given him a thrashing but for the intervention of Jolly Rodgers. 'Get off him, you little animal!' Automatically the teacher took the side of my youthful tormentor. His accent always became more pronounced when he was angry. 'He called me a nigger, sir!' 'So?' Mr Rodgers looked disdainful. His expression told me he saw no misdemeanour in Snelgrove's words. He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and clouted me on either side of my head. 'We do not tolerate such behaviour here. Go inside and stand by my classroom door.' My stinging ears didn't stop me hearing Snelgrove sniggering in the background. He pulled himself up and disappeared into the crowded yard. Four strokes of the cane but I would have done it again. Afterwards Snelgrove made sure he never confronted me on his own.

'He's nowt but a bully!' George rammed his fist into his left hand. He was angry with himself for leaving me alone to make one of his regular playtime visits to Sal in the kitchen. 'I've a good mind to ...' 'Hold yer horses!' Sal interrupted his flow. 'You'll finish up getting strokes of Jolly Rodgers' cane, an' all! Bullies like Snelgrove always get away with it.'

'Rodgers said I was the bully! Called me a little black animal. Said this place was too good for the likes of me!' I was feeling thoroughly sorry for myself. I couldn't stop a tear rolling down my cheek. 'Too good for the likes of him, more like!' Never had I seen Sal so angry. A black buckled shoe stamped on the playground flagstone. She was always the moderating influence but her temper matched the flame in her hair.

Thereafter one or both of the Smith twins made it their duty to be with me at all times. I'm not sure which one of them frightened Snelgrove most but I knew I never wanted to be the object of Sal's anger, much as I loved her. The best thing the Master ever did was to put George Smith in charge of me. How the twins put up with me and my Wild West fantasising I'll never know but I am eternally grateful they did. The days passed into weeks and weeks into months and I gradually gave up hope of seeing Grandmother - although, in retrospect, I don't think that hope was the right word.

It would have been nice to see Mary growing up though. I never gave up hope of father turning up one day and taking me away, far away to somewhere warm, where I wasn't different.

Copyright © Frank Beill 2005

Continued Part 6

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