(6) CHARLES DICKENS: DAVID COPPERFIELD: CHAPTER 6: I ENLARGE MY CIRCLE OF ACQUAINTANCE

 I had led this life about a month, when the man with wooden leg began to stump about whith a mop and a bucket of water, from which I inferred that preparations were making to receive Mr Creakle and his family.  I was not mistaken; the mop came into the classroom, Mr Mell and me were always in the way of two or three young women whom I saw rarely before.  Our room was always with dust, and I sneezed again and again that Salem House appeared a snuff box.

One day I was informed by Mr Mell, that Mr Creakle would be home in the evening.  Before bed-time I was fetched by the man with wooden leg before Mr Creakle.

Creakle's part of house was more comfortable, and he had a little pleasant garden.  It lay beyond the dusty desert-like play ground.  I went trembling, along the comfortable passage to the presence of Mr Creakle.  Mr Creakle was a stout gentleman, with a bunch of watch-chains and seals.  He was in an arm-chair, a tumbler and bottle beside him. 

'So!' said Mr Creakle, 'This is the young gentleman, whose teeth are to be filed! Turn him round' 

The wooden legged man turned me about so as to exhibit the placard; and having afforded time for full survey of it, turned me about again, with my face to Mr Creakle, and posted himself at Mr Creakle's side. Mr Creakle's face was fiery, and his eyes were small, and deep in his head; he had thick  veins in his forehead, a little nose, and a large chin.  He was bald on top of his head, and had some wet looking thin hair, that was just turning grey, brushed across each temple, so  that two sides interlaced on his forehead, he had no voice and his talk was a whisper.  The effort to make it audible to others gave him an angry look, and anger was his peculiarity.

'Now,' said Creakle, 'what is the report of this boy?'

'There is nothing against him yet,' said the man with wooden leg.  'There has been no opportunity.'  I thought Mr Creakle was disappointed.  Mrs and Miss Creakle who were present in the scene were not disappointed.

'Come here, sir,' said Mr Creakle, beckoning to me.

'Come here,' gestured, the man with the wooden leg.

'I have the happiness of knowing your step-father,' whispered Mr Creakle, taking me by the ear, 'and a worthy man he is, and a man of strong character.  He knows me and I know him. Do you know me? Hey?' said Mr Creakle, pinching my ear with ferocious playfulness.

'Not yet, sir,' I said flinching with pain.

'Not yet? Hey?' said Mr Creakle, 'but you will soon. Hey?'

'You will soon. Hey?' repeated the man with wooden leg.

Later, I found that he generally acted as Mr Creakle's interpreter to boys.  Frightened very much, I said I hoped so.  I felt my ear blazing, he pinched it so hardly, and continued his hold on my ear.

'I'll tell you what I am,' whispered Mr Creakle, letting my ear go at last, with a screw at parting that brought water into my eyes.'I'm a Tartar.'

'A Tartar,' said the man with wooden leg.

'When I say I will do a thing I do it,' said Mr Creakle, 'and when I say I will have a thing done, I will have it done.' 

The man with wooden leg repeated it.

'I am a determined character. That's what I am. That is my duty. That's what I do.  My flesh and blood-' he looked at Mrs Creakle as he said this- 'when it rises against me, is not my flesh and blood.  I discard it.  Has that fellow' - to the man in wooden leg-,  'been here again?'

'Oh, No,' was the answer.

'No? said Mr Creakle. He knows better.  He knows me.  Let him keep away.  I say let him keep away,' said Mr Creakle, striking his hand upon the table, and looking at Mrs Creakle, ' for he knows me.  Now you have begun to know me too, my young friend. Now you may go. Take him away.'

I was very glad to be ordered away, for Mrs and Miss Creakle were both wiping their eyes, and I felt as uncomfortable for them as I did for myself.  But I had a petition on my mind, which concerned me so nearly, that I couldn't help saying, though I wondered at my own courage:

'If you please, sir-'

Mr Creakle whispered, 'Hah!' what's this?' and bent his eyes upon me as if he would have burnt me up with them.

'If you please, sir,' I faltered, ' if I might be allowed to take this writing off, before the boys come back-'

Whether Mr Creakle was in earnest, or whether he only did it to frighten me, I don't know, but he made a burst out of his chair, before which I retreated, without waiting for the escort of the man with wooden leg, and never stopped until I reached my room.  Finding I was not perused, I went to bed, as it was time, and lay quaking, for a couple of hours.

Next morning Mr Sharp came.  He was the first Master and superior to Mell.  Mr Mell took his meals with the boys.  But Mr Sharp dined and supped at Mr Creakle's table.  Mr Sharp was a limp delicate looking gentleman, with a good deal of nose, and a way of carrying his head on one side, as if it were a little heavy for him.  His hair was smooth and wavy, but the first boy who came back after vacation, told me that it was a wig, and that every Saturday afternoon he went to a hair dresser to curl it.  And that first boy, turned out to be Tommy Traddles.  He had a special way of introducing himself to me.  He asked me to find out his name on the right hand corner of the gate, over the top-bolt, upon that I said, 'Traddles?', to which he said, 'the same.'  Then he asked me a full account of myself and my family.

Tommy Tradles enjoyed my placard very much, but he saved me the embarassment of either disclosure or concealment by presenting to every other boy who came back, 'Look here! Here is a game!  Happily too, the greater part of boys came back, low spirited, and were not so boisterous at my expense as I had expected.  Some of them did dance about me like wild Indians, and the greater part could not resist the temptation of pretending that I was a dog, and patting and soothing me, lest I should bite, and saying, 'Lie down sir!' and calling me Towzer.  This was naturally confusing, among so many strangers, and cost me some tears, but on the whole it was much better than what I had expected.

I was not considered as being formally received into the school, until, J. Steerforth arrived.  He was reputed scholar among the boys.  I was presented before him.  He was good looking, about half a dozen years senior to me, and I was presented as before a magistrate.  Under a shed in the playground, he enquired into the particulars of my punishment, and was pleased to express his opinion that it was 'jolly shame' ; for which I became bound to him afterwards.

'What money have you got, Copperfield?' he said, walking aside me, when he had disposed of my affairs in these terms. 

I said seven shillings. 

'You had better give it to me to take care of,' he said.  'At least you can, if you like.  You needn't if you don't like.'

I hastened to comply with his friendly suggestion, and opening Peggotty's purse, turned it upside down into his hand.

'Do you want to spend anything now?'

'No, thank you,' I replied.

'You can, if you like, you know,' said Steerforth, 'say the word.'

'No, thank you, sir,' I repeated.

 'Perhaps, you would like to spend a couple of shillings or so in a bottle of currant wine or by and by up in the bed-room?' said Steerforth, 'you belong to my bedroom. I find.'

It certainly had not occurred to me before, but I said, 'I should like that.'

'Very good,' said Steerforth, you should like to spend another shilling or so, in almond cakes, I dare say?'

'Yes, I should like that,'

'And another shilling or so, in biscuits, and another in fruits, eh? said Steerforth, 'I say young Copperfield, you are going it.'

I smiled, because he smiled, but I was a little troubled in my mind, too.

'Well, we must stretch it as far as we can, that's all, I'll do the best in my power for you.  I can go out when I like, and I'll smuggle the prog in,' with these words he put the money in his pocket, and kindly told me not to make myself uneasy, he would take care it should be alright.  

He was as good as his word, if that were all right which I had a secret misgiving.  I feared it was a waste of my mother's two half-crowns- though I had preserved the piece of paper they were wrapped in, a precious saving.  But I was really wrong.  When we went upstairs to bed, he produced the whole seven shillings worth and laid it out on my bed in the moonlight, saying:

'There you are, young Copperfield, and a royal spread you have got.'

I couldn't think of doing the honours of the feast, at any time of life while he was by; my hand shook at the very thought of it, I begged him to do me the favour of presiding; and my request being seconded by the other boys who were in that room, he acceded to and sat upon my pillow, handing round the viands - with perfect fairness I must say-and dispensing the currant wine in a little glass without a foot, which was his own property.  As to me, I sat on his left hand, and the rest were grouped about us on the nearest bed and on the floor. 

How well I recollect our sitting there, talking in whispers, and listening, the moonlight falling, a little way into the room, through the window, painting another shadow window on the floor, most of us in shadow, except when Mr Steerforth, dipped a match into the phosphorus box when he wanted to look for anything on the board, and shed blue glare over us directly!  A certain mysterious feeling, in the darkness, the secrecy of revel, every thing said in whispers, steals over me again, and I listen to all they tell me with a vague feeling of solemnity and awe, I was glad that all were near, but I was frightened when Traddles pretended the sight of ghost in a dim corner. 

I heard all kinds of stories about the school and Mr Creakle.  He was stern, chased boys left and right, very ignorant, used to charge the boys like a mercenary.  Originally he was a hop- dealer in Borough, and took to schooling after bankrupt in hops, that too with the money of Mrs Creakle.  There were more stories, and I wondered how they got it.

Tungay, the man with the wooden leg, was an obstinate barbarian, who assisted Mr Creakle in hop business, kept Mr Creakle's secrets.  Tungay looked upon the boys and masters as enemies.  Mr Creakle had a son, who was not friendly with Tungay, and held some protest in the school.  Consequently the son was ousted from the school, against the will of Mrs Creakle and her daughter, and they had been sad ever since.  Mr Creakle never ventured to lay his hand on J. Steerforth.  Steerforth himself confirmed this, and warned, that if Creakle start to misbehave with him, he would blow his head with the ink-bottle placed on the mantle.  We sat breathless, for some time, in the dark.

I heard that both Mr Mell and Mr Sharp were low paid.  When there was cold and hot meat for dinner at Mr Creakle's table Sharp was expected to prefer cold meet.  I heard that Mr Sharp's wig didn't fit his head and his red hair used to come out behind his head.  It was heard that a coal merchant's son joined the school as a set off against the pending coal bill, and he was known among boys as Exchange or barter.  It was also heard that table beer of Mr Creakle was robbed out of parents, and pudding an imposition.  Another story was running late, that Miss Creakle was in love with J. Steerforth. I thought it very likely, in consideration of his nice voice, curly hair, fine face and easy manner.  Mr Mell was not a bad fellow, but his mother Mrs Mell was as poor as his job.  I thought of my breakfast at poor women's house and her words    'My Charlie' still sounded in my ears.

The meeting ended very late, the guests parted, J.Steerforth said goodnight to me, and also promised that he would take care of me.

'You're very kind,' I returned, 'I am very much obliged to you.'

'You haven't got a sister, have you?' said Mr J. Steerforth, yawning.

'No,' I answered.

'That's a pity,' said J. Steerforth.  'If you had one, I think, she would have been pretty, timid, little bright-eyed sort of girl.  I should have liked to know her.  Goodnight, young Copperfield.'

'Goodnight, sir,' I returned.

I thought of him very much after I went to bed, and raised to look at him where he lay in the moonlight, with his handsome face turned up, and his head reclining easily on his arm.  He was a person of great power in my eyes; that was of course the reason of my mind running on him. No veiled feature dimly glanced upon him in the moon beams.  There was no shadowy picture of his footsteps, in the garden that I dreamt of walking all night.

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