## Matriculation (M/m)

The following account takes place very near the end of my sixth and final year at a prestigious Australian boarding school, when I was still fifteen years old, at least two years younger than most of my classmates. In general terms I was happy at this point of my life. Six years in this environment had made me a confident, responsible and fundamentally honest boy with a clear and firm idea of what I wanted out of life and plans in place to achieve that. It hadn't always been that way - when I had entered the school, I was a rather rude, poorly disciplined little boy with nothing much at all going for him, and I honestly think I could have easily wound up as a petty criminal if people hadn't taken me in hand and taught me the meaning of concepts like pride and duty and diligence and honesty. They did this by showing me affection when necessary, and firmness when required. They punished my faults, rewarded my successes and as I became older encouraged and required me to take on as much responsibility as I could handle and then just a little bit more. As I came to finish my schooling, I was, I think, someone for the school to be proud of - and I was proud of myself and proud of my school.

I was, I admit, more than a little apprehensive about leaving it. I had considered staying on to do a second Sixth Form year, which wasn't that uncommon but I had decided against it, as it would merely delay my future. I knew where I was going the following year, and most of my schoolwork was now complete. My classmates and I, my friends and I were waiting out our final days of school, before going on to newer things. We had sat our examinations and while we still had classes to attend for the school's own purposes, we were winding down.

It was about half an hour after school had finished for the day and I was lying on my bed reading a book about London. The House was fairly quiet as most of the boys were outside at play, either swimming, or playing cricket, or sitting around and talking. Normally I would have joined them, but with the approach of the end of the year, behavioural standards in the House tended to drop a bit, and my Housemaster was away for the afternoon and the evening, so I though I had better keep an eye on things so he didn't return to a smouldering ruin. I was perfectly prepared to let boys get away with a bit more than I would have in the thick of the school year, but I had learned from experience they some would take a mile out of every inch I granted. I was taken the opportunity of my time inside to prepare for my upcoming holidays. The parents of my best friend, William Connolly, were touring Europe and had invited me to join their family in the UK over the Christmas holidays. They quite often took me in during school holidays, but this was unusually generous. I liked the Connolly's - William was my best friend, his parents tended to treat me just as they did their own children, when I was visiting, and... well, William's middle sister Amelia was my age, and we got along very well. When I had been younger I'd had a real crush on the eldest girl, Lucy, but she was now at University and completely out of my league. Amelia was my age, but two years behind me academically at our sister school. We weren't exactly boyfriend and girlfriend because in our social milieu, fifteen year olds didn't do that yet - but I really, really liked her and the idea of spending six weeks with her, was rather attractive. I wanted to appear sophisticated and so I was reading up on all the likely places we would visit in England.

My door was pushed open - there was nothing unusual in this. As House Captain, I had a few privileges and many responsibilities, and one of those privileges was my own room, but it was made quite clear in word and deed that I had no real right to privacy from adults. My Housemaster and house matron could enter my room at any time unannounced - and would always do so. Other adults were free to do so as well, but that happened much more rarely. I had a right to privacy from other boys - not from adults. So I just looked up to see who had entered, expecting it to be either my Housemaster or the matron - and leaped to my feet when I realised who it actually was.

"Good Afternoon, Sir Mark."

Sir Mark Wallace was... well, to me, to all of us at school, he was something of a legend. He was the previous Headmaster of the school - my Headmaster had taken over from him about ten years before the time of this account - and had ruled the school for over a quarter of a century. He was given credit for everything about the school, and was still quite involved in its administration - he was on the School Council and when he spoke everybody listened. By this time he was an elderly man, but still a very active and very vigorous one. He visited the school reasonably often for various functions.

"Good Afternoon..." I could see the gears turning in his head "... Rysher, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I take it by your presence in this room that you are the Captain of this House?"

"Yes, I am, Sir."

"Rather young for such an exalted position."

I wasn't sure if that was a question or a statement, and wasn't sure how to respond anyway, so I stayed silent.

"Has the cat got your tongue?"

"No, Sir Mark. Sorry, Sir Mark. Yes, Sir, I'm still fifteen sir, but I am in the Sixth Form."

"Yes, of course you are. Have you find that you've been able to carry out your duties?"

"Of course, I have, Sir."

"Organising interhouse fixtures? Making sure service duties get done? Caning other boys?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What do you think of the cane?"

"Well, Sir, I don't like using it much. But it's part of the job." This was, for the most part, an honest statement. As House Captain it was part of my job and part of my duty to use the cane within my House and nine times out of ten it was something I did not enjoy at all. But that tenth time... if I had been one hundred percent honest I would have admitted to the occasional feelings of deep satisfaction and pride in dealing with others misbehaviour. These feelings disturbed me though, and I did not admit to them.

"Yes, so I always found it to be... Rysher... you're one of the ones who ran away a couple of years ago, aren't you?"

"Sort of, Sir." William Connolly and I had both been listed as runaways for a period near the end of Third Form after we very foolishly snuck into the city one afternoon. I wasn't surprised Sir Mark knew about it - it had caused quite a few problems.

"And they still made you a House Captain?" I could have been insulted by the statement, for all the good it would have done me, but he was half smiling as if to make it clear to me that he wasn't criticizing my better's decisions.

"I grew up, Sir."

"You wouldn't know it to look at you. In any event, Mister Rysher, I came down to see the House Captain to invite you to dine with me this evening - with myself and the new Headmaster." The new Headmaster - that statement probably gives an insight into the way this man thought when you remember that the 'new' Headmaster had been at the school over a decade. "Eight o'clock sharp, at the Headmaster's House - all the Captains. Wear your Sunday best."

"Yes, Sir Mark."

"Good lad."

And so later that evening, having dressed in my best school uniform and having delegated responsibility for the House to the two other prefects who resided within it, I headed off to dinner with my fellow Captains. Dinner was an interesting affair. I didn't know it at the time, but have since found out that such a dinner was held at the end of each year, attended by at least one member of the school council and it was intended to serve as a recognition of the Captains' service and also to find out our opinions on the running of the school. The school didn't give the boys much say back then, but this was one of the few opportunities for us to raise any concerns we had. Of course, the nature of the opportunity - one dinner which we received little advance warning of, tended to mitigate against us saying much at all. It was a small dinner - only eight of us present - our Headmaster, the former Headmaster, the Captain of the School, and the five House Captains - and in reality, most of this dinner took the form of a debate between the two adults, with us boys occasionally being asked to venture an opinion. And among the issues that were discussed were the schools policies on corporal punishment. Our Headmaster felt that the policies needed to be changed - that punishment was often too severe. Sir Mark took quite the opposite approach - that the school was becoming softer and softer over time. It was quite illuminating, and also a little disturbing to sit in on this discussion. My Headmaster was by far the man I most admired in the world, and Sir Mark was someone we were all taught to revere. Watching them argue - even in a good natured fashion - well, it made me uncomfortable. But it also made it clear to me, clearer to me than it have ever been before, of how hierarchical our school really was. I'd embraced the school and climbed the boys hierarchy, almost to the top. But above me, always, were the Masters, and above them the Headmaster. It came as something of a revelation as I came to understand that even his powers were limited. He was beholden to council. He had freedom only to the point that he was given.

"Look, Tim," Sir Mark gestured with his fork as he spoke. "I talked to all your Captains today, and every single one of them supports the status quo. They've no problem with corporal punishment, they understand how it works..."

"I'm not opposed to the cane, Mark, you know that. It has its place. Insolence. Smoking. Those things are perfectly properly punished by the cane. But we overuse it - and we don't need the excesses - we don't need floggings, we don't need the spectacles of public beatings... all right, perhaps the occasional beating for the worst cases of bullying might be justifiable, but generally speaking, just a normal caning occasionally will do the job. And we certainly don't need boys caning. No offence, gentleman," He looked around at his Captains. "I know none of you abuse the power - but it shouldn't be in the hands of boys."

"All right, Tim. Look - you boys. How many of you have been flogged?" I raised my hand, and so did two of my fellow Captains. "And what was it for?"

"Cheating, Sir Mark."

"Truancy, Sir. Twice."

"Refusing to take a caning, Sir - oh, and running away." I was the last to answer.

"Cheating, truancy, and running away, Tim. All serious enough offences - and I do think all three warrant flogging. And look at the results. They've all wound up as pillars of the school. Would any have done as well, without such a salutary lesson?"

"I don't know, Mark. But I know I'd like the chance to find out, someday."

"Well, I will pass that on to council, and you may well get your chance."

Conversation moved on to other matters - the changed examination structure and the effect it was like to have on rowing in the school, if I recall correctly. The above is just a sample of wideranging conversation - the part of it most relevant here.

We were just preparing for dessert when the Headmaster's wife stepped into the room. We all leaped to our feet, but she gestured us to sit down. "Tim, there's a phone call that you must take."

"Excuse me, gentlemen. Hopefully this won't take long."

He left the room. We sat in silence for a few moments and then the Captain of the School spoke. "Sir Mark, what did you mean about the Headmaster maybe getting the chance to stop floggings. Can't he just stop them?"

"Well, yes and no, Campion. The Headmaster can do almost whatever he likes - but he is answerable to council. Now, we'll back his decisions unless he's completely unreasonable, as of course he wouldn't be. But if he doesn't do what we want, then next time he comes to us, asking for a change, we are less likely to listen. And he tends to ask us for a lot of changes. We'll be looking at this issue again next year, and I suspect with changes in the council, things might go his way this time. It is, as they keep reminding me, a new age."

We waited. And we waited. The phone call was obviously taking longer than expected, and we made small talk as we waited for the Headmaster to return so we could have our dessert. It was twenty minutes, I would say before he came back in.

"Nathan, you'll need to come with me. Sorry gentlemen. Sorry, Mark - but this can't wait."

"Of course - is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, actually - talk to Janet, she'll tell you what is needed. Boys - you'd best go back to your Houses. Nathan, come with me."

We walked straight out the door, pulling on our coats as we went. I had no idea what was going on, but it was obviously quite serious and I wondered at the need for my presence.

"Nathan, I need you to run along ahead. Find William Connolly and have him waiting for me in the senior common room. Wait with him, please."

"Sir, what is..."

"Just do as you're told," he snapped at me. So I ran.

It was getting quite late - junior boys were already in bed, but a few senior boys were still up as I entered the House. I ran into the senior common room, where I saw William sitting near a window reading.

"Connolly - you stay there. Everybody else, get to bed."

Senior boys didn't have set bedtimes, and while the Housemaster and the Matron would have a word if they felt this privilege was being stretched too far, it was something my own authority over was limited. A few looked up to object - saw my face, and thought better of it. They filed out. I grabbed Roy Carey as he went past me and said in a whisper. "Get Matron." I was beginning to sort out what might have happened. He nodded.

William had looked up in surprise as I spoke. And I watched as my best friend suddenly, literally, turned pale before my eyes.

"What is it, Nathan?"

"I don't know. The Head is coming. He does."

Matron arrived only seconds before the Headmaster. She brushed past me to William as the Headmaster entered the room as well, and she stood beside him where he had risen to his feet, looking very shaky. The Head spoke.

"You might want to sit down, William."

"No, Sir. Please, Sir, tell me."

"Your sister Amelia is very sick."

William staggered a little - and so did I. I snapped myself out of it instantly, though. I had to stand... I had to walk over and stand next to my friend, and take his other arm - the one the Matron hadn't taken.

"What's wrong with her, Sir?"

"They thought it was scarlet fever... but it seems to be far more serious than that. They're not sure what it is. They've taken her to the Royal Children's Hospital."

"I need to go there, I need to see her."

"You can't."

"She's my sister! Our parents are in Europe, Sir! Somebody has to..."

"We're trying to find your parents - so is her school. Your Aunt has been contacted in Brisbane as well."

"She needs someone now!"

"William... you're still a child and they don't know what she has, yet. She might be contagious. They won't let you see her. I've tried, William. I've spoken to the Doctors but they're adamant. Now when they work out what is going on, then I'm sure you can see her. But for now..."

"How bad is she, Sir?" William was seventeen - two years older than myself - but at that moment, looking at him, he looked and sounded so much younger.

"From what they told me, William... you need to be strong."

He broke down. I grabbed at him and help him up as he sobbed.

"If there's any news, I'll let you know. I need to get back to the phone. And William - she'll get the best care, I assure you. And as soon as they say you can see her, I'll drive you up there myself."

The Head turned around and left the room. Matron and I helped William to a chair, and I stood back as bit as she hugged him, and stroked his hair. He sobbed hard for about two minutes then straightened up.

"Right William... now I think you'd better come and sleep - try and sleep - in the infirmary. Nathan, would you go and get William's pyjamas from his..."

"No, Matron." William spoke firmly, though his voice had a brittle quality to it. "I'd like to go to the Chapel, Matron, if that's all right."

"Of course it is, of course it is. Do you want me to come..."

"No - but if Nathan would?"

"Sure. I'll come.

We left the House and began towards the chapel. As soon as we were out of sight, he stopped. "Nathan, do you have any money?"

"What? About a dollar twenty."

"No more than that? What about your caches?"

William was my best friend. As such he knew things that very few others knew, including that I routinely violated certain school rules, despite my duty to enforce them. We received pocket money once a week and that was meant to be the most money we ever had in our possession. If you didn't spend all your money, you were supposed to draw less the next week - an account would be kept so long term you got your due, but they didn't like us having too much cash.

In my earliest days at the school, I had always been rather obsessed with money. I always wanted as much of it as I could get, and I wasn't too concerned as to how I got hold of it. The only thing I wouldn't do was steal - somehow the message that theft was wrong had managed to sink in, in the absence of any other moral positions. But I did obtain money in other dishonest ways - most often by doing other peoples school assignments in exchange for cash payments. I had to hide the money I gathered in this way, and became quite an expert. I reformed though and abandoned my life of crime near the end of second form. But even after that, I still tended to break the pocket money rule and cached my money at the end of every week. My friends were used to me having unofficial savings.

And normally I would have. But an incident a couple of months earlier had lead to our entire house having our pocket money dramatically cut, and this had almost wiped out my savings.

"There's nothing in them."

"All right... then I'll have to hitch hike."

"WHAT?"

"Keep your voice down, Nathan. I'm going to Melbourne."

"William, that's a bad..."

"It's my sister, Nathan. It's Amelia. You heard the Head, she's probably dying. Mum and Dad are in Germany. She's all alone. I can't..."

"They won't let you in."

"I'll find a way, but I've got to get to Melbourne. Now, I'm going. I was going to call for a cab at the petrol station - but if I have to I'll hitch." His voice was very strong, he'd made up his mind, but there was something in it that let me know that he was only inches from collapse.

"All right... but if they catch you..."

"They'll catch me, Nathan - I won't be back by breakfast. I'll take whatever they hand out. I'm going though."

"All right. Come with me."

He followed, as I considered what to do. By rights, I should have tried to stop him - but he was bigger than me and even if he hadn't been... well, I would have let him go. He was risking expulsion, though I did consider that unlikely. He was certainly risking all the worst punishments I could imagine though - but what did that matter, really?

I lead him across the sports grounds, and he followed me, obviously assuming I knew what I was doing taking him further away from the main road where he wanted to go. We arrived at the schools weather station - as far away from the main buildings as anything on the property. It was locked, but I knew the trick to spring the lock and I went inside and fetched a torch and a cricket stump and knelt down by a corner of the building to dig.

After ten minutes I found what I was looking for. My biggest cache of all. Buried four years earlier, the proceeds of an act of blackmail that had actually ended my infantile criminal career. It was a sealed jar and inside were two twenty dollar notes. In 1971, forty dollars was quite a considerable amount to a boy. And I handed it to William.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you have to stay and cover for me as long as you can. I'll call for a cab, but I don't know how long it will take."

"All right - give Amelia my love."

"If I can." His voice cracked. "If I'm not too late."

And he ran off into the darkness.

I went back to the House. As I entered, I noticed that our Housemaster had returned and was talking to the Matron. He turned to me.

"How are you bearing up, Nathan? I know you're rather close to the Connolly's - this can't be easy for you, either."

"I'll be fine, Sir."

"Why aren't you with William at the Chapel?"

"He wanted to be alone, Sir. Asked me to leave him."

"Oh dear... it's not personal, Nathan, I'm sure. It's a very hard time for him."

"I know, Sir."

"Maybe I should go over..."

"He really wants to be alone."

Mr Pinner looked at me. Deeply. Far more deeply than was normal. He cast his eyes up and down me and I worried that perhaps signs of my digging - dirt clinging to my clothes - were obvious. Then he nodded.

"All right - now perhaps you should try and sleep."

"Yes, Sir."

I went to my room, but I didn't sleep. I lay there and I thought. I even tried to pray before giving it up as pure hypocrisy. Religion hadn't had much effect on me, but I knew enough to know I couldn't turn it on like a tap.

I heard every noise in the House that night. Every creak as the building cooled, the noises as boys walked from their rooms to the toilets and returned. And, at about three in the morning, the sound of the front door opening.

I strained to hear what came next - but while I could hear the sound of voices, I couldn't make out the words. After about thirty seconds, I decided nobody could really expect me to really be asleep, and so I rose, pulled on my dressing gown and slippers and walked down to the foyer.

The Headmaster, Sir Mark, and my Housemaster were standing there talking. I stopped, but they had seen me and the Head gestured to me to approach.

"Nathan - William is in the Chapel?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Right, we'll go and get him."

"Sir, he wanted to be alone."

"Sir Mark is going to run up to Melbourne - see if he can persuade the Doctors to let him see his sister."

"Oh."

"So, I'm sure he won't mind being disturbed." The Head smiled.

"No, Sir... but he's not in the Chapel, Sir."

"Well, where is he?" I hesitated, and the Headmaster reached out and grabbed my arm. "Dash it, Nathan, I won't have any nonsense about schoolboy honour and codes here. Sir Mark is going to take him to his sister - use your brains, boy."

"With any luck, Sir, he's already in Melbourne - already at the Hospital."

His grip tightened until I cried out in pain, at which point he released me, whirled about and marched out. He was angry, very angry, but I ran after him.

"Sir, is there any news about Amelia?"

He stopped and turned, and I cringed at the expression of pure rage on his face. He stepped towards me raising a hand and I was convinced he was going to pound me into the ground. But he controlled himself, and drew a deep breath, and then spoke in a very calm voice. "Amelia is improving, and she's probably out of danger." His lips turned up very slightly in the semblence of a smile. "Unlike certain boys I know." He leaped forward and I wondered why, until I realised that he'd caught me as I fell. My legs had given way for no reason I understood. "Matron! I think this young man needs your care."

I was lead back inside the House shaking like a leaf, and Matron didn't even ask me if I wanted to sleep in the infirmary. She just decided for me.

She let me leave the infirmary as the other boys woke up - I wasn't sick, things had just been a little bit much for me. I headed to my room and dressed and then headed to breakfast with some of the other senior boys of my House. Everybody knew, by now, that William's sister was sick, and so as we headed to the Dining Room, people were asking what I knew which wasn't much.

A battered old Holden pulled up in front of the main school, and I saw William climb out of it. I ran towards him, with our Housemates just a step behind me. Stepping out of the drivers seat was somebody else I recognized - her name was Miss Burke and she was governess to the youngest Connolly children. I knew her very well, from my time staying with them - she was the type of woman who instantly took control and charge of anyone under voting age in her immediate sphere of influence, and I slowed down sharply as she glared at me.

"Good morning, Miss Burke."

"Good morning, Nathan."

"William, how's Amelia?"

"She's sick, but she'll be all right, they think."

"Did you get to see her?"

"No. They just wouldn't let me. Wouldn't let Lucy either. Miss Burke saw her, though, so that's not too bad."

We all crowded around William - most of the sixth form from my House - everybody wanted to shake his hand, and show what support they could. Miss Burke hung back, and I noticed she was looking at me very disapprovingly.

I spoke quietly to William. "I had to tell them where you'd gone. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry - I knew you'd have to tell. I just wanted coverage till I got the cab... besides if we're talking about telling, Miss Burke kind of found out that you'd given me the money for the taxi. It was bad luck - she saw me pull up at the hospital in it, and she's got this irritating habit of not letting go of a question."

"Believe me, I know she does."

While we were standing there, the Headmaster approached us. William turned to face him, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. I moved to walk away, but the Head gestured for me to stop.

"Master Connolly."

"Sir."

"I'm delighted to hear about your sister, William."

"Thank you, Sir."

"But you're in a great deal of trouble, boy."

"Yes, Sir, I understand that, Sir."

"This is the second time you've run away from school. You could be expelled, you do know that?"

"Yes, Sir, I do." His voice was sombre, but there was just a hint of pleading in it.

"Well, you won't be. But there will be a reckoning. Go to breakfast, then get yourself showered. Ten o'clock. Master Rysher." As a Captain, I was meant to be due the courtesy of a Mister, but I wasn't going to push it. "Your presence will be required as well."

"Sir."

He strode off. William spoke.

"Well, we don't want to face that on an empty stomach." We said good bye to Miss Burke - who continued to glare at us - and headed into the dining room.

"So she's going to be all right?" I was still concerned, of course.

"They're pretty sure she will. They think it was an allergy thing. It might queer the England trip, though - Mum and Dad'll probably fly back, and it's depends on how long she's in hospital."

"That doesn't matter. What matters is your sister."

"Yes... well, I hope you feel that way at half past ten. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have got you into this."

"Forget that. I'll take whatever is coming."

"What'll you think we'll get?"

"I've got no idea."

And that was perhaps the worst aspect of what we were facing. The uncertainty. William had been told he wouldn't be expelled, but that was the only guidance either of us had. I was sure I wouldn't be expelled either... but losing my Captaincy seemed possible. I only had a week left at the school, so perhaps some people might feel that didn't matter. Well, it did. And it was weighing fairly heavily on me as we approached the Headmaster's office at five minutes to ten that morning.

We looked at each other to make sure we were properly dressed - no sense is risking arising any greater ire.

"Chin up, thumbs up, Connolly."

"Chin up, thumbs up, Rysher."

And I knocked on the door.

"Come in."

We both stepped inside and took up positions side by side on the rug in front of the Headmaster's desk. He sat behind his desk looking at us, his Deputy, Mr Keanes sat on one side of him. Sitting in an armchair - the armchair boys had to bend over for most canings in this room - was Sir Mark. William and I both stood nervously for about thirty seconds. I cast my eyes over the desk and was relieved to see that no cane was sitting there in sight. As a Captain, I was close to immune from the cane and hadn't experienced it in well over a year, but I was aware that one of the limits on my immunity was the fact that the Headmaster could certainly cane me if warranted - and I did not want that to happen for many reasons - I feared the cane, still, but I also feared the humiliation that would come with being the first Captain in over twenty years to experience it.

The Headmaster spoke. "Connolly... William... let me say once again how pleased I am that your sister is out of danger. I mean that most sincerely - it's excellent news."

Mr Keanes spoke up as well. "Me as well, William."

"Thank you, both, Sirs."

"Having made that clear though, we cannot accept what happened last night. I appreciate that you wanted to go to your sister - but you are in my care and control and I cannot tolerate you running about the countryside like that. It's not safe, it's not acceptable."

"Yes, Sir."

"I told you that we'd done all we could so you could see her. I wasn't being cruel, William - if you could have seen her, I'd have taken you to see her. But they wouldn't let you, and you could have done nothing there."

"Yes, Sir. I know, Sir."

"Do you have anything to say to excuse what you did?"

"No, Sir. And I'd do it again, Sir. But I did it knowing that I'd have to face up to the results. I'll accept whatever they are, Sir."

"We can't tolerate this, Connolly. Not in any way, shape, or form. Boys cannot run away from this school, no matter how justified they feel they are. So your punishment has to be severe." The Headmaster looked in Sir Mark's direction for a moment as he said this. "You have a choice, Master Connolly. You can be flogged, or you can be beaten before the entire school this afternoon."

These were the two worst forms of corporal punishment available, and opinion in the school was heavily divided as to which was worse.

"I'll be flogged, Sir."

"Very well, you wait outside and when he comes out, go with Mr Keanes. He'll do the honours."

"Yes, Sir." Williams voice was subdued but he did as he was told, leaving the room, and I was left there on the rug.

"Master Rysher. What are we to do with you?"

"That's up to you, Sir."

"Tell me exactly what happened last night."

"Yes, Sir." And I told him - the clear, unadorned truth. When I had finished, he considered what I had said.

"I could flog you, Rysher. Or send you to Mr Keanes to be flogged, or beat you in front of the school. You colluded in a violation of the rules of this school, when it was your duty to prevent it. But if I do that, I will have to take your Captaincy."

"I know, Sir.

"Doesn't that matter to you?"

My voice broke. "Yes, Sir, it matters... yesterday I would have said it mattered more than just about anything else in the world. And it still matters. But other things matter more. So if you'll have my Captaincy, Sir, then you'll take it. If I'm to be flogged, then I'll be flogged. It matters, Sir, but it's something I don't have any power over. But last night I had a little bit of power, and I chose how I'd use it. I'll live with my choices, just as I have to live with yours."

"Mister Rysher. I will not take your Captaincy. And you won't be flogged or beaten either. But... every choice you make has consequences, and your choice has had serious consequences for your best friend. So you will go with Mr Keanes, and you will witness Connolly's flogging. And I want you to consider that every stroke he takes is one that you let him take. William's bottom will burn for what you did. You made a choice, a hard choice, and I won't tell you if it was right or wrong. You'll decide that, after you see what it has lead to. Now go with Mr Keanes."

"Yes, Sir."

I followed the Deputy Headmaster from the room and William fell in beside me as we walked down the corridor to where Mr Keanes had his study. William looked at me with an inquiring look and I shrugged. I had no idea how to explain in sign language what was going to happen.

Ws stopped for a second outside Mr Keane's door and he turned and spoke to William. "Connolly, do you need to use the toilet?"

"I went before we went to see the Head, Sir."

"Good. Let's get this done, then."

He opened his door and went in. William took a deep breath, and with clear and deliberate purpose stepped into the room. I followed reluctantly.

"Close the door, Rysher. Connolly, hang your blazer on the door - and can you take this without support, or do you need the chair?"

Every Master had his own peculiarities when it came to caning. Some made you bend across a chair, or a desk for support - Mr Keanes generally preferred a boy to bend over and touch his toes and take his caning. He made exceptions for younger boys and for very severe punishments, though.

"I can take it, Sir."

"Are you sure? Because if you stand up, the cut won't count."

"I'm sure, Sir."

"Right then... Rysher, you get the chair, and put it there, facing this way. And sit in it."

I did as I was told. William was looking at me very quizzically, but I had the same problem as before - no way of communicating my place in the proceedings.

"Connolly, pull your trousers down."

William's hands went to his belt, and he slowly unbuckled it. Very slowly. Then his hands crept to the buttons of his trousers and again, he slowly unbuttoned them. He undid his flies next and bent down pulling his trousers down to below his knees. Then he straightened up - and without further bidding, pulled down his white underpants as well. He stood up then. The front of his school shirt hung down a bit, but I could still see his genital area - which I had seen hundreds of times before. He was seventeen and that part of his body was fully developed, accompanied by the normal amount of hair. But his penis seemed smaller than it normally did, and I had the crazy thought that somehow caning made him younger. Crazy or not, though, that is how it seemed - and it didn't just relate to that part of his body. The apprehension on his face made that look younger as well.

"Turn around and face the desk."

Mr Keanes had placed us so I was sitting just near the door to his office, in a chair facing his desk. William was between me and the desk - perhaps a yard from the desk, three yards from myself, and when he turned away from us, I was looking directly at the back of his body. Mr Keanes walked between us to the umbrella stand on the other side of his door, where he generally kept a cane.

Looking at William from behind, the feeling that he was somehow younger than before was even stronger. The front of his body wasn't much different from that of a fully grown man, but from behind the contrast was sharper. His legs had some hair on them, but nowhere near as much as a mans would, and his buttocks, just visible poking out under his shirt tails were pale and smooth.

Mr Keanes leaned down next to me, and murmured. "Eyes forward, watching all the time. You're going to watch this, don't you dare turn your head away or close your eyes." It was quiet, but William must have heard at least some of it. A slight shake went through his body.

"Connolly. Bend over and touch your toes."

William bent forward, slowly and his shirt tail rode up as he did so. His legs were together, and I had a clear view now of his entire bottom. Mr Keanes stepped up and stood side on to William, about four feet off to his left, about half a foot behind him. He stood there and bent the cane a couple of times as he quietly spoke to William.

"Fingertips on your toes... Just a little tighter, Connolly... Keep your knees together..."

When he was satisfied, he looked back at me to make sure I was watching, gave me a quick nod, and turned his focus to his target area. He leaned forward just a bit - he was standing so far away from William, that he had to to reach properly, and laid the cane across the horizontal centre of William's pale white bottom. Then he drew the cane back.

His feet remained fixed in place, but his body rotated until he was half facing me again. His left arm flew out and pointed directly at William's backside, his right arm, with the cane in it, pointed in my direction but bent at the elbow, so the cane pointed up at the ceiling for an instant, then it swung back as he rotated his wrist, so it hit him with a sharp tap on the shoulder, midway up the length of the cane. It all paused there for about half a second, and then his body began to rotate back, fast, his right arm straightened as he half span in place. At the last split second, the cane swung from its now backwards facing position, forward at high speed with a whistling swish that lasted only about a quarter of a second, before the resounding crack of impact with my best friends bottom. The part of the cane that struck was only the last six or eight inches of its three foot length at most, and it was horizontal right across the centre of the target area.

William gave a gasp, and his entire body jerked a bit. I gasped as well, and thanked God that it had been decided not to flog me on this occasion! Mr Keanes straightened up, and his cane dipped down.

Across the centre of William's backside was a single line of red, already visible less than five seconds after the stroke. Mr Keane's raised his cane and lined up again on the same point, before lifting the cane just above it, and drawing back again. There was perhaps, ten seconds between the first stroke and the second - at least that's how much time it seemed, it could often be deceptive.

The second stroke was a carbon copy of the first, except I could see the line of the first just below the cane as it hit, so I realised that it hadn't hit precisely the same point to my profound relief. William gave a cry at this second stroke, and his legs buckled slightly. I realised there were tears in my eyes and I blinked them back, ashamed at my reaction to what I was seeing - and then to my horror I realised that this wasn't my only reaction.

In my trousers, in my underpants, I could feel movement and I realised that I was getting an erection. Now, back then, this wasn't exactly uncommon - they came unexpectedly, quite a lot of the time, but this was a situation where it definitely seemed uncalled for. The only way I had found of dealing with it - well, the only way I could use in public in any event - was to try and think of something else to take my mind off it - and it seemed to me that the spectacle of my closest friend being thrashed was convenient for that purpose.

And so I focused on that.

Mr Keanes took aim again, and again lifted the cane just slightly before he drew back. His whole body rotated again and the third stroke, like the first two had all the strength of his body behind it. William yelped at the stroke, and straightened just slightly for an instant. His hands left the ground, but it can't have been more than two or three inches, and he slammed back down. Mr Keanes left hand had flown out as he rose and hovered above his back for a second. Then he took aim on the first stripe - now the lowest of three crimson lines, spaced barely the thickness of the cane apart. They seemed solid lines of red, quite different from the normal two line signature of a cane stroke - but I'd never really had the chance to examine such very recent marks before.

My erection was showing no signs of going away - indeed, I was rigid in my trousers, at this point and I didn't know what I was going to do about it. Mr Keane's dropped his aim at the last minute and drew back. He cast a glance in my direction and I saw his face was set like a rock. No emotion, no expression. Then he swung back. The lightning fast whistle, crack. And William straightened more than the last time.

"Get DOWN!" The voice was sharp and harsh, and came so fast that it drowned out the almost shriek that had come from William. William slammed down, and Mr Keanes spoke more quietly, "That's your limit, Connolly, come up any more than that and I won't count the cut." William didn't answer, but he was sobbing now. And I was realizing that while I should have been horrified by what I was seeing - and on one level I was - I was also feeling quite... intense feelings I didn't expect to feel. I was also just a bit uncomfortable - it was near the end of the school year, and clothes were purchased at the start of the year, and you grow a lot in a year when you're 15. My underwear had been a little tight when I put it on that morning and it was now having to cope with unprecedented pressures.

"Rysher! Eyes forward, and watching, and I won't tell you again."

I cast my eyes forward, and tried to focus on what I was supposed to be focusing on. Which, looking back on it, didn't help matters in any way, really.

He took less time to aim now and it showed. There were now four evenly spaced strokes - in order from the top, the third, second, first, and fourth inflicted, and right down at the base of William's buttocks, just a bit above the tops of his legs was the fifth stroke. It was still well within the target area - it wasn't a bad stroke by any means - but the pattern had been broken, whether intentionally or accidentally.

Mr Keanes transferred his cane to his left hand as William cried deeply from his bent over position. I watched as the Master shook his hand and stretched his right shoulder - apparently he was experiencing a little discomfort from his efforts. Then he changed the cane back, looked at me, nodded and took aim right in the thick of the first four lines.

"Brace yourself, William."

He pulled back, rotated rapidly, further than he had before and swung back - full rotation, full extension, and at the last half second, a half step sideways into the stroke. William shrieked, and buckled, but straightened and sobbed. And I almost passed out just to watch it.

Mr Keanes stood back up. William stayed in position, and I could see the final line of the cane amongst the first four, with that outlier at the base of his buttocks.

"You can stand up. It's over. You as well, Rysher."

William stood up and his hands flew to his buttocks. His body was shaking, as he cried. I stood, and walked towards him, hoping that my embarrassing state was not obvious to Mr Keanes - William wouldn't have noticed if I'd been naked, I am sure - and stood next to him as he cried for about a minute. After a minute, he started to get himself under control, and I handed him my handkerchief.

"Get your trousers up. And you go and see your Matron, Connolly."

As William pulled his underpants up gingerly, Mr Keanes took me by the arm and pulled me over into a corner. I was convinced he must have noticed my erection, which was still very present and quite uncomfortable - though probably not as visible as I thought it would be. But that wasn't what he had on his mind.

"Rysher, that was for you to see. Not for you to tell other boys about."

"Yes, Sir."

"Take William to the infirmary."

We walked out of the study and headed towards our House. William was still crying freely, but the time of day - everybody was in class - meant we didn't encounter any other pupils until we reached the House.

There, coming out the front door was a boy named Alan Pike - a fellow sixth former. Pike was no friend of either myself, or of William. When we'd been younger he'd bullied us - me in particular - often, and while he had improved over time, he was still the type who couldn't resist making a snide comment, or teasing someone if he had the chance. So I froze for a moment when I saw him, expecting him to make some remark about William's obvious distress. He paused a second, then walked on. We started to move again, and his voice called out.

"Connolly."

I stopped, vowing to myself that I would give him six of the best I could manage for bullying.

William turned and waited.

"I'm glad to hear your sister is doing better."

William nodded, and I lead him to the Matron.

She made him drop his trousers, and told me to leave them for a while. I headed straight up to my room, stepped inside and shut the door.

Then I dropped my trousers and my underpants and threw myself on my bed, grasped my penis and began to relieve all the tension I was feeling.

I was fifteen, and I'd been masturbating about two years at this stage, as often as most teenage boys, I think. I enjoyed it, but most of the time it was a pretty quick experience - no privacy in the House, and technically it was a punishable offence. But on this occasion, I tried to take my time. The feelings were the most intense I had ever had, though, and things came to a conclusion rather quickly and explosively.

After a while I headed back down to the infirmary to see if William was all right. He was still in pain, but had managed to persuade the Matron - no mean feat - that he didn't need any more of her tender loving care. She told him he didn't have to go to class, and told me the same thing if I stayed with him. We went outside and when we were away from the House, he turned to me.

"What was that about?"

"The Head seemed to think I needed to see your flogging so I'd understand what I'd let you get yourself into."

"Bloody hell. That's a bit psychological, isn't it? The old man must be going soft."

"I suppose."

We spent the rest of the morning wandering around the edges of the school looking in on it from all angles, and talking about our time there. Happy memories, mostly. Mostly.

At lunch time, we headed to the dining hall because we were both getting hungry. William, with the normal resilience of a boy of his age at that time, showed little effects of what had happened, though he didn't sit down, and had to endure a lot of good natured ribbing from other boys. It almost made me wish I'd been flogged as well. Not quite, though.

As we left the dining hall, the Headmaster was waiting outside.

"William, the hospital says you can see your sister. I'll run you up to the city."

"Oh thank you, Sir - can Rysher come?"

"I suppose so - get your blazer, William, you're not leaving the school half dressed."

"I left it with Mr Keanes. I'll be right back."

He ran off towards the main building.

"How are you, Nathan?"

"I'm fine, Sir."

"Good. I hope you don't think I was unfair today - to you or William. Sometimes we have to do things that aren't particularly pleasant. I hope you learned something about yourself today, though."

"Oh yes, Sir." I nodded. "I learned a lot about myself."

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