FullReads

‘You are sure?’

‘Quite. Has it not struck you, Sir Felix, that Kirris-vean–ideal spot for a regatta–has in itself neither the boats nor the men for one?’

‘We might fill up with a launch of the lifeboat,’ he hazarded.

‘If one could only be certain of the weather.’

‘And a public tea, and a procession of the school children.’

‘Admirable,’ I agreed. ‘Never fear, we will make up a programme.’

‘Oh, and–er–by the way, Bates of the Wheatsheaf came to me this morning for an Occasional Licence. He proposes to erect a booth in his back garden. You see no objection?’

‘None at all.’

‘A most trustworthy man. . . . He could not apply, you see, at our last Petty Sessions because he did not then know that a regatta was contemplated; and the 25th will, of course, be too late. But the licence can be granted under these circumstances by any two magistrates sitting together; and I would suggest that you and I–‘

‘Certainly,’ said I, and accompanied Sir Felix to the small room that serves Troy for an occasional courthouse, where we solemnly granted Bates his licence.

There is a something about Sir Felix that tempts to garrulity, and I could fill pages here with an account of our preparations for the Regatta; the daily visits he paid me–always in a fuss, and five times out of six over some trivial difficulty that had assailed him in the still watches of the night; the protracted meetings of Committee in the upper chamber of the lifeboat-house at Kirris-vean. But these meetings, and the suggestions Sir Felix made, and the votes we took upon them, are they not recorded in the minute-book of the First and Last Kirris-vean Regatta? Yes, thus I have to write it, and with sorrow: there will never be another Regatta in that Arcadian village.

Sir Felix, good man, started with a fixed idea that a regatta differed from a Primrose Fete, if at all, then only in being non-political. He could not get it out of his head that public speeches were of the essence of the festivity; and when, with all the tact at my command, I insisted on aquatics, he countered me by proposing to invite down a lecturer from the Navy League! As he put it in the heat of argument, ‘Weren’t eight Dreadnoughts aquatic enough for anybody?’ But in the voting the three young footmen supported me nobly. They wanted fireworks, and were not wasting any money on lecturers: also there was a feeling in Kirris-vean that, while a regatta could scarcely be held without boat-racing, the prizes should be just sufficient to attract competitors and yet on a scale provoking no one to grumble at the amount of subscribed money lost to the village. A free public tea was suggested. I resisted this largesse; and we compromised on ‘No Charge for Bona-fide Schoolchildren’–whatever that might mean–and ‘Fourpence a head for Adults.’

The weather prospects, as the moment drew near, filled us with anxious forebodings, for the anti-cyclonic spell showed signs of breaking, and the Sunday and Monday wore lowering faces. But Tuesday dawned brilliantly; and when after a hasty breakfast I walked over to Kirris-vean, I found Sir Felix waiting for me at the top of the hill in his open landau, with a smile on his face, a rose in his button-hole, and a white waistcoat that put all misgivings to shame. ‘A perfect day!’ he called out with a wave of the hand.

‘A foxy one,’ I suggested, and pointed out that the wind sat in a doubtful quarter, that it was backing against the sun, that it was light and might at any time die away and cheat us of our sailing matches.

‘Always the boats with you!’ he rallied me; ‘my dear sir, it is going to be perfect. As the song says, “We’ve got the ships, we’ve got the men, and we’ve got the money too.” An entire success, you may take my word for it!’