With Clive in India : Large Print

A lady in deep mourning was sitting, crying bitterly, by a fire in small lodgings in the town of Yarmouth.

Beside her stood a tall lad of sixteen. He was slight in build, but his schoolfellows knew that Charlie Marryat's muscles were as firm and hard as those of any boy in the school.

In all sports requiring activity and endurance, rather than weight and strength, he was always conspicuous.

Not one in the school could compete with him in long-distance running, and when he was one of the hares there was but little chance for the hounds.

He was a capital swimmer, and one of the best boxers in the school.

He had a reputation for being a leader in every mischievous prank; but he was honorable and manly, would scorn to shelter himself under the semblance of a lie, and was a prime favourite with his masters, as well as his schoolfellows.

His mother bewailed the frequency with which he returned home with blackened eyes and bruised face; for between Dr. Willet's school and the fisher lads of Yarmouth there was a standing feud, whose origin dated so far back that none of those now at school could trace it.

Consequently, fierce fights often took place in the narrow rows, and sometimes the fisher boys would be driven back on to the broad quay shaded by trees, by the river, and there being reinforced from the craft along the side, would reassume the offensive and drive their opponents back into the main street.