Imagine how this name was greeted by the audience and how strongly their shouts of appreciation resounded in the courtyard:
“Hip! … hip! … hip! … hurrah! … for Mrs. Seymour!”
Even though the director had revealed the benefactress’s name, the question still remained as to where they would travel. Neither he nor anyone else knew it yet. But in twenty-four hours this would become clear. The director would cable the results of the contest to Barbados, and Mrs. Seymour would answer him by telegram indicating the region that the laureates would be visiting.
One can easily imagine the speed with which opinions were exchanged among the students, whose thoughts flew already to the most fascinating countries, the farthest as well as the most unknown ones in this sub-lunar world. Undoubtedly, they would be effusive or reserved according to each one’s temperament or personality, but the truth is that they were all enthusiastic.
“I’d like to think,” said Roger Hinsdale, English to the tip of his toes, “that we will visit some part of the British colonial domain, and it is vast enough to be able to choose …”
“It’ll be central Africa,” remarked Louis Clodion, “the famous portentosa Africa,10 as our fine professor of economy says, and we will walk in the footsteps of the great discoverers!”
“No … an exploration of the polar regions!” said Magnus Anders, who would have gladly followed in the footsteps of his glorious compatriot Nansen.11
“I hope that it be Australia,” said John Howard. “There still remains much to discover there—even after Tasman, 12 Dampier,13 Burs,14 Van-couver,15 Baudin,16 Dumont d’Urville.17 there are many discoveries to be made and perhaps even some gold mines to work!”
“Rather some beautiful region of Europe,” wished Albertus Leuwen, whose Dutch character was not prone to exaggerations. “Who knows, even a simple excursion to Scotland or Ireland.”
“Come on, now!” exclaimed the exuberant Tony Renault. “I bet we’ll travel around the world.”
“Let’s see,” declared the wise Axel Wickborn, “we will only count on seven to eight weeks, so the destination will have to be restricted to neighboring countries.”
The young Dane was right. In fact, their families would not have accepted an absence of several months, which would have exposed their sons to the dangers of a more extensive expedition, and Mr. Ardagh would not have taken the responsibility.
So, after discussing Mrs. Seymour’s intentions regarding the projected excursion, there ensued another discussion about the manner in which the trip would take place.
“Will we do it by foot, as tourists backpacking with walking sticks?” asked Hubert Perkins.
“No, by car … by mail coach!” offered Niels Harboe.
“By train,” replied Albertus Leuwen, “with open tickets and under the Cook Agency’s sponsorship.”18
“I believe that it will take place rather on board a big ship, perhaps a transatlantic,” declared Magnus Anders, who saw himself already in the middle of the ocean.
“No, by air balloon,” exclaimed Tony Renault, “and on the way to the North Pole!”
The discussion continued on in this way, uselessly perhaps, full of the passion so typical of young men. Even though Roger Hinsdale and Louis Clodion showed more reserve, no one wanted to back down from his opinion.
This made the director intervene, if not to make them agree, at least to ask that they wait for the answer that the telegram he had expedited to Barbados would elicit.
“Patience!” he said. “I have sent the names of all the laureates, your ranking and your nationalities, to Mrs. Seymour, and the generous lady will make known her intentions about the travel scholarships. If she answers by cable today, in a few hours we will know what to expect. If she answers by letter, we will have to wait six or seven days. And now, off to your studies and your work!”
“Six days!” whined that rascal Tony Renault, “I’ll never make it!”
Perhaps he was expressing some of his classmates’ feelings as well—Hubert Perkins, Niels Harboe, Axel Wickborn—whose temperaments were almost as volatile as his. Louis Clodion and Roger Hinsdale, the contest’s two ex æquo, showed more poise. As far as the Swedish and the Dutch, they did not stray from their typical demeanor. But had the Antillean School had any American boarders, the prize for patience would very probably not have been given to them.
In reality, the extreme excitement of their young minds was understandable: not knowing the region of the world where Mrs. Seymour was going to send them! Furthermore, we must mention that it was only mid-June and, if the time devoted to the trip was going to fall during the vacation period, the departure would not take place for another six weeks.
Mr. Ardagh believed, as did the majority of the Antillean School, this was the most likely case. Under these conditions, the young scholars’ absence would not last more than two months. They would be back for the beginning of classes in October, which would satisfy both the families and the school’s personnel.
Consequently, given the duration of summer vacation, it could not be an expedition to very distant regions. The wisest ones thus avoided imagining travel through the steppes of Siberia, the desert of central Asia, the forests of Africa, or the grassy plains of America. Without leaving the old continent or even Europe, there were many interesting regions to visit outside of the United Kingdom: Germany, Russia, Switzerland, Austria, France, Italy, Spain, Holland, Greece! What memories to record in a tourist journal and what new impressions for those young Antilleans who were, for the most part, only children when they had crossed the Atlantic coming from America to Europe. Even reduced to the countries neighboring England, this trip would thoroughly excite their impatience and curiosity.
Since the telegram did not arrive that day nor in the days immediately following, it seemed the one sent by the director would have a letter for an answer, a letter sent from Barbados addressed to Mr. Julian Ardagh, the Antillean School, 314 Oxford Street, London, United Kingdom, Great Britain.
It is time for an explanation about the word “Antillean” that appeared over the door of the institution. No one doubts that it was created on purpose. Indeed, in the terminology of British geography, the Antilles are called Carribee Islands.19 On the maps from the United Kingdom as on those from America, they are not called anything else. But Carribee Islands means “islands of the Caribbean,” and that word recalls too vividly the fierce natives of the archipelago, scenes of massacre and cannibalism that were the scourge of the West Indies. Could one imagine that abominable title on the prospectus of the establishment: Caribbean School? Would it not make one think that students there were taught the art of killing each other or recipes for cooking humans?20 Therefore, “Antillean School” had seemed more appropriate for the young men coming from the Antilles, to whom it provided a purely European education.
So, without a telegram, they had to wait for a letter—unless this contest for travel scholarships had been nothing but a bad joke. Of course not! Mrs. Seymour and Mr. Ardagh had exchanged correspondence. The generous lady was not an imaginary being at all; she lived in Barbados, she had been known there for a long time, and she was believed to be one of the richest proprietors in the island.
Now, there was nothing left to do except show a good amount of patience and watch the mail from overseas every morning and every evening. It goes without saying, it was above all the nine laureates who occupied the windows facing Oxford Street in order to spot the neighborhood’s mailman. No matter how far away his red tunic appeared—and we know that red can be seen at a great distance—those students descended the stairs four at a time, emerged into the main courtyard, ran toward the big gate,