Owning up

The shrill sound of the fire alarm echoed along the corridors of Bishop Anselm's Boys' Comprehensive School. Fortunately it was lunchtime, and most of the pupils were out in the playground, thereby avoiding the need to clear the classrooms for what was in all probability yet another false alarm.

Teachers abandoned their mugs of tea or coffee and spilled out of the staffroom, grumbling all the while. The fire regulations were very clear: the alarm had sounded, so members of staff were required to visit all the classrooms, making sure that nobody remained in the danger area. Pupils were supposed to stay out of doors in the lunch hour, except during wet weather, and just three boys were found still within the school building.

'BRRRING! BRRRING!' The harsh ringing continued and then, all of a sudden, there was silence. The headmaster walked onto the playground, a cross look on his face, and announced that this had been another false alarm. However, the incident was by no means closed.

Later that day there was a knock at the door of the headmaster's office. It was the deputy head, and he was bringing some not unexpected news.

'It looks as though the fire alarm was set off deliberately, headmaster. It would not surpise me if it was done for a dare. There has been a craze for dares sweeping the school in the past fortnight. Only yesterday a boy was discovered trying to climb onto the school roof - an extremely stupid and dangerous thing to do.'

The headmaster was all to aware of the problem. In fact he had talked about the matter in assembly and threatened dire consequences if the craze continued.

'Do we have any suspects?' the head enquired. 'Were any pupils found in the building after the alarm was set off?'

'Three boys from the fifth form were found heading for an exit door, headmaster - Morley, Warner and Dawkins.'

'Morley, Warner and Dawkins are to accompany me to the headmaster's office.'

The three suspects had been sitting is class, hoping against hope that there would be no further investigation of the fire alarm incident, when the deputy head entered with his stern summons. They had already discussed matters amongst themselves and had concluded that apart from the unlucky chance of being seen on their way out of the school buildings there was no concrete eveidence against them. Martin Dawkins hoped that his friends would not incriminate him to save their own skins. Admittedly, it had been him who had set off the alarm, but it was the other two boys who had dared him to do it.

Inwardly trembling, the trio stepped into the headmaster's office and stood in a row in front of his desk.

'I have received information that one of you set off the fire alrm at lunchtime, no doubt dared by the other two. I want that boy to own up now. If he does not, all three of you will be caned most severely.'

The three miscreants stood dumbfounded. They must have been seen in the act - how else could the headmaster be so certain of their guilt? The headmaster, for his part, was wondering whether his simple bluff would work. If the the three schoolboys denied everything he had no hard evidence against them. As it was, he only suspected these boys of the offence; for all he knew the real culprits might have left the school building unobserved.

It was the weak willed Philip Warner who gave the game away: 'Please sir, it was partly my fault for daring Dawkins to do it...'

Now it was Roy Morley's turn to crack: 'I dared him as well sir.'

'So you were the boy behind this irresponsible act, Dawkins?'

'I suppose so sir...I'm sorry sir...it was just a stupid dare...'

The headmaster fixed the trio with a steely gaze and then turned to the deputy head. 'Would you be so good as to extract a suitable cane from the cupboard? These hooligans deserve a sharp lesson.'

The three fifth-formers were looking extremely sorry for themselves as they observed the headmaster methodically flexing a shiny yellow senior-weight cane. 'Swishings' were not a frequent event at Bishop Anselm's School and none of them had been beaten since they were in the second form. On that memorable occasion the entire class had been caned for ragging a new master, but they had only received two strokes each with a junior punishment cane. The beating to come promised to be much more salutary.

'Morley and Warner, since you were the lesser culprits you will each receive four strokes and serve a detention this Friday. Morley, step forward and bend over that chair.'

The trembling boy took up the required position and the other boys watched with a mixture of fear and fascination as the springy rattan cane lashed down across his tightly-stretched trouser seat four times. As he rose queasily from the chair at the end of his punishment, Roy Morley's face bore a look of utter distress.

'Warner, take his place!' Once again the cane rose and fell four times, causing the unfortunate fifth-former to yelp with pain. The headmaster was certainly not sparing the rod.

'Get up Warner. I hope that both you and Morley have learnt your lesson. You may now leave.'

The two friends left the headmaster's office, their backsides still tingling. That swishy cane had stung like fury and they felt extremely glad not to be in Martin Dawkins' shoes...

'Now, Dawkins, it is your turn to be punished. Your partners in crime have each received a detention and four strokes of the cane. As the boy who actually set off the alarm and put the entire school to so much trouble, you will receive double that! That means a double detention this Friday and eight strokes of the cane.'

'P-please sir - I'm really sorry for what I did...'

'It's too late to be sorry now boy. You have done wrong and now you must pay the price. What if there were a real fire and because of your mischief everyone took it for yet another false alarm? Lives would be put in danger! You fully deserve everything that is coming to you. Now, bend over the chair!'

Martin Dawkins was already on the verge of tears as he bent over the chair. Never had he felt so utterly abandoned and miserable. The headmaster took a firm grip of the pliant crook-handled senior cane and stepped back. He noted that the seat of Dawkins' regulation grey worsted trousers looked well-worn and shiny - the result of long hours spent seated at a hard wooden desk seat. The thin trouser material would offer scant defence against the biting sting of the cane.

The cane whizzed through the air, making an ominous swishing noise, and landed hard across Martin Dawkins' trembling buttocks. The boy felt a burning pain, as if a red hot wire had been laid across his bare flesh, and groaned in agony. By the time eight strokes had been inflicted the schoolboy prankster felt as though he had been to hell and back. He had never in his worst nighmares imagined that the cane could hurt so much and if he had been informed at that moment that his backside was actually on fire he would not have disbelieved it.

Martin Dawkins had to helped up from the chair by the deputy head, who also offered him a tissue to wipe his tearstained face.

'You may leave now Dawkins, and no more games of dare if you please.'

'No sir...thank you sir...'

Word soon sped around Bishop Anselm's School about the exemplary canings and detentions received by the trio of fifth-formers, and the craze for dares petered out almost as quickly as it had begun.