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An Autumn Camp A few weeks had passed since my unpleasant experience at the hands of older boys at school (see A Bad Day at School - December 8th). The scars and weals on my wrists had largely healed, leaving me with three red marks, the remains of rope burns, which I carry to this day. The autumn half term break was fast approaching when my father surprised me by saying, "I guess you will be joining your mates, camping in the woods next week". The weather was still pleasantly warm but no one had mentioned the possibility of a camp, not to mention anything else this might involve, and it appeared father might know something I didn't. I was furious. It appeared my pals were making plans, my family was aware of this and no one had mentioned it to me! The next day I vented my anger on James, David and Stuart who all looked a little sheepish before Stuart said, "Not so fast, Richard. We didn't mention it because we weren't sure you would be allowed to join in, in view of your latest adventure. As a matter of fact, we have been keeping in close contact with your brother and it was only yesterday that he said it would be OK to tell you!" This was even worse than I suspected - it now appeared my big brother was making decisions affecting my social life. Stuart was speaking again, "Look, to be honest we were not sure you would really want to play any more tie-up games after what happened to you and we just didn't know how to approach the subject. You know you are more than welcome if you are sure you really want to." "Of course I want to. Apart from the prospect of sorting you three out for your deception, I've got a new sleeping bag to try out" I replied. Suddenly, I grinned. "Anyway, it sounds like permission is a formality after what Dad said!" I was not however going to let Chris off so lightly and that evening I tackled him. His initial reaction was to laugh, but then he said more seriously, "Don't take it too much to heart, Titch. We were all quite worried about you." I interrupted him furiously, "What, you mean Mum and Dad know about this," I said holding out my arms. "Of course they know, Richard. How did you think you were going to hide marks like that from them? How are your wrists now?" "Oh, just a little sore, like they were bruised from being tied too long!" I replied casually. "Well that's fine, because that's what I told the oldies," Chris responded. "On that basis they have agreed to let you go. Guess they will be glad to have some peace and quiet for a couple of days!" (As an aside, Chris told me some time later that he had told our parents most of the story, realising that secrecy was out of the question. While not receiving precise details, they also knew the culprits had suffered some degree of retribution at the hands of Chris and others and while they didn't approve, agreed it was better not to take the matter any further since the bullying ended at school. They never mentioned the marks on my arms, respecting my privacy and perhaps aware of my embarrassment. This was the first intimation that our parents knew far more about what went on when we were notionally involved in our scouting activities but they were always the very soul of discretion). I considered what Chris had said and then brightened up. "Does this mean you are joining in again?" I asked, "because if so I'm going to make you suffer." "You and whose army?" Chris chuckled. "No, I have other plans for the weekend. In any case, I think it would be better if you do this without me. It may be harder for you than you expect." I was mystified by his comment but dropped the subject.
The school holiday was a whole week and the plan was to meet in the woods on Saturday about lunch time and camp for two nights, leaving us with the rest of the week for school tasks (and recovering from the excitement). We would have some time for working on some of our scout projects away from the gaze of our (admittedly easygoing) leaders and, of course, lots of time for a battle. School ended on the Friday afternoon and that evening Father told me that he would take my gear down by car in the morning and that, if they could bring it round early enough, he would do the same for my pals. The message was duly delivered and by 9.00am there were three more small boys (James, David and Robert) annoying my mother and raiding our fridge for goodies. Father had taken our gear as promised and by 10.30 my other parent was becoming exasperated. When Stuart suddenly and unexpectedly joined us (he lived further away than the others and usually met us in the woods) she finally lost her patience and suggested we leave there and then, exhorting us not to bother to be too early home on Monday. As she said this she winked at me, but as we trooped out of the back door she grabbed Stuart by the shoulder and held him back for a moment. For some inexplicable reason, she had always thought my fair-haired friend more sensible than the rest of us (if only she had known!) and glancing back over my shoulder I overheard her tell him not to allow the others to be too rough with me. I began to blush as I saw him solemnly nod his agreement and turned rapidly away so that he wouldn't know I had heard. Having no gear to carry, we were able to stroll along in a casual fashion, and by the time we reached the valley floor and the olive groves that grew there we were plotting, scheming, joking and indulging in the sort of horseplay that amuses twelve-year-olds. Under the cover of the trees, our rough housing intensified until a regular all-in wrestling match was taking place. James was battling with David while I was involved in a general mêlée with the other two. After a few moments, I found myself on my back with Robert sitting on my stomach, pinning my shoulders down with his knees. Suddenly, he removed his weight and with Stuart's deft assistance I was flipped onto my stomach and pinned down again. As I involuntarily turned over, I glanced around and realised the other battle had stopped and those protagonists were grinning down at me. I saw a length of cord dangling from someone's hands. I had an overwhelming feeling this had been a set-up but I had not anticipated what would happen next. All at once, I began trembling uncontrollably and as I felt my arms seized and pulled behind my back. I looked round at my "mates" and whispered, "please don't hurt me!" There was what can only be described as a stunned silence and I watched them exchange glances. My hands were still being held firmly behind my back by Robert, but his brother David said quite gently, "We promise we won't hurt you. If you want us to release you just say the word!" I had been shocked by the wave of fear that had flowed over me but I wasn't going to plead with my "captors" under any circumstances. Although my hands were still shaking, I lay motionless and finally said softly, "Do what you have to do then." The group remained still for a few moments until Stuart broke the silence and said, "OK, let's get on with it." His words had an electrifying effect - someone reached down and I felt the familiar prickle at my wrists as a loop of rope was passed around them and tightened. More turns followed in the familiar lashing, both horizontally and vertically and then Robert removed his weight from my back and I lay in the dust at my friends' feet, my hands tied behind my back, not so tightly as to be uncomfortable, but nevertheless very securely. Hands now grasped my shoulders and rolled me over before helping me to sit up and the other boys crouched around me. I tested my bonds but knew only too well it was hopeless and gave up at once. Then I glared at Stuart and snarled. "Judas! I heard the promise you made my mother." His response was simply to laugh but after a few seconds he said, "I promised your mother we would look after you and that is just what we are doing. I'm afraid you have rather been set up. Chris was afraid you might not be able to cope with taking part in a full-scale game when it came to the crunch and we devised this scheme to capture you so that if necessary you could back out without any loss of face. How do you feel now?" I struggled vigorously, trying to get a purchase on the rope securing my hands. They were still shaking but I had no intention of admitting it to my pals, although I suspect they were well aware of this. My bid for freedom was an abject failure. "I'll live I expect, but you are so much dead meat when I get loose!" I responded. It was of course pure bravado and it merely produced a ripple of laughter around the group. "Well, in that case we had better be on our way," James said. "Let's help Richard to his feet". "Hey guys, you are going to untie me now you've had your fun, aren't you?" "Nope!" came the swift response from the four boys simultaneously. I began to protest loudly, although at no time did I demand to be untied (something which I am certain would have been carried out at once), but after listening to my whining for a couple of minutes David said, "He does make a lot of noise for a little'un. Guess there is no alternative - we'll have to gag him!" As he spoke he drew a large white bandanna out of the pocket of his shorts. I was already reconciled to facing the rest of our walk with my hands tied (I had after all done it once before) and it was quite clear I would not regain my freedom short of making demands which by now I was certain I did not want to do. On the other hand, being gagged in a public place was another matter. I pleaded with my pals to leave my mouth free with a promise that I would co-operate and they finally relented. We therefore continued our way, still laughing and joking. Soon I had actually forgotten my hands were bound until I attempted to join in the horseplay and stumbled. It produced a good deal of mirth from my captors who picked me up and dusted me down. After that, my pals assisted me over the rougher parts of the trail. My periodic queries about how long they were going to keep me tied up were each time met with a "wait and see", and in the end I decided to follow their advice. In this fashion we completed our journey and arrived outside one of our patrol huts, where several other boys were gathered. They greeted us in a friendly fashion but the fact that my hands were tied behind my back produced less surprise than it might reasonably have done. I had given up pestering my captors so sat down on a convenient log and made myself comfortable while David recounted my unexpected adventure and explained how I had reacted. At this all eyes were turned on me enquiringly but without waiting for anyone to speak I answered their question for them, saying cheerily, "Oh, I'm fine now. I'm a little cross at being treated like this but to tell the truth I guess I'm grateful to these guys. If I had had to face being captured during a game without this experience I think I might have gone to pieces. I still owe you though!" I saw my four buddies grinning broadly at one another and James said, "I suppose we had better let him go now." Everybody laughed as Robert and David simultaneously said, "Oh, must we?" but it was left to Stuart to untie my hands and I sat there for a few moments rubbing the circulation back into my wrists...
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