The Discovery Of Slowness Read Online Free PDF Page A

lower jaw; he looked like a well-meaning bulldog. His eyes were sharp and sure. There was no doubt where he was looking and what caught his attention. Matthew wanted to hear a lot of what John had to say and waited patiently until his answers were ready to come out. John, too, had many questions. Evening came.
    Knowing about the sea was called navigation. John repeated that word several times after Matthew. It meant stars, instruments and careful thought. That pleased him. He said, ‘I’d like to learn how to set sails.’
    Before Matthew left, he bent over John more closely. ‘I’m shipping out to Terra Australis now. I’ll be gone two years. After that I’ll get my own ship.’
    â€˜Terra Australis, Terra Australis,’ recited John.
    â€˜Don’t run away again. You can become a sailor. But you’re a bit too caught up in thought, so you must become an officer or your life will be hell. Try to make it through school until I come back. I’ll send you some books about navigation. And I’ll take you on as a midshipman on my ship.’
    â€˜Please, say it again,’ begged John. When he had understood it all clearly, he wanted to get better again at once.
    â€˜He’s much better,’ the doctor announced proudly. ‘Against cascara rind no bad blood can win.’

3
Dr Orme
    B uttons done up wrong: start all over again. Neckerchief tied neatly, breeches fastened properly? Before breakfast, the outer person was checked by the assistant master. Caught out: no breakfast. For every wrongly done button: a slap on the nose. Hair not combed right: knock on the head. The collar of the doublet outside the frock-coat, stockings pulled up tight. Innumerable dangers lurked already at the beginning of the day. Shoes with buckles, cuffs, coat-tails, and the hat, that trap!
    Getting dressed was surely good exercise for later. School had its disadvantages, but John was firmly convinced that one could learn something useful for life anywhere in the world, hence also at school. Even if this had not been so, escape was out of the question. One had to wait, if not out of desire, at least from prudence.
    No news from Matthew. But why should there be? Two years, he had said, and they weren’t over by a long shot.
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    Learning in class. The room was dark, windows high up; autumnal storms outside. Dr Orme sat behind his desk as if in an altar niche, with an hourglass in front of him. The grains of sand had to get through the narrow waist to accumulate in the same pile below that they had formed above. The resulting loss of time was called Latin lesson. It was getting chilly, and the fireplace was near the teacher.
    The older boys were called monitors. They sat high up against the wall and looked down on all the others. Assistant Master Stopford sat near the door and took down pupils’ names.
    John was staring closely at the curved lines of Hopkinson’s earwhen just at that moment a question was directed at him. Still, he got the drift. Careful now! If he answered hastily he’d stutter and choke; that would bother his listeners. On the other hand, Dr Orme had made it clear during the first week once and for all that ‘When somebody says something that’s correct, he has no need to look good.’ He could live with that.
    Reciting, conjugating, declining, using the proper case. When he got that done he had time for Hopkinson’s ear curves, or for the wall beyond the window with its wet bricks and its vines tossed by the wind.
    Studying during times off in the evenings. Archery allowed in the courtyard. Dice and cards forbidden. Chess permitted; backgammon prohibited. When he got permission, John went out to his climbing-tree; when he didn’t, he spent his time reading or practising. Sometimes he tried to learn speed by using his knife: one hand spread out on the table, with the other he stabbed the triangles between his fingers with his