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A quick whisper ran through the class: the prefect of studies. There was an instant of dead silence and then the loud crack of a pandybat on the last desk. Stephen's heart leapt up in fear. Any boys want flogging here, Father Arnall? cried the prefect of studies. Any lazy idle loafers that want flogging in this class? He came to the middle of the class and saw Fleming on his knees.
So down with your breeches And out with your bum. The fellows laughed; but he felt that they were a little afraid. In the silence of the soft grey air he heard the cricket bats from here and from there: pock. That was a sound to hear but if you were hit then you would feel a pain. The pandybat made a sound too but not like that.
Kneel down! cried the prefect of studies. Fleming knelt down, squeezing his hands under his armpits, his face contorted with pain; but Stephen knew how hard his hands were because Fleming was always rubbing rosin into them. But perhaps he was in great pain for the noise of the pandybat was terrible. Stephen's heart was beating and fluttering.
I can see it in the corner of his eye. He banged his pandybat down on the desk and cried: Up, Fleming! Up, my boy! Fleming stood up slowly. Hold out! cried the prefect of studies. Fleming held out his hand. The pandybat came down on it with a loud smacking sound: one, two, three, four, five, six. Other hand! The pandybat came down again in six loud quick smacks.
The soutane sleeve swished again as the pandybat was lifted and a loud crashing sound and a fierce maddening tingling burning pain made his hand shrink together with the palms and fingers in a livid quivering mass. The scalding water burst forth from his eyes and, burning with shame and agony and fear, he drew back his shaking arm in terror and burst out into a whine of pain.
At your work, all of you! shouted the prefect of studies. We want no lazy idle loafers here, lazy idle little schemers. At your work, I tell you. Father Dolan will be in to see you every day. Father Dolan will be in tomorrow. He poked one of the boys in the side with his pandybat, saying: You, boy! When will Father Dolan be in again? Tomorrow, sir, said Tom Furlong's voice.
Why did Mr Barrett in Clongowes call his pandybat a turkey?
LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. The youth who could not shiver and shake. The eye, like that. Pandybat. FATHER DOLAN: Any boy want flogging? Broke his glasses? Lazy idle little schemer. See it in your eye. DON JOHN CONMEE: Now, Father Dolan! Now. I'm sure that Stephen is a very good little boy! Lie. Hold me. Caress. I never could read His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the haddock.
Broke my glasses! An old schoolboy trick! Out with your hand this moment! Stephen closed his eyes and held out in the air his trembling hand with the palm upwards. He felt the prefect of studies touch it for a moment at the fingers to straighten it and then the swish of the sleeve of the soutane as the pandybat was lifted to strike.
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