The Graduation of Malachi Deadwood

A Short Story

Written this Year of Our Lord 1846 by Mr. Edward Constantine

Tuesday, 6
th
June

It was roast beef again at hall, a perennial favourite, and as such what little conversation was made
was somewhat muffled by the sounds of mastication and the chink of cutlery.
Mr. Malachi Deadwood was eating with a voraciousness quite belied by his appearance. The man
himself was of average height, but very thin. He appeared quite young, and almost effeminate, being
perfectly clean-shaven and with a pointed face, wide brown eyes and small nose. His black hair was a little
past shoulder-length, and tied back in a ponytail. Despite the relish with which he was tucking in to his
food, he somehow exuded an air of fastidiousness, and indeed he was quite impeccably dressed. The
evening meal required a proper suit and gown, and Mr. Deadwoods were plain black, clean, creased only
in the right places, and very well-fitting. There was also a silver-tipped cane, as black as the suit; this Mr.
Deadwood was required to carry after his grandfather, rumoured to be a little eccentric, and well known as
a proponent of the hunting, fishing and shooting school of thought, had some years ago indulged in this
latter pastime somewhat too close to his grandson, and filled the lads leg with buckshot. The scars had
since almost healed completely over, but Mr. Deadwood still walked with a slight limp and required a
walking-stick.
Mr. Rufus Penrose was, by contrast, somehow eating the food whilst giving the impression that he
could not be doing more than pick at it listlessly with his fork. He was tall and had a long face which
sported a blond beard and glasses. He also had a hat, which was not so much in vogue by this time. While
this was not, of course, being worn indoors, it was displayed quite ostentatiously on a nearby hat-stand, and
indeed that he habitually wore a hat was quite a well-known feature of Mr. Penrose.
The circumstances that had led these two to be seated next to each other was a quite simple one;
they were both students reading Engineering Sciences at Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge. The
study of Engineering could lead a man down many paths. Mr. Deadwood had originally applied for the
course with the intent of joining the Royal Navy, though with characteristic capriciousness, he had revised
this decision to some new and exciting career every time he thought about it. Mr. Penrose, on the other
hand, had a curious desire to enter the world of academia. Mr. Deadwood had, from a sort of horrified
curiosity about the lure of such a career, pressed him on his reasons for this on several occasions, but no
answer was forthcoming.
Such debates, among all the third-year students across Town, had reached a new peak, for Finals
were due to complete in two days. Two out of three papers were complete, though of course the marks were
not yet known. Mr. Deadwood and Mr. Penrose were currently making predictions, some of them quite
arbitrary, about the results that their peers would achieve.
Cutler? questioned Mr. Deadwood, waving his fork in the direction of the gentleman in
question, who was seated at the next table. Mr. Penrose stared at him, but he did not seem to notice the
attention.
Two-one, announced Mr. Penrose after a short pause. Niven?
Third, scoffed Mr. Deadwood without pause for thought. Staunton?
Mr. Penrose thought about this. That is entirely dependent on which has the greater lure for him:
taking a First, or taking laudanum.
The conversation continued in this manner until most of the class had been exhausted, with the
exception of three. Mr. Penrose did not wish to speculate about his own result, and Mr. Deadwood was
almost certain of a First. Indeed, it was commonly believed that, but for one circumstance, Mr. Deadwood
would have had a reasonable chance of topping the Tripos. This circumstance was the third man to be
excepted from the string of predictions, Mr. Francis St. John Islington, a gentleman who had so far outdone
all others in the first two years by a large margin, and, by dint of intellect combined with great
studiousness, appeared well prepared to repeat this performance.
Mr. Islington was also visible from where Mr. Deadwood and Mr. Penrose were seated. He
appeared a little gaunt, and wore a suit which, while originally well-cut, had been allowed to become
somewhat shabby through overuse. His face was quite amiable in appearance, chiefly because he did not
appear to be concentrating on anything in particular. In general, he had a look about him that suggested that
he could be quite well-presented but forgot that this was important. His eyes were greyish and nondescript,
and on those rare occasions when he looked directly at anyone, he gave the disconcerting expression of
focusing quite attentively some six inches behind them. He kept his black hair cut short, quite contrary to
the fashion of the time, because he insisted that this was simpler than keeping it long. In this, of course, he
was quite correct. However, he also maintained a small moustache, but no beard; the reasons for this
remained unclear. He would have been quite handsome, excepting that nobody with a moustache but no
beard can ever truly qualify as such.
At the end of the speculations of Mr. Deadwood and Mr. Penrose, the main course of the meal was
finished, and the waitresses quickly gathered the plates and cutlery. Presently the dessert, a concoction
involving sponge and custard which the put-upon kitchen staff at Caius had during the course of several
centuries perfected to a point where it had absolutely no gastronomical or nutritious merit whatsoever, was
brought.
The waitress who served Mr. Deadwood and Mr. Penrose was named Melissa Blackbird. This fact
was well known to Mr. Deadwood, as many students cultivated at least passing acquaintances with the
serving staff. Though such friendships were frowned upon elsewhere, they were considered permissible and
even usual in the collegiate environment; even the more conservative professors were forced to admit that
the close confinement of some thousands of male students could without such an outlet lead to quite
unnatural acts, and by comparison the occasional scandal about illegitimate offspring was a small risk to
take. However, despite the somewhat saucy wink that Miss Blackbird tipped to Mr. Deadwood, it was well-
known that she had not yet surrendered to the advances of any of the numerous students who had paid suit
to her.
That so many propositions had been made was hardly unnatural. Miss Blackbird was considered
very attractive; though not tall, she was well-proportioned, with a rounded but not chubby face, a cascade
of golden curls (although these were currently held back by her serving-cap), sparking brown eyes and a
ready smile which lit up her face most becomingly. That she had turned all these down was more
surprising, and it was one more fact whose reasons were not readily apparent.
Mr. Deadwood favoured her with a smile and thanked her for the dessert, despite that fact that the
young woman herself was infinitely more appetizing. As she breezed away, Mr. Deadwood glanced after
her with a grin.
You know, commented Mr. Penrose, you clearly should not thank waitresses and so on so
readily. Courteous it may be, but correct it is trivially not.
I disagree, answered Mr. Deadwood. Affecting aloof disdain for servants is the mark of the
nouveau riche, the sort of quite unsavoury people who are convinced that joining the annual herd in Paris
each summer is necessary to prove that they are still moneyed. I personally have never been to Paris. I
believe that in the only real season to go there, it must smell somewhat like a farmers market, only with
more pearls. No, I hold that a real gentleman always recognizes the work that others do for him.
Perhaps if you spent more time doing work instead of pursuing serving wenches, then it would be
you rather than Francis at the top of the Tripos.
I continue to disagree, said Mr. Deadwood, scowling at Mr. Islington as Miss Blackbird
favoured him also with a flirtatious wink, which he seemed to believe had more genuine feeling in it. I
believe the two are entirely unrelated.
Mr. Penrose had also noticed the waitress gesture to Mr. Islington, and conceived at this point of
an idea, which he aired.
Mal, I will then make you a wager. Five guineas that you cannot both seduce Melissa Blackbird
before any other and beat Francis Islington in Finals.
There was a moments silence. Mr. Penrose did not complain, as both men knew that all wagers,
no matter how trivial the subject, were quite serious in and of themselves.
Shortly Mr. Deadwood answered. I accept. They shook hands.
Mr. Deadwood then finished the meal deep in thought, as he had every intention of winning the
wager. He did not care for the guineas particularly, as he had quite a sufficiency of these. The principle of
the wager mattered more, with the added bonus that were the outcome to be in his favour, the fulfilling of
one condition would ensure him of an automatic commission, while the fulfilling of the other would ensure
him of at least one, and perhaps more, quite satisfying nights.
Though he had accepted the wager, Mr. Deadwood did not believe that his skills were sufficient,
even with quite concentrated revision, to surpass those of Mr. Islington. He was therefore required to
prepare quite a different plan. With this in mind, he went to visit Mr. Islington and casually told him that he
had heard of a new fact from the examiners that a certain lecture on valve-based logic gates, which had
been quite quickly glossed over in lectures, was in fact examinable. Mr. Islington was of course quite
surprised, and immediately sought out the appropriate textbooks, thanking Mr. Deadwood for the timely
information. Mr. Deadwood happily assured him that it was no problem.
Next, he approached Miss Blackbird a short interval after dinner, as she left the kitchens, and
invited her to join him in the Bath House tavern on Benet-street. This offer she accepted with goodwill.
After some small talk, Mr. Deadwood looked up from his beverage and fixed her with a very solemn look.
Do you never get tired of turning down every man who wants to enjoy your company for more
than a quick drink? he asked her.
Now, Mr. Deadwood, sir, where would my reputation be if I started accepting every man? she
responded, eyes twinkling. Anyway, I am quite sure you have tried this approach before. Do you think it
will be any different?
Oh, Melissa. I am not suggesting myself! I believe poor Francis Islington is quite worked up on
the subject, but he has not the courage to ask.
Really? asked she, with some eagerness. Mr. Deadwood smiled, which Miss Blackbird
interpreted quite incorrectly.
Perhaps I have been a little too free with confidences, said Mr. Deadwood, and was less
garrulous for a while.

Wednesday, 7
th
June

As it happened, Mr. Penrose and Mr. Islington lived upon the same staircase in Tree Court. Thus,
the next morning that is, one day before the last Final as they broke fast with sausage-and-bacon, a
repast which despite the best efforts of the chef to the contrary was quite passable, Mr. Penrose was able to
break some news to Mr. Deadwood.
It seems, Mal, that you are on course to lose five guineas to me.
On what grounds?
Mr. Penrose glanced around to check that none of the serving staff were close.
I observed Melissa passing my door on her way to Francis room last night, he vouchsafed.
You say, though, that I am merely on course to forfeit my guineas, rather than that I have done so
already. answered Mr. Deadwood.
Indeed, answered Mr. Penrose, sounding a little peeved. She descended again almost
immediately afterwards.
How odd. I wonder why, said Mr. Deadwood, favouring Mr. Penrose with a look and gesture
that stated quite clearly that Mr. Penrose clearly knew the answer curiosity should have ensured this and
furthermore should disclose it, perhaps on pain of receiving a fork to the kidney.
It is my belief that he spurned her advance on the ground that he was engaged in revision.
How very like him, said Mr. Deadwood, calmly.
I happen to know that between the hours of nine and eleven you were in the King Street Run with
several natural scientists from Jesus, answered Mr. Penrose. I fear that you will lose our wager on not one
but both grounds.
That evening at hall, Mr. Deadwood noted that Melissa carefully avoided the table at which both
he and, further down, Mr. Islington sat. Satisfied, when he left hall after eating, Mr. Deadwood made a
small diversion to the porters lodge. Taking a piece of paper and a pen, he spent some minutes in drawing
a stylized heart, cleft in two by an arrow. He then, under the gaze of a quite confused porter, held it at arms
length, then added some further touches, finally signing with a single M, reflecting quite gleefully on the
ambiguity of this initial. On deciding that it was sufficiently melodramatic, he folded it in two and placed it
in Mr. Islingtons pigeonhole. The expression of the porter changed from surprise to acute disapproval, but,
in a quite professional manner, he said nothing. Satisfied with his work, and knowing that a nine-oclock in
the morning examination was looming large on the horizon, Mr. Deadwood went to bed.
Thursday, 8
th
June

The Engineering Faculty on Free-school-lane was quite packed with students taking the
examination. It was a less impressive sight than examinations of the previous century, as sub-fusc was no
longer required Oxford, however, still begged to differ, and thus, of course, was ridiculed as being
antiquated but to anyone with an education there is nothing quite so fear-inspiring as an examination hall
at one minute to nine in the morning. There was a large central table, behind which the invigilating
professor an aged fellow, possessing numerous wrinkles, a light sprinkling of white hair and a gown that
might have fitted him when he was fifty years younger and six inches taller, but nonetheless with piercing
black eyes, fixing an accusatory stare on each finalist in turn was not so much seated as enthroned. The
large blackboard showed signs of having several equations punctiliously erased, with the legend writ large
upon it in white chalk: ENGINEERING SCIENCES, PAPER THREE (Nine a.m., Three Hours). Austere
wooden desks, rising in several tiers from the centre were served by wooden seats, and the whitewashed
walls contributed no real gaiety to the scene. One hundred and eighty stacks of clean white paper, one
hundred and eighty inverted sheets of questions and one hundred and eighty inkwells were lined up with a
quite horrifying precision, while four proctors, resplendent in clerical gown and top hats, stood quite still
around the room. The students, in various attitudes of nervousness, sat staring with considerable
apprehension at the examination papers, all the more ghastly for being unrevealed, in front of them, with
two notable exceptions.
Mr. Malachi Deadwood was quite prepared, with his pen, sketching-pencil and straight-edge laid
out next to his papers, but he was not quite at repose. Instead, he cast one extended glance at the only other
man not appearing fearful of the upcoming ordeal.
This was, of course, Mr. Francis St. John Islington. Instead of the terror reflected in the faces of
other students, he was a picture of dejection. He occasionally shifted position, but only when he unfolded a
small piece of paper, stared at it, and, suddenly conscious that this might be construed as cheating, refolded
it again did Mr. Deadwood return to the contemplation of his paper, with the hint of a smile upon his face.
Then, as the expressions of dread increased all round, the bell in the tower of Great St. Marys
solemnly tolled nine times, and as the last strokes died away, the reedy voice of the professor cried, You
may turn over your papers now!
To catalogue the multitude of varying expressions of the sea of faces that greeted the final
announcement, three hours later, of the end of the examination would be quite futile. However, among
these, Mr. Deadwood remained quite calm, waiting a couple of minutes before rising and placing his neatly
folded stack of answers with the rest. It would, of course, have been terribly bad form, even after the
laying-down of pens, to look at another students answers, but he felt no such urge. Half the matter was
now in the hands of the examiners.
That evening, a large number of the would-be Engineering graduates were somewhat inebriated, a
circumstance quite to be expected. However, despite the quite pressing invitations at hall of Mr. Niven and
Mr. Staunton, Mr. Deadwood remained quite sober, with the exception of one glass of wine which he had
no intention of consuming, but which it was necessary to drink after Mr. Staunton leant across and, with
great solemnity, dropped a penny in it.
As his colleagues left Hall to adjourn to the Bath House, with Mr. Niven holding forth to Mr.
Penrose that Peterhouse-rules should be accepted as standard, and that one minute was the time limit for
consumption after a penny had been dropped, and Mr. Staunton holding that Peterhouse-rules were inferior
to Kings-rules, on the matter of how much wine must be in ones own glass at the time, Mr. Deadwood
instead waited outside the kitchen.
Miss Blackbird, when she finally emerged about half an hour after the end of hall, appeared still
somewhat dejected, and in deference to this fact Mr. Deadwoods greeting to her was more than usually
restrained.
Oh, Mr. Deadwood! she said. I had hoped truly hoped that you might have been right about
Mr. Islington!
Melissa, dear, I fear I was terribly wrong. Yes he is attracted to you, but can you realistically
envisage him putting anything even you in front of his studies?
What an awful thought! cried Melissa, somewhat vehemently. I do not think I could bear to be
valued by anyone less than a pile of stuffy old textbooks.
I am really sorry, Melissa, said Mr. Deadwood, solemnly clasping her shoulder with his hand,
sincerity written on his features.
She gazed up at him in silence for some seconds. Do you know, Mr. Deadwood, sir, I believe you
are the first person to have tried to arrange a meeting between myself and a man for no personal profit at
all?
Really?
Really, she smiled. I think you may profit from that more than you had anticipated.
And Mr. Malachi Deadwood, who had of course anticipated all right from the start, assumed just
the right expression of delighted surprise.

Friday, 9
th
June

There was quite a throng of students around the Senate-house boards. Mr. Penrose and Mr.
Deadwood slowly forced a passage through the crowd to the Engineering Science boards, looking for their
results. The table was of necessity a long one, listed from Thirds to Firsts, which they read carefully down
from the start, commenting on various performances as they went.
My word, said Mr. Deadwood to Mr. Penrose observing Mr. Cutlers entry in the Two-twos, I
thought Cutler would do better than that.
I wonder how our wager will turn out, said Mr. Penrose. D! Just one off! he added,
noticing:

Paper One Paper Two Paper Three Total
Penrose, R. G. (Caius) : 28 31 22 81 Two-one
Hoyle, H. J. (Queens) : 30 26 26 82 First

However, Mr. Deadwood did not immediately respond. Presently he reached into a pocket and
extracted some small squares of printed pictures.
Tell me, Rufus, he said to Mr. Penrose, as they continued browsing down the list, if I had just
happened to be in my room with a lady, and I had one of those new instant-picture cameras near my bed,
and while otherwise occupied I mistakenly hit the picture-capture button, would it be so very immoral to
keep them?
Ah. I see. Or that is to say I do not. Yes. Well. Mr. Penrose turned somewhat red as he said this.
I caution you, that was not a very coherent answer.
I believe I know what is depicted there and have no need to see those pictures. I would have just
accepted your word, you know.
I do, answered Mr. Deadwood. But I felt it best to be sure. Do you know, until we made that
wager, I had entirely forgotten one key fact.
And that is?
Classes are not allocated by raw marks, right?
Right, answered Mr. Penrose. It is done by proportions. The top ten per cent or so get Firsts,
the next twenty per cent Two-ones, and so on.
So in fact, there is no real point in trying to get exceedingly high marks, as long as you are
confident that the other chaps will at some point fail to do so.
Then he quite calmly pointed at the very end of the class lists.

Paper One Paper Two Paper Three Total
Islington, F. St. J. (Caius) : 42 41 8 91 First
Deadwood, M. S. (Caius) : 31 28 33 92 First

Mr. Penrose was quite content to hand over the five guineas; after all, a wager is a very serious
matter.