The Quickening of Tom Turnpike (The Talltrees Trilogy) by W. E. Mann Page B

This news
raised a unanimous groan and some scowling glances in our direction.  But this
didn’t concern me.  I was far more disturbed by Wilbraham’s other announcement: 
Two more boys taken ill, both First Formers.
    I
looked over to where Colonel Barrington sat between Ludendorff and Saracen. 
His face was a cruelly expressionless mask.  I felt anger and hatred surging
inside me.  How could anyone be so evil?
    Perhaps
I should tell someone about what we had heard in the Hidden Library, someone
like Wilbraham or maybe Mr. English or Mr. Caratacus?  But no, I realised, that
would be really stupid.  If I was right in thinking that Barrington was
carrying out experiments on boys for the Party, that would mean that his orders
would have come from high up.  Freddie and I would have to keep it to ourselves
for now.  Anyway, we would need hard evidence, and we had none.  And could we
really trust anyone at all, even Caratacus?  If Barrington really was doing
something under orders, how could we know that there weren’t others involved
too?
    After
Wilbraham’s usual assurance that the epidemic would soon end, he introduced
Doctor Boateng.  “This morning, boys, we have an unusual treat for you.  Doctor
Boateng is an Honorary Aryan who is visiting us from the Ethnology Laboratories
in Frankfurt.  He will be talking to us this morning about some of the more
outlandish cultures of the, er... Inferior Races.”
    Doctor
Boateng stepped up to the lectern.  This was the first time I had really seen
him clearly.  He was a tall and well-built man, but he looked tired, very tired. 
His eyes were bloodshot and his brow was deeply furrowed.
    Most
boys shifted in their seats, as if the anticipation of prolonged boredom had
already made them uncomfortable.  But, as soon as Doctor Boateng began to
speak, I knew that it would be a whole lot more interesting than it sounded.
     “Can
anyone tell me,” he asked with his deep, hoarse tone, “what is the Vodun ?”
    There
was no reply.  Boateng left us for a few moments with an evasive silence
interrupted only by distracted shuffling and shrugging.  Freddie, sitting next
to me, had already decided that he was bored and so was fiddling with a ball of
Silly Putty which he had detached from the inside of the pocket of his shorts. 
But it occurred to me that this was not the first time that I had heard the
word “Vodun”:  It was one of the strange words Doctor Boateng had used during
his argument with Colonel Barrington in the Hidden Library.  There must be some
kind of connection between this “Vodun” thing and whatever it was that
Barrington was planning.
    “Okay,
okay, perhaps I am being unfair,” continued Boateng.  “Let me pose my question
differently:  Can anyone tell me what is Voodoo ?”
    Well
this certainly grasped everyone’s attention.  Freddie hurriedly stuffed his Silly
Putty back into his pocket and looked up, open-mouthed.
    “Anyone? 
Ah, yes.”  He pointed to Reggie.
    “It’s
black magic, isn’t it, Sir?”  Reggie asked.  A handful of First Formers
tittered.
    “Black
magic indeed!  Anyone else?”
    “Isn’t
it a cult where they stick pins into dolls?” asked a Fifth Former to more
general laughter.
    “Ah
yes, of course.  Pins in dolls,” repeated Doctor Boateng.  “Any other suggestions? 
Yes?”
    It
was Pontevecchio.  “It’s a West Indian religion, Sir,” he stated confidently.
    “Aha! 
We have an excellent theologian in the room!  Well done, young man!  But does
anyone know how Voodoo got to the West Indies?”
    After
a few moments, Doctor Boateng slotted a slide into the projector and an image appeared
on the wall behind him.  A drawing of a ship with two very large sails.  There
was some writing underneath the image, but it was impossible to make out.  The
silence continued and another image replaced this one.  It looked like a black
and white photo of the inside of a butcher’s shop.  There were a couple