“Away, away, my steed and I,
Upon the pinions of the wind,
All human dwellings left behind,
We sped like meteors through the sky,
With glossy skin and dripping mane,
And reeling limbs, and reeking flank,
The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain
Up the repelling bank.
We gained the top, a boundless plain
Spreads onward.
My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore,
And throbbed awhile, then beat no more,
The sky spun like a mighty wheel,
And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes,
Which saw no farther.”
_Mazeppa_.
OUT of consideration for the excitable disposition of Mad Bess we took
our way along the least bustling streets we could select; directing our
course towards the outskirts of the town, behind which extended for some
miles a ~40~~portion of the range of hills known as the South Downs,
over the smooth green turf of which we promised ourselves a canter. As
we rode along Coleman questioned me as to what could have passed while
he was seeing Punch saddled, to make me determine to ride the chestnut
mare, whose vicious disposition was, he informed me, so well known, that
not only would no one ride her who could help it, but that Snaffles, who
was most anxious to get rid of her, had not as yet been able to find
a purchaser. In reply to this I gave him a short account of what had
occurred, adding my more than suspicion that the whole matter had been
arranged by Cumberland, in which notion he entirely agreed with me.
“I was afraid of something of this sort, when I said I was sorry you had
made that remark about cheating to him this morning--you see, he would
no doubt suppose you had heard the particulars of his gambling affair,
and meant to insult him by what you said, and he has done this out of
revenge. Oh, how I wish we were safely at home again; shall we turn back
now?”
“Not for the world,” said I--“you will find, when you know me better,
that when once I have undertaken a thing, I _will_ go through with
it--difficulties only make me more determined.”
“Ah!” said Coleman, “you should get somebody to write a book about
you, that is the kind of disposition they always give to the heroes of
novels, the sort of character that will go and run his head against a
brick wall to prove that it is the harder and thicker of the two--they
knock out their brains though, sometimes, in doing it, when they happen
to have any--it is very pretty to read about, splendid in theory, but I
much doubt its acting so well if you come to put it in practice.”
“You may laugh at me, if you please,” replied I; “but depend upon it,
a man of energy and determination will undertake great deeds, aye, and
perform them too, which your prudent, cautious character would have
considered impossibilities.”
“Perhaps it may be so,” was the reply; “I know I am not the sort of
stuff they cut heroes out of--woa, Punch! steady, old boy; holloa, what
ails him? this is getting serious.”
During this conversation we had been gradually leaving the town behind
us and approaching the downs, and had arrived at a point where the road
became a mere cart-track, and the open country lay spread for
miles before us. Our two steeds, which had up to the present time
~41~~conducted themselves with the greatest propriety, now began to show
signs of excitement, and, as the fresh air from the downs blew against
their nostrils, they tossed their heads, snorted, and exchanged the
quiet jog-trot pace at which we had been proceeding, for a dancing,
sidelong motion, which somewhat disturbed Coleman's equanimity, and
elicited from him the expressions above recorded. The road at the same
time becoming uneven and full of ruts, we agreed to turn our horses'
heads, and quit it for the more tempting pathway afforded by the
green-sward. No sooner, however, did Punch feel the change from the
hard road to the soft elastic footing of the turf, than he proceeded to
demonstrate his happiness by slightly elevating his heels and popping
his head down between his forelegs, thereby jerking the rein loose in
Coleman's hand; and, perceiving that his rider (who was fully employed
in grasping the pommel of his saddle in order to preserve his seat)
made no effort to check his vivacity, he indulged his high spirits still
further by setting off at a brisk canter.
“Pull him in,” cried I, “you'll have him run away with you; pull at
him.”
Whether my advice was acted upon or not I was unable to observe, as
my whole attention was demanded by Mad Bess, who appeared at length
resolved to justify the propriety of her appellation. Holding her in by
means of the snaffle alone had been quite as much as I had been able to
accomplish during the last ten minutes, and this escapade on the part of
Punch brought the matter to a crisis. I must either allow her to follow
him, i.e., to run away, or use the curb to prevent it. Seating myself,
therefore, as firmly as I could, and gripping the saddle tightly with my
knees, I took up the curb rein, which till now had been hanging loosely
on the mare's neck, and gradually tightened it. This did not, for a
moment, seem to produce any effect, but as soon as I drew the rein
sufficiently tight to check her speed, she stopped short, and shook
her head angrily. I attempted gently to urge her on--not a step except
backwards would she stir--at length in despair I touched her slightly
with the spur, and then “the fiend within her woke,” and proceeded to
make up for lost time with a vengeance. The moment the mare felt the
spur she reared until she stood perfectly erect, and fought the air with
her forelegs. Upon this I slackened the rein, and, striking her over the
ears with my riding-whip, brought her down again;--no sooner, however,
had her forefeet touched the ground than she gave ~42~~two or three
violent plunges, which nearly succeeded in unseating me, jerked down her
head so suddenly as to loosen the reins from my grasp, kicked viciously
several times, and, seizing the cheek of the bit between her teeth so
as to render it utterly useless (evidently an old trick of hers), sprang
forward at a wild gallop. The pace at which we were going soon brought
us alongside of Punch, who, having thoroughly mastered his rider,
considered it highly improper that any steed should imagine itself able
to pass him, and therefore proceeded to emulate the pace of Mad Bess.
Thereupon a short but very spirited race ensued, the cob's pluck
enabling him to keep neck and neck for a few yards; but the mare was
going at racing speed, and the length of her stride soon began to tell;
Punch, too, showed signs of having nearly had enough of it. I therefore
shouted to Coleman as we were leaving them: “Keep his head up hill, and
you'll be able to pull him in directly”. His answer was inaudible, but
when I turned my head two or three minutes afterwards I was glad to see
that he had followed my advice with complete success--Punch was standing
still, about half a mile off, while his rider was apparently watching my
course with looks of horror. All anxiety on his account being thus at
an end, I proceeded to take as calm a view of my own situation as
circumstances would allow, in order to decide on the best means of
extricating myself therefrom. We had reached the top of the first range
of hills I have described, and were now tearing at a fearful rate down
the descent on the opposite side. It was clear that the mare could not
keep up the pace at which she was going for any length of time: still
she was in first-rate racing condition, not an ounce of superfluous
flesh about her, and, though she must have gone more than two miles
already, she appeared as fresh as when we started. I therefore cast my
eyes around in search of some obstacle which might check her speed. The
slope down which we were proceeding extended for about a mile before us,
after which the ground again began to rise. In the valley between the
two hills was a small piece of cultivated land, enclosed (as is usual in
the district I am describing) within a low wall, built of flint-stones
from the beach. Towards this I determined to guide the mare as well as
I was able, in the hope that she would refuse the leap, in which case
I imagined I might pull her in. The pace at which we were going soon
brought us near the spot, when I was glad to perceive that the wall was
a more formidable obstacle than I had at first imagined, being fully
six feet high, with a ditch in ~43~~front of it. I therefore selected a
place where the ditch seemed widest, got her head up by sawing her mouth
with the snaffle, and put her fairly at it. No sooner did she perceive
the obstacles before her than, slightly moderating her pace, she
appeared to collect herself, gathered her legs well under her, and,
rushing forward, cleared wall, ditch, and at least seven feet of ground
beyond, with a leap like a deer, alighting safely with me on her back on
the opposite side, where she continued her course with unabated vigour.
We had crossed the field (a wheat stubble) ere I had recovered from my
astonishment at finding myself safe, after such a leap as I had most
assuredly never dreamt of taking. Fortunately there was a low gate on
the farther side, towards which I guided the mare, for though I could
not check, I was in some measure able to direct, her course. This time,
however, she either did not see the impediment in her way, or despised
it, as, without abating her speed, she literally rushed through the
gate, snapping into shivers with her chest the upper bar, which was
luckily rotten, and clearing the lower ones in her stride. The blow,
and the splintered wood flying about her ears, appeared to frighten
her afresh, and she tore up the opposite ascent, which was longer and
steeper than the last, like a mad creature. I was glad to perceive,
however, that the pace at which she had come, and the distance (which
must have been several miles), were beginning to tell--her glossy coat
was stained with sweat and dust, while her breath, drawn with short
and laboured sobs, her heaving flanks, and the tremulous motion of
her limbs, afforded convincing proofs that the struggle could not be
protracted much longer. Still she continued to hold the bit between her
teeth as firmly as though it were in a vice, rendering any attempt to
pull her in utterly futile. We had now reached the crest of the hill,
when I was not best pleased to perceive that the descent on the
other side was much more precipitous than any I had yet met with. I
endeavoured, therefore, to pull her head round, thinking it would be
best to try and retrace our steps, but I soon found that it was useless
to attempt it. The mare had now become wholly unmanageable; I could not
guide her in the slightest decree; and, though she was evidently getting
more and more exhausted, she still continued to gallop madly forwards,
as though some demon had taken possession of her, and was urging her
on to our common destruction. As we proceeded down the hill our speed
increased from the force of gravitation, till we actually seemed to
~44~~fly--the wind appeared to shriek as it rushed past my ears, while,
from the rapidity with which we were moving, the ground seemed to glide
from under us, till my head reeled so giddily that I was afraid I should
fall from the saddle.
[Illustration: page44 Mad Bess]
We had proceeded about half way down the descent when, on passing one
or two stunted bushes which had concealed the ground beyond, I saw, oh,
horror of horrors! what appeared to be the mouth of an old chalk-pit,
stretching dark and unfathomable right across our path, about 300 yards
before us. The mare perceives it when too late, attempts to stop, but
from the impetus with which she is going is unable to do so. Another
moment, and we shall be over the brink! With the energy of despair I
lifted her with the rein with both hands, and drove the spurs madly into
her flanks;--she rose to the leap, there was a bound! a sensation of
flying through the air! a crash! and I found myself stretched in safety
on the turf beyond, and Mad Bess lying, panting, but uninjured beside
me.
To spring upon my feet, and seize the bridle of the mare, who had also
by this time recovered her footing, was the work of a moment. I then
proceeded to look around, in order to gain a more clear idea of the
situation in which I was placed, in the hope of discovering the easiest
method of extricating myself from it. Close behind me lay the chalk-pit,
and, as I gazed down its rugged sides, overgrown with brambles and rank
weeds, I shuddered to think of the probable fate from which I had been
so almost miraculously preserved, and turned away with a heartfelt
expression of thanksgiving to Him who had mercifully decreed that the
thread of my young life should not be snapped in so sudden and fearful
a manner. Straight before me the descent became almost suddenly
precipitous, but a little to the right I perceived a sort of
sheep-track, winding downwards round the side of the hill. It was a
self-evident fact that this must lead somewhere, and, as all places were
alike to me, so that they contained any human beings who were able and
willing to direct me towards Helmstone, I determined to follow it. After
walking about half a mile, Mad Bess (with her ears drooping, and her
nose nearly touching the ground) following me as quietly as a dog, I was
rejoiced by the sight of curling smoke, and, on turning a corner, I
came suddenly upon a little village green, around which some half dozen
cottages were scattered at irregular distances. I directed my steps
towards one of these, before which a ~45~~crazy sign, rendered by age
and exposure to the weather as delightfully vague and unintelligible
as though it had come fresh from the brush of Turner himself, hung
picturesquely from the branch of an old oak.
The sound of horse's feet attracted the attention of an elderly man, who
appeared to combine in his single person the offices of ostler, waiter,
and boots, and who, as soon as he became aware of my necessities,
proceeded to fulfil the duties of these various situations with the
greatest alacrity. First (as of the most importance in his eyes) he
rubbed down Mad Bess, and administered some refreshment to her in the
shape of hay and water; then he brought me a glass of ale, declaring it
would do me good (in which, by the way, he was not far from right). He
then brushed from my coat certain stains which I had contracted in my
fall, and finally told me my way to Helmstone. I now remounted Mad
Bess, who, though much refreshed by the hay and water, still continued
perfectly quiet and tractable; and, setting off at a moderate trot,
reached the town, after riding about eight miles, without any further
adventure, in rather less than an hour.
As I entered the street in which Snaffles' stables were situated I
perceived Coleman and Lawless standing at the entrance of the yard,
evidently awaiting my arrival.
When I got near them Coleman sprang eagerly forward to meet me,
saying:--
“How jolly glad I am to see you safe again, old fellow! I was so
frightened about you. How did you manage to stop her?”
“Why, Fairlegh, I had no idea you were such a rider,” exclaimed Lawless;
“I made up my mind you would break your neck, and old Sam be minus a
pupil, when I heard you were gone out on that mare. You have taken the
devil out of her somehow, and no mistake; she's as quiet as a lamb,”
added he, patting her.
“You were very near being right,” replied I; “she did her best to break
my neck and her own too, I can assure you”
I then proceeded to relate my adventures, to which both Lawless and
Coleman listened with great attention; the former interrupting me every
now and then with various expressions of commendation, and when I had
ended he shook me warmly by the hand, saying:--
“I give you great credit; you behaved in a very plucky manner all
through; I didn't think you had it in you; 'pon my word, I didn't. I
shall just tell Cumberland and ~46~~Snaffles a bit of my mind, too.
Here, Snaffles, you confounded old humbug, where are you?”
“Oh, don't say anything to him,” said I; “it's never worth while being
angry with people of that kind; besides, Cumberland made him do it.”
“That does not signify; he knew the danger to which he was exposing you,
perhaps better than Cumberland did. He had no business to do it, and
I'll make him beg your pardon before we leave this yard. Here, you
ostler fellow, where's your master?” shouted Lawless, as he turned into
the yard, where I soon heard the loud tones of his voice engaged in
angry colloquy with Snaffles, whose replies were inaudible.
In a short time the latter approached the spot where I was standing, and
began a very long and humble apology, saying that he should never have
thought of giving me the mare if he had not seen at a glance that I
was a first-rate rider, and much more to the same purpose, when Lawless
interrupted him with:--
“There, cut it short; Mr. Fairlegh does not want any more of your
blarney; and mind, if anything of the sort occurs again, I shall hire my
horses somewhere else, and take care to let all my friends know why I do
so. Now, let's be off; it's getting near dinner-time.”
So saying, he turned to leave the yard, a movement which, as soon as
I had found my friend James, returned his spurs, and given him the
promised half-crown, I proceeded to imitate: and that ended the episode
of Mad Bess.