THE GOLD VASE
It was not without protest on the part of the Professor that
Rensslaer drove Gay to Waterloo Park for the race for the Gold Vase,
and when, punctually to the minute, the latter appeared in Connaught
Square with the road wagon and pair with which he was subsequently to
win first prize in the "Road Rig Appointment Class" at Olympia, an
animated colloquy was going forward, in which Lossie Holden bore an
animated part.
"You and Frank can come down by train if you like," said Gay
defiantly, as through the window she saw the pair of almost
thoroughbred-looking seal brown mares, no white, with long tails and
manes. Then, with no more ado, she walked out, and took her place by
Rensslaer's side.
Mamie H. and Nancy Clancy, each with a record "low down in the
teens," were in the habit, whenever their heads were loosed, of going
along at a 2.30 gait, and on the way down to the races they went
together like one horse, without pulling or shying, or being afraid
of motors, passing everything on the road drawn by horses, and making
it lively even for the motors.
They were harnessed a little differently to what they are in the show
ring, as instead of collars, (which are obligatory in a pair horse
"road rig" class) they had breast or "Dutch" collars, such as are
used in Vienna for pair horse racing, with the object of giving
horses more freedom, also the reins were of the Viennese style,
which, instead of coming together at the coupling, have single
hand-pieces, continued double all the way, there being four reins in
the hand instead of two.
Rensslaer explained that the breast collars have terrets only on the
outside, so that the inside reins come back to the pad terrets, and
give a more direct pull on the reins than if the horses wore collars,
and Gay listened with all the eagerness of the novice, who has the
luck to get from an expert "inside" knowledge of which the
public--and even Carlton Mackrell--knew little.
Many murmurs of "There goes Rensslaer!" followed them on the road.
Some of the men wondered who was the uncommonly pretty girl with him,
others, again, recognised her as the somewhat remarkable Gay Lawless.
She wished that the drive might last indefinitely, but all too soon
it was over, the horses averaging sixteen miles an hour all the way
down from Town to the course.
The scene when they arrived was pretty enough, and the attendance
unusually good, as it was known that Rensslaer was driving--an
extraordinary circumstance that had raised the hopes of the Trotting
fraternity sky-high.
The race for the Gold Vase is a handicap in mile and a half heats,
the entries, sixty, being divided into six heats with ten horses in
each heat, with two semi-final heats for the twelve horses who have
been first and second in these preliminary heats, and a final heat
for the first and second horses in these semi-finals.
Gay's and Carlton Mackrell's horses were both at "scratch," but were
drawn to start in different heats, the first heat being with Carlton
Mackrell's horse scratch.
Ten horses were in this heat, the limit horse a raw-boned,
uneven-gaited trotter, ridden by a small boy in shirt sleeves, who,
the moment the pistol went off, bolted with the boy, and tried to
jump the rails, but was brought back, and finished the heat last,
amidst the jeers of the public.
Mackrell's horse trotted very fast and steadily, his toe weights
flashing in the sun, and without a slip or waver, without any urging,
overtook one horse after the other, had them all beaten before the
last turn, and jogged the winner in twenty lengths in front. Time: 3
minutes 30 seconds.
As Gay's horse had never been able to do a trial for the distance
faster than 3 minutes 36 seconds (all out), she felt very despondent,
much to the delight of Lossie, who had arrived with the ruffled
Professor in tow, and who hoped that Gay would get such a beating
that day as to sicken her of the sport for the remainder of her life.
Rensslaer and Carlton vied with each other in their attention to, and
care of, the downcast Gay, as they watched the next heat, in which
none of their party had horses. A hobbled pacer was the limit horse,
and bore the name of Birmingham Joe, although he looked a typical
common American, and English horses are not pacers; he won, after a
most desperate finish, by a short head in 3.36.
This horse, therefore, was equal to Gay's in speed, and with a start
of 200 yards over hers, would have a great advantage if he got into
the final, as he would not have to come through his horses, and
although he seemed very stiff and old, such horses often improve in
speed in later heats, if they are kept moving between heats. Most
likely, said Rensslaer, he had a low record in the States about "the
time of the flood," and might get some of that speed back when he got
warmed up, and worked the stiffness out of his old legs.
Between the second and third heats there was a curious exhibition of
the Guidless trotter, Gold Ring by Wild Brino, Mr. Wilkinson, the
owner, leading the old stallion out with a surcingle, overhead check,
and side reins, like a circus horse, then taking him fifty yards down
the stretch, turned him to face the starter, and walked away, the
horse standing like a statue.
At the report of the pistol he darted off on a strong trot, and not
cutting the grass corners, but keeping fairly on the track, he
trotted the full two laps for the miles in 2.24, mane and tail
flying, finishing with a spurt at his top speed.
As he passed the wire the bell was rung, when he at once pulled up,
turned slowly round, and jogged up to Mr. Wilkinson, who was waiting
for him.
"Isn't that _pretty_?" cried Gay warmly, and forgetting all her
nervous fears as they went over to look at the big chestnut stallion,
with very high action, that won the Richmond (Surrey) Horse Show Pace
and Action Class some years ago.
"I have a good many young trotters by him," said Rensslaer quietly to
Carlton; "he is so exceptionally well-shaped, and has a very low
record."
The third heat was won easily by a pony with a long start, under
saddle, in 3 minutes 42 seconds. (This pony got beaten in his
semi-final.)
Between the third and fourth heats there was much excitement when
Rensslaer drove Hettie C., the pacer (to establish a record for
pacing mares for England on a half-mile track), in a Faber speed
wagon. She was a thoroughbred-looking mare, but with rather a big
head, dark chestnut, and he had two men out with galloping
thorough-breds in jogging carts, one of whom stood his horse close to
the outside of the track near the judge's stand, whilst the other
cantered behind Hettie C. as she had a few preliminary brushes the
wrong way of the track to open her pipes. She came out on a trot,
and only got into her pace when she got beyond a 2.50 gait.
Hettie C. did not wear hobbles, or any of the rigging usually seen on
the third-rate pacers usually imported into England, but only quarter
and shin boots to protect her in case she stepped into an uneven bit
of footing. She carried the lightest of racing plates, and a rubber
bit and side check, and paced almost as upright as a trotter, with
just a flip to her fetlocks, and knees and hocks stiff.
When she was ready, she came down for her flying start towards
"Uncle," the galloper some four lengths behind her, but Rensslaer
shook his head, and "Uncle" did not drop the flag (for this start was
by flag, as the trial was on American lines), and Rensslaer gradually
stopped the mare, and jogged back on a trot.
The second time the mare was going to his satisfaction, and he nodded
for "Uncle" to drop the flag, and the trial had begun. The people
had been asked to keep quiet, so as not to upset the mare, and
nothing was heard but the "tapa, tapa" of the pacer's feet, and the
"tip-a-tip, tip-a-tip" of the galloper.
They got to the quarter mile in 32 seconds, the galloper stretching
out faster than a hunting gallop, but losing ground. Round the turn
his driver hit him, and he did all he knew, closing up the gap, and
getting to the mare's girths, the half being done in 1 minute 3
seconds. Here the second galloper joined in, and as they came to the
third quarter, the first galloper was done, and dropped back, the
second galloper taking his place alongside the mare. This quarter
was done rather slower, in 32½ seconds, the time for the three
quarters being 1 minute 35½ seconds, the mare beginning to tire on
the heavy, sandy track.
Both drivers of the gallopers beginning to shout, the mare made a
desperate spurt, and Rensslaer drove her out with the reins, not the
whip, and she finished (with the second galloper head and head with
her) in 31 seconds for the last quarter, making 2 minutes 6 seconds,
far and away the best record for England. The first galloper
cantered in behind, quite done.
There was great applause at this, the most sensational feature (so
far) of the day, and then came the fourth heat--the heat where Gay's
horse was in at scratch.
Her driver, a very good English one, manœuvred very well for a
start, and got off well, the horse in front of him starting badly, so
that he got clear of him at once, and sailed after the leaders, one
of which, a very small pony with a very long lead, went zigzagging
all over the track, so that every time he tried to pass it, the pony
got in his way. Finally, however, when the pair of them were in the
lead, it got into a bad break, and galloped under the wire, neck and
neck with Gay's horse (of course being disqualified), the latter
winning the heat in 3 minutes 40 seconds.
Gay's horse could have done the heat faster if he had not been so
interfered with by the pony, but this interference had taken a lot
out of him, and he seemed rather tired after the heat, and cooled out
badly.
The sixth heat was won by two lengths (of course no horse of her
party was in this) in 2.40 by "Our Tom" rather easily, and the winner
therefore looked capable of going faster in the finals (this was the
Trotter in the final heat).
Mackrell's horse was in the first semi-final heat, but not Gay's.
Mackrell got a wonderfully quick start, and got very soon up to the
leader, did not pass him, but kept just behind till they came into
the stretch, and then passed him, and won in a jog by a length in
3.35.
Although he had won by only a length, so as to not expose his horse's
speed too much, he had won so easily, that when the betting on the
final came, he was the favourite at almost any price, as he seemed to
be an absolute certainty.
Now came the second semi-final, Gay's horse at scratch. He got a
very bad start, being half turned round when Uncle "loosed off," and
he had a hard struggle to get up to the horse in front of him. As he
did so, he and that horse got up to the one in front of them (who had
made a standstill break), and Gay's horse being in the middle, his
sulky got crushed between the other two, and though he drew in front,
it was seen that his near tyre, the one on the outside of the turn,
had come off.
Gay drew in her breath sharply, but Rensslaer soon reassured her, for
with luck and a clever driver all was not yet lost.
The tyre had got jammed up in the axle fork, and also the wheel,
which could not revolve in consequence, and dragged along the ground,
but by trotting his hardest, the horse still kept gaining on the
leader, although the wooden rim of the wheel got worn through by the
friction on the track. As the horses came round the final turn,
Gay's horse got level with the leader, and after a desperate drive
won, the wheel just holding till the wire was passed, when
collapsing, the sulky turned over.
As it did so, the driver, seizing hold of the harness with his left
hand just above the crupper, lifted himself forward, and putting his
right hand on to the pad, vaulted on to the horse's back, and stopped
him.
Time: 3 minutes 37 seconds.
When the driver returned to the paddock, he was cheered by the crowd
for his pluck and skill, but Gay's horse was very exhausted, and all
of a shake, as the stuck wheel made a terrible handicap on him in the
race, he had also slightly cut his near hind fetlock with the broken
wire spokes.
The betting, which originally had been on Gay's horse, now, as I said
above, had veered round to Mackrell's; in fact the race was
considered as good as over.
When the time came for harnessing for the final, Rensslaer, who had
been looking after Gay's horse all the time, and found him in a very
bad state, went as a final desperate remedy to the refreshment bar,
bought a bottle of their best champagne, and at the risk of its being
considered doping, he drenched the horse with the liquor. The effect
in a few minutes was very marked; the horse brightened up, and seemed
almost himself again.
But the trouble was by no means over. In the bar Rensslaer presently
found, to his horror, that the driver of Gay's horse had been given
drinks to celebrate his plucky driving with the broken wheel, so
often, that the man was already dead-drunk, and of no earthly use to
drive.
Rapidly seeking out Gay, and drawing her aside, Rensslaer briefly
told her the state of affairs, and offered to drive for her, but like
lightning she leaped to the longed-for opportunity, and whispered
that if he would lend her his Faber speed wagon (in which he drove
Hettie C. in her trial pace against time earlier in the day) she
would drive the race herself.
Gay's horse was therefore harnessed to the speed wagon; she took her
place in it, and Rensslaer tucked her well in with a light rug.
But all this took time. The moment of the start for the final was
long past; in fact a stout young man had been shouting "Get on your
marks," in a voice like a bull for some time, when suddenly Gay
appeared on the track behind her horse, and after a moment's
stupefied silence, a deafening cheer rang out, succeeded by another,
and another.