Black Beauty Read online

  The best he can hope is to be put down by a vet.

  I used to notice the speed at which the butcher’s boy was made to go — 90 miles per hour. One day, we had to wait some time in St John’s Wood; we were actually waiting for St John. There was a butcher’s shop next door and, as we were standing, a butcher’s cart came dashing up at 100 miles per hour. The horse was hot, and much exhausted; he hung his head down, his legs hung down, his body hung down. The lad jumped out of the cart and the master came out of the shop and was much displeased when the lad landed on him.

  ‘How many times shall I tell you not to drive at 100 miles per hour?’

  ‘So far twenty, sir,’ said the lad.

  ‘You ruined the last horse and broke his wind, it smelled terrible, and you are going to ruin this in the same way. If you were not my own son, I would dismiss you on the spot.’ (His was another spot a foot in diameter.) ‘It is a disgrace to have a horse brought to the shop in a condition like that; you are liable to be taken up by the police for such driving, and if you are, you need not look to me for bail, for I have spoken to you till I am tired.’ During this speech, the boy had stood by, still standing on the spot, sullen and dogged. It wasn’t his fault.

  ‘You always say, “Now be quick; now look sharp!” and when I go to the houses, one wants a leg of mutton for an early dinner, and I must be back with it in a quarter of an hour.’

  Who ever thinks of a butcher? Some people do nothing but think of a butcher. In fact, there’s a Think of Butchers Society.

  There was a young costerboy who came up our street with sacks of potatoes and a gorilla. Apparently, some people love gorilla and chips.

  There was an old man, too, who used to come up our street with a little coal cart; he wore a coal-heaver’s hat and was black from the coal. Actually, he was Ugandan and they called him Ogu Amin; his father got rid of all the wogs in his country.

  42

  THE ELECTION

  Our cab was out on Election Day

  Politicians were trying to find their way

  Jerry wouldn’t let his cab be used

  For drunken voters to abuse

  He told them to go away

  And they’ve never been seen from that day.

  As we came into the yard one afternoon, Polly came out: ‘Jerry! I’ve had Mr B. here asking about your vote. He wants to hire your cab for the election.’

  ‘Well, Polly, I’m sorry but I don’t want to put up with half-drunken voters. It would be an insult to the horse, and I should hate to drive an insulted horse.’

  ‘I suppose you’ll vote for the gentleman?’

  ‘I shall not vote for him, Polly; you know what his trade is?’

  ‘Yes. He exports veal calves to the continent.’

  Every man must do what he thinks best for his country. Some did Barclay’s Bank and got away with it.

  On the morning before the election, Jeremiah was putting me into the shafts when Dolly came into the yard, sobbing and crying.

  ‘Why, Dolly, what is the matter?’

  ‘Those naughty boys have thrown rice pudding, peaches and cream and it is all over me, and they called me a little ragamuffin,’ she said, eating as much of it as she could before it slid off.

  ‘They called her a little blue ragamuffin father,’ said Harry, also covered in rice pudding, peaches and cream, and looking very angry. ‘But I have given it to them, they won’t insult my sister again. I killed them.’

  Jeremiah Barker kissed the child and said, ‘Run in to mother, my pet, and tell her I think you had better stay at home today and help her eat the rest of the rice pudding, peaches and cream.’

  Then, turning gravely to Harry:

  ‘My boy, I hope you will always kill anybody who offends your sister.’

  ‘Why, father, I thought blue was for Liberty.’

  ‘My boy, Liberty does not come from colours; they only show party, and all the liberty you can get out of them is liberty to get drunk and throw rice pudding, peaches and cream at each other.’

  ‘Oh, father, you are laughing.’

  ‘No, Harry, I am serious; I’m only laughing to camouflage me being serious.’

  At that moment, he was hit full in the face with rice pudding, peaches and cream.

  43

  A FRIEND IN NEED

  One day in the City

  Jerry saw a woman and took pity

  She was in the city all alone

  She had a child weighing nineteen stone

  She said she had to be at St Thomas by midday

  So Jerry took her right away

  From her, he refused to take her fare

  The bloody fool, she was a millionaire.

  At last came election day; there was no lack of work for my master and me. First came a stout puffy gentleman with a carpet bag; he wanted to go to the Bishopsgate Station, so we let him; then we were called by a party who wished to go to the Regent’s Park, so we let them. We waited in a side street where a timid, anxious old lady was waiting to be taken to the bank, which she held up. We had to wait and take her back (she robbed it again), and just as we had set her down, a red-faced gentleman with a handful of papers came running up, out of breath. Before Jeremiah could get down, he had opened the door, popped himself in, and called out, ‘Bow Street Police Station, quick!’ So off we went with him, where he was arrested.

  Then we saw a poor young woman carrying a heavy child — it weighed nineteen stone — coming along the street. She was looking this way, and that way, like she was watching a tennis match, and seemed quite bewildered. Presently, she made her way up to Jeremiah and asked if he could tell her the way to St Thomas’s Hospital, and how far it was to get there. She had got an order for the hospital, for her little nineteen stone boy. The child was crying with a feeble pining cry.

  ‘Poor little fellow!’ she said, ‘he suffers a deal of pain; he is four years old and can’t walk any more than a baby; but the doctor said if I could get him into the hospital, he might get well.’

  ‘Please, get in our cab and I’ll drive you safe to the hospital: don’t you see the rain is coming on?’

  ‘No sir, no, I can’t do that, thank you. I have only just money enough to get back with: please tell me the way.’

  ‘Look you here, missis,’ said Jeremiah, ‘I’ve got a wife and dear children at home, and I know a father’s feelings; in fact I felt my wife this morning; now get you into that cab and I’ll run you there for nothing.’

  ‘Heaven bless you!’ said the woman, bursting into tears.

  ‘There, there, cheer up, my dear, I’ll soon take you there; let me put you inside.’

  As Jerry went to open the door, two men, with colours in their hats and button-holes, ran up, calling out, ‘Cab!’

  ‘Engaged,’ said Jeremiah, but one of the men, pushing past the woman, sprang into the cab, followed by the other. Jeremiah looked as stern as a policeman: ‘This cab is already engaged, gentlemen, by that lady.’

  ‘Lady!’ said one of them. ‘Oh, she can wait: our business is very important; we import rice pudding, peaches and cream.’

  ‘All right, gentlemen, pray stay.’

  He soon got rid of them with his pistol; he blew out their brains.

  Jeremiah walked up to the young woman, who had just finished counting a thousand gold sovereigns. After this little stoppage we were soon on our way to the hospital and when there, Jeremiah helped the young woman out.

  ‘Thank you a thousand times. I’ve never travelled with dead men before,’ she said. ‘I could never have got here alone.’

  ‘You’re kindly welcome, and I hope the dear nineteen stone child will soon be better; but for him, we would have got here faster.’

  The rain was now coming down fast, 100 miles per hour, and just as we were leaving the hospital the door opened again, and the porter called out, ‘Cab!’ We stopped, and a lady came down the steps.

  She put her veil back and said, ‘Barker! Jeremiah Barker! Is it you? I am very g
lad to find you here; you are just the friend I want, for it is very difficult to get a cab in this part of London today.’

  ‘I shall be proud to serve you, ma’am; I am right glad I happened to be here,’ he grovelled, ‘where may I take you ma’am?’

  He had no idea who she was.

  ‘To the Paddington Station, and then if we are in good time, as I think we shall be, you shall tell me all about Polly and the children.’

  We got to the station in good time and, being under shelter, the lady stood a good while talking. Jeremiah told her about the rice pudding and peaches and cream attack. I found she had been Polly’s mistress.

  ‘How do you find the cab work suits you in winter? I know Polly was rather anxious about you last year.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, she was; I had a bad cough that followed me up quite into the warm weather, and when I am kept out late, she does worry herself a good deal.’

  ‘Well, Barker,’ she said, ‘it would be a great pity that you should seriously risk your health in this work, not only for your own, but also for Polly and the children’s sake: there are many places where good drivers or good grooms are wanted; and if ever you think you ought to give up this cab work, let me know.’ She put something into his hand saying, ‘There is five shillings each for the two children; Polly will know how to spend it.’

  He kissed her shoes, and seemed much pleased, and, turning out of the station, we at last reached home, and I, at least, was tired.

  44

  OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR

  Oh, terrible crash with a brewer’s dray

  It happened on a clear sunny day

  It had crashed into a cab horse

  And injured it of course

  Old Captain was the victim of the crash

  He came out in a nervous rash

  The brewer had to pay compensation to Captain’s master

  For the brewer, it was a financial disaster.

  Captain and Jeremiah Barker had taken a party to the great railway station over London Bridge; the cab was full; it was the Labour Party; and, coming back, the Conservative Party mined the train.

  Somewhere between the Bridge and the Monument, Jeremiah saw a brewer’s dray coming along, drawn by two powerful horses. The drayman was lashing his horses with his heavy whip; they started off at a furious rate, at 100 miles per hour; the man had no control over them, and the street was full of traffic; they were now travelling at 102 miles per hour; one young girl was knocked down and run over, and the next moment they dashed up against our cab; both the wheels were torn off, the cab was thrown over and the Labour Party were thrown out. Captain was dragged down, the shafts splintered, and one of them ran into his backside. My master, too, was thrown, but was only bruised; nobody could tell how he escaped; he always said ’twas a miracle.

  When poor Captain was got up, Jerry led him home gently, and a sad sight it was to see the blood soaking into his white coat; they were catching it in a bucket and pouring it back in the hole it came out, so they plugged the leak with a cork. The drayman was proved to be very drunk, and was fined ten pounds and asked for time to pay. While he was waiting to pay, they hung him, and the brewer had to pay damages to our master. But there was no one to pay damages to poor Captain.

  The farrier did the best he could to ease his pain and make him comfortable; they put him up at the Savoy. The fly had to be mended, and for several days I did not go out, and Jeremiah earned nothing. The first time we went to the stand after the accident, the Governor came up to hear how Captain was.

  ‘He’ll never get over it,’ said Jerry, ‘at least not for my work, so the farrier said this morning. He says he may do for carting and that sort of work. If there’s one devil that I should like to see in the bottomless pit more than another, it’s the drink devil.’

  ‘I say,’ said the Governor, ‘I’m not so abstemious as you are, more shame for me.’

  ‘Well,’ said Jeremiah, ‘why don’t you cut with it, Governor? You are too good a man to be the slave to the drink.’

  ‘I’m a great fool, Jerry; but I tried once for two days, and I thought I should have died: to stop me dying, I drank a bottle of whisky; how did you do it?’

  ‘I had hard work at it for several weeks; you see, I never did get drunk, but I found that I was not my own master, and that when the craving came on, I’d take off all my clothes and run a mile. I had to say over and over to myself, “Give up the drink or lose your soul.” Then off I’d run another nude mile. But, thanks be to God and my dear wife, my chains were broken, and now for ten years I have not tasted a drop. But just in case, I still run a mile in the nude. Now I wish I’d never given up!’

  ‘I’ve a great mind to try it,’ said the Governor, ‘for ’tis a poor thing not to be one’s own master.’ So off he went on a run for a mile in the nude.

  At first, Captain seemed to do well, but he was a very old horse, and it was only his wonderful constitution, and his convalescence at the Savoy, that kept him up at the cab-work so long; now he broke down and had to be towed away. The farrier said he might mend up enough to sell for a few pounds, but Jeremiah said, ‘no!’ and he thought the kindest thing he could do for the fine old fellow would be to put a bullet through his head; he would make jolly good cat food.

  The day after this was decided, Harry took me to the forge for some new shoes; when I returned Captain was gone, but on the farrier’s shelf was sixty tins of cat food. He would have been pleased he could make some pussy cat happy.

  Jeremiah had now to look out for another horse, and first he looked out the window but couldn’t see one. He stood on the cliffs of Dover looking through a telescope for one. He soon heard of one through an acquaintance who was under-groom in a nobleman’s stables; he put his ear to the acquaintance and through him, sure enough, he could hear a valuable young horse. But he had smashed into another carriage, flung his lordship out, and the coachman had orders to look round — he already looked round through over eating — and sell him as well as he could.

  ‘I can do with high spirits,’ said Jeremiah Barker, ‘as long as he doesn’t kick me in the balls.’

  ‘He tries to, but he misses,’ said the man.

  Our governor (the coachman, I mean) had him harnessed in as tight and strong as he could; his four legs were tied together. My belief is, that is what caused the accident.

  The next day, Hotspur came home; he was a fine brown horse.

  ‘Hello Hotspur,’ I said.

  The first night, he was very restless; instead of lying down, he kept jerking his halter; surely he would go blind. However, the next day, after five or six hours in the cab, he came in quiet and sensible; the cabman had gained a good horse. He had cost Jeremiah nine pounds, and he had paid cash.

  Hotspur thought it a great come down to be a cab-horse, and disguised himself as a donkey. In fact, he settled in well, and master liked him very much, and discarded his donkey disguise.

  45

  JERRY’S NEW YEAR

  It was one New Year’s day

  Freezing weather was here to stay

  We had a late pickup, eleven o’clock

  We waited till it was two of the clock

  Our customers came out and pee’d against a tree

  By then, it was half past three

  When they didn’t want to go any more

  It was half past bloody four

  They said they hadn’t the fare

  So we didn’t take them anywhere.

  Christmas and the New Year are very merry times for some people to get pissed; but for cabmen and cabmen’s horses it is no holiday. There are so many big parties, and big balls. Sometimes driver and horse have to wait for hours in the rain or frost, shivering with cold, and whilst the merry people within are dancing away to the music, cabmen outside are dying of hypothermia. I saw a horse standing till his legs got stiff with cold, ice and rheumatism; think of horses standing till their legs get stiff with cold, ice and rheumatism.

  I had most
of the evening work now, as I was well accustomed to standing covered in ice, and Jeremiah was also more afraid of Hotspur taking cold — he didn’t give a fuck about me. We had a great deal of late work in the Christmas week, and Jeremiah’s cough was bad; he gobbed up huge things that looked like breaking eggs when they hit the pavement; but however late we were, Polly sat up for him with a meat pie, and came out with the lantern so he could see it.

  On the evening of the New Year, we had to take two gentlemen to a house in the West End. We were told to come again at eleven. ‘But,’ said one of them, ‘as it is a card party, you may have to wait a few minutes, but don’t be late.’

  As the clock struck eleven we were at the door, for Jerry was always punctual. The clock chimed the quarters — one, two, three, and then struck twelve, but the door did not open.

  The wind had been very changeable, with squalls of rain during the day, but now it came on a sharp driving sleet, which seemed to come all the way round; it was very cold.

  At a quarter past one, the door opened and the two gentlemen came out; they chipped at Jeremiah with ice picks till he was free, then told him where to drive, which was nearly two miles away. When the men got out, they never said they were sorry to have kept us waiting, but were angry at the charge. They had to pay for the two hours and a quarter waiting; but it was hard-earned money to Jeremiah.

  At last we got home. He could hardly speak and I could hardly neigh; his cough was dreadful and he was gobbing great egg yolks. Polly opened the door with a meat pie and held the lantern for him.

  ‘Get Jack something warm, then boil a pot of gruel, then put me in it.’

  This was said in a hoarse whisper (I too had a horse whisper); he could hardly get his breath. Polly brought me a warm mash and spread it over my frozen bed. That made me comfortable, and then they locked the door.