Pyg

by Russell Potter

  3

  For a very long time, the cart remained Stationary, and gave at least the Comfort that no further Indignities were to be wrought upon us, but as the Sun declined outside, and the dark within Deepened, there came a series of most alarming Sounds. First, the Ramp, by which I had entered, was taken up, and stowed away; second, there was the clattering noise of a team of Horses being backed up and Hitched to the wagon. Similar yet fainter sounds in the Vicinity made it clear enough: the Fair was Over, and it was time now for the Purchasers to drive on with their Purchases. It was just at this Moment when, like an Angel’s Clarion call from out of a dismal Cloud, I heard my Benefactor’s voice raised aloud. I could not, of course, understand the Sense of his Utterances, but the distress in his tone was clear; a moment later, I heard with it the voice of Mr Francis Lloyd, attempting to calm and then command his Nephew to silence. This resulted only in his greater cries, and harsher Remonstrances from the Uncle, amidst which the voice of Mr Wilson was soon added to the Din.

  What the result of this Outcry might have been, I was never to know, for before it could conclude, Mr Wilson put the whip to his Horses and set off down the Lane at a Frightening rate. The voices faded into the distance, although it seemed to me that Sam’s, for a moment at least, was endeavouring to keep Pace. Heedless of such pleas, my new Owner drove the wagon onwards as though it were a Fire-engine racing to extinguish some horrific Blaze. It was a good while later when, his horses snorting with exhaustion, the Lane growing every moment rougher and (so it seemed) more twisted, he was obliged to slow his Progress and, as we soon came to a steep incline, had for a time to Halt. The Wretchedness felt by those within would be impossible to Overstate; we had been tossed about among the foetid Straw, and hurled both against each Other and the walls of our Enclosure, so severely that we were much Bruised, and nearly knocked Senseless. And yet even in this Wounded state, I felt a great leaping in my heart as I detected, just a few inches from where I lay, the unmistakable sound of a Boy breathing.

  I uttered no answering Cry, and gave no sign of Recognition, knowing without having to be told that it would be an Awful thing to disclose the presence of this youthful Stowaway to our infernal Conductor. And, indeed, it was not long before he once more cracked his Whip and sent us speeding over the hill and Down, with every living thing Careering about as though we were so much Laundry in a Mangle cranked by a Madman. It was nearly dawn, and I could just make out the singing of a Lark through the mire-spattered slats of my Confine, when we pulled into Mr Wilson’s premises. I thought, too, that I could hear my Breathing boy, but with the rattle and ring of our Ride in my ears, I could not be absolutely certain. The sound of our Owner speaking with one of his Hands, and the sound of the horses being unhitched and led to his Stables, gave us at least a partial Augury of Peace, and I suppose that I must almost instantly have fallen Asleep. My next recollection was of being awakened by the sound of the Ramp as it was once more attached to our Enclosure, as the dim glimmer of the afternoon Sun painted stripes upon the floor. Up we went, and over, and were Herded by men with long Poles into a Pen, which was, if such were possible, more Filthy than our previous habitation. The belief that Pigs, simply because they appreciate the cooling properties of some lovely clean Mud, are therefore inured to any sort of Refuse, or even love to Gambol in Faeces or Garbage, has such wide circulation among Humans that we could scarce Dissuade them from it if we Could speak—and Mr Wilson’s faith in this notion was stronger than Most. The stench that arose from the admixture of kitchen slops, manure and Urine suggested that this pen had not been cleaned out in many Months, if not Years.

  Never the less, foul as it was, it was (at least) roofed with the Sky rather than the sharp boards of the wagon, and as long as there was even the slightest Breeze, it was considerably more pleasant and Commodious. I looked about at once for my Benefactor, and hoped that he had been able to Drop from the wagon and secrete himself in some quiet corner of the Barn, or find concealment within a convenient Bale of Hay. Just at that moment, I was most Rudely brought out of my Study, when a vast bucket of Swill—consisting of mouldy barley mixed with water and rotted vegetables—was Dumped between (or rather Upon) my comrades and me, and we were at some pains to devour some portion of it, before it was hopelessly mixed with the Mire. Let the Human who imagines this is Agreeable to Pigs take even the smallest quantity of this Stuff in his Cup—and he would surely be compelled to Retch even before the Rim reached his Lips.

  Having finished what we could of this very Disagreeable meal, we all of us fell into a sort of Stupor, which for a time made me believe that our meal had been conjoined with some Opiate or other sleep-inducing Drug. I next woke in what seemed the stillest hour of the Night, with only the distant Threnody of autumnal insects, accompanied by the faint moan of the wind in the trees in my ears—or was it? Or could it be? It was. From just inside the large and ill-kept Barn that loomed over our Sty, I was certain I could detect the restless moaning of a Boy, who must surely be my Benefactor and my only Friend. But what could I do? Were I to break out of my confinement by Force, there would surely be a half-dozen men upon me in a moment, shouting and cursing, and Mr Wilson with his bamboo Cane not far behind. I could make no sound, either, that would not have brought the same results, even if by some means I could gain his Attention.

  Looking closely at the posts of the Fence that confined me, I observed that they had been fixed in the ground with a sort of very rough Cement, which contained a sort of greyish gravel. Quite a few bits of this had come loose, and were scattered about the base of each Post. With very little difficulty, by using my Snout, I was able to toss a few Skywards, whence they struck the corner of a small Window on the side of the Barn, making a very distinct sound. I repeated this gesture several Times, and was immensely pleased, a moment later, to see Sam’s face peep above the Window-sill, and Spy me out. How I wished I could have communicated my State, along with a word or two of Caution, to him! Yet despite this Lack, I could see the lad had his Senses about him, and only smiled quietly through the cracked glass, then lowered his Head out of Sight. I was greatly Relieved, that at last we had some Means of alerting one another, and even though I could hardly then Imagine how we might effect our Escape, I instantly believed—with every contraction of my beating Heart—that somehow we would manage it.

  The next morning, I was awakened by a fresh dousing of Swill, which the keeper—a shovel-faced lad of perhaps sixteen years—delighted in pouring over our heads so as to set us all in a Frenzy of feeding. I scarce partook of it, thinking only of how Soon I might be released from this my Bondage, and set upon my way in the World. And yet, only a Moment later, I beheld a thing that nearly Stopt the very Course of my Being! For there, down the lane in our direction, came a wagon whose sides were all whitewashed, driven by a tall man wearing a bloody Apron, a man whose function I immediately knew—if you will Pardon the Pun—in the most Visceral sense, was to Eviscerate us all. Apparently Mr Wilson, in every way a Middle-man in the great affair of buying and selling Livestock, had little Stomach for the Slaughter, or perhaps simply felt that Butchering was best left to Butchers. And so at once, quite Heedless of the risk, I tossed up a great hail of Gravel upon the Barn window, without—I tremble to relate—the least Result. My Benefactor slept, I could only surmise, unaware of this Imminent Sentence upon my Life, and I must Risk all to arouse him.

  There being no time to Consider other Alternatives, I began to leap and squeal at the very Top of my Voice, and to dash about my Pen as though I were in the final Fit of some awful distress; for at least, if I could not communicate my Situation, perhaps I could convince my new Owner that I was Mad, and therefore unfit for Human Consumption. The Butcher, however, paid no heed to this Demonstration, continuing along the gravel path to the great House, as though such things were all too Familiar in his trade, and soon disappearing behind the Gate. My outburst, however, finally had the Desired effect, of waking up young Sam from his straw-bed, and alerting him to th
e terrible Danger in which I stood.

  He had only a Moment to think what to do, and his Wits did not desert him. He ran over to the pen and quickly lifted the rude Latch—consisting only of a bar of wood held fast by a rusted Nail. I at once leapt out from my confinement, and together we hurried down the lane. I should here note that, the larger part of Mr Wilson’s farm being Pasture, a fence ran around its entire perimeter, with a Gate at the end of the Lane being the only place it could be Crossed. We made for this gate, my Benefactor somewhat unsteady on his feet (which was no Wonder, considering his journey here had been as Rough as ours, and I do not believe he had taken any Food), and myself labouring, unused as I was to the Exertions of any sort of Journey (having never had either occasion or ability to undertake one), and thus by the time we reached our Goal, we were both of us Exhausted.

  At that very moment, we saw the Butcher and Mr Wilson emerge from the front of the House; we had only a very brief interval before they would round the corner and come upon the opened Pen, about which my former animal comrades were now milling quite Freely—and then they would surely Spot us.

  Sam saw all this, same as me, and quickly lifted the latch of the Gate. I was already trotting down the next section of the lane, when I looked behind me and saw Sam had stayed behind; having closed the gate, he was tying a bit of twine about the latch, such that it could not easily be opened by our Pursuers. Already, I could hear Shouts, Mr Wilson’s chief among them, and it seemed to me I could almost feel the crack of his horrible Cane upon my sides. Having finished his work, Sam broke into a run, and soon caught up with me. Just ahead of us, he spotted a small Gap in the thick Hedge that ran along one side of the road, and he quickly dashed through, beckoning me to follow. With some difficulty—the legs of a Pig being shorter and less limber than those of a Boy—I managed to enter as well, and we found ourselves in a small copse of trees, where Silence hung heavy as the dead leaves upon the Ground, absorbing any sound almost before it could be made. Sam quickly realized that such a natural Bower, dark and off the beaten Way, would be a far safer resting place than any open Field, and that we might—with luck—remain unseen while our Pursuers, in the heat of their anger, passed on down the Road unawares. He quickly scooped up some leaves and twigs, and with a little effort, managed to Cover me almost entirely; this accomplished, he pulled a similar Blanket over himself, and lay down pressed as tightly as he could to the ground, and to me. A moment later, we heard the rush and clatter of a passing Wagon, whose Noise was too well known to me to Mistake—and then the delightful sound of its foul Spokes and Fellies rattling and rotating away into Nothing in the distance. We slept, then.

  4

  Having been so earnestly desirous of finding my way through the World, I now discovered that it was a far Vaster and more Inhospitable place than I could ever have Imagined. For the Animal, once Domesticated, it must ever be thus: they have been made a place beside Man, and given a purpose in life quite Contrary to that assigned them by Nature; their Existence is not even properly their Own. I soon discovered that I was even Less at home in this New Life than I had been my Last, and I held out little hope that this Disjointure within the order of things could ever be Mended. My Benefactor, of course, was as kindly and Protective as he could possibly be, obtaining wild roots and herbs for me to Eat, and making each night a Bed for me upon the Heather. And yet, despite his good Intentions, his small hands could hardly Gather anything approaching the quantity of Food to which I, a Prize Pig, had become accustomed; nor could I, having come from a Line that long ago had had its natural Talents bred out of it, manage any better for Myself.

  Looking back, it is Remarkable to me that we endured as long as we did. I had, of course, no notion of Numbers or Dates at that time, but I should say it was a Fortnight, and perhaps even a few days more, before we finally stumbled upon that Place which was, for a time at least, to be a sort of Haven for us both. We had, so far as we were able, kept off the High roads, following a crooked path across pasture, heath and marshland. Occasionally, when Sam was able, he would Hide me in a convenient place, then Nip across a farmer’s field and Glean a meagre meal for us both. It was late in the Year, and Winter would soon be coming on, which meant the pickings were Scarce, and our Situation daily grew more Perilous. I lost a good deal of the Weight I had so Famously acquired, and began, in Appearance at least, to resemble my Darker and Leaner ancestors. Sam, although never an especially Tidy lad, began to acquire such a Patina of dirt that you would have taken him for a Gypsy, or one of those boys who labour all day in a Coal-pit. We were indeed a Capital pair—the Wild Boy and the Wild Boar, we might well have been called—and our one comfort was that, if found, it would scarce be likely that anyone would Recognise us, or suspect our Origins.

  It was while we were in this Dismal state that we came upon a large country farm which, even from a Distance, looked to be a step up from the rest. It was not just the well-kept buildings and pastures, though these were certainly Picturesque, but rather the curious appearance of the Creatures who dwelt therein that captured our attention. The Horses, which we spied First, were most Odd in their bearing: they walked with a certain deliberate trot, much as animals that have been trained for Dressage, and yet their manners seemed entirely Natural, as though they were executing a Dance of their own Design. Some years after this, I read of the singular race of Houyhnhnms, as described by Dean Swift, and had I known of them before, I would have sworn these were They. Coming closer, we beheld several dogs that appeared to have the run of the Place and yet—again, in an uncannily Human sort of way—exhibited a curious sort of courtesy. When they passed, it seemed as though they did Bow to one another (that is, make a motion with their Heads not, as some delineate a dog’s hallo, to say ‘Bow Wow’), and they did Often rise up on their hind Quarters, and place their Paws upon a Rail or a Wall, standing in this posture for some Minutes on End. We were the more Amazed to see a great number of Cats, which appeared to dwell alongside the Dogs in perfect Harmony, as if there was no Reason in the World for any animosity between them.

  Such a place stirred in us great Wonder, as well as (I must admit) a modicum of Fear. Had it not been for the extreme Lateness of the Season, the pinch of Winter being already at our Heels—and for the great Emptiness in our Stomachs—I doubt that we would have hazarded to draw nearer. And yet, by a sort of strange Fascination, nearer and nearer did we draw, until at last we attracted the attention of several of the Dogs. These creatures did not, to our Amazement, bark at us or attempt to drive us away, but instead ran quickly back toward the main House, emerging a few moments later in the company of the most singular Man I had then, or have ever since, Encountered.

  This man—whose name, we would soon learn, was Mr Silas Bisset—seemed as much or even More at home among his Animal comrades as he would in any Human company. As he walked, he made a strange variety of ticking and clicking noises with his mouth, in response to which the dogs all came quite close to him, and trotted as if called to Heel. He whistled a curious tune and at once, as if summoned by their Maker, a great flurry of yellow Finches came and flew about his Head, with one almost Roosting inside the bald spot atop of it. After another whistle, they flew off, but then came a parade of Cats such as I have never seen before or since. These animals, I knew well enough even then, are most reluctant to come to anyone’s call, or hurry upon an errand other than their own—and yet here were at least a half-dozen of them, trotting along like Kittens after their Mother! As this strange confabulation of creatures drew near us, we could make out still one more Member of the Assembly—a white Mouse peeped at us from the man’s Pocket!

  At last this strange party came to a Halt, and we instantly did the same. The man smiled, bowed deeply, and began to address us in the most mellifluous and enchanting of tones. I could not understand his Speech, if by that one means the Words, but in the Tone of his Discourse there was such ease that I stood as if some strange Spell had been cast upon me. I was overcome by a desire to Please
this man, who was so Pleasant in himself, and who had such admirable Affinities with the Animal world. Sam, for his part, looked as dazed as I felt, and could hardly think how to reply. At length, he did speak, and it was simply to lay out our situation as Plainly as could be, communicating with words and signs our Weariness, the length of our Journey, and our great hunger. To this, the man replied with laughter, and further light words. At a gesture, he dismissed his entire entourage, which straightway dispersed about the grounds, and beckoned us within his singular Abode.

  I had not, at that time, been inside any Human Dwelling place, and so had nothing with which to compare the Wonders I beheld. Never the less, I was fairly Confident that no other House was made as His was, with an eye to both the Human and Animal worlds. There were, at the level of my Eye, a number of doors and archways, perfectly accommodating the average Quadruped, and I passed by similarly sized Alcoves, in which were placed bright Cushions and bowls of Food and Water. At the same time, at the Human altitude, there were Tables laden with fruit and fresh vegetables, Couches of rich silk with Velvet draperies, and numerous benches upholstered with soft cloth and scattered with Pillows. The whole place seemed to have been built with such Double business in mind, and all in such a sensible and Complete manner, that it would have seemed Absurd to imagine any Other.