A Hero of Romance

by Richard Marsh

  Chapter XI

  THE ORIGINAL BADGER

  As Mr. Bankes spoke, Mary Anne dashed over the little bridge whichspans the Mole, and in another second they were passing through EastMolesey. Nothing was said as they raced through the devious villagestreet. The world in East Molesey was just beginning to think ofwaking up. A few labourers were visible, on their road to work. Whenthey reached the river, some of the watermen were preparing theirboats, putting them ship-shape for the day, and on Tagg's Island therewere signs of life.

  Over Hampton Court Bridge flew Mary Anne; past the barracks, wherethere were more signs of life, and where Hussars were recommencing theslightly monotonous routine of a warrior's life, and then the mare wasbrought to a sudden standstill at the corner of the green.

  "The parting of the ways--you go yours, and I go mine, and I ratherreckon, young one, it won't be long before you wish there'd been noparting, and we'd both rolled on together. Which way are you going toLondon?"

  "I thought about going through Kingston."

  "All right, you can either go through Bushy Park here, or you can goKingston way. But don't let me say a word about the road you go,especially as it don't seem to me to matter which it is--round by theNorth Pole and Timbuctoo for all I care, for you're in no sort ofhurry, and all you want is to get there in the end."

  "Can't I get to Kingston by the river?"

  "Certainly. You go through the barrack yard there, and through thelittle gate which you'll see over at the end on your right, and you'llbe on the towing-path. And then you've only got to follow your noseand you'll get to Kingston Bridge, and there you are. The nearest isby Frog's Walk here, along by the walls, but please yourself."

  "I'd sooner go by the river."

  "All right."

  Mr. Bankes put his hand into his trousers pocket, and when he pulledit out it was full of money.

  "Look here, it seems that I've had a hand in this little scrape,though I'd no more idea you'd swallow every word of what I said than Ihad of flying. You're about as fine a bunch of greens as ever Iencountered, and that's the truth. But, anyhow, I had a hand, and asI'm a partner in the spree I'm not going to sort you all the kicks andcollar all the halfpence. And I tell you"--Mr. Bankes raised his voiceto a very loud key, as though Bailey was arguing the point instead ofsitting perfectly still--"I tell you that for a boy like you to cutand run with the sum of one and fivepence in his pocket is a thing I'mnot going to stand. No, not on any account, so hold out your hand, youleather-headed noodle, and pocket this."

  Bertie held out his hand, Mr. Bankes counted into it five separatesovereigns.

  "Now sling your hook!"

  Before Bertie had a chance to thank him, or even to realize the suddenwindfall he had encountered, Mr. Bankes had caught hold of him, liftedhim bodily from his seat, and placed him on the road. Mary Anne hadstarted, and the trap was flying past the Cardinal Wolsey, on theHampton Road. Left standing there, with the five sovereigns tightlygrasped in his palm, Bailey decided that Mr. Bankes had rather asudden way of doing things.

  He remained motionless a minute watching the receding trap. Perhaps heexpected, perhaps he hoped, that Mr. Bankes would look round and wavehim a parting greeting; but there was nothing of the kind. In a veryshort space of time the trap was out of sight and he was left alone.Just for that instant, just for that first moment, in which herealized his solitude, he regretted that he had not acted on his latecompanion's advice, and pursued the journey with Mary Anne. Then helooked at the five pounds he held in his hand.

  "Well, here's a go!"

  He could scarcely believe his eyes. He took up each of the coinsseparately and examined it. Then he placed them in a low on hisextended palm, and stared. Their radiance dazzled him.

  "Catch me going back while I've got all this, I should rather likesomebody to see me at it. Five pounds!" Here was a long-drawnrespiration. "Fancy him tipping me five pounds! I call that somethinglike a tip. Won't I spend it! Just fancy having five pounds to spendon what you like! Well, I never did!"

  "Hallo, you boy, got anything nice to look at?"

  Bertie turned. A soldier, in a considerable state of undress, wasstanding a few yards behind him, watching his proceedings.

  "What's that to you?" asked Bertie.

  He put both his hands into his trousers pockets, keeping tight hold onthe precious sovereigns, and turning, walked up the barrack yard. Ashe passed, the soldier grinned; but Bertie condescended to pay noheed.

  "If I'd had a fortune left to me, I'd stand a man a drink, if it wasonly the price of half a pint."

  This was what the soldier shouted after Bertie. One or two of thetroopers who were engaged in various ways, and who were all more orless undressed, looking very different from the dashing pictures ofmilitary splendour which they would shortly present upon parade,stared at the boy as he went by, but no one spoke to him.

  Once on the towing-path, he turned his face Kingston-wards andhastened on. These five sovereigns burnt a hole in his pocket. Whenhis capital had been represented by the sum of one and fivepence hehad been dimly conscious that it would be necessary to be careful inhis outlay. He had even outlined a system of expenditure. But fivepounds!

  They represented boundless wealth. He had been once presented by agrateful patient of his father's with a tip of half a sovereign. Thatwas the largest sum of which he had ever been in possession at one andthe same time, and no sooner had the donor's back been turned than hismother had confiscated five shillings of that. She declared that itwas intended the half-sovereign should be divided among his brothersand sisters, and the five shillings went in the division. But fivepounds! What were five shillings, or even half a sovereign, to fivepounds.

  If Mr. George Washington Bankes had desired to dissipate whatevereffect his words of warning might have had he could not have chosen asurer method. As the possessor of five pounds, Bertie's belief in theland of golden dreams was stronger than ever. The pieces of goldenmoney had as good as transported him thither upon the spot.

  His spirits rose to boiling-pitch as he walked beside the river. Thesunshine flooded all the world, and danced upon the glancing waters,and filled his heart with joy. As he looked up, the words, "fivepounds," seemed streaming in radiant golden letters across the sunlitsky.

  Nearly opposite Ditton church he sat down on the grass to revel in hisfancies. The castles which he built, the schemes he schemed, thefuture he foretold! No one passing by, and seeing a boy with anapparently sullen face, sprawling on the grass, would have had theleast conception of the world of imagination in which, at that moment,he lived and moved, and had his being.

  He lay there perhaps more than an hour. He might have lain there evenlonger had not two things recalled him to the world of fact. The firstwas a growing consciousness that he was hungry; and the other, thecrossing of the ferry. The Ditton ferry-boat made its firstappearance, with two or three young fellows who had seemingly made thepassage with a view of enjoying an early morning bathe on the moresecluded Middlesex side. When they got out, Bertie got in. Not that hewanted to go to Ditton, nor that he even knew the name of the placewhich he saw upon the other side of the water, but that he fancied therow across the stream. When he was in the boat a thought struck him.

  "How much will you row me to Kingston for?"

  "I can't take you in this boat, this here's the ferry-boat; but I canlet you have a boat the other side, and a chap to row you, and I'lltake you for--do you want to go there and back?"

  "No; I want to stop at Kingston."

  "Are you going to the fair there? I hear there's to be a fine fairthis time, and a circus, and all."

  Bertie had neither heard of the fair nor of the circus; but the ideawas tempting.

  "I shouldn't be surprised if I did go. How much will you row me for?"

  The ferryman hesitated. He was probably debating within himself as tothe capacity of the young gentleman's pockets, and also not improbablyas to his capacity f
or being bled.

  "I'll row you there for five shillings."

  But Bertie was not quite so verdant as he looked.

  "I'll give you eighteenpence."

  "Well, you're a cool hand, you are, to offer a man eighteenpence forwhat he wants five shillings for. But I don't want to be hard upon ayoung gentleman what is a young gentleman. I'll row you there forfour; a man's got to live, you know, and it isn't as though you wanteda boat to row yourself."

  But Bertie was unable to see his way to paying four. Finally a bargainwas struck for half a crown. Then a difficulty occurred as to change,and Bertie entrusted one of his precious sovereigns to the ferryman toget changed at the Swan. Then a boat was launched, a lad not very mucholder than Bertie was placed in charge, the fare was paid in advance,and a start was made for Kingston.

  By the time they reached that ancient town, Bertie was hungry inearnest. The walk, the drive, and now the row in the freshness of theearly morning had combined to give him an appetite which, atMecklemburg House, would have been regarded with considerabledisapproval. Now, too, the short commons of the day before wereremembered; and as Bertie fingered the money in his pockets he thoughtwith no slight satisfaction of the good things in the eating anddrinking line which it would buy.

  He was landed at his own request on the Middlesex side of KingstonBridge, and having generously made the lad who had rowed him richer bythe sum of sixpence, he started, with renewed vigour, to cross thebridge into the town. No sooner had he crossed than a coffee-shop methis eye. It was the very thing he wanted. With the air of a capitalisthe entered and ordered a sumptuous repast--coffee, bread and butter,ham and eggs. Having made a hearty meal,--and a hearty meal was asubject on which he had ideas of his own, for he followed up the hamand eggs with half a dozen open tarts and a jam puff or two, buyinghalf a pound of sweets to eat when he got outside,--he paid the billand sallied forth.

  It was cattle-market day, and unusual business seemed to be doing. Notonly was the market-place crowded with live stock, but they overflowedinto the neighbouring streets. For the present, Bertie was content towatch the proceedings. In the position of a capitalist he could travelto London in state and at his leisure. Just now his mind was runningon what the ferryman had said about the circus and the fair. He couldgo to London at any time. It was not a place which was likely to runaway. But circuses and fairs were things which were quick to go, andonce gone were gone for ever. Bertie resolved that he would commencehis journey by seeing both the circus and the fair.

  Nor was his resolution weakened by a joyous procession which passedthrough the Kingston street.

  "BADGER'S ROYAL POPULAR COSMOPOLITAN AND WORLD-FAMED HIPPODROME" wasan imposing title for a circus, but not more imposing than the gloriesrevealed by that procession.

  "_Supported by all the greatest artists in the world chosen from allthe nations of the universe_" was the continuation of the title, and,judging from the astonishing variety of ladies and gentlemen who rodethe horses, who bestrode the camels, who crowded the triumphal cars,and who ran along on foot distributing handbills among the crowd, itreally seemed that the statement was justified by fact. There wereChinamen whose pigtails seemed quite real; there were gentlemen ofcolour who seemed warranted to wash; there were individuals withbeards and moustaches of an altogether foreign character; and therewere ladies of the most wondrous and enchanting beauty, dressed in themost picturesque and amazing styles. Bertie Bailey, at any rate, waspersuaded that it would be absurd for him to think of going on to towntill he had attended at least one performance of Badger's RoyalPopular Cosmopolitan and World-famed Hippodrome.

  He followed the procession to the fair field. And there, although itwas not yet noon, the fair was already in full swing. All thoseimmortal entertainments without which a fair would not be a fair wereliberally provided. There were shows, and shooting galleries, andbottle-throwing establishments, and seas upon land, and resplendentroundabouts, and stalls at which were vended goods of the very bestquality; and all those joys and raptures which go to make a fair inevery part of the world in which fairs are known.

  But Bertie cared for none of these things. All his soul was fixed uponthe circus. He attended the performance. As befitted a young gentlemanof fortune he occupied a front seat, price two shillings. Ahypercritical spectator might have suggested that the procession hadbeen the best part of the show. But this was not the case in Bertie'seyes. He was enraptured with the feats of skill and daring which hewitnessed in the ring. Only one consideration marred his completeenjoyment. Unfortunately he could not make up his mind whether hewould rather be the gentleman who, disdaining all ordinary modes ofhorsemanship, standing upon the backs of two cream-coloured steeds,with streaming tails, dashed round the ring; or the clown whosebusiness it was--a business which he seemed to think a pleasure--tokeep the audience in a roar. He was not so much struck by a gentlemanwho performed marvels on a flying trapeze; nor by the surefootednessof a lady who walked upon an "invisible wire,"--which was, in thiscase, a rope about the thickness of Bertie's wrist.

  But he quite made up his mind that he would be either the clown or therider; and that, when he had determined which of these honourablepositions he would prefer to fill, he would lose no time in layingsiege to one of the ladies of the establishment, and to beg her to behis. But here the same difficulty occurred;--he was not quite certainwhich. However, by the time the performance was over, and the audiencewas dismissed, on one point he was assured, he would enlist under thebanners of the world-famed Badger. Dick Turpin, Robin Hood, RobinsonCrusoe, Jack the Giant Killer, might do for some folks, but a circuswas the place for him.

  When he regained the open air, and had bidden an unwilling adieu tothe sawdust glories, the afternoon was pretty well advanced and thefair was more crowded than ever. But Bertie could not tear himselfaway from Badger's. He hung about the exterior of the tent as thoughthe neighbourhood was holy ground.

  Several other loiterers lingered too; and among them were four or fivemen who did not look, to put it gently, as though they belonged towhat are called the upper classes.

  "I've half a mind," said Bertie to himself, "to go inside the tent,and ask Mr. Badger if he wants a boy. But perhaps he wouldn't like tobe troubled when there's no performance on."

  Bertie's ideas on circus management were rudimentary. Mr. Badger wouldperhaps have looked a little blue to find himself met with such arequest if there had been a performance on.

  "What do you think of the circus?"

  The question was put by one of the individuals before referred to. Hehad apparently given his companions the slip, for they stood a littledistance off, ostentatiously paying no attention to his proceedings.He was a short man, inclined to stoutness, and Bertie thought he hadthe reddest face he had ever seen.

  "It's not a bad show, is it? And more it didn't ought to be, for theamount of money it cost me to put that show together no one wouldn'tbelieve."

  Bertie stared. It dimly occurred to him that it must have cost him allthe money he possessed and so left him nothing to throw away upon hisclothing, for his costume was distinctly shabby. But the stout manwent on affably:--

  "I saw you looking round, so I thought as perhaps you took a interestin these here kind of things. Perhaps you don't know who I am?"

  Bertie didn't and said so.

  "I'm Badger, the Original Badger. I may say the only Badger as wasever known,--for all them other Badgers belongs to another branch ofthe family."

  The Original Badger put his hand to his neck, apparently with theintention of pulling up his shirt collar, which, however, wasn'tthere. Bertie stared still more. The stout man did not by any meanscome up to the ideas he had formed of the world-famed Badger.

  "You're not the Mr. Badger to whom the circus belongs."

  "Ain't I! But I ham, I just ham." The Original Badger's enunciation ofthe letter was more emphatic than correct.

  "And I should like to see the man who says I hain't! I'd fight thatman either for beer or money either no
w or any other time, and Ishouldn't care if he was twenty stone. Now look 'ere"--the OriginalBadger gave Bertie so hearty a slap upon the back that that younggentleman tottered--"What I say is this. I wants a well-built youngfellow about your age to learn the riding, and to train for clown, andI wants that young feller to make his first appearance this day threeweeks. Now what do you say to being that young feller?"

  "I don't think I could learn it in three weeks," was all Bertie couldmanage to stammer.

  "Oh couldn't you? I know better. Now, look 'ere, I'm going to pay thatyoung feller five and twenty pound a week, and find him in hisclothing. What do you say to that?"

  Bertie would have liked to say a good deal, if he could have onlyfound the words to say it with. Among other things he would probablyhave liked to have said that he hoped the clothing which was toaccompany the five and twenty pounds a week would be of a differentsort to that worn by the Original Badger. It would have been ahazardous experiment to have offered five and twenty pence for thestout man's costume.

  "Now, look 'ere, there's a house I know close by where you and me canbe alone, and we can talk it over. You're just the sort of youngfeller I've been looking for. Now come along with me and I'll makeyour fortune for you,--you see if I don't."

  Before Bertie quite knew what was happening, the stout man had slippedhis arm through his, and was hurrying him through the fair, away fromit, and down some narrow streets which were not of the mostaristocratic appearance. All the time he kept pouring out such astream of words that the lad was given no chance to remonstrate, evenif he had had presence of mind enough to do it with. But,metaphorically, the Original Badger--to use an expression in vulgarphrase--had knocked him silly.

  What exactly happened Bertie never could remember. The Original Badgerled him to a very doubtful looking public-house, and, before he knewit, the lad was through the door. They did not go into the public bar,but into a little room beyond. They had scarcely entered when theywere joined by three or four more shabby individuals, whom theOriginal Badger greeted as his friends. If Bertie had looked behind hewould have perceived these gentry following close upon his heels allthe time.

  "This young gentleman's going to stand something to drink. Now, 'EneryWilliam, gin cold."

  The order was given by the Original Badger to a shrivelled-upindividual without a coat who seemed to act as pot-boy. When thisperson disappeared, and Bertie was left alone with the Original Badgerand his friends, he by no means liked the situation. A more unpleasantlooking set of vagabonds could with difficulty be found; and he feltthat if these were the sort of gentry who had to do with circuses acircus was not the place for him.

  The pot-boy re-appeared with a bottle of water, and a tray of glassescontaining gin.

  "Two shillings," said the pot-boy.

  "All right; the gentleman pays."

  "Pay in advance," said the pot-boy.

  "Two shillings, captain!"

  The Original Badger gave Bertie another of his hearty slaps upon theback. Bertie felt they were too hearty by half. However, he produced aflorin, with which the pot-boy disappeared, leaving the glasses on thetable.

  "I'm going," he said, directly that functionary was gone.

  "What, before you've drunk your liquor? You'll never do for a circus,you won't." Bertie felt he wouldn't. "Why, I've got all that businessto talk over with you. I'm going to engage this young feller in mycircus to do the clowning and the riding for five and twenty pound aweek."

  The Original Badger cast what was suspiciously like a wink in thedirection of his friends. One of these friends handed the glassesround. He lingered a moment with the glass he gave to Bertie before hefilled it half-way up with water, then he held it towards the boy. Hewas a tall, sallow-looking ruffian, with ragged whiskers; the sort ofman one would very unwillingly encounter on a lonely road at night.

  "Drink that up," he said; "that's the sort of thing for circusriders."

  "I don't want to drink the stuff," said Bertie. "Drink it up, youfool!"

  The lad hesitated a moment, then emptied the glass at a draught. Whathappened afterwards he never could describe; for it seemed to him thatno sooner had he drunk the contents than he fell asleep; and as hesank into slumber he seemed to hear the sound of laughter ringing inhis ears.