Black Beauty's Family

by Josephine Pullein-Thompson

  The pony who had taken such a singeing said that he had been near the East Stable, drawing a load of pit props and when the explosion came all the wood and hay in the stable caught fire. ‘My boy unhitched me and we got away,’ he said, ‘but the ponies that were in the stable made a terrible noise, pawing and trampling, neighing and groaning, they couldn’t get out.’

  The cut pony told me that he had been hurt by a pony that took fright and bolted still harnessed to his tub and that there were many ponies down there too badly hurt to be worth bringing up. They all three stood trembling from their fright and the horrors they had seen and heard and I wondered if men really needed coal badly enough to risk all these lives.

  Then more and more frightened and injured ponies began to arrive and the stable was soon packed out. There was a veterinary surgeon as well as several horsekeepers trying to deal with them, and the unhurt ones were being bundled out into a nearby field. I was taken out and tied to a ring in a wall, for my stable was needed, so I stood watching the carts and wagons coming up from the town to take the rest of the injured to hospital. There were many women standing in silent misery, waiting for husbands and sons who had not been brought up, and there were many children crying. I watched all the ponies coming by, hoping to see my friend Pipkin, but I never did and I fear he may have died in the East Stable.

  The offices seemed to have been given over to the doctor and nurse and those who were too badly injured to stand the jolting of the wagons, and Mr Arkwright and Mr Wilson and all the chief engineers were gathered round a table outside. The table was spread with maps and plans and they seemed to be arguing on a plan of action. In the end they seemed to decide on two plans, for Mr Wilson, some of the engineers and a lot of men and equipment, were loaded on several wagons and drove away. The bystanders told each other that this party were going to try to reopen an old shaft on the far side of the rock fall. Meanwhile the other party, led by Mr Arkwright, had equipped themselves with lamps and tools and were preparing to go down in the cage. They were going to try to bore a hole through the rockfall and reach the entombed men that way.

  The wheel turned and the cage disappeared from our view. Everyone waited. The sad and anxious women, there seemed to be hundreds of them, were very quiet and resigned. Some of the children still cried, but only softly. In the stable a badly injured pony groaned. The flies buzzed round my head but the heat of the day had passed. There seemed to be no more to do above ground. I rested each leg in turn as I waited.

  A boy brought me a bucket of water and a bundle of hay and some ladies appeared in wagonettes and governess carts and began to dispense food and drink to the waiting people. We ate and drank and went on waiting.

  The shadows lengthened, the flies ceased to torment me and then, suddenly, I felt that strange trembling of the ground beneath my feet and again it was followed by a muffled bang. This time I knew what it meant. I did not need the wail that went up from the waiting crowd to tell me that something terrible had happened.

  The cage still worked and there were still men prepared to go down to rescue their fellows, they vanished and we waited again, this time my heart was heavy and anxious too. At last the cage rose slowly to the surface, but only the second party of rescuers walked out. The others were laid on stretchers and each still form, covered by a blanket, was carried sadly to the office.

  Then Matthew came with my saddle and bridle.

  ‘You must take the bad news to The Hall, Ebony,’ he said. ‘It’s a sad day’s work. Mrs Arkwright’s only suffering the same as the other women, but his death will bring changes, changes for all of us.’

  The news of the explosion, the many deaths and above all the loss of Mr Arkwright, cast the deepest gloom over The Hall, but the plight of the entombed men and ponies made our own futures seem insignificant. We heard that the rescue attempts were continuing, that an airway had been drilled, that tapping noises and faint hymn singing had been heard. And there were endless conversations about fire damp, about gases which exploded on meeting a spark or naked light, and gases which were called ‘bad air’ and killed as you breathed them in.

  After three days the news came that thirty-nine men, four ponies and a small dog had been got out alive and the rest of the missing were presumed dead. That was one hundred and seventy men and boys and I never heard how many ponies. Then the funerals took place. I didn’t go but some of our carriage horses did, for though a great many black horses were hired for the occasion, with so many dead they could not get enough.

  That ended the good days at The Hall. Mrs Arkwright was taken ill and had to go away and Mr Edgar Arkwright, the son who came to see to everything, had no liking for the north and said the whole place must be sold lock, stock and barrel. The grooms and the servants were all given their notice and we horses were sent down to the nearest large horse dealer to be sold.

  8

  CLARENDON MEWS

  MR EDGAR ARKWRIGHT hadn’t bothered to find us good homes, but Draper and Harry who delivered us to the horse dealer’s yard did their best for us. They gave us all very good characters and explained the sort of work for which we were each best suited. I was to be sold as a patent safety for a lady and the dealer said he did not think there would be any difficulty for, though I was getting on, I was in perfect condition and he knew my history.

  He was right, I was sold on the first day. A very large man called Mr Rawlings came with his dark and rather sullen groom, Hopkins. Mr Rawlings announced in a loud voice that he wanted a reliable hunter for his daughters. Good-looking but not too pricey, while Hopkins peered at my teeth and felt my legs. Then Hopkins rode me, he was slightly better than young Wilson, but not much. Mr Rawlings decided not to try me, for which I was very thankful for he looked quite twenty stone, but they put a side saddle on me and the dealer’s little daughter rode me. She was really first rate so we put on quite a display and both enjoyed ourselves; I wished she could be my new owner.

  Mr Rawlings lived in a tall, town house fronting a wide, tree-lined street and the stables were in the mews at the back. Two long rows of stables and carriage houses, with grooms’ quarters above, faced each other across a narrow cobbled road with an archway at either end and each house in the grand street owned a stable in the mews. Our building had four stalls and space for two vehicles, hay, straw and harness. It was rather cramped and dark and not what I had been used to, but I told myself that if there were other horses and if the young ladies were like Miss Fanny I would be perfectly happy there.

  Hopkins had fetched me from the dealer’s and the moment we entered the mews he began to swear at a boy of about twelve, called Percy, who seemed to be his only assistant. It seemed that the carriage horses must be put in at once and as the harness was dirty it must be wiped over when it was on.

  ‘’Er Royal ’ighness wants to go shopping. Not a minute’s peace in this ruddy place,’ Hopkins grumbled, thumping on harness and slapping the poor carriage horses when they protested. ‘Here Perce, take this rag and clean the worst off them traces. Oh Gawd! There’s mud on the floor of the carriage, get the brush, Perce, or she’ll be kicking up.’

  Percy flew about doing the work, the carriage horses wriggled uncomfortably beneath their dirty harness and Hopkins changed into a brown livery. Then they all left, looking quite smart on the outside.

  Hopkins was right when he said that there was never a moment’s peace in Clarendon Mews but it wasn’t entirely his employer’s fault.

  Hopkins hated mucking out and he hated us when we lay down and got dirty. He was always swearing at us or at Percy because we were not ready. We never went anywhere without a last minute panic, some piece of harness or saddlery would be found to be dirty, a rein would be broken, a stirrup leather unstitched. It was the same with our food, the corn was always running out, or the chaff wasn’t cut or the hay hadn’t been delivered.

  All this constant noise and chaos made me nervous and irritable especially as I had so little exercise and spent day after day faci
ng the blank wall of my stall. The young ladies did not come to see their new hunter, much less ride him and Hopkins’ idea of exercise was a fifteen minute trot round the back streets with him winking and smiling at all the pretty girls.

  To add to my discomfort my coat felt neglected and dirty. Out at grass a horse keeps healthy without grooming, but stabled and wearing a rug he must be groomed thoroughly every day and this just didn’t happen.

  Mr Rawlings left everything to Hopkins, he never came into the stable the whole time I was there, I suppose he was busy with other things and had no interest in our welfare. Hopkins would go to the house every morning at five minutes to nine to get the orders for the day and if there was a change of plan the kitchen maid would be sent running round to tell us.

  At last word came that Miss Helen and Miss Beatrice would be riding on alternate mornings and that Hopkins was to accompany them on one of the carriage horses. He was furious for now he would have two saddles and bridles to clean as well as the harness. He would be out riding in the morning and driving in the afternoon and, with the winter parties beginning, the carriage was often out at night as well. It was a lot for one man, but if he had taught Percy how to do things properly he could have been more use.

  Miss Beatrice and Miss Helen were plump girls with round faces, round eyes and round mouths that were always emitting little screams and shrieks, which was very unnerving to the horse that was carrying them. They didn’t trouble to learn to ride well and Hopkins was no teacher. They prefered to go round the town bowing and smiling to their friends rather than take the road which led out to the country.

  I was filled with trepidation when I heard that Beatrice had decided to hunt me. Hopkins was sitting on a bucket reading the racing page, ‘Go on, use some elbow grease,’ he instructed Percy without looking up. “‘’E’s got to look a picture, Hopkins”, that’s what she told me. Silly little madam. She’s going man-hunting, not fox-hunting. Their Pa thinks they’ll meet a better class of young man in the hunting field, that’s what I ’eard ’im tell ’er royal ’ighness, so now Miss Beatrice is going to show off her charms to young Lord Beswick and the Hon Walter Pym.’

  ‘I can’t reach his ears, honest I can’t’, wailed Percy.

  ‘Well stand on the manger then.’ I hastily lowered my head.

  I felt ashamed of my appearance as Hopkins riding Sinbad led me to the meet. My coat was dirty and dull, my bridle was stiff, the twisted curb chain dug into my chin groove, and the saddle had been made for a much wider horse.

  Mr Rawlings had driven his family to the meet with Sailor in a borrowed wagonette and I felt even more ashamed as Miss Beatrice, with many little screams, was pushed up into the saddle. I never knew two girls with less spring and Hopkins used to say that it shortened his life by six months every time he legged them up. Once in the saddle Miss Beatrice paraded up and down bowing at everyone, ogling the younger gentleman and giving little screams of apprehension if any of the other horse swung round or pranced.

  At last we moved off. Miss Beatrice seemed inclined to ride near the front which pleased me for I had resolved to give her the hunt of her life and teach her what a pleasure it could be. She had manouevred us up beside the Hon Walter Pym and was giving little squeals of joy whenever he spoke to her. He sounded a very dull young man to me. He made a few remarks about the weather and laughed a very loud ‘Ha, Ha!’ after each one as though he had said something funny.

  Young Lord Beswick seemed to have more sense and he even shushed Miss Beatrice when she gave a squeal at covertside and told her that she must keep quiet, for she would distract the hounds or, worse still, head the fox.

  Hounds found quickly. Some riders cut through the wood and others took the track round the outside. I followed this party for it is difficult to take ladies safely and quickly through trees, there is too much of them on one side. We galloped across a field, Miss Beatrice was already bumping about and out of breath. There was a small hedge and the Hon Walter Pym called, ‘Miss Rawlings, follow me.’

  I followed his horse, but it ran out and half a dozen other riders cannoned into it. While they were all cursing each other, I circled and popped over. Miss Beatrice hung on by the reins which hurt my mouth and gave a small scream as her hat came off, but hounds were ahead and there was not time to stop for hats.

  I gradually slipped into a really fast gallop, it was wonderful, just what I had been longing for. There was a small post and rails ahead, another hedge then round the headland of a ploughed field through a gate and we came up with hounds; they’d checked, the huntsman was casting them. I slowed up and joined the other horses, I was out of breath, but what could you expect with no exercise. Suddenly I became aware that all was not well with Miss Beatrice, loud sobs were coming from my back and several gentlemen were hurrying to her assistance. ‘He bolted with me,’ she sobbed. ‘I pulled and pulled but he wouldn’t stop. Oh, help me down. I won’t ride another step.’

  ‘I don’t think he really bolted,’ said young Lord Beswick helping her down. ‘He looks a good sort of old hunter, I’d just sit tight and leave it to him.’

  ‘Miss Rawlings finds that she cannot hold her horse,’ he said handing my reins to Hopkins. ‘I don’t think the animal was to blame, she is not experienced enough for the hunting field,’ and mounting thankfully, he galloped away.

  We went drearily back to look for Miss Beatrice’s hat and then turned for home. I was thoroughly depressed, Miss Beatrice was tearful because her hair had come down and she had mud on her face and Lord Beswick had galloped away and left her. And Hopkins was furious because there were three dirty horses, one set of harness, two saddles and bridles and a borrowed wagonette to be cleaned. He didn’t do any of it properly. He left our stables dirty and slung our rugs on over mud and sweat and worst of all my bucket wasn’t refilled when I drank it dry so I spent the whole night longing for a drink of water.

  I had another ignominious hunt. Two Saturdays later Miss Helen thought she might succeed where her sister had failed, but she didn’t take any sensible steps beforehand. She didn’t take me out for rides and get to know me, she didn’t practise galloping and jumping, so I can only suppose that Hopkins was right and that it was young gentlemen she was chasing and not foxes.

  This time it was a lawn meet so she probably enjoyed showing off her new habit in the house, but she took fright the moment she was put up on me. ‘He’s going to bolt, I know he is,’ she cried and became so hysterical that Hopkins had to ride beside us with a hand on my rein. So there we were creeping along at the back with the little children on leading reins and the grooms on young horses. I was disgusted. Hounds found at once and we followed at a cautious trot. Then, even Hopkins’ blood rose a little, and he permitted a sedate canter; gradually it grew a little faster. My eyes were on hounds, they had swung round in a lefthanded circle and were now only one field ahead. There was a tiny hedge, Sailor said that he could manage it so we strode towards it side by side. There was a scream from my back and then, as I took off, Miss Helen flung herself from the saddle. The new habit caught on the pommel and there was a rending noise before she rolled free. I stopped and waited, wondering if she would remount. But she was screaming hysterically that I had bolted and suddenly I felt that I could stand no more. Throwing my responsibilities to the wind, I set off after the vanishing hunt.

  I chose my own line and took the fences as I came to them. I was filled with the familiar feeling of exhilaration and happiness. The country was an easy one, the fences of moderate size, so I felt no need of a rider to partner me.

  We had a wonderful run and when I came up, out of breath and steaming with heat, after the kill the riders all laughed at me and someone asked, ‘Enjoyed yourself, old chap?’

  We had finished in stone wall country, miles from town, and there was trouble about getting me home. In the end a second horseman was found who agreed to go a couple of miles out of his way and drop me at Clarendon Mews.

  Hopkins was not pleased to
see me back. He hit me a sharp blow on the nose, the moment the other groom was out of sight, and used me very roughly as his wisped the worst of the mud off and rugged me up. There was no mash, but I was feeling defiant and not too tired, so I was able to enjoy my feed and hay.

  As soon as Hopkins left us Sailor and Sinbad told me that there had been terrible trouble over the hunt. Miss Helen had cried, Mrs Rawlings had stormed and then cried, Mr Rawlings had been furiously angry and blamed Hopkins, I was to be sold.

  9

  I JOIN A FAIR

  I WASN’T THE clean and elegant horse when I left Clarendon Mews that I had been on arrival. In fact I was dirty and unfit, with a staring coat and a mane and tail that needed pulling, when Percy put an old rope halter on me and led me to the horse sale. Worst of all for an old horse I had no reputation left and not even a respectable stud groom to vouch for my character.

  I was tied to a ring in the wall between a shivering and half-starved pony and a stout carthorse, and a round paper with a number on it was stuck to my quarters. I turned as far as my rope would allow me and watched the scene. There was a great many people, mostly farmers and tradesmen, but also some very rough-looking men and boys who swore and spat a good deal.

  The noise was very great. The sellers were telling everyone what good animals they were offering. The frightened horses were all whinneying and there was an endless clattering of hoofs and cracking of whips as they were run up to show their paces to likely buyers. There were a few men already drunk, though it was not yet twelve, and they were shouting and singing.

  It was very unpleasant having my mouth forced open by complete strangers who wanted to see my teeth. Some of them felt my legs, slapped my flank and pulled out my tail as well, before making a disparaging remark about my age and walking on.