Archer's Melbourne Cup

by Vashti Farrer

  Afterwards I ask him why the other horses dropped back and he says that’s what a match race is. The crowds come to see two horses slug it out. They don’t care about the rest of the field and so the other jockeys drop back out of politeness.

  Wednesday 5th June

  We walked the horses back to the ship this morning and on the way Mr de Mestre talked about the early days of racing in the colony—how there was a racecourse in Hyde Park and as early as 1811 Jackey Boy won the 50 guineas Magistrates Plate. He was bred by James Badgery, whose partner, William Roberts, owned Exeter Farm at the time.

  ‘That’s where Archer was foaled!’ I said and I was right and he seemed pleased that I knew. Then he asked if I’d noticed how horses always run clockwise round a course. I hadn’t really thought about it, but they do.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘in other colonies they run the opposite way.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  He said the story goes that when they ran round Hyde Park, they went first along College Street, turned right into Liverpool, right again into Elizabeth and then on to the winning-post, which was near Market Street. ‘They say it was so the wealthy residents of Sydney who had their mansions in Elizabeth Street could see the winning-post without having to leave their houses.’

  ‘That’s the laziest thing I’ve ever heard,’ I said.

  He laughed. ‘You’re probably right, and no-one knows for sure, but what you need to know is that they’ll be racing anti-clockwise in Melbourne.’

  I’ve written this down, but I’m wondering how the horses will know to run the other way. Won’t Archy be confused?

  Friday 7th June

  We got back from Maitland tonight. I told Tom about Archy beating Veno and he said, ‘Look out, Melbourne!’

  But Barney looked a bit down. ‘What about Inheritor?’ he said.

  ‘Him, too,’ said Tom, ‘and Exeter.’

  Then I asked how they’re going to know to run anti-clockwise in Melbourne and Barney started to giggle.

  Tom shook his head. ‘A horse is a horse, Robby. He doesn’t have to know. You put a jockey on him and point him in one direction and he’ll race. That’s if he’s a mind to.’

  Saturday 8th June

  Tom said over breakfast that the new course in Melbourne is supposed to be excellent, but then they’re all good down there. The city’s flat with plenty of suitable land—not like Sydney, with its hills that make it hard pressed sometimes to find land big enough and flat enough for a racecourse.

  Then during our morning break, Barney was pleased he beat me at horseshoes; I’m out of practice again. And he told me that not only is Tom playing to the horses of a night, but during the day he’s been doing this funny little jig as well, and singing with it.

  Oh when I was a chicken as big as a hen

  Me mother hit me and I hit her again

  Me father came in and gave me a clout

  I opened the window and pushed him out.

  I started to giggle, but Barney said the horses must wonder what Tom’s about, seeing him jig on the stable floor, but Tom says it’s to keep them on their toes.

  Tonight over supper he told us it’s five months to go to the Cup, which means we start training them in earnest now. So, come November, they’ll be as strong and fit as they can be.

  Monday 10th June

  This afternoon I found Tom bloop-bloop-blooping on his bottom lip. I asked what he was thinking, he said he was trying to figure out how much a horse eats each day, and how much three horses eat, so how much Mr de Mestre needs to have loaded onto the ship for three horses taking just over two days to get to Melbourne.

  I asked what if the horses get seasick and don’t feel like eating. He looked at me square and said, ‘Horses don’t get seasick,’ and I felt my face go hot.

  Thursday 13th June

  At evening inspection Mr de Mestre told Tom he’s been thinking how some horses get nervous before a big race. And he doesn’t want this happening to any of them before the Cup; they have to be kept calm. He’s been wondering if the problem might be the other jockeys’ silks.

  Tom scratched his head and I could see he didn’t have a clue what that meant, till Mr de Mestre pointed out that his silks are all black and that’s what the horses are used to. So they see dark colours round them on the track every day. But then they go to a race meeting and suddenly they’re surrounded by lots of bright coloured silks.

  ‘You mean it’s a shock to them?’ said Tom.

  ‘Could be,’ said Mr de Mestre. He couldn’t think of any other reason. He didn’t mean horses like Archer and Inheritor. They’ve been to too many meetings for it to worry them. But delicate mares like Moss Rose and flighty colts like Exeter—it could be that the bright colours worry them.

  Tom bloop-blooped a bit and asked what can they do about it and Mr de Mestre said sometime soon we’ll ride all the horses in to Terara and back wearing all the coloured silks that belong to different owners.

  And Tom said it was worth a try, so we’re doing it tomorrow.

  Friday 14th June

  It must have seemed like the circus had come to town. There was every strapper and stablehand, with Tom and George riding up front. All of us dressed up like a bunch of flowers, and behind us, Mr de Mestre in a green town coat and hat, driving his best buggy pulled by a pair of carriage greys that he bought not long back. Then running beside them were his two big hunting dogs. We don’t see much of them, because they’re kept in the garden at the back of the house. He only ever takes them out roo hunting when he gets the chance.

  So we rode out through the gates of Terara and along the Millbank road to town. People came out of their shops to see us. The blacksmith looked up from his forge and the drinkers at the Commercial Hotel spilled out onto the pavement. The tea drinkers at Temperance Hall put down their cups and stepped out into the sun and waved. The baker, wiping his hands on his apron, the manager of the general store and the butcher, Tom’s brother, stood about. Even the Wesleyan minister looked up from tending his garden to watch. Mr de Mestre had us walk up and down each street and round each corner, till we’d covered at least the distance out to Greenwell Point and back—maybe twice. Then he said that was good enough for one day and it was time to go home.

  Before ‘lanterns out’ Tom said he felt it was a great success—all those colours and the people would help to get the horses a bit used to crowds at race meetings. We’ll be taking them into town once a week till they get really comfortable, but now that he’s seen how it works, Mr de Mestre won’t need to come.

  Sunday 16th June

  Tom came back from church this morning with a broad grin on his face. He took the whole litter of kittens and gave all but one away. He thinks whoever gave him Cattus knew she was a girl. Cattus can come back to work in the stables again. I asked about the last kitten and he said since no-one wanted it, he might have to drown it. So I asked if I can have it to take home next time, and he said yes.

  Tuesday 18th June

  We’re doing double the amount of track work now. I can’t wait each morning to finish walking the horses and head for the track. Barney’s the same. They’re all working really hard, although only three of us are going. There’s a feeling round the stables—even among the horses—that something’s up.

  We take Archy and Inheritor round three times at full gallop. By now we’re doing twelve or thirteen seconds to the furlong and the wind’s whistling knife-edged past my ears each time. Then we slow them down and bring them back for Mr de Mestre to check their breathing and for clover-leaf, and he says they’re doing fine, just fine.

  Wednesday 19th June

  Frank Riley was here this week and had me bring the horses up from the paddock one at a time. When he finished with Moss Rose he said what a lovely animal she was, although she’s nervous. I told him how we’re walking them into town to get them used to crowds and races and he said it sounded like a good idea. ‘It’s not only your buggy horses that do better in blin
kers sometimes—there’s horses race better in them, too, if they can’t see the horses either side of them.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, when I asked if he wanted me to get Exeter. So I went down to the paddock, leant on the rail and gave my shearer’s whistle, loud and shrill. Four fingers in my mouth and BLOW. The horses know it and lift their heads now when they hear it, but Tom says it splits his eardrums, just about. Still, it does the trick and brings them up to the gate so I don’t have to go and fetch them.

  Frank moves on again tomorrow.

  Friday 21st June

  We took the horses into town again today in our silks and still people came out to watch us, though not as many as last time. Maybe they’re used to the circus now.

  Friday 28th June

  We rode the horses in again today, only this time I didn’t ride back with them as Mr de Mestre had left word at the general store that Mr Hobbs would collect me for my day off this month.

  So here I am feeling foolish in yellow with red sleeves, blue and red cap and with a kitten in my kitbag. Only it’s not Mr Hobbs who comes with the dray, but Pa. Sam’s standing up on the seat to see the horses and Pa’s holding him by the shirttail so he doesn’t fall off. I dismount, pat Archy and hand his reins to Tom, before climbing up next to Sam.

  Pa barely has time to pull up at home before Sam’s racing inside, talking nine words at once to tell Ma all about the horses. The girls hear the noise and come in. Then I take the kitten out of the bag and the girls are all oohs and aahs and want to nurse it. They’re about to start squabbling, but I tell them they’ve got to share, but Ma says first we’ll have to ask Mr Hobbs if he minds them having a kitten and we’ll do that tomorrow.

  Saturday 29th June

  Mr Hobbs says it’s fine about the kitten and soon as it’s big enough it can go on barn duty. He could do with a good mouser. In the meantime it’s being loved and squeezed and cuddled all day long, till by night time it’s fair done in. Daisy and Molly even dressed it in dolls’ clothes today, till Hetty said it wasn’t fair and told them to take the clothes off.

  There was no more talk of working for Pa and tonight I’m back at Terara again. Archy’s fine—I checked him myself.

  Monday 1st July

  I beat Barney at horseshoes today. He was in a bit of a miff afterwards and said just wait—he’ll beat me tomorrow.

  Tuesday 2nd July

  I beat him again today and he wouldn’t speak to me afterwards. Not till suppertime. But I told him that he’s a much better rider than I am, so we’re even—sort of—and that cheered him up a bit.

  Friday 6th July

  The circus went to town again today, but not one shopkeeper came out to watch us, so they mustn’t think we’re worth watching any more. They would, though, if they could see a race meeting at Randwick with real jockeys mounted up and ready to go.

  Thursday 11th July

  Today turned out very sad. Early this morning Mr de Mestre’s mother passed away. Tom told us and I thought back to when she took care of me after I had that fall. Tom said she’d been ailing for some time now, but only the family knew she was sick and she refused to slow down or stop helping people. Having ten children probably wore her out a bit, too. Ma says she’s always tired and she has only six of us to care for.

  Mr de Mestre didn’t come down for inspection tonight. Tom took it instead. He says we’ll know about the funeral tomorrow.

  Friday 12th July

  There was no track work this morning out of respect, and even Tom’s wearing a black armband. When he said he was going to the funeral, some of the stablehands said they wanted to go too and I was one of them. Barney’s coming with me. I’ve not got proper mourning clothes, so I had to sponge my better shirt and the moleskins are only a bit muddy round the legs. Barney’s had to spruce up his clothes too.

  When Mr de Mestre saw us he frowned a bit and I told him we wouldn’t go in the church out of respect. We’d just stand outside the window and anyway St John’s was packed, so there wasn’t room for us.

  Barney liked Mr de Mestre’s mother, too. He said she was good to his people, gave them food and clothes. It turned out a lot of people from round about felt the same. For all the money she made from the farm and the mill, she gave some back for the church and a school for others to enjoy.

  Mr de Mestre and his brother Andre looked very sad.

  Monday 15th July

  The word round the stables is that Mr de Mestre and his brother Andre will inherit Terara and run it between them. Mr de Mestre will still train the horses and Andre will go on managing the dairy farm, same as before. Tom says the eldest brother, Prosper John, will inherit the flour mill at Millbank that he’s been running since old Prosper died. The only time I’ve ever seen him in town is if he happened to be outside the mill when I was passing. There are seven sisters and they’ll each get a block of land till they marry. After that it’ll become their husbands’, I expect.

  It’s got me thinking, though. Land again. Some families have it to give away and others don’t have an acre to call their own. There’ll be no blocks of land for our girls, but if Pa can manage to save enough for that deposit he might still get his block and it won’t be that long to wait now.

  Saturday 20th July

  Mr de Mestre seems to have buried himself in work. He comes to time the track work as usual, but none of us like to say anything and he leaves evening inspections to Tom.

  Tom says the boss has set his heart on this Cup. He wants to win it all the more, now that his mother’s dead and he’ll be really upset if he doesn’t. So this morning when I rode Archer off the track I said, to cheer him up like, ‘He’s going awfully well, Mr de Mestre. Did you see him?’ And he nodded—so that’s something.

  Monday 30th July

  One hundred days to the Cup exactly. We’re training the horses, but not with a full saddle on track—just a small exercise saddle, especially if it’s Tom riding, as he’s heavier to start with. We want to get them used to the weight of the jockey, as near as possible.

  We’ve been taking them across the paddocks, too, having them walk out as far as the foothills and then up as far as they can go, before the scrub gets too thick. Hills build up the muscles in the back of their legs and now there’s hardly an ounce of fat on them.

  Sometimes after Archy’s worked really hard, I sit on the grass and he lies down and rolls. Then I rest his head in my lap and give him a big hug and tell him I love him and I’m so pleased to be going with him to Melbourne.

  Wednesday 1st August

  Today was the horses’ birthday. All horses. It’s only been going a few years and it started in New South Wales. Mr Deas Thompson, who helped build up Randwick, thought it’d be a good idea if horses had the same birthday, no matter when they were born. That made it fair and no-one could say their horse was two, when it was really older and stronger and could race much harder.

  So today Inheritor turned seven and Archy turned five—same as Moss Rose—and Exeter’s now three.

  Tuesday 13th August

  Mr de Mestre’s told Barney and me that he’s taking some money out of our pay to buy us some clothes. No buts about it. He can’t have us going to Melbourne looking like a pair of ragamuffins. He wants us to look our best on Melbourne Cup day. So this month I can’t give Pa all my earnings and Barney won’t be able to give all of his to his old granny back at the camp, either. It’s his granny who minds it for him.

  Mr de Mestre had Tom take our measurements and says he’ll be ordering clothes for us from a catalogue sent by a shop in Sydney and they’ll be here in time for us to leave. I don’t expect we’ll get anything fancy like a bell topper and frock coat. Maybe just new moleskins and a couple of new shirts—with a jacket maybe to smarten us up. He doesn’t want us to look like we did that time at Randwick or at his mother’s funeral.

  Thursday 22nd August

  I can’t believe it! Barney and me got on the scales again today, the last time before we leave, and he’s o
nly put on a pound since the beginning of the year, but I’ve put on five. And I’ve shot up two inches, when he hasn’t got any taller. It’s not fair. I want to be a jockey as much as he does, but at this rate I’ll end up measuring more hands than the horses. Just as well Mr de Mestre’s ordered new clothes for me, because my trousers are getting to be half-mast and I’ve got to keep pulling my sleeves down.

  Monday 26th August

  Tom’s bloop-blooping must have worked, because the fodder for the horses is all ordered now and he’s sorted out what we have to take as well. The trip to Sydney’s not a problem; it’s the ship down to Melbourne that we have to take bedding for, and a towel each, as well as knife, fork and tin plate. Even a mug and spoon. Luckily the horses will carry our kit as far as Greenwell Point.

  It was a good track session this morning and Mr de Mestre says Archy’s breathing couldn’t be better. His training’s bang on, and those big hindquarters of his are what’s going to push him over the finishing line.

  Wednesday 28th August

  I’m so much better at drawing horses now. I can do a sketch of them moving, then fix it up later. But what I’d really like is to capture Archy’s head on paper. Then tonight, just before ‘lanterns out’ there was a moment when he was standing perfectly still, like he was thinking about something—going to Melbourne, maybe—and I grabbed pencil and paper and started. And five minutes later I had him. He hardly moved. I got his forehead and poll, then his muzzle, his cheek and chin, and shaded them a bit till they took on the full shape, right round to his jowl. Then his neck and crest above it. His ears I drew forward, like he was listening keenly, and last of all I gave him a bit of a smile and fringed in his eyelashes, which I swear are the longest ever. And there—I had him!