by R S Surtees
“Stay one moment,” resumed Mrs. Barnington, as the Captain was leaving the room. “The paper says these people arrive to-day. If you chance to see them or can find anything out about them, you know, well and good — perhaps Mr. Barnington might like to know.”— “By all means,” replied the obsequious M.C., backing courtier-like out of the room, and nearly splitting himself up with the now opening door.
CHAPTER IX. THE CONQUERING HERO COMES.
THE CLEAR BRIGHT beauty of the day, combined with the attraction of a stranger coming to fill so important a situation as master of fox-hounds, drew many to the Datton Railway station, who were previously unacquainted even with the name of “Jorrocks;” though it is but right to state that the ignorant portion consisted principally of the fair sex, most men, whether sportsmen or not, having heard of his fame and exploits.
All the flys, hack horses, donkeys, and ponies, were bespoke as usual; and many set out at noon to secure good berths at the station. Precisely at two o’clock Captain Doleful appeared at Miss Jelly’s door, attired in a dress that would puzzle the “property man” of a theatre. It was nearly the same as he exhibited himself in on the memorable opening day of the committee of management. The old single-breasted militia coat, denuded of its facings and trappings, with a sky-blue collar and sky-blue linings, and a short, shrivelled, buff kerseymere waistcoat, with mother-of-pearl buttons, old white moleskin breeches, well darned and patched at the knees, and badly-cleaned Hessian boots and black heel spurs. — His hands were covered with a pair of dirty-white kid gloves; and in his right one he carried a large hunting-whip. An oil-skin-covered hat, secured to a button-hole of his waistcoat by a yard of sky-blue penny ribbon, completed the rigging of this sporting dandy.
Having withdrawn his countenance and custom from Sam Slickem after the affair of the kicking mare, (the effect of which had been considerably to impoverish Mr. Sam,) of course all the other proprietors of hack horses were on the alert to please the great M.C., and on this day he was mounted by Duncan Nevin on his white mare, Fair Rosamond, who was generally honoured by carrying pretty Miss Lovelace, once the head beauty of the place — but who being unable to ride this day, it came into the hands of the Captain.
To make the mare more complete, although in winter time, its ears were decorated with white fly-nets and dangling tassels, and from the saddle hung a large net of the same colour and texture, with a broad fringe, completely covering her hind quarters and reaching below her hocks.
Doleful eyed the whole with a grin of satisfied delight, and never did field-marshal mount his charger for review with a more self-complacent air than sat upon the brow of this distinguished character. Having steadied himself in his stirrups, and gathered up the reins, he cast an eye between the barley-sugar and cans in Miss Jelly’s window, and hissing at the mare through his teeth with a jerk of the reins, went off in a canter. A rare-actioned beast it was too! Up and down, up and down, it went, so light and so easy, and making so little progress withal, that Ducrow himself might have envied the possession of it.
Thus Doleful went tit-tup-ping along through the silent streets, to the infinite delight of all the Johns and Jennies, who were left to flatten their noses against the windows during their masters’ and mistresses’ absence, and here and there exciting the anger of a butcher’s dog, or farmer’s cur, that flew at the mare’s heels with an indignant bark as she passed.
Having timed himself to a nicety, our gallant M.C. arrived at the station just as the last fly and flight of donkeys drew up outside the iron railing that runs along the railroad from the station-house, and, in the absence of Mr. Jorrocks, of course he was the object of attraction. “Good morning, Captain Doleful,” exclaimed a dozen sweet voices from all sorts of vehicles, for women will toady a Master of Ceremonies, be he what he may; and thereupon the Captain gave one of his feature-wrinkling grins, and raised his oil-skin-covered hat as high as the yard of penny ribbon would allow, while all the little boys and girls, for whom he had obtained half-holiday, burst into loud acclamations, as they stood or sat on Lily-white-sand barrels, hazel bundles, and other miscellaneous articles, waiting for conveyance by the railway. “Now, children, mind, be orderly, and attend to what I told you,” said the Captain, eying his juvenile friends as though he were marshalling them for a quadrille. “It now wants but ten minutes to the coming of the train, so be getting yourselves in order, unfurl the flags; and you, musicians,” turning to the promenade band, who were hard at work with some XX, “be getting your instruments ready, to welcome Mr. Jorrocks with ‘See the conquering hero comes!’” As the minutes flew, the scene became more inspiriting. Eyes were strained up the railway in the direction he was to come, and ears were opened to catch the first sound of the engine. All was anxiety and expectation. Hope and fear vacillated on every countenance. “Should he not come, what a bore!” “Oh, but he’s certain to arrive, and Mrs. Jorrocks too, arn’t they, Captain?” The Captain looked thoughtful and mysterious, as all great men should, but deigned no reply.
Precisely at three-quarters of a minute before three, a wild shrill whistle, that seemed to issue from the bowels of the earth and to run right up into mid-air, was heard at the back of Shavington Hill, and, in an instant, the engine and long train rounded the base, the engine smoking and snorting like an exasperated crocodile. Nearer and nearer it comes, with a thundering sort of hum that sounds throughout the country. The wondering ploughman stops his team. The cows and sheep stand staring with astonishment, while the horses take a look, and then gallop about the fields, kicking up their heels and snorting with delight. The guard’s red coat on the engine is visible — next his gold hat-band appears — now we read the Hercules on the engine, and anon it pulls up with a whiff, a puff, and a whistle, under the slate-covered shed, to give the Hercules his water, and set down and take up passengers and goods. Seven first-class passenger carriages follow the engine, all smart, clean, and yellow, with appropriate names on each door panel — The Prince Albert, Queen Victoria, and the Prince of Wales, The Venus, The Mercury, The Comet, and The Star; next come ten second-class ones, green, with covered tops, and half-covered sides, but in neither set is there anything at all like the Jorrocks’ party. Cattle-pens follow, holding sheep, swine, donkeys, and poultry; then came an open platform with a broken britzka, followed by a curious-looking nondescript one horse vehicle, containing a fat man in a low-crowned hat, and a versatio of reversible coat, with the preferable side outwards. Along with him were two ladies muffled up in cloaks, and at the back was a good-looking servant-maid. From the bottom of the carriage swung a couple of hams, and a large warming-pan.
“Pray is Mr. Jorrocks here?” inquired the elegant M.C., who had persuaded the station-master to let him in upon the line, riding his white charger near the door of the first-class carriage, and raising his hat as he spoke; but getting no answer, he continued his interrogatory down the whole set until he came to the end, when casting a despairing glance at the cattle pens, he was about to wheel round, when the gentleman in the versatio coat, in a very stentorian voice, roared out, “I say, SIR! Baint this the ‘Andley Cross station?”
“It is, Sir,” replied Captain Doleful, in his most dignified manner, “the Datton station for Handley Cross at least.”
“Then I want to land,” responded the same sweet voice.
“Here’s a gentleman wants to be down,” observed Captain Doleful to the scarlet-coated guard, who came bustling past with a pen of Cochin-Chinas to put upon the train.
“Yes, a gentleman and two ladies,” roared our friend; “Mister and Missis Jorrocks in fact, and Miss Jorrocks!”
“Bless my heart,” exclaimed Captain Doleful in ecstacies, “how delighted I am to see you! I really thought you were not coming,” and thereupon the Captain raised his hat to the ladies, and offered his hand most cordially to Mr. Jorrocks.
“What, you knows me, do you?” replied Mr. Jorrocks, with the sort of doubtful shake of the hand that a person gives when he thinks the next
moment may discover a mistake. “You knows me, do you?” repeated he, “you have the adwantage of me — pray who are you?”
“Captain Doleful, M.C.,” responded our worthy, presenting his glazed card to the ladies; and thereupon Mr. Jorrocks, with a chuckle on his good-humoured countenance, as he gazed at the Captain’s incongruous habiliments, seized his hand and wrung it heartily, saying, “‘Ow are ye, Doleful? ‘Ow do ye do? Werry glad to see you — werry glad indeed; ‘ow’s the Nabob?”
“Middling, thank you,” replied the Captain, with a faint blush on his cadaverous countenance. “But hadn’t you better alight and get your carriage and things off the train?” inquired he, glad to turn the conversation, “they’ll be off with you if you don’t mind,” and thereupon the Captain beckoned the guard, and Mr. Jorrocks, standing up in the vehicle, looking very like a hay-stack with a hat on the top, bounded to the ground. Mrs. Jorrocks, in a black velvet bonnet, lined with pink satin, and her body all shrouded in a sea-green silk cloak, then accepted the offer of the Captain’s arm, and descended with caution and due state; while Belinda, with the spring of youth and elasticity in her limbs, bounded on to the foot-way beyond the rail. Benjamin, who was asleep in the horse-box, being considerately kicked awake by Mr. Jorrocks, the porters cut off the last joints of the train, when away it went, hissing and snorting through the quiet country, leaving our party to the undisturbed observation of the Handley Cross company.
CHAPTER X. THE CONQUERING HERO’S PUBLIC ENTRY.
CAPTAIN DOLEFUL, LEAVING his charger in the care of a porter, now offered Mrs. Jorrocks his arm, and walked her off to the station-house, followed by Jorrocks and Belinda, amid the observations and inquiries of the numerous party ranged outside the barrier. The ladies being now left to arrange their toilettes, Jorrocks and Doleful joined arms in a most friendly manner, and strutted back to see about unloading the horses, the sack-like figure of the one, contrasting with the thin, lathy, mountebank appearance of the other. This being accomplished, Ben proceeded to strip off his dirty white great coat, and display his fine new sky-blue postillion jacket, patent cords and top-boots, while Jorrocks began expatiating to Doleful on the merits of the animals.
“This ’ere ‘oss,” says he, rubbing his hand up and down the Roman nose of a great rat-tailed brown, “I’ve ridden many seasons, and he’s never given me but one fall, and that was more my fault than his. Indeed I may say it was mine entirely. ‘Ow’s this country off for foxes! Well, you see, I was chiveyin’ this ’ere ‘oss along like wildfire, for it was a most special fine scentin’ day — breast-high all the way — and Tom Hills, that’s our ‘untsman, was ridin’ wiciously wenomous — by the way that reminds me can you commend me to an honest man to buy my forage of? Well, we blazed down Windy Hill, and past Stormey Wood, just as though it were as level as this rally, when Joe Crane, thinkin’ to gain a nick, turned for Nosterly, and Tom and I rode slap for Guilsborough, where he threw a shoe, and I was left alone in my glory. I know’d the country well, and sinkin’ the hill, stole down Muddiford Lane, with the pack goin’ like beans on my left, with only two men within a mile of them, barrin’ a miller with his sacks, who rode uncommon galvanizingly.
“Well, thinks I to myself, if they turn by Gatton steep I’ll have a nick, for though his ‘oss was never reglarly pumped out, yet times are when he’d be better of a little more wind, and so as I rode along peepin’ over the ‘edge, ‘oping every minute to see old Barbican, who was leadin’ the pack that day, give a bend to my side, ven vot should occur but a gipsy camp half across the lane, and three donkeys, two jacks and a jinney, huddled together in the other part so as to make a regular barrier, and, by the by, have you read Digby Grand? Grand book it is; but, however, never mind that at present; well, we were close upon the camp and donkeys afore ever we saw them, for it was just at that sharp turn of the road where the waterin’ trough is — confound them, they always place pikes and troughs in the hawkwardest places — and this ‘oss though with all his eyes about him, was so heager lookin’ for the ‘ounds, that I’m dashed if he didn’t come upon them so suddenly that he hadn’t time to change his leg or do no thing, consequentially he dodged first among the gipsy bairns, putting his foot through a sarcepan the old father gipsy was a mendin’, and then, fearin’ mischief, he flew to the left, and cast me right on to the old jinney hass’s back, who, risin’ at the moment, finished the business by kickin’ me off into the dirtiest heap of composition for turnips I ever smelt in my life — haw, haw, haw! I really think I wind it now. Still the ‘oss is a good un — an undeniable good un. When he carries me well, I ax’s three ‘undred for him, at other times I’d take thirty. I never grudges money for ‘osses. Des-say if all the money I’ve spent first and last were equally distributed among them, they wouldn’t stand me i’ less or forty pund apiece.
“This too’s a grand nag!” continued he, taking hold of the ear of a stiff bay with white hind legs, and a bang tail— “good at every thing — rides, drives, ‘unts, and carries a ‘ooman. I call him Xerxes, cause as how ven I drives two, as I’m a doin’ to-day, he goes leader, and in-course the brown, which I calls Arter-Xerxes, comes arter him! Both go like the vind — good ‘osses! uncommon good! rough and strong as our four-shillin’ tea. — Binjamin, mind the traces, — and now be after puttin’ too, your Missis will be ready by the time we get all square;” and thereupon Mr. Jorrocks began fussing and busying himself with the horses and harness, and very soon had Xerxes and Arter-Xerxes in their proper places, “tandem fashion.” The carriage was an old, low, open, double-bodied one, with red and black wheels, looking as much like a fire-engine as anything else, especially with the Westphalia hams and warming-pan swinging from the bottom like buckets. It held four comfortably, or five on a pinch, and the inmates were Mr. Jorrocks and his wife, Belinda, and Betsey. It was tremendously stuffed and hung about with luggage, and at the back was attached a most sporting package, consisting of two saddles done up in horse-sheeting; and through the roller which fastened them to the carriage, two stout hunting-whips and a new brass horn were thrust. All things being ready, Mr. Jorrocks gave Benjamin a “leg up” on to Xerxes, and gathering up the reins of his wheeler in a most workmanlike manner, stepped into the vehicle, and preceded by Captain Doleful on the white charger, drove up to the station-house door, to the infinite delight of all the spectators outside the rails, amid the puffings, scrapings, and tootlings of the musicians, the pointing of children, the unfurling of flags, and general movement of the meeting.
Mrs. Jorrocks and Belinda had improved the few minutes in the station-house, and with the aid of Betsey and a looking-glass had rectified the little disorders of the journey. Having cast her sea-green wrapper, Mrs. Jorrocks shone forth in a superb scarlet brocade pelisse, so bright and dazzling that even in Great Coram Street, or St. Pancras Church, it acted as a loadstone on the eyes of the beholders, and now in the quiet country was almost overpowering. She looked like a full-blown peony.
Belinda, the young, the fair, the beautiful Belinda, was the picture of innocence and health. Her large lustrous blue eyes, with their long silken lashes, shone “sweetly lambent” from beneath a drab silk drawn bonnet lined with blue, across which a rich black veil was thrown; a smile hovered round her ruby lips, disclosing the beautiful regularity of her pearly teeth; while the late rapid movement through the air, joined with the warmth of the station-house, and the excitement of the scene, had imparted a slight flush to a delicate, but beautifully clear complexion. Her shining brown hair, drawn across her forehead in the Madonna style, was confined with a narrow band of blue velvet, while a rich well-fitting drab silk pelisse displayed the symmetry of her exquisitely rounded figure. Her beautifully-formed feet were enclosed in well-fitting patent leather shoes, whose ties embraced well-turned ankles encased in well drawn up, white gauze silk stockings.
The station-house and buildings concealing our party from view, Mr. Jorrocks had time to make those comfortable dispositions of the persons of his suite as ar
e always desirable in public processions, but which are sometimes driven out of the heads even of the most experienced paraders, by the inquisitive observations of many hundred eyes. He now took Belinda upon the draw-out seat between himself and Mrs. Jorrocks, while Betsey bundled in behind, among Dundee marmalade, sugar loaves, Copenhagen cherry-brandy, and other things. Having given a knowing cast over his left shoulder to see that she was right, Mr. Jorrocks cried out, “Now, Binjimin, follow the Captain,” and giving Arter-Xerxes a touch with the point of the whip, passed from the screen formed by the station-house, to the folding iron gates at the side, which being thrown open at the approach of the Captain, they made a splendid turn off the railway line into the crowded space outside. “Huzza! huzza! huzza! huzza! huzza! huzza!” exclaimed a hundred voices; “Huzza! huzza!” responded a hundred more, amid the roll of drums, the puffing of the horns, the flapping of the flags, and the waving of handkerchiefs from those whose aristocratic ideas precluded the expression of clamorous applause. Doleful stopped Benjamin on the leader, and Mr. Jorrocks pulling short up, stood erect in the vehicle, and taking off his low-crowned hat, bowed and waved it repeatedly to the company, while Mrs. Jorrocks acknowledged the compliment by frequent kisses of her hand, and Belinda’s face became suffused with blushes at the publicity and novelty of her situation. — Having sufficiently exercised their lungs, hats began to rest upon their owners’ heads, handkerchiefs were returned to their pockets, and amid a general buzz and exclamation of applause, a rush was made at the carriage to get a closer view of Belinda.
“By Jove, what a beautiful girl!” exclaimed Captain Parkins (a new comer) to his friend Mr. Dyneley, eyeing Belinda through his glass.
