by Matt Ferraz
The Horse and Mr Hyde
A Black Beauty short story
By Matt Ferraz
Based on characters created by
Anna Sewell
and Robert Louis Stevenson
First edition, published in 2019
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted, except with express prior written permission. Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living, dead or living dead, is purely coincidental.
The characters of Black Beauty, created by Anne Sewell (1820 - 1878), and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, created by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 - 1894), as well as their supporting characters, are all under Public Domain, therefore their use in this work does not infringe Copyright laws.
Edited by Makenzi Crouch
To Rosana
Who sees things differently
It’s not always easy for a horse to comprehend human matters, even though we are always around them. When we think we know how their minds work and the ways they live, something happens that defies our notions. People think horses are stupid creatures, and that we can’t judge them from where we stand. But they are wrong.
By the time this story happened, I had been pulling a cab through the streets of London for less than a year and still had much to learn. Not a week passed without a drunken passenger or something worse. This case, however, was special. I decided to leave it out of my autobiography because of how disturbing it was. Still, it has never left my mind, so I might as well tell it to you.
My master was a man named Jerry Barker, the finest and most gentle cab driver in all of London. He was a family man who never mistreated a horse in his life. He never told a lie, either, and would never promise to deliver a passenger to his destination faster than usual, no matter how much money they offered him.
This behaviour made Jerry a bit of a joke amongst his fellow cabbies. They told him he would never get rich that way. Most of them would whip their horses with fury to do the trip in half the time in order to make an extra shilling. Jerry, however, was more interested in establishing confidence with the animal he was working with than pleasing a passenger he was never going to see again.
I had heard humans talking about things that were happening in the London fog during the night. Sometimes they would talk around me when Jerry was taking a minute of rest; other times the passengers themselves would be discussing their matters as I pulled the cab. It was impossible not to hear them, and what they said wasn’t always pleasant.
We took fewer passengers those days, for it was very dark and people seemed afraid to go out. One night – two weeks before the focus of this narrative – we picked up two men in front of an office building in the City; one of them was nearly yelling as he spoke.
“This is exactly how it happened!” he said. “I was walking down that street, about three o’clock of a black winter morning. A girl of about 8 years was running down the street as fast as she could. A man came in the other direction, from around the corner. He was a short, despicable man. I can’t even describe him. He trampled calmly over her body and left her screaming.”
“Good heavens, Enfield!” said the other man. “Have you told this to…”
“I intend to tell him soon enough. Anyway…”
At that point, we arrived at the gentlemen’s destination. They paid Jerry and went on their way, leaving me without the rest of the story.
Curiosity isn’t a common trait amongst horses, but I wish they had decided to ride a little further so I could have heard what happened to the child. It has always puzzled me how humans are able to do something like that to each other. The idea that a man would do something like that to someone of his own kind, especially a child, scared me.
As I said, London was a dangerous place during those nights. If Jerry had had a choice, I’m sure he would have worked during the day and spent the night in his own bed, but he wasn’t the one who made his schedule, and he had a family to support.
One evening, we were getting ready to go out, when a boy came to our stable.
“Mr Barker!” said the boy, taking a second to catch his breath. “I was told to bring a message to Mr Jerry Barker!”
“Easy there, lad!” said Jerry. “What message is that?”
“It’s from Mr Gustafson,” said the boy. “He runs a cab at the same…”
“I know Mitch Gustafson,” interrupted Jerry. “What does he want from me?”
“He took a job at Kensington, but his horse is sick,” said the boy. “A very important client, Dr Henry Jekyll. Mr Gustafson was supposed to pick him up half an hour from now. He says he can’t let Jekyll down, so he asked me to send you there.” With that, the boy pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Jerry.
“What do you say, Jack?” said Jerry, after the boy went away. He had called me by that name since he bought me. “I’ve heard about this Dr Jekyll. He’s supposed to be a great philanthropist. We do a good job and we might get ourselves a regular client.”
I pawed the ground in accordance. Jerry smiled, put the piece of paper into his pocket and so we went on our way. It seemed to be a normal evening, except for the fog, which was thicker than usual. Jerry guided me carefully through the streets, for he knew it would be his responsibility if an accident happened.
Once we were on our way, that gruesome story came back to my mind: the one I had never finished hearing, about the girl and the despicable little man on that dark street. Call it animal intuition if you will, but the streets of Kensington, where I had been a thousand times before, started to feel unpleasant to me. If any other person had been at the reins, I would have found a way of not going to that address. But I would never disappoint Jerry, and so I continued.
We stopped in front of a big house, like many in the square. There was no one waiting for us, so Jerry went to the front door and lifted the knocker. An old butler opened it for him. There wasn’t a living soul in the streets, and the wind was light, so I could hear every word they said.
“I was told to pick up Dr Henry Jekyll at this address,” said Jerry.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the butler. “There must be some mistake. Dr Jekyll isn’t at home right now.”
“He does live here, doesn’t he?” asked Jerry.
“Yes,” said the butler. “Perhaps it’s Mr Hyde you’re looking for. Mr Edward Hyde. He’s Dr Jekyll’s protégé.”
“Is Mr Hyde in?” asked Jerry.
The butler took a moment to answer. “Mr Hyde comes and goes in the house. He has a room in the back, next to the lab. You might want to go around the side and see if he’s there.”
“What, he can’t come here?”
“I’m afraid not,” said the butler. “Mr Hyde only uses the back door. I’m not supposed to disturb him. You can ring the bell and if he’s interested, he’ll show up. I’m aware it’s an odd situation, but the master ordered it that way.”
Jerry came back to the cab, pulling his cap off to scratch his head. “I’ll never understand rich people,” he said. “Let’s go around, Jack. With some luck, our client will be waiting for us at the next door.”
We were about to head on our way when someone called out from behind us. “You! Hey, you, cabbie!”
The sound of that voice almost made me bolt, taking my master with me. It might have been better that way. How can I describe the effect of the way that man said those words? Was it just evil? I’d seen a lot of
cruelty growing up, towards both man and animal. And yet, it wasn’t just that that made me so uneasy. It was the voice of someone who was less than a man, a creature that nature hadn’t finished making and yet had been put into this world.
All of this I felt just from the sound of his voice. As I said, he was behind me, walking at his own pace, making every step count. With my blinkers on, I couldn’t look sideways, even though I could sense most of what was going on around me. For the first time in my life, that made me glad. The man stopped next to me and put his hand on my withers. I could sense his cold touch through his leather glove.
“What are you doing here?” said the man. “I’ve been waiting for you at the corner!”
“The butler said…” started Jerry.
“To hell with what the butler said!” yelled the man. “Old Poole doesn’t even know where to find his socks. I’ll get rid of him soon enough. I’ll get rid of the entire household and will hire people who know what they’re doing.”
“Are you Dr Jekyll?” asked Jerry.
“What?” The man spat at those words. “Of course not! Do I look like a doctor? I’m Hyde. Mr Edward Hyde. Get down here and help me with this case.”
Jerry came down, but instead of helping he had to pick up the case by himself. I know, because Hyde walked in front of me and stared me in the eye.
“This is a fine beast!” he said. It was hard to see his face in the darkness and the fog, but I could tell he was a small man, wearing clothes much too big for him. “How much?”
“How much what, sir?” asked Jerry from behind me.
“How much for the horse?” said Mr Hyde. “Don’t try to rip me off.”
“Jack is not for sale, sir,” said Jerry, trying not to sound as irritated as I knew he was.
Mr Hyde blew a raspberry. “Too bad!” he said. “I could teach this thing some fine tricks.”
He then gave Jerry an address and sat quietly in the back of the cab. All I wanted was to get rid of him as fast as I could, so I hurried, even as Jerry tried to check me.
“Easy there, Jack!” he said. “No need to run.”
“Tell that thing to slow down!” Mr Hyde yelled. “My valise is fragile. If one bottle gets broken, I’m going to show you both how to whip a horse.”
I tried to contain myself and went at a slower pace. What was it about Hyde that made me so nervous? He wasn’t the first stubborn passenger we’d taken, and he wouldn’t be the last. Yes, I felt that evil quality about him, but that could have just been an impression. Yet something about Mr Edward Hyde didn’t seem natural, as if he were a character out of a Gothic novel.
“Stop here!” he said as we drew up in front of a pub, and we obeyed. Mr Hyde jumped down from the cab. “You are going to take my case upstairs for me. We are going to check each bottle.”
“Sir, I can’t…” started Jerry.
Mr Hyde interrupted him. “Oh, you want your money now? Very nice. But I’ll want your home address. And I’ll go there to see you, if there’s anything broken.”
I could sense my master shivering at those words. It was bad enough to have Mr Hyde in our cab, but giving him our address was unthinkable.
“There’s no need to pay me then, sir,” said Jerry, to which Mr Hyde replied with a laugh.
“You’re afraid of me, too?” he asked. “I can’t tell who’s the biggest coward, you or that thing you call a horse. Let me put it this way: you will bring this case upstairs, or I’ll break your skull right here. Sounds reasonable to you?”
Without another complaint, Jerry stepped down from his seat. “Will you lead the way, sir?” he asked.
“It’s the first room at the top of the stairs,” said Mr Hyde. “The owner keeps it nice and warm for me. You can’t miss it. Here’s the key.”
Jerry took the key from his hand. “Aren’t you coming upstairs, sir?”
Mr Hyde laughed again. “Me? No. Not right now. I’m staying here with your horse. Don’t worry, I won’t steal him. Put my stuff on the big table, and come back here.”
The glass objects inside the case clattered as Jerry’s hands trembled. “I’ll ask the groom to take care of Jack,” he said.
“No need for that!” replied Hyde. “You won’t take more than a minute. I’ll take care of him.”
Jerry didn’t want to leave me there with that awful man. But some part of him must have felt that following Mr Hyde’s orders was the best way of finishing the whole charade. So he went through the door and into the pub, leaving the two of us alone in the street.
I heard the sound of Mr Hyde’s steps, and then he entered my field of vision. It felt as though there was nobody else on the street except for us. His face was still a blur, but I could see the cruelty in his expression.
“Hello, black fellow!” he said, reaching into his pocket. “You must be tired, right? I’ve a treat for you. I was having a little snack on the way, but I thought I should save a little something for the horse.”
He opened his hand, and there was half an apple inside it. This was a rare treat, something that Jerry couldn’t afford most of the time. My instincts told me to take it, but the voice in my head said otherwise.
“You don’t want it?” asked Mr Hyde, taking a bite of the apple. “This is the first time I’ve been turned down by a thing like you. My apple isn’t good enough for you? It’s alright, I’ve another treat.”
He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a small, rusty blade. I had seen one of these before at the veterinary; it was what humans called a scalpel. He held it close to my face. “What about this? Is this sweet enough for you?”
Something struck him before he could say anything else, or at least I thought it did. Whatever it was, Mr Hyde fell to the ground, scalpel still in his hand. I made all the noise I could. This was a whole new situation for me, and I cursed myself, knowing that Jerry was going to be held accountable for it.
To my surprise, the man who got up from the street wasn’t the same as had fallen moments before. That is, it was the same man, for he hadn’t left my eyesight, and yet it was someone else. Instead of the tiny and grotesque Mr Hyde, I saw now a tall man with good posture.
“What on earth…” he said, almost as confused as I was. He looked at his hand and put the scalpel back in his pocket, then stood up and caressed my nose. “Oh, Edward!” His voice was kind, and the clothes that had been too big for the other man fit him as if they were tailor-made. “What have we almost done to you?”
At first, I wasn’t sure what to do. He had a soft, warm touch, different in every way to Mr Hyde’s. In fact, it’s impossible to imagine people more different than those two, in every way. I don’t know how a human would react to something like what I had just seen, but I was more pleased than scared by the transformation.
“I’ve done as you said,” said a familiar voice, stepping out of the pub. “The bottles are all intact. I must go now…” Jerry stopped talking when he saw the new man standing by my side. “I’m sorry, you are…?”
“Dr Henry Jekyll,” said the new man, shaking his hand. “I was here waiting for you and Edward.”
“Nice to meet you, Dr Jekyll,” said Jerry. “Mr Hyde was here a moment ago; where did he…?”
“Don’t worry, I can deal with Edward Hyde myself,” said Dr Jekyll. “He’s a strange man, but he isn’t all that bad when you get to know him well.”
“I’d rather not know him at all,” my master said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that!”
Dr Jekyll laughed. “No need to apologize, my good man,” he said. “I have heard worse things about him. Did you take his case upstairs?”
“Yes, I have,” said Jerry. “It was heavy.”
“I’ll compensate you for this,” said Dr Jekyll. “Here’s the fare for the ride and a little extra something for any trouble you might have had with Mr Hyde.”
“That’s very generous of you,” said Jerry. “But I have a policy of not taking extra money. I pick you up where you are and drop
you off where you need to be, and that’s all I charge for.”
“That’s a good man!” said Dr Jekyll. “I’d like to continue using your services in the future. Could I have your address?”
This time Jerry didn’t object. Dr Jekyll inspired him with as much confidence as Hyde had with fear. My master watched Jekyll as he walked into the pub and decided we should be on our way. The night was still young and there would be lots of passengers on our way – but for the first time since we had started working together, Jerry decided to take the night off and go home.
I tried to rest in my stall, doing my best to ignore the thought that Dr Jekyll had our address, and thus so did Mr Hyde. It was clear to me that the transformation I had seen wasn’t natural. Not just because I had never seen another human being going through something like that, but also because Mr Hyde himself wasn’t a creature of this world.
Human beings have their limitations, and they create instruments to overcome this. They can’t run as fast as a horse, so they get on our backs, or tie us to carts, so we can pull them with our own strength. In the same way, they created instruments to cut wood, to make fire, to lift heavy weights. Mr Hyde was a human creation, but one that served no purpose at all. He seemed like a failed experiment, something that was supposed to be discarded.
I thought of the other horses on the stable. They had no idea of what I had seen. Neither did Jerry. To him, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde were two different people. Who could blame him? I would believe that as well, had I not seen the transformation happen in front of me. It would be impossible to imagine something like that. One short, ugly and unpleasant man; the other tall and handsome, with a velvet voice and kind manners. Mr Hyde was the kind of person that made you look over your shoulder on a dark night. Dr Jekyll was the man you would call for help in that same situation.
Horses don’t have much imagination. We are practical creatures, and we don’t spend much time imagining what could happen in the future. While the face of Mr Hyde wouldn’t leave my mind, my body was too tired, and after a few minutes I fell into a restless sleep.
