“Garn!” grunted Ginger, reluctantly handing over the reins. Just as they approached the school playground the first whistle went. The boys stopped play. The second whistle followed and they made to get in lines. There was an absolute stillness and silence over the five hundred boys as the master prepared to blow the third whistle for marching back into school. “Now’s your chance to make an impression,” said Ginger. “Let ’em have it!”
“Call them straight lines!” Corky’s voice pinged high on the quiet playground. Every head turned. Even the master’s.
“Smarten yourselves up a bit!” yelled Corky. “The old school’s going to the dogs since I left!”
A gasp went up from the astonished boys. Then an excited voice pierced the air:
“Why—it’s Corky!”
It was followed by a great crack of cheers, whistles, waves and shouts:
“Good old Corky!”
“Our old cock of the school!”
Smeggy, the master, waved and smiled. Suddenly one boy broke out in song:
“Horsey, horsey, do not stop,
Just let your feet go clippety-clop,
Your tail goes swish, and the wheels go round,
Giddee-up—we’re off to town!”
It was taken up by every throat, as Corky, perched up there on the driving seat, went along with Joe and Alec.
He turned to make some response to the greeting, for he felt very much moved by it. It was almost fatal. If Ginger hadn’t grabbed the belt, Corky would have toppled on to the two broad backs. “Phew, thanks, Ginger,” he muttered. “They didn’t see me, did they—nearly fall off?”
“Naw, we’d just come by the school wall, lucky for you. They gave you a smashing exhibition, Corky. I was quite touched by it myself. Anyway, now that you’ve had your ‘crowded hour of glorious life,’ you might hand over old Joe’s rein, and well be getting down to the wharf.”
“Here y’are, Ginger,” said Corky. “And after all, I suppose we are on a job, not running a circus parade. Cor, chase me up a lamp-post—I’ve never had such a wonderful morning in all my life!”
“Don’t talk too soon,” said Ginger. “‘Tain’t over yet ...!”
There was a great deal in Ginger’s remark.
18 On Tower Hill
“Keep clear—I’m warning you—because I’m
just about at the end of my paddy!”
BREWER’S WHARF was reached without any difficulty. The boys’ experience with ponies had given them a quickness in handling the heavier horses, and they managed very well. Further, Joe and Alec were a most sensible pair. The boys had to really admit, that in this respect, Amos and Prim had nothing to show these two old-timers. They even sensed when the traffic lights were at red, and slowed down. As soon as the colour changed they were off, without even a tug of the rein. And going through the gates, or tight openings, they seemed to ignore the boys’ guiding. Fortunately, too, for Ginger and Corky could not quite agree. They each wanted lots of room on their own side. But the two horses went through, and in and out of the traffic, and along the wharf, in easy, confident strides.
“They’re like a couple of Siamese twins, the understanding they’ve got for each other!” sang Ginger in admiration.
“They don’t need any driving,” said Corky. “They’re taking us, we’re not taking them. We’d be lost without them.”
Ginger backed them into loading position. It would not have been possible for him to do it with any horses but Joe and Alec. Gentle and sure, they placed the cart just where it was required.
The loaders helped the boys get the barrels of wine in position. And later checked the binding ropes.
“You’ve got a good load there, three ton or more, boys,” said the foreman. “So just be careful.”
“Oh, we’ll have no trouble,” said Ginger. “These are as good a pair of horses as you’ll meet anywhere.”
“They’re very understanding,” said Corky. “Just look how they try to kiss me when I give ’em a piece of bun.”
“Bit on the old side, ain’t they?” remarked the foreman.
“Give me an old timer every time,” said Ginger. “They’ve got more understanding. They’ll never let you down like a young pair. Why, I remember one time——”
“Righto,” called Corky. “I’m off.” And Ginger had to make a dash for the seat.
They drew out of the wharf, and before them rose Tower Hill.
“Will we be all right up here?” asked Corky anxiously.
“ ’Course we will!” said Ginger. “It starts a bit on the narrow side, and that’ll be the worst. But then it widens out, and we swing from one side of the road to the other, and the climb ain’t half as hard. We’ll give them a wind first, just to get ’em in form.”
A group of horse drivers, waiting for loading places, were chatting at the bottom of the hill. They came across when they saw the boys resting the horses.
“Lor’ lumme,” said a railway carman, sizing the horses up, and grinning: “You got a mighty pair there, boys.”
“Couple of old Scrincher’s specials?” inquired another man.
“What you done with your ponies?” asked another. “Didn’t I spot you two in Maggie’s yest’day?”
“Coo, they ain’t half come up in the world!”
“Look, boys,” said a tall man, seriously, “if I was you I’d go across there to the ‘Sick Animals Dispensary’ bloke. Naw, I ain’t a-kidding. I mean that fellow there, holding the big mare. That’s what his job is—to help other horses with loads up the hill.”
“Garn, trying to be funny?” said Ginger.
“Do you mean it?” asked Corky.
“’Course I mean it. You’ll see him there every day. The Society does it out of kindness, just to help the horses up. An’ you can take it from me, the old hosses don’t half feel thankful when they get another to give them a pound up this hill. And look what a horse it is! Could pull a blinking row of houses!”
“What do you think we got here,” bawled Ginger, “—a couple of gazelles?”
“What’s them?” whispered Corky.
“Beggared if I know. The word just came to me.”
“Hy, cuss,” a huge, fat man called. “Hadn’t you better tighten up the old bellybands? Else you might lose the pair of them on the way up.”
“Never judge the marmalade by the label on the jar!” replied Corky.
“There’s many a big potato rotten!” Ginger hinted, glaring at the man.
“Come on, Corky, let’s get going. Are you ready, Joe an’ Alec? All set? Here goes. ... Geed up, me fine pair! Gee up! Gee, gee up!”
The two horses set off. They took the feel of the load. Then they got down to it—their mighty backs low, and heads up and down.
“Oh, lovely!” cried Corky. “Send on there, Alec! Crack into it, Joe!”
“Listen the ringing clop-clop on the old cobblestones!”
“It’s music to me!”
The horses made a zig-zag course, moving in powerful unison from one side of the road to the other. The boys gripping firmly to the reins to support their charges.
The gang of regular carmen were watching from the bottom of the hill. Jeering shouts floated up:
“Ten-to-one you’ll never make it!”
“They’ll collapse any minute!”
Alec and Joe showed no sign of collapsing. They seemed to have lost that calm peaceful manner of theirs, and were attacking the hill more in a peeved attempt to get it over with than in pure zest. But certainly they were keeping down to it.
“Isn’t it thrilling! I can hardly get my breath,” gasped Corky, delightedly: “Oh, what a wonderful pair of horses!”
“Ain’t they got some wits—” said Ginger. “Look how easy they make it for themselves!”
Another shout came from the men:
“I’ll bet all the tea in China to a ha’penny apple that before you reach the top they’ll drop dead!”
“Listen them blithering idiots!�
� snarled Ginger. “I wish I had that one here—I’d gag him!”
“Now we’re coming to the steeper part,” said Corky.
Alec and Joe were not quite so happy now. They jerked a little. But the boys held the reins, and shouted encouragement. The horses kept on the zig-zag, straining away, their heads close to each other, like a couple of cronies.
And now came an extra spurt. The boys could hardly hold them to a steady pace. “Seems like they’ve plotted to get it over with quick as possible,” said Corky. “I’ve been watching ’em.”
“Oooh, I’m more pleased than a ten-pound note that we’ve showed those jeering rotters up!” Ginger grinned.
“If I’m any judge, these will never give up,” said Corky. “They’d climb Mount Everest, never mind Tower Hill!”
And just then it happened ...!
The boys didn’t know how. And they never would know how—how it came to happen. Joe and Alec didn’t give up. Oh no, it was a more unexpected move than that. They had moved across in a ‘zig’, right at the far side of the road, and should have been coming back in a ‘zag’, when suddenly, without warning of any kind—they swung round in a half circle ...!
Corky and Ginger found themselves perched helplessly on the seat—going down hill ...!
They were flabbergast. Then they tugged. They tore. They pulled. They jerked. Bawling the whole time with full lung pressure: “Whoa back! Whoa back!”
The crowd scattered from the bottom of the hill in wild alarm. “Slam your brakes on! Slam your brakes on!” they yelled. Ginger did. But Mr Scrincher’s brakes were no use on Tower Hill. There was pandemonium. It seemed the outfit and the drivers must meet certain disaster. The boys’ arms were almost out of the sockets with pulling back.
Were Joe and Alec upset? Not a scrap. They rested comfortably back on their tailbands, right against the shafts, and went slithering and skittering down the hill. And as nice as you like, came to a safe and sure halt right at the bottom. ...
For a moment Corky and Ginger, white and trembling, were stuck to the seat. They couldn’t budge. They couldn’t speak. The carmen now gathered round.
“Well, I’ll be blowed,” said one, in mock surprise, “if it ain’t old Scrincher’s turnout back again! Coo, that was a quick load!”
“’Tain’t taken ’em long, has it, Jack?” said the big fat man. “They certainly know how to get rid of the stuff.”
Corky was the first to find his tongue:
“Oh, you can gab away, now, and blow your old guts out in dopey jokes,” he lashed at them. “But you didn’t half scatter when you saw us coming down the hill! Especially you—fat chops! You were off like a streak of wind!”
“Why, you saucy little cove——” began the fat man, “if you give me any of your old lip I’ll thrash you!”
“You—and whose army?” piped Corky. “I’m just about fed up of being polite to blokes like you. You do nothing but yap, an’ try to pull other people’s legs. If you come near me I’ll shove a barrel of wine a-top of you! Keep clear—I’m warning you—because I’m just about at the end of my paddy!”
“Calm down, calm down,” soothed Ginger. “You’re a darn sight worse than me—once you start.”
Then suddenly both boys burst out laughing. And for some minutes they couldn’t stop. And the men began to laugh. The fat one was shaking like jelly. And then everybody joined in.
“It’s funny now you come to think about it,” said Ginger. “But it wasn’t so good at the time. Anyway, how are we going to get up?”
“We’ll get the ‘Society’ horse,” said the fat man, helpfully.
The horse was brought across. But Joe and Alec just wouldn’t budge with him. Not an inch. Finally, the fat man brought his horse out of the shafts, and that was paired with the big chestnut. And nice and steadily they climbed the hill with Scrincher’s load of wine.
And there behind were Corky and Ginger, who a short time before had gone up with such pride, now trudging dismally and ashamed, leading Joe and Alec in their harness. And in front they could hear the lovely clip-clop, clip-clop, ringing out from the cobbles as the two borrowed horses went stoutly on.
“Good job my old Mum can’t see me now,” said Ginger with a sigh. “She’d never get over it. Her poor heart ’ud bleed for her little boy.”
“It’s a blessing none of my old schoolmates can see me now! I’ll never lift my head again, Ginger——”
“Lumme, look at these two, Corky!”
Corky looked up at Joe and Alec. The two horses were peeking at each other over the boys’ shoulders. There was a contented smugness on each face, and a sort of smirk playing on the corners of their mouths.
“Blimey, did they wink at each other then?”
“As good as,” snorted Ginger. “Artful dodgers!”
“I’ll understand what people mean in future,” Corky said thoughtfully, “when they talk about ‘hoss sense!’”
At last the top was reached. There on the level were the two fine horses, blowing, yet proud after their tough display. They were taken out of the shafts. Alec and Joe came along quite shamelessly. Each fastened a sly, and sort of superior eye on the two honest, puffing horses. And then backed nonchalantly into their shafts.
“Thanks very much,” said the boys to the men. “We don’t know what we should have done without you.”
“Ah, forget it, boys,” said the fat man. “I might want a lift myself one day. Cheerio!”
“Cheerio!”
The boys looked at each other.
“Know what?” said Ginger. “I’ve a good mind to ring old Scrincher on the blower——”
“Blower?”
“Yay, the old telephone—and tell him if he wants his horses he’d better come and fetch them!”
“You can’t do that, Ginger,” said Corky. “Never chuck a job up in the middle. They say, ‘A good soldier serves his sentence and complains after.’”
“They say you should never change horses in midstream,” remarked Ginger, “but that’s what we’ve had to do!”
“Aw, no, Ginger. You can’t blame the horses. You’ll be old yourself one day. And it’s no use being old if you don’t grow crafty.”
They took their load of wine to Upper Thames Street. Mr Scrincher was leaning on the gate when they got back. His eyes almost brightened when he saw them.
“Everything come off all right, boys?”
“It came off——” said Ginger.
The boys unharnessed the horses, and took them into the stables, where the horsekeeper was waiting.
“So long, Alec and Joe,” said the boys. “It’s been good knowing you. Not every day in the week do we learn such tricks.”
At the gate they stopped before Mr Scrincher.
“Would it be any trouble to you, guv’nor,” began Ginger, “if you paid us daily instead of weekly?”
“Well, it is a bit odd,” said Mr Scrincher.
“It might only be for tonight,” said Corky.
“Oh, in that case I’ll pay you. Here you are, boys. I’ll share a man’s wage between you—five bob each.”
“Thanks,” they gave a spit of good luck on the money.
“What time will I be seeing you in the morning?” asked Mr Scrincher.
“Well, it’s all according——”
“According to what?” asked Mr Scrincher.
“According to what time you come round to our houses!” said Ginger. “Because you’ll certainly not see us here! Blimey, if we went out with old Joe and Alec any longer, we’d qualify for jobs on the Stock Exchange.”
“How d’you mean?”
“We’d be that blinking cute, cunning and lazy! So, all the best, Mr Scrincher, thanks for your experience, and we hope it keeps dry for you!”
They crossed the road, Ginger jingling his five bob, and Corky having thoughts in his head that he couldn’t quite get hold of.
“Well, Corky, what’s your opinion on the situation? What’ll your Uncle Dave do about
it?’
“He won’t say anything.”
“The trouble is,” said Ginger, “I don’t just know how my old man will take it. Moody old josser he is, and I can never be sure when I have him. Matter of fact, I’ve decided not to tell them. That is, not till I get myself a new job.”
Ginger faced Corky: “What about it—suppose we both keep mum, just go home as if nothing were, go to bed as if nothing were, and get up as if nothing were, and go out to work as——”
“—Cut out the ‘nothing were’, Ginger. I might not be as crafty as you, but I’ve got the idea I think—we don’t say anything about the job?”
“You talk about something that happened another day and pretend it happened today, and then you won’t sound too dumb. And for heaven’s sake, keep that ‘miles away’ look out of your eyes. That’s a proper give-away. Okay?”
Corky nodded.
“Right. I’ll see you at the Elephant, eight pip emma in the morning.”
Corky walked along disconsolately. He felt uneasy at the prospect before him in the home. He loathed playing up false to Uncle Dave. And yet, there it was, you couldn’t always help the circumstances that entangled you. It was their fault as much, if not more, than your own. A faint jingling of coins in his pocket suddenly caused him to turn and let out a yell: “Hy, Ginger——”
In the distance a figure turned.
“Don’t rattle your money about,” bawled Corky. “It’ll give the show away!”
19 Ginger’s Plans for Work
“For meself, the hardest part is carrying
plans out—not writing ’em down.”
CORKY didn’t like himself that next morning, getting ready, and leaving home in the pretence of going to work.
Uncle Dave set a nice little plate of grilled cheese and bacon before him, and as Corky ate it, gulping nice hot tea in between, a wonderment went through him, at how a boy could sit at the table, his mind occupied with strange thoughts and purposes while his dearest friend could look at him without a notion of that which was going on inside. He felt uneasy at how well he carried off the deceit. But then, realizing his deception was more for Uncle Dave’s peace of mind than his own, he went through with it. Nevertheless, it was a relief to get out of the house.
Pony Boy Page 12
