Part 31 (1/2)

But alas! there was one authority which was higher even than that of the referee, and we were destined to an experience which was the prelude, and sometimes the conclusion, also, of many an old-time fight. Across the moor there had ridden a black-coated gentleman, with buff-topped hunting-boots and a couple of grooms behind him, the little knot of hors.e.m.e.n showing up clearly upon the curving swells and then dipping down into the alternate hollows. Some of the more observant of the crowd had glanced suspiciously at this advancing figure, but the majority had not observed him at all until he reined up his horse upon a knoll which overlooked the amphitheatre, and in a stentorian voice announced that he represented the Custos rotulorum of His Majesty's county of Suss.e.x, that he proclaimed this a.s.sembly to be gathered together for an illegal purpose, and that he was commissioned to disperse it by force, if necessary.

Never before had I understood that deep-seated fear and wholesome respect which many centuries of bludgeoning at the hands of the law had beaten into the fierce and turbulent natives of these islands. Here was a man with two attendants upon one side, and on the other thirty thousand very angry and disappointed people, many of them fighters by profession, and some from the roughest and most dangerous cla.s.ses in the country. And yet it was the single man who appealed confidently to force, whilst the huge mult.i.tude swayed and murmured like a mutinous fierce-willed creature brought face to face with a power against which it knew that there was neither argument nor resistance. My uncle, however, with Berkeley Craven, Sir John Lade, and a dozen other lords and gentlemen, hurried across to the interrupter of the sport.

”I presume that you have a warrant, sir?” said Craven.

”Yes, sir, I have a warrant.”

”Then I have a legal right to inspect it.”

The magistrate handed him a blue paper which the little knot of gentlemen cl.u.s.tered their heads over, for they were mostly magistrates themselves, and were keenly alive to any possible flaw in the wording. At last Craven shrugged his shoulders, and handed it back.

”This seems to be correct, sir,” said he.

”It is entirely correct,” answered the magistrate, affably. ”To prevent waste of your valuable time, gentlemen, I may say, once for all, that it is my unalterable determination that no fight shall, under any circ.u.mstances, be brought off in the county over which I have control, and I am prepared to follow you all day in order to prevent it.”

To my inexperience this appeared to bring the whole matter to a conclusion, but I had underrated the foresight of those who arrange these affairs, and also the advantages which made Crawley Down so favourite a rendezvous. There was a hurried consultation between the princ.i.p.als, the backers, the referee, and the timekeeper.

”It's seven miles to Hamps.h.i.+re border and about two to Surrey,” said Jackson. The famous Master of the Ring was clad in honour of the occasion in a most resplendent scarlet coat worked in gold at the b.u.t.tonholes, a white stock, a looped hat with a broad black band, buff knee-breeches, white silk stockings, and paste buckles - a costume which did justice to his magnificent figure, and especially to those famous ”bal.u.s.trade” calves which had helped him to be the finest runner and jumper as well as the most formidable pugilist in England. His hard, high-boned face, large piercing eyes, and immense physique made him a fitting leader for that rough and tumultuous body who had named him as their commander-in-chief.

”If I might venture to offer you a word of advice,” said the affable official, ”it would be to make for the Hamps.h.i.+re line, for Sir James Ford, on the Surrey border, has as great an objection to such a.s.semblies as I have, whilst Mr. Merridew, of Long Hall, who is the Hamps.h.i.+re magistrate, has fewer scruples upon the point.”

”Sir,” said my uncle, raising his hat in his most impressive manner, ”I am infinitely obliged to you. With the referee's permission, there is nothing for it but to s.h.i.+ft the stakes.”

In an instant a scene of the wildest animation had set in. Tom Owen and his a.s.sistant, Fogo, with the help of the ring-keepers, plucked up the stakes and ropes, and carried them off across country. Crab Wilson was enveloped in great coats, and borne away in the barouche, whilst Champion Harrison took Mr. Craven's place in our curricle. Then, off the huge crowd started, hors.e.m.e.n, vehicles, and pedestrians, rolling slowly over the broad face of the moorland. The carriages rocked and pitched like boats in a seaway, as they lumbered along, fifty abreast, scrambling and lurching over everything which came in their way. Sometimes, with a snap and a thud, one axle would come to the ground, whilst a wheel reeled off amidst the tussocks of heather, and roars of delight greeted the owners as they looked ruefully at the ruin. Then as the gorse clumps grew thinner, and the sward more level, those on foot began to run, the riders struck in their spurs, the drivers cracked their whips, and away they all streamed in the maddest, wildest cross-country steeplechase, the yellow barouche and the crimson curricle, which held the two champions, leading the van.

”What do you think of your chances, Harrison?” I heard my uncle ask, as the two mares picked their way over the broken ground.

”It's my last fight, Sir Charles,” said the smith. ”You heard the missus say that if she let me off this time I was never to ask again. I must try and make it a good one.”

”But your training?”

”I'm always in training, sir. I work hard from morning to night, and I drink little else than water. I don't think that Captain Barclay can do much better with all his rules.”

”He's rather long in the reach for you.”

”I've fought and beat them that were longer. If it comes to a rally I should hold my own, and I should have the better of him at a throw.”

”It's a match of youth against experience. Well, I would not hedge a guinea of my money. But, unless he was acting under force, I cannot forgive young Jim for having deserted me.”

”He was acting under force, Sir Charles.”

”You have seen him, then?”

”No, master, I have not seen him.”

”You know where he is?”

”Well, it is not for me to say one way or the other. I can only tell you that he could not help himself. But here's the beak a-comin' for us again.”

The ominous figure galloped up once more alongside of our curricle, but this time his mission was a more amiable one.