Читать книгу Old Convict Times to Gold Digging Days - William Derricourt - Страница 7

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On my way over to Darliston, a little before crossing a bridge over the canal below The Leisures, I saw an immense crowd gathered near the toll-bar, and, forcing my way through the people, I found myself alongside a man who held in his hand one end of a halter, the other end of which was attached to a woman's waist. The man, spying me, offered me a penny to hold the halter. He then offered me another penny to keep hold while he filled his pipe, which he did with the utmost composure, I, meanwhile, walking along leading the woman who offered not the slightest resistance, though surrounded by an immense rough crowd. We thus walked until we reached the Market Place in Bilston, where my charge was taken from me, and, then and there, put up for public sale. She was knocked down to a bidder of five shillings. I have thus seen a man sell his wife, apparently with her full consent, and I myself received two pence for my share in the transaction. This took place, it must be remembered too, where people were being swept off by cholera by tens, dozens, and scores.

When near Darliston I was met by my old master's son Sam, who, seeing the cruel state of my back, took me to his mother, who killed a fat goose, dressed my sores with the goose grease, and behaved with a kindness that I can never forget. We ate the goose next day. After my recovery I remained some time longer at my master's, until he, having had enough of fighting dogs and cocks, removed from Darliston to Birmingham, entirely breaking up his business as a gunsmith.

I was then turned over with my indentures to one Tom Butler, also a gunsmith and publican. With him I had to work quite as hard outside my trade as I had to do with my former employer. This Butler kept what was called the "bull stake," in the very centre of the town. Mondays were devoted to bull-baiting, Tuesdays to dog-fighting, and the cocks had their outing on Wednesday. The bull was entirely in my charge, to feed, water, and groom as carefully as I might have done a racehorse. So accustomed had he got to me that, on exhibition days, I would mount him, ride him into the ring, chain him up, and, during his bout with the dogs, stand by him, patting him and otherwise encouraging him. Sometimes he would fling dogs clear out of the ring through windows or over low roofs. Sometimes he would be attacked by two dogs at once, and, upon being hard pressed, would make a desperate plunge and rush, snapping his chain from the stake, and going straight for his stable with me at his heels. On his way he would scatter everything before him, stalls, tables, baskets, and apple carts, seriously damaging the owners, many of whom, being from Birmingham, were not so well up to the ways of bulls as the Darliston folk. When the bull was once in his stable I had to wash him, dress his wounds, groom him, and feed him up to make him get strength for the next baiting.

At this time Darliston, although a big and important town, had neither magistrate nor courthouse. An infirm old man acted as the constable, watchman, and beadle. If he wanted to take anyone up, he had merely to go to the culprit, and say "Come." Strange enough, the men thus apprehended nearly always did as bidden, and were then walked off to Bilston, one mile distant, where there was a magistrate. Mostly all our quarrels were settled by and among ourselves either amicably—or otherwise.

As well as bulldogs and cocks, my master had a great fancy for carrier pigeons, by which in those days, before steam or telegraphs, he could get the most speedy news of any race or fight within miles of the town. These pigeons were also under my care, for apprentices then had not the protection that they have now, but had to be at their master's beck and call for any purpose he might think fit. One night, after I had got into my master's good graces by detecting one of our neighbor's cats stealing these pigeons, and had warmed the beast up with a flat iron so that it never went near pigeon house again, a fatal match was made in my master's taproom.