While horses are horses to train and to race,
Then women and wine take a second place
For me—for me—
While a short “ten-three”
Song of the G. R.
There are more ways of running a horse to suit your book than pulling his head off in the straight. Some men forget this. Understand clearly that all racing3 is rotten—as everything connected with losing money must be. Out here, in addition to its inherent rottenness, it has the merit of being two-thirds sham4; looking pretty on paper only. Every one knows every one else far too well for business purposes. How on earth can you rack and harry5 and post a man for his losings, when you are fond of his wife, and live in the same Station with him? He says, “on the Monday following, I can't settle just yet.” You say, “All right, old man,” and think your self lucky if you pull off nine hundred out of a two-thousand rupee debt. Any way you look at it, Indian racing is immoral6, and expensively immoral. Which is much worse. If a man wants your money, he ought to ask for it, or send round a subscription-list, instead of juggling7 about the country, with an Australian larrikin; a “brumby,” with as much breed as the boy; a brace8 of chumars in gold-laced caps; three or four ekka-ponies with hogged9 manes, and a switch-tailed demirep of a mare10 called Arab because she has a kink in her flag. Racing leads to the shroff quicker than anything else. But if you have no conscience and no sentiments, and good hands, and some knowledge of pace, and ten years' experience of horses, and several thousand rupees a month, I believe that you can occasionally contrive11 to pay your shoeing-bills.
Did you ever know Shackles12—b. w. g., 15.13.8—coarse, loose, mule-like ears—barrel as long as a gate-post—tough as a telegraph-wire—and the queerest brute13 that ever looked through a bridle14? He was of no brand, being one of an ear-nicked mob taken into the Bucephalus at 4l.-10s. a head to make up freight, and sold raw and out of condition at Calcutta for Rs. 275. People who lost money on him called him a “brumby;” but if ever any horse had Harpoon's shoulders and The Gin's temper, Shackles was that horse. Two miles was his own particular distance. He trained himself, ran himself, and rode himself; and, if his jockey insulted him by giving him hints, he shut up at once and bucked15 the boy off. He objected to dictation. Two or three of his owners did not understand this, and lost money in consequence. At last he was bought by a man who discovered that, if a race was to be won, Shackles, and Shackles only, would win it in his own way, so long as his jockey sat still. This man had a riding-boy called Brunt—a lad from Perth, West Australia—and he taught Brunt, with a trainer's whip, the hardest thing a jock can learn—to sit still, to sit still, and to keep on sitting still. When Brunt fairly grasped this truth, Shackles devastated17 the country. No weight could stop him at his own distance; and the fame of Shackles spread from Ajmir in the South, to Chedputter in the North. There was no horse like Shackles, so long as he was allowed to do his work in his own way. But he was beaten in the end; and the story of his fall is enough to make angels weep.
At the lower end of the Chedputter racecourse, just before the turn into the straight, the track passes close to a couple of old brick-mounds enclosing a funnel18-shaped hollow. The big end of the funnel is not six feet from the railings on the off-side. The astounding19 peculiarity20 of the course is that, if you stand at one particular place, about half a mile away, inside the course, and speak at an ordinary pitch, your voice just hits the funnel of the brick-mounds and makes a curious whining21 echo there. A man discovered this one morning by accident while out training with a friend. He marked the place to stand and speak from with a couple of bricks, and he kept his knowledge to himself. EVERY peculiarity of a course is worth remembering in a country where rats play the mischief22 with the elephant-litter, and Stewards23 build jumps to suit their own stables. This man ran a very fairish country-bred, a long, racking high mare with the temper of a fiend, and the paces of an airy wandering seraph—a drifty, glidy stretch. The mare was, as a delicate tribute to Mrs. Reiver, called “The Lady Regula Baddun”—or for short, Regula Baddun.
Shackles' jockey, Brunt, was a quiet, well-behaved boy, but his nerves had been shaken. He began his career by riding jump-races in Melbourne, where a few Stewards want lynching, and was one of the jockeys who came through the awful butchery—perhaps you will recollect24 it—of the Maribyrnong Plate. The walls were colonial ramparts—logs of jarrak spiked25 into masonry—with wings as strong as Church buttresses26. Once in his stride, a horse had to jump or fall. He couldn't run out. In the Maribyrnong Plate, twelve horses were jammed at the second wall. Red Hat, leading, fell this side, and threw out The Glen, and the ruck came up behind and the space between wing and wing was one struggling, screaming, kicking shambles27. Four jockeys were taken out dead; three were very badly hurt, and Brunt was among the three. He told the story of the Maribyrnong Plate sometimes; and when he described how Whalley on Red Hat, said, as the mare fell under him:—“God ha' mercy, I'm done for!” and how, next instant, Sithee There and White Otter28 had crushed the life out of poor Whalley, and the dust hid a small hell of men and horses, no one marvelled29 that Brunt had dropped jump-races and Australia together. Regula Baddun's owner knew that story by heart. Brunt never varied30 it in the telling. He had no education.
Shackles came to the Chedputter Autumn races one year, and his owner walked about insulting the sportsmen of Chedputter generally, till they went to the Honorary Secretary in a body and said:—“Appoint Handicappers, and arrange a race which shall break Shackles and humble31 the pride of his owner.” The Districts rose against Shackles and sent up of their best; Ousel, who was supposed to be able to do his mile in 1-53; Petard, the stud-bred, trained by a cavalry32 regiment33 who knew how to train; Gringalet, the ewe-lamb of the 75th; Bobolink, the pride of Peshawar; and many others.
They called that race The Broken-Link Handicap, because it was to smash Shackles; and the Handicappers piled on the weights, and the Fund gave eight hundred rupees, and the distance was “round the course for all horses.” Shackles' owner said:—“You can arrange the race with regard to Shackles only. So long as you don't bury him under weight-cloths, I don't mind.” Regula Baddun's owner said:—“I throw in my mare to fret34 Ousel. Six furlongs is Regula's distance, and she will then lie down and die. So also will Ousel, for his jockey doesn't understand a waiting race.” Now, this was a lie, for Regula had been in work for two months at Dehra, and her chances were good, always supposing that Shackles broke a blood-vessel—OR BRUNT MOVED ON HIM.
The plunging35 in the lotteries36 was fine. They filled eight thousand-rupee lotteries on the Broken Link Handicap, and the account in the Pioneer said that “favoritism was divided.” In plain English, the various contingents37 were wild on their respective horses; for the Handicappers had done their work well. The Honorary Secretary shouted himself hoarse38 through the din16; and the smoke of the cheroots was like the smoke, and the rattling39 of the dice-boxes like the rattle40 of small-arm fire.
Ten horses started—very level—and Regula Baddun's owner cantered out on his back to a place inside the circle of the course, where two bricks had been thrown. He faced towards the brick-mounds at the lower end of the course and waited.
The story of the running is in the Pioneer. At the end of the first mile, Shackles crept out of the ruck, well on the outside, ready to get round the turn, lay hold of the bit and spin up the straight before the others knew he had got away. Brunt was sitting still, perfectly41 happy, listening to the “drum, drum, drum” of the hoofs42 behind, and knowing that, in about twenty strides, Shackles would draw one deep breath and go up the last half-mile like the “Flying Dutchman.” As Shackles went short to take the turn and came abreast43 of the brick-mound, Brunt heard, above the noise of the wind in his ears, a whining, wailing44 voice on the offside, saying:—“God ha' mercy, I'm done for!” In one stride, Brunt saw the whole seething45 smash of the Maribyrnong Plate before him, started in his saddle and gave a yell of terror. The start brought the heels into Shackles' side, and the scream hurt Shackles' feelings. He couldn't stop dead; but he put out his feet and slid along for fifty yards, and then, very gravely and judicially46, bucked off Brunt—a shaking, terror-stricken lump, while Regula Baddun made a neck-and-neck race with Bobolink up the straight, and won by a short head—Petard a bad third. Shackles' owner, in the Stand, tried to think that his field-glasses had gone wrong. Regula Baddun's owner, waiting by the two bricks, gave one deep sigh of relief, and cantered back to the stand. He had won, in lotteries and bets, about fifteen thousand.
It was a broken-link Handicap with a vengeance47. It broke nearly all the men concerned, and nearly broke the heart of Shackles' owner. He went down to interview Brunt. The boy lay, livid and gasping48 with fright, where he had tumbled off. The sin of losing the race never seemed to strike him. All he knew was that Whalley had “called” him, that the “call” was a warning; and, were he cut in two for it, he would never get up again. His nerve had gone altogether, and he only asked his master to give him a good thrashing, and let him go. He was fit for nothing, he said. He got his dismissal, and crept up to the paddock, white as chalk, with blue lips, his knees giving way under him. People said nasty things in the paddock; but Brunt never heeded49. He changed into tweeds, took his stick and went down the road, still shaking with fright, and muttering over and over again:—“God ha' mercy, I'm done for!” To the best of my knowledge and belief he spoke50 the truth.
So now you know how the Broken-Link Handicap was run and won. Of course you don't believe it. You would credit anything about Russia's designs on India, or the recommendations of the Currency Commission; but a little bit of sober fact is more than you can stand!
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1
tilts
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| （意欲赢得某物或战胜某人的）企图，尝试( tilt的名词复数 ) | |
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squander
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| v.浪费，挥霍 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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5
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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6
immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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7
juggling
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| n. 欺骗, 杂耍(=jugglery) adj. 欺骗的, 欺诈的 动词juggle的现在分词 | |
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8
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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9
hogged
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| adj.（船）中拱的，（路）拱曲的 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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12
shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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13
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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14
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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15
bucked
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| adj.快v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的过去式和过去分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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16
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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17
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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18
funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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19
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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20
peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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21
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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22
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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23
stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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24
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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25
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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26
buttresses
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| n.扶壁，扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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27
shambles
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| n.混乱之处；废墟 | |
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28
otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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29
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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31
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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32
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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34
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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35
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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36
lotteries
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| n.抽彩给奖法( lottery的名词复数 )；碰运气的事；彩票；彩券 | |
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37
contingents
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| （志趣相投、尤指来自同一地方的）一组与会者( contingent的名词复数 )； 代表团； （军队的）分遣队； 小分队 | |
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38
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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39
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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40
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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41
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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42
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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43
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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44
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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45
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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46
judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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47
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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48
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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49
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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