My uncle and I were up betimes next morning, but he was much out of temper, for no news had been heard of his valet Ambrose. He had indeed become like one of those ants of which I have read, who are so accustomed to be fed by smaller ants that when they are left to themselves they die of hunger. It was only by the aid of a man whom the landlord procured1, and of Fox’s valet, who had been sent expressly across, that his toilet was at last performed.
“I must win this race, nephew,” said he, when he had finished breakfast; “I can’t afford to be beat. Look out of the window and see if the Lades are there.”
“I see a red four-in-hand in the square, and there is a crowd round it. Yes, I see the lady upon the box seat.”
“It is at the door.”
“Come, then, and you shall have such a drive as you never had before.”
He stood at the door pulling on his long brown driving-gauntlets and giving his orders to the ostlers.
“Every ounce will tell,” said he. “We’ll leave that dinner-basket behind. And you can keep my dog for me, Coppinger. You know him and understand him. Let him have his warm milk and curaçoa the same as usual. Whoa, my darlings, you’ll have your fill of it before you reach Westminster Bridge.”
“Shall I put in the toilet-case?” asked the landlord. I saw the struggle upon my uncle’s face, but he was true to his principles.
“Put it under the seat—the front seat,” said he. “Nephew, you must keep your weight as far forward as possible. Can you do anything on a yard of tin? Well, if you can’t, we’ll leave the trumpet5. Buckle6 that girth up, Thomas. Have you greased the hubs, as I told you? Well, jump up, nephew, and we’ll see them off.”
Quite a crowd had gathered in the Old Square: men and women, dark-coated tradesmen, bucks7 from the Prince’s Court, and officers from Hove, all in a buzz of excitement; for Sir John Lade and my uncle were two of the most famous whips of the time, and a match between them was a thing to talk of for many a long day.
“The Prince will be sorry to have missed the start,” said my uncle. “He doesn’t show before midday. Ah, Jack8, good morning! Your servant, madam! It’s a fine day for a little bit of waggoning.”
As our tandem came alongside of the four-in-hand, with the two bonny bay mares gleaming like shot-silk in the sunshine, a murmur11 of admiration12 rose from the crowd. My uncle, in his fawn-coloured driving-coat, with all his harness of the same tint13, looked the ideal of a Corinthian whip; while Sir John Lade, with his many-caped coat, his white hat, and his rough, weather-beaten face, might have taken his seat with a line of professionals upon any ale-house bench without any one being able to pick him out as one of the wealthiest landowners in England. It was an age of eccentricity15, but he had carried his peculiarities16 to a length which surprised even the out-and-outers by marrying the sweetheart of a famous highwayman when the gallows17 had come between her and her lover. She was perched by his side, looking very smart in a flowered bonnet18 and grey travelling-dress, while in front of them the four splendid coal-black horses, with a flickering19 touch of gold upon their powerful, well-curved quarters, were pawing the dust in their eagerness to be off.
“It’s a hundred that you don’t see us before Westminster with a quarter of an hour’s start,” said Sir John.
“I’ll take you another hundred that we pass you,” answered my uncle.
“Very good. Time’s up. Good-bye!” He gave a tchk of the tongue, shook his reins20, saluted21 with his whip; in true coachman’s style, and away he went, taking the curve out of the square in a workmanlike fashion that fetched a cheer from the crowd. We heard the dwindling22 roar of the wheels upon the cobblestones until they died away in the distance.
It seemed one of the longest quarters of an hour that I had ever known before the first stroke of nine boomed from the parish clock. For my part, I was fidgeting in my seat in my impatience23, but my uncle’s calm, pale face and large blue eyes were as tranquil24 and demure25 as those of the most unconcerned spectator. He was keenly on the alert, however, and it seemed to me that the stroke of the clock and the thong26 of his whip fell together—not in a blow, but in a sharp snap over the leader, which sent us flying with a jingle27 and a rattle28 upon our fifty miles’ journey. I heard a roar from behind us, saw the gliding29 lines of windows with staring faces and waving handkerchiefs, and then we were off the stones and on to the good white road which curved away in front of us, with the sweep of the green downs upon either side.
I had been provided with shillings that the turnpike-gate might not stop us, but my uncle reined30 in the mares and took them at a very easy trot31 up all the heavy stretch which ends in Clayton Hill. He let them go then, and we flashed through Friar’s Oak and across St. John’s Common without more than catching33 a glimpse of the yellow cottage which contained all that I loved best. Never have I travelled at such a pace, and never have I felt such a sense of exhilaration from the rush of keen upland air upon our faces, and from the sight of those two glorious creatures stretched to their utmost, with the roar of their hoofs34 and the rattle of our wheels as the light curricle bounded and swayed behind them.
“It’s a long four miles uphill from here to Hand Cross,” said my uncle, as we flew through Cuckfield. “I must ease them a bit, for I cannot afford to break the hearts of my cattle. They have the right blood in them, and they would gallop35 until they dropped if I were brute36 enough to let them. Stand up on the seat, nephew, and see if you can get a glimpse of them.”
I stood up, steadying myself upon my uncle’s shoulder, but though I could see for a mile, or perhaps a quarter more, there was not a sign of the four-in-hand.
“If he has sprung his cattle up all these hills they’ll be spent ere they see Croydon,” said he.
“They have four to two,” said I.
“J’en suis bien sûr. Sir John’s black strain makes a good, honest creature, but not fliers like these. There lies Cuckfield Place, where the towers are, yonder. Get your weight right forward on the splashboard now that we are going uphill, nephew. Look at the action of that leader: did ever you see anything more easy and more beautiful?”
We were taking the hill at a quiet trot, but even so, we made the carrier, walking in the shadow of his huge, broad-wheeled, canvas-covered waggon9, stare at us in amazement37. Close to Hand Cross we passed the Royal Brighton stage, which had left at half-past seven, dragging heavily up the slope, and its passengers, toiling38 along through the dust behind, gave us a cheer as we whirled by. At Hand Cross we caught a glimpse of the old landlord, hurrying out with his gin and his gingerbread; but the dip of the ground was downwards39 now, and away we flew as fast as eight gallant40 hoofs could take us.
“Do you drive, nephew?”
“Very little, sir.”
“There is no driving on the Brighton Road.”
“How is that, sir?”
“Too good a road, nephew. I have only to give them their heads, and they will race me into Westminster. It wasn’t always so. When I was a very young man one might learn to handle his twenty yards of tape here as well as elsewhere. There’s not much really good waggoning now south of Leicestershire. Show me a man who can hit ’em and hold ’em on a Yorkshire dale-side, and that’s the man who comes from the right school.”
We had raced over Crawley Down and into the broad main street of Crawley village, flying between two country waggons41 in a way which showed me that even now a driver might do something on the road. With every turn I peered ahead, looking for our opponents, but my uncle seemed to concern himself very little about them, and occupied himself in giving me advice, mixed up with so many phrases of the craft, that it was all that I could do to follow him.
“Keep a finger for each, or you will have your reins clubbed,” said he. “As to the whip, the less fanning the better if you have willing cattle; but when you want to put a little life into a coach, see that you get your thong on to the one that needs it, and don’t let it fly round after you’ve hit. I’ve seen a driver warm up the off-side passenger on the roof behind him every time he tried to cut his off-side wheeler. I believe that is their dust over yonder.”
A long stretch of road lay before us, barred with the shadows of wayside trees. Through the green fields a lazy blue river was drawing itself slowly along, passing under a bridge in front of us. Beyond was a young fir plantation42, and over its olive line there rose a white whirl which drifted swiftly, like a cloud-scud on a breezy day.
“Yes, yes, it’s they!” cried my uncle. “No one else would travel as fast. Come, nephew, we’re half-way when we cross the mole43 at Kimberham Bridge, and we’ve done it in two hours and fourteen minutes. The Prince drove to Carlton House with a three tandem in four hours and a half. The first half is the worst half, and we might cut his time if all goes well. We should make up between this and Reigate.”
And we flew. The bay mares seemed to know what that white puff44 in front of us signified, and they stretched themselves like greyhounds. We passed a phaeton and pair London-bound, and we left it behind as if it had been standing45 still. Trees, gates, cottages went dancing by. We heard the folks shouting from the fields, under the impression that we were a runaway46. Faster and faster yet they raced, the hoofs rattling47 like castanets, the yellow manes flying, the wheels buzzing, and every joint48 and rivet49 creaking and groaning50, while the curricle swung and swayed until I found myself clutching to the side-rail. My uncle eased them and glanced at his watch as we saw the grey tiles and dingy51 red houses of Reigate in the hollow beneath us.
“We did the last six well under twenty minutes,” said he. “We’ve time in hand now, and a little water at the Red Lion will do them no harm. Red four-in-hand passed, ostler?”
“Just gone, sir.”
“Going hard?”
“Galloping full split, sir! Took the wheel off a butcher’s cart at the corner of the High Street, and was out o’ sight before the butcher’s boy could see what had hurt him.”
Z-z-z-z-ack! went the long thong, and away we flew once more. It was market day at Redhill, and the road was crowded with carts of produce, droves of bullocks, and farmers’ gigs. It was a sight to see how my uncle threaded his way amongst them all. Through the market-place we dashed amidst the shouting of men, the screaming of women, and the scuttling52 of poultry53, and then we were out in the country again, with the long, steep incline of the Redhill Road before us. My uncle waved his whip in the air with a shrill54 view-halloa.
There was the dust-cloud rolling up the hill in front of us, and through it we had a shadowy peep of the backs of our opponents, with a flash of brass-work and a gleam of scarlet55.
“There’s half the game won, nephew. Now we must pass them. Hark forrard, my beauties! By George, if Kitty isn’t foundered56!”
The leader had suddenly gone dead lame57. In an instant we were both out of the curricle and on our knees beside her. It was but a stone, wedged between frog and shoe in the off fore3-foot, but it was a minute or two before we could wrench58 it out. When we had regained59 our places the Lades were round the curve of the hill and out of sight.
“Bad luck!” growled60 my uncle. “But they can’t get away from us!” For the first time he touched the mares up, for he had but cracked the whip over their heads before. “If we catch them in the next few miles we can spare them for the rest of the way.”
They were beginning to show signs of exhaustion61. Their breath came quick and hoarse62, and their beautiful coats were matted with moisture. At the top of the hill, however, they settled down into their swing once more.
“Where on earth have they got to?” cried my uncle. “Can you make them out on the road, nephew?”
We could see a long white ribbon of it, all dotted with carts and waggons coming from Croydon to Redhill, but there was no sign of the big red four-in-hand.
“There they are! Stole away! Stole away!” he cried, wheeling the mares round into a side road which struck to the right out of that which we had travelled. “There they are, nephew! On the brow of the hill!”
Sure enough, on the rise of a curve upon our right the four-in-hand had appeared, the horses stretched to the utmost. Our mares laid themselves out gallantly63, and the distance between us began slowly to decrease. I found that I could see the black band upon Sir John’s white hat, then that I could count the folds of his cape14; finally, that I could see the pretty features of his wife as she looked back at us.
“We’re on the side road to Godstone and Warlingham,” said my uncle. “I suppose he thought that he could make better time by getting out of the way of the market carts. But we’ve got the deuce of a hill to come down. You’ll see some fun, nephew, or I am mistaken.”
As he spoke64 I suddenly saw the wheels of the four-in-hand disappear, then the body of it, and then the two figures upon the box, as suddenly and abruptly65 as if it had bumped down the first three steps of some gigantic stairs. An instant later we had reached the same spot, and there was the road beneath us, steep and narrow, winding66 in long curves into the valley. The four-in-hand was swishing down it as hard as the horses could gallop.
“Thought so!” cried my uncle. “If he doesn’t brake, why should I? Now, my darlings, one good spurt67, and we’ll show them the colour of our tailboard.”
We shot over the brow and flew madly down the hill with the great red coach roaring and thundering before us. Already we were in her dust, so that we could see nothing but the dim scarlet blur68 in the heart of it, rocking and rolling, with its outline hardening at every stride. We could hear the crack of the whip in front of us, and the shrill voice of Lady Lade as she screamed to the horses. My uncle was very quiet, but when I glanced up at him I saw that his lips were set and his eyes shining, with just a little flush upon each pale cheek. There was no need to urge on the mares, for they were already flying at a pace which could neither be stopped nor controlled. Our leader’s head came abreast69 of the off hind4 wheel, then of the off front one—then for a hundred yards we did not gain an inch, and then with a spurt the bay leader was neck to neck with the black wheeler, and our fore wheel within an inch of their hind one.
“Dusty work!” said my uncle, quietly.
“Look out, Tregellis!” he shouted. “There’s a damnation spill coming for somebody.”
We had got fairly abreast of them now, the rumps of the horses exactly a-line and the fore wheels whizzing together. There was not six inches to spare in the breadth of the road, and every instant I expected to feel the jar of a locking wheel. But now, as we came out from the dust, we could see what was ahead, and my uncle whistled between his teeth at the sight.
Two hundred yards or so in front of us there was a bridge, with wooden posts and rails upon either side. The road narrowed down at the point, so that it was obvious that the two carriages abreast could not possibly get over. One must give way to the other. Already our wheels were abreast of their wheelers.
“I lead!” shouted my uncle. “You must pull them, Lade!”
“Not I!” he roared.
“No, by George!” shrieked her ladyship. “Fan ’em, Jack; keep on fanning ’em!”
It seemed to me that we were all going to eternity71 together. But my uncle did the only thing that could have saved us. By a desperate effort we might just clear the coach before reaching the mouth of the bridge. He sprang up, and lashed right and left at the mares, who, maddened by the unaccustomed pain, hurled72 themselves on in a frenzy73. Down we thundered together, all shouting, I believe, at the top of our voices in the madness of the moment; but still we were drawing steadily74 away, and we were almost clear of the leaders when we flew on to the bridge. I glanced back at the coach, and I saw Lady Lade, with her savage75 little white teeth clenched76 together, throw herself forward and tug77 with both hands at the off-side reins.
“Jam them, Jack!” she cried. “Jam the—before they can pass.”
Had she done it an instant sooner we should have crashed against the wood-work, carried it away, and been hurled into the deep gully below. As it was, it was not the powerful haunch of the black leader which caught our wheel, but the forequarter, which had not weight enough to turn us from our course. I saw a red wet seam gape78 suddenly through the black hair, and next instant we were flying alone down the road, whilst the four-in-hand had halted, and Sir John and his lady were down in the road together tending to the wounded horse.
“Easy now, my beauties!” cried my uncle, settling down into his seat again, and looking back over his shoulder. “I could not have believed that Sir John Lade would have been guilty of such a trick as pulling that leader across. I do not permit a mauvaise plaisanterie of that sort. He shall hear from me to-night.”
“It was the lady,” said I.
My uncle’s brow cleared, and he began to laugh.
“It was little Letty, was it?” said he. “I might have known it. There’s a touch of the late lamented79 Sixteen-string Jack about the trick. Well, it is only messages of another kind that I send to a lady, so we’ll just drive on our way, nephew, and thank our stars that we bring whole bones over the Thames.”
We stopped at the Greyhound, at Croydon, where the two good little mares were sponged and petted and fed, after which, at an easier pace, we made our way through Norbury and Streatham. At last the fields grew fewer and the walls longer. The outlying villas80 closed up thicker and thicker, until their shoulders met, and we were driving between a double line of houses with garish81 shops at the corners, and such a stream of traffic as I had never seen, roaring down the centre. Then suddenly we were on a broad bridge with a dark coffee-brown river flowing sulkily beneath it, and bluff-bowed barges82 drifting down upon its bosom83. To right and left stretched a broken, irregular line of many-coloured houses winding along either bank as far as I could see.
“That’s the House of Parliament, nephew,” said my uncle, pointing with his whip, “and the black towers are Westminster Abbey. How do, your Grace? How do? That’s the Duke of Norfolk—the stout84 man in blue upon the swish-tailed mare10. Now we are in Whitehall. There’s the Treasury85 on the left, and the Horse Guards, and the Admiralty, where the stone dolphins are carved above the gate.”
I had the idea, which a country-bred lad brings up with him, that London was merely a wilderness86 of houses, but I was astonished now to see the green slopes and the lovely spring trees showing between.
“Yes, those are the Privy87 Gardens,” said my uncle, “and there is the window out of which Charles took his last step on to the scaffold. You wouldn’t think the mares had come fifty miles, would you? See how les petites cheries step out for the credit of their master. Look at the barouche, with the sharp-featured man peeping out of the window. That’s Pitt, going down to the House. We are coming into Pall88 Mall now, and this great building on the left is Carlton House, the Prince’s Palace. There’s St. James’s, the big, dingy place with the clock, and the two red-coated sentries89 before it. And here’s the famous street of the same name, nephew, which is the very centre of the world, and here’s Jermyn Street opening out of it, and finally, here’s my own little box, and we are well under the five hours from Brighton Old Square.”
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收听单词发音
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1
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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2
tandem
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| n.同时发生；配合；adv.一个跟着一个地；纵排地；adj.（两匹马）前后纵列的 | |
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3
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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5
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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6
buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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7
bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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8
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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9
waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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10
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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12
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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13
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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14
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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15
eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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16
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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17
gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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18
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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21
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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22
dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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25
demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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26
thong
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| n.皮带；皮鞭；v.装皮带 | |
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27
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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28
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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29
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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30
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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31
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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32
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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34
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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35
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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36
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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37
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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38
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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39
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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40
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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41
waggons
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| 四轮的运货马车( waggon的名词复数 )； 铁路货车； 小手推车 | |
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42
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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43
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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44
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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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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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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rivet
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| n.铆钉；vt.铆接，铆牢；集中(目光或注意力) | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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51
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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scuttling
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| n.船底穿孔，打开通海阀（沉船用）v.使船沉没( scuttle的现在分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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foundered
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| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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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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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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gape
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| v.张口，打呵欠，目瞪口呆地凝视 | |
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lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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83
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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privy
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| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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