The History of Margaret Catchpole Part 16

"Come, come, Tom, none o' your tricks! this is only some of your nonsense: can't ye let an old fellow rest in his bed without playing off your boy's tricks? what have you done with my stable dress?"

This made Thomas bolt upstairs.

"I know nothing of your stable-dress; I tell you master will be here in a minute: on with your livery. I'll be whipped if somebody has not stolen the fustians! Come, old boy, this is no fun, it's as true as you are staring there; so up with you."

George found by his companion's earnest manner that he spoke the truth, and putting on his livery he came down; he was, as many a man at his age and in his situation would be, much bewildered. He ascertained, however, that the thief had taken his master's new saddle and bridle, and a small stick of his own. He observed that it must have been an old pract.i.tioner, by the straw being littered down to the door, and pointed out to Thomas that the horse's hoofs had been covered with straw to prevent them clattering on the pavement of the yard. His master soon came down and easily tracked the horse to the paddock gate. Of course all the family were roused. "Go directly, George, up to Mr. Spink's, the dealer's, who got this horse for me, and knows him as well as you do, and order a post-chaise from the Lion, and bring Mr. Spink here. You must both of you pursue the thief, even to London. Be as quick as you can."

In the meantime a handbill was written and sent to Mr. Jackson's, of the County Press, with a request that copies might be struck off immediately, in time for the nine o'clock coaches to London. It was to this effect:-- "TWENTY GUINEAS REWARD.

"Whereas, last night, or this morning, May 24th, a fine strawberry roan grey gelding was stolen out of the stable of John Cobbold, Esq., of St. Margaret's Green, Ipswich, together with a new saddle and bridle, and the coachman's stable-dress. Whoever shall give information of the robber, so as to lead to the recovery of the horse, or the conviction of the offender, shall receive the above reward at the hands of the owner.

"N.B. The horse is sixteen hands high, has cropped ears, is six years old, has a cut tail, and is very strong and very fast.

"Ipswich, May 24th, 1797."

This was struck off as soon as possible, and circulated over the town and through the country, by every vehicle leaving the town.

It was about seven o'clock when old Teager and Mr. Spink left Ipswich for Colchester, so that Margaret had some hours' start of her pursuers. As they went on they heard at every toll-gate of a young man having gone through on just the description of horse given, so that it was a warm scent before them.

When they arrived at Chelmsford, through a misdirection of some person, they were told that the same horse was seen going on to Maldon, in the hundreds of Ess.e.x; and they had just given the post-boy orders to turn off the London road in pursuit, as Mr. Alston, of Diss, rode into the yard of the Black Boy as the pursuers were in the act of getting into the chaise.

"Pray, sir, may I be so bold as to ask if you came far along the London road?"

"I left town this morning, and am now on my journey to Manningtree. Why do you ask?"

"Because I am in pursuit of a thief. You did not chance to meet a man riding a strawberry roan carriage-horse?"

"Yes, I did; and remarked at the time that I thought it was the finest shaped horse I had ever seen. He was a crop, with high action and bold crest."

"It is the very horse! Whereabouts might you meet him, sir?"

"I met him I should say about five miles on the other side of Romford, near to Ilford. It was about nine o'clock. I remarked to myself, what a fool the lad must be who was riding him, that he did not manage to fasten his overalls down at his ankles, as I could see his stockings up to his knees. Some gentleman I thought was sending him into livery stables."

"We are greatly obliged to you, sir. On, boy, on!" and the post-chaise dashed out of the yard.

But for the accidental meeting of Mr. Alston it is very probable Margaret would have escaped; but the information thus given put the pursuers on the right scent, just in the right time.

Meantime let us accompany Margaret on her perilous expedition. She had actually ridden the horse from Ipswich to London in the s.p.a.ce of eight hours and a half; it being seventy miles from that place to the Bull, in Aldgate. She only stopped once on the road, at a small public-house, called the Trowel and Hammer, at Marks Tey, in Ess.e.x; here she gave her gallant horse a feed of corn, and had a gla.s.s of brandy and water and a biscuit. It was just five o'clock when she baited. She dared not to offer the horse for sale at Chelmsford for fear of detection, at such an early hour. She felt persuaded that a pursuit would be made, and hoped to hide herself in the metropolis before her pursuers could reach her. Accordingly she allowed the horse no more time than was sufficient for him to finish his corn, and off she went again for nearly five hours' further ride. As she approached town many were the eyes directed towards her, both on account of the remarkable character of the horse, and the singular appearance of the rider. Margaret took no notice of any one, but pushed on her willing steed with the same indifference as if she had been sent upon an errand of only a few miles; nor was the horse apparently fatigued in the least when they arrived at the Bull Inn, which they did about half-past nine o'clock.

She rode quietly down the yard, called for the ostler, dismounted, shook her trousers down, and addressed the man in as off-hand a manner as if she were a real groom.

"Rub that horse down well, and get him cool and comfortable; give him a sup of water and a mouthful of hay, and I will come and see him fed."

"Have you rode far, young man?" asked the ostler.

"Not a very great way. I came out of Chelmsford this morning. See and rub his ears dry, ostler. You must make him look as well as you can, for I expect my master up in town to-night; and if I don't meet with a customer for that horse he'll blow me up."

"He's a very fine horse; and if as good as he looks, would be worth any man's money."

"He's better than he looks, ostler: and 'tisn't any man's money that will buy him. He must give a good price for him, whoever buys him. But look well after him. I must go and get a bait myself."

She went into the bar, ordered her breakfast, took up the newspaper, and with all the airs of a consequential young jockey sat down to the perusal of it. After taking some refreshment she got up to see her horse fed.

The ostler, finding so fine a horse was for sale, apprised a livery-stable-keeper of his acquaintance, who on hearing his representation hastened to look at him. Margaret was called out; the animal exhibited; under-valued by the dealer in the style so characteristic of such gentry; and his good qualifications well vouched for by the young groom.

"Did you ever see a better shape?" exclaimed Margaret. "Look at his fore-end; there's a crest, there's a shoulder, there's a head! Look at his legs, as straight and clean as a colt's; and as for quarters, where will you find such for strength and beauty? He's six-year old next gra.s.s; has never done any hard work before this day; and you won't find a puff as big as a pea in any of his sinews. Quiet to ride or drive, and without a fault. Now, what's the matter with him?"

This was such a poser to the dealer that he could only reply by asking, "Can I have a warranty with him?"

"To be sure you can," said Margaret. "You may have a written one from me; or, if you like better to deal with my master, you may wait till he comes up, and then he'll give you a character, and perhaps you'll make a better bargain with him than you will with me."

"Are you authorized to sell the horse?"

"To be sure I am, or else I should not stand here to talk with you about him."

"Who does he belong to, young man?"

"He belongs to my master, Mr. Cook, of Ipswich, in Suffolk."

"What do you want for him?"

"One hundred guineas."

"May I take him for a trial?"

"Yes; when you have bought and paid for him. He is not to go out of my sight until I receive the money for him, or deliver the horse himself into my master's charge."

"I should like to see him down our ride; I could better judge of his paces."

"Clap the saddle on him. I will ride him where you like; or I will let you drive me with him; but I do not trust any one else with him whilst he is in my care."

The saddle and bridle were put on, and Crop came out of the stable free, and ready to trot back again to Ipswich if his rider was so disposed. He was as fresh and joyous as a lark, and sprang up into the air with almost as light a heart. Margaret mounted awkwardly; put her foot into the stirrup the wrong way; and perceiving that this was noticed, she crossed the stirrups over the saddle in front of her, saying, "My master always makes me ride without stirrups, and I like it best."

In truth she sat the horse better without them; and had she had no saddle, it would have suited her even better still; but this seemed to have the desired effect.

The dealer, however, entertained some suspicions from the awkward manner of the groom, and having already suffered for purchasing a stolen horse, he was more on his guard than he otherwise might have been.

They went out of the stable-yard together, and reached the ride belonging to the dealer, and Margaret turned her horse in as she was directed. The stable lads peeped out to see what kind of nag their master was buying, and were not satisfied with a glance, but looked with much admiration at him.

"Just trot him down the ride, young man."

Margaret dashed down the yard and back again.

"Soho! my fine fellow! Peter," he said to his head man, "just come and look at this nag."

Peter stepped forward, and gave his master a knowing look, as much as to say, "Am I to decry him?"

"Look at his mouth!"

Peter did so.

"How is it, Peter?"

"All right, sir."

"What's his age?"

"Rising six."

"What do you say to him?"

Peter looked at every point, then scratched his head, and again looked at his master; but he received no sign to manoeuvre; so he replied, "Why, master, if you ask for truth you shall have it. He's a right good one; that is it."

"Well, young man, now what is the lowest price you will take?"

"I told you his price when you asked me before. You don't expect me to lower the price of my own horse without a bid! What do you say you will give?"

"Why, I don't know! He's not every man's horse! Not easily matched; and not suited for a town horse; but I'll bid you fifty guineas for him."

"Thank you for your bid, sir; but you must come nigh to double that before you'll buy."

"Will you take sixty for him?"

"No; I will not."

"Will you take seventy? Come now, I'll give you seventy. You may go a long way before you'll get such another offer. Say, will you take it?"

"Add another ten to it and it shall be a bargain. I will take eighty."

"Just walk him down again. Peter, what do you think of him?"

"He's worth the money; that's what I say. Buy him, master."

"Well, young man, I'll take the horse; but you must give me a written warranty with him."

"That I'll do; but perhaps you'll not like to conclude the bargain without master's warranty; if so, we had better not exactly conclude the price."

This so took the dealer aback, that it drove away all suspicions, and he said, "No, no; your warranty will do. I'll give you the money." He was in the act of going to the gateway as he saw one of his men come into the yard, with a paper in his hand, which proved to be one of the identical hand-bills, offering a reward of twenty guineas for the very horse he had just bought. "Peter," he called out, "tell the young man just to walk that horse once more up the yard, and come you here."

He showed Peter the bill, who said: "It's the very horse!"

"Go you and fetch a constable; I'll keep him in play a bit until he comes."

"He's a charming shaped horse, young man. I'd just a mind to ask you if you'd throw the saddle and bridle into the bargain."

"Why, master told me I might sell that if I pleased, and if I sold well, that should be my perquisite."

"I see 'tis a country-made saddle; but it looks pretty good. What will you have for it?"

"Four guineas for both. Come, I have let you take the horse at much less than he is worth; you can afford to give me a fair price for the saddle and bridle, which are, you see, quite new."

By this time Peter returned with the constable; but Margaret was joking about the saddle and bridle, and greatly rejoicing at her success, not the least conscious of the presence of the man of the law, or of the dreadful fate which awaited her.

"Did you say that horse came from Ipswich, young man?" said the dealer.

"I did," said she.

"When did he leave Ipswich?"

"Yesterday."

"Did you leave with him?"

"Yes, I did; I told you so."

"No, you didn't; you told me you rode him from Chelmsford."

"So I did; and from Ipswich too."

"What was your master's name?"

"Mr. John Cook," said Margaret, who now began to feel a little uneasy.

"Are you sure it was not Mr. John Cobbold? Look at that hand-bill, young man."

Margaret saw only her master's name, and all her fort.i.tude forsook her; she swooned away in a moment, and would have fallen from the horse, had not the constable caught her by her jacket as she was falling; and in endeavouring to support her off the horse the jacket flew open, and to the astonishment of all around, lo, and behold, it was a woman!

Margaret was taken into custody; and such a hubbub was created in the neighbourhood, that the story of a female horse-stealer was soon spread abroad, and people began to crowd into the yard. Among the mult.i.tude was a son-in-law of Mr. Cobbold's, who happened to be in town at the time, and identified both the horse and his rider. It was not long before the coachman and Mr. Spink made their appearance, and she was taken before a magistrate, and immediately committed to Newgate, until further evidence could be produced.

CHAPTER XXII.

PREPARATION FOR TRIAL.

Margaret Catchpole was taken into custody; and whilst she was spending a dismal night in the dungeon, a letter was on the road to Ipswich, to inform her master of the capture of the thief.

The wretched young woman had now time for rest and reflection. Instead of meeting her lover, for which purpose alone she had undertaken her desperate enterprise, she had now before her eyes the terrors of the law, the certainty of conviction, the probability of a violent and shameful death. Who knew anything of the cause which had induced her to steal the horse, and who would pity her if they did? The secret was known only to herself, and she resolved it should continue so, lest her lover should be involved in the consequences of her guilt.

It will readily be believed that the news of what had happened created no small sensation in the minds of the various members of that family who had so dearly loved the miserable culprit.

It was immediately arranged that both Mr. and Mrs. Cobbold should go to town, and they arrived about nine o'clock in the evening at the Four Swans, Bishopsgate Street.