Tales of Northumbria Part 13

'GEORDIE RIDE-THE-STANG'

The custom of 'riding the stang' is now obsolete, so that the date of this story must be put back a number of years, though Mr.

Brockett,[19] writing in his glossary of Northumbrian words, in the early part of this century, says, 'I have myself been witness to processions of this kind. Offenders of this description are mounted a-straddle on a long pole, or stang, supported upon the shoulders of their companions. On this painful and fickle seat they are borne about the neighbourhood backwards, attended by a swarm of children huzzaing and throwing all manner of filth. It is considered a mark of the highest reproach, and the person who has been thus treated seldom recovers his character in the opinion of his neighbours.'

The method of divination by the puddings has been practised within living memory, and even yet may be resorted to by way of a jest upon occasion.

Since writing the above the author has come across in Mr. R.

Blakeborough's interesting book, 'Yorks.h.i.+re Wit, Character and Customs,' a different version of 'riding the stang,' to which he is indebted for the first four lines of the 'furrinor's' song. In a footnote Mr. Blakeborough adds that the 'stang' was ridden at Thoralby, Wensleydale, as recently as October, 1896.

There was French blood in Geordie Robertson's wife, Mary, and it may perhaps have been owing to her origin that she was so eager for revenge when she found herself deceived by her husband.

She had begun to suspect him of infidelity even before a neighbour had given her a hint that he had a 'fancy' wife away in Bridgeton, for her husband brought home less and less with his 'pack' after his weekly tramp was over, and when she asked for explanations he 'called' her with most abusive virulence.

For her further satisfaction she determined to make trial, now that the pig was to be killed, of the ancient method of divination practised by the pit-wives, of which the following is the ritual:

When the animal has been slaughtered and the blood duly made into puddings, these puddings are 'set away' to boil by the inquirer of the oracle. Then, just before they are taken out of the 'pot,' the officiating priestess must say aloud that she 'gives them' to him who is suspected of infidelity. Should the puddings emerge whole, gossip is dumfoundered; should they come forth broken, the man is proved to have a 'fancy' wife.

Mary, indeed, found she could scarcely control her impatience when the fatal day came, and, the pig duly slaughtered, she 'gave' the puddings to her husband, Geordie.

She waited another minute to give the spell the lawful grace, then with a trembling hand plucked forth the puddings.

'Ah--ah!' she gasped, tremulous but triumphant, 'then it is so; he has a fancy wife,' and her quick brain fell to pondering a plan for discovery and revenge.

The first thing to be done was to lure her 'man' into a false security by subtle commiseration with him on the 'slackness' of trade, as also by a wonderful submissiveness, even to the extent of going without bacon for breakfast in order that she might save enough to buy him tobacco. Now this form of procedure with a selfish man usually produces excellent results. If he is sufficiently selfish, he does not stay to inquire why or wherefore, but takes all he can, as a cat her cream, without delay, without a thank you--nay, unlike tabby, without even an inward purr.

It was so with Geordie, who began incontinently to brag about his 'missus's trainin',' and how he was 'champion' at 'fettlin' a wife's nonsense,' and, swollen with self-satisfaction, began now to treat her with a sort of contemptuous toleration.

A fortnight or so after Mary had made trial of her puddings, Geordie carelessly mentioned the fact that he would be away over the 'week-end' in and about Bridgeton, and demanded some 'bra.s.s' from her for the replenis.h.i.+ng of his 'pack.'

Outwardly submissive, she gave him five s.h.i.+llings from her small savings, but inwardly determined that it was the last sum of money he should have from her.

On Friday night Geordie departed gaily for Bridgeton, and on the Sat.u.r.day afternoon Mary followed suit, clad in a thick cloak which might serve her for a disguise upon occasion.

When she arrived there, the main street and market were thickly crowded with a swarm of holiday-making pitmen, country folk, farmers and their wives, hinds, male and female, for it was the date of the annual fair and hiring, of 'the general a.s.sembly' of tramps, pedlars, 'tinklers' (tinkers), show-men, and the like, whose business it is to attend such gatherings.

In such a crowd Mary felt safe from recognition, but it might be a difficult task to discover her 'man' in all that company.

An hour or two pa.s.sed, and she had been up and down the long street twice without success; but just as she was turning into a cheap refreshment-room, with 'Tea and coffy always redy' written in a slovenly hand upon a dirty placard in the window, she caught the sound of a voice raised in semi-drunken irritation close behind her which caused her to turn her head hurriedly in that direction.

Yes, there he was without doubt, her Geordie, heavy with liquor already--not 'mortal' yet, but quarrelsome. Aha! and that was the 'fancy' wife, of course, who had him fast by the arm--a blousy, red-faced, fat-armed, big chested woman, who was evidently trying to persuade her charge to come home much against his inclination. At sight of her rival--immodest, gross, overpowering--Mary shrank back aghast, and it was only after a struggle with herself and a forcible iteration of her wrongs, that she could persuade herself slowly and reluctantly to follow the couple in front of her.

'Ho-way!' shouted Geordie; 'there's Tom Turnbull ower by there tryin'

ti lift weights an' show 's strength. Wey, but Tom cannet lift weights, he's nowt but a wee bit beggor. Tom, thoo beggor!' he challenged across the intervening throng of heads, 'thoo cannet lift weights; wey, Aa'l lift weights wi' thoo for a bottle o' whisky!'

'Ho-way, then, thoo aad fightin'-c.o.c.k! but Aa give thoo fair warnin'

Aa can beat thoo, for Aa's champion.'

At this, the 'fancy' wife seized her 'man' firmly by the sleeve, fearing doubtless lest, in his then 'muzzy' condition, Geordie would waste the scanty remainder of his bra.s.s upon a vain endeavour, and, by way of effectually dissuading him, indiscreetly praised his rival's prowess.

'No, no, Geordie, my man, come this way, an' give us my fairin'; wey, there's a mort o' things ti see yet; there's the shuttin'-gall'ry, an'

the twa-headed cat, an' the giant, an' the fat woman, an' aal--ho-way.

Ay, an' Geordie, hinny, Tom Turnbull's tarr'ble clivvor at liftin'

they handles things an' drivin' the bolt up the stick wi' the hammer, an' Aa's warn'd but he'll bang thoo at that game.'

'Tom Turnbull!--that haalf-grown, bandy-legged beggor ov a bit tailor ov a man bang me? Gox! but Aa'll larn him a lesson. Aa'll cut his comb, Aa's warn'd!' and Geordie forthwith, murmuring maledictions, thrust blindly through the crowd till he reached the spot where his rival stood, the centre of an admiring circle of friends.

'Noo,' cried Geordie, turning up his wrist-cuffs, 'Aa'll show thoo hoo the thing's done when it's done proper. Wey, this bolt 'll hit the beam at the top when Aa gie the stump a bat!' and without more ado--amidst the jeers of some, and the encouragement of a few false friends--he seized the hammer, swung it round his head, and brought it down some feet wide of the mark--smash upon the cobble-stones of the market-place. 'That's done the business!' cried Geordie triumphantly, conscious from the stinging of his hands that he had 'gi'en it a champion bat,' and certain that he had driven up the bolt some feet above his rival's mark.

Through the roar of laughter, which Geordie complacently accepted as the proper accompaniment of Tom's defeat, a voice pierced suddenly with a shrill note as of a fife.

'Thoo great clumsy lubbert, see what thoo's done! Thoo's broke the hammer's head off! That's half a crown, my man, for the hammer, an' a penny for the shot; an' if thoo disn't hand it ower, I'll call the pollis, for it's fair takin' the livin' oot ov a poor weeda woman's mouth to break her hammer thet fas.h.i.+on!' and a thin-faced female, with a red-lined nose, sharp cheekbones, and watery eyes, held up two skinny fists in anger against him.

'Gan on, woman, gan on!' retorted Geordie indignantly; 'wey, it's thoo sh'd pay us, or gie us a cigyar, or a c.o.kienut; for that bat o' mine hit the bull's-eye, Aa's warned.'

The shrill-voiced female renewed her protestations, and some of the bystanders joined in with additional explanations; but Geordie would have none of them. 'Gan on,' he retorted; 'gan awa home, an' wesh yor feyce! Wey, the hammer's as rotten as pash, for Aa brought her fair doon like a pick reet on top o' the stump. What else should maa hands be tinglin' for?'

The proprietress of the hammer, however, continued to a.s.sail Geordie with abuse, while at the same time the 'fancy' wife upon his other side endeavoured to drag him away, so that it need not surprise us if Geordie suddenly lost his temper, and turned heavily upon his tormentors.

He shook off the one, and flung down a s.h.i.+lling in payment of the supposed damage to the hammer; the other--the 'fancy' wife--he pushed roughly from him, with the result that she lost her balance, and fell whimpering in the mud, while Geordie lurched off to the nearest hostelry, muttering indignantly as he went, 'Aa's been fair mucked ower wi' women the day--just fair mucked ower.'

A swift inspiration gleamed in Mary's mind. For the punishment of Geordie she had already made due preparation, and now, if she could only persuade the 'fancy' wife, her triumph would be complete.

She noticed the woman angrily brus.h.i.+ng the muck off her 'feast gown,'

and at once made her way up to her and touched her gently on the arm.

'Ay,' she said quietly, as the other looked up with red and testy face, 'an' it's the same way he treats me;' holding her left hand loosely so that her marriage-ring was plainly conspicuous.

'So he has a lawful wife, an' yore her?' And the speaker gave a suspicious, all-embracing stare. 'Well,' she continued slowly, jealousy slipping, like some slow portcullis, from her eyes, 'he's had a change, has my lord! Forst, it was a thin la.s.s like yorsel', an' noo it's a plump one like me. Ay, he's greedy, is Geordie; he winna be content wi' the one, like Jack Spratt, but wants both.'

'Ay, la.s.s,' replied the other woman quietly, 'yore right: he's greedy an' selfish. That's the sort--a selfish good-like nowt, that lives on women, makes them keep him through life just as one does a babby; an'

he's treated the pair ov us shameful--just shameful; but, hinny, I've a plan for a bit payment for him, an' if ye come aside a bit wi' me, I'll tell ye o't.' And she laid an appealing hand upon the other's, and affected with the disengaged one to brush the remaining dirt from the 'fancy' wife's skirt.

'Well, what is't?' said the latter, suffering herself to be led through the crowd to a quiet corner.

Mary at once proceeded, but with a cautious self-effacement, to detail her schemes for Geordie's discomfiture. 'It will not hurt him,' she protested, as her rival still sat silent, 'but it will pay him a bit for the way he's treated us'--here Mary's hand again occupied itself with the soiled dress--'and it will give ye the laugh over him. I've done wiv him mysel; I'm awa to France to-night or morning--that's where Grandfeyther was bred; he came to these parts selling onions at first, an' finally settled doon here to 'scape the soldierin'. An'

I've money enough to pay the expenses,' she continued; 'an' for suthin' to eat an' drink an' the ticket.'

The 'fancy' wife looked at her somewhat hardly, suspicion rising to the surface of her eye. 'An' sae yore off to France, are ye?' she queried; 'ay, an' yore tired ov him? Well, mevvies he would say as he was tired o' thoo; but I've a grudge again' him for the way he's treat us to-day, spendin' aal my bra.s.s ower himsel' an' clartin' my gown an'

all, an' I'll pay him for't, I's warn'd.' And her face darkened vindictively.

'That's right,' replied Mary swiftly. 'And now for the plan. Here's money for you to treat him with. Get him awa oot o' the public before he's had too much, an' bring him along wi' you by the last train from Bridgeton, an' I'll meet you wi' the "stang" ready for him, an' the lads, an' the music, an' all. Oh, but it'll all gan fine, ye-es, ye-es!'

So Mary, having handed over all that she could spare to her rival, departed for the railway-station with a view to catching an earlier train, and revising her preparations at the other end.

Her elation was complete. The only possible flaw in her subtly-devised plan lay in the moods of the 'fancy' wife. If Geordie continued to treat her roughly--and as he had now evidently settled down to the drink, he was almost certain to do so--she would be true to the arrangement; if not, she might relent, and keep Geordie from his house that night.