CHAPTER XLVII

JAMES PIGG AGAIN!!!

The smuggler was right in his estimate of Pigg’s abilities, for, in addition to his great talents for hunting, he had a turn for low gambling, which the uninitiated sometimes confuse with legitimate sporting. Among other things, he was in the habit of betting on the weight of people’s pigs, backing his own opinion as to what they were, or would feed up to, against the opinions of others; quite as useful and praiseworthy a pursuit, by the way, as people backing horses they have never seen, and over whose running they can exercise no control: be that as it may, however, Pigg was in the habit of exercising his judgment in that way, and had been highly successful at Handley Cross. He had come nearer the weight of Giles Jollyjowle’s pig than eleven others, and had completely distanced all competitors in his estimate of Blash, the barber’s, Hampshire hogs. He had also carried off the sweepstakes at two goose clubs, and received the second prize in a race for a hat. In addition to all this, his “cousin” Deavilboger, who, notwithstanding their little differences about hunting, had still a sort of sneaking regard for “wor James,” had marked his appreciation of the festive season of the year, by sending him a large grey hen of whiskey, so that, what with his winnings and it, James was generally in a state of half fuddle. He would take as much as he could manage if kept quiet, and more than he could manage if put into motion. Now, as bad luck would have it, our uneasy, insatiable Master, wishing to retrieve his blank day before the usual stoppage of the season, thought to get something out of the fire by a quiet “bye” at Newtimber Forest, the scene of his former misfortunes. Pigg, who had just paid his second morning visit to the hen, did not make any decided objection to the proposal, backed as it was by Mr. Jorrocks’s plausible observation, that at that critical season of the year it “be’oved them to get every day they possibly could,” and it was not until they reached the Copperchink Gate, and Pigg pressed a sovereign on the woman’s acceptance for the toll, desiring her, when told to wait for his change, to “keep it,” adding, that their “’ard master had plenty o’brass,” that Jorrocks was aware how matters stood. Recollecting, however, the “Cat and Custardpot” scene, Mr. Jorrocks did not make any observation, but quietly getting his silver, trotted on as if it was “all right,” hoping Pigg would sober as he went. When they got to Foggythorpe Green, where the road diverges through the fields, another scene occurred. Pigg wanted to pay the field-gates, and holloaed at a woman who happened to be passing, to “tak’ her money,” tendering a shilling, as if he had been kept waiting at a turnpike-gate for an hour. Next, as he was making, as he thought, a most sagacious steer through a gate, his eye deceived him as to the number of posts, and, catching by his toe, he was swept head foremost off into a complete hip-bath of mud. He was too wise, however, to let go his hold of the bridle, and as the horse kept smelling at him as he lay under his nose, Pigg kept vociferating, “Sink, they dinna mak their yets hafe wide enough! They dinna mak their yets hafe wide enough, ar say!” At length Mr. Jorrocks got him raised and scraped, and stuck straight on his horse, and they proceeded on their course together. Arrived at the wood, Mr. Jorrocks, thinking the best plan would be to humour him, said if Pigg would go one way, he would go the other, which James assenting to, the hounds dashed into cover, and master and man proceeded to “yoicks” and crack their whips, having the hounds in a widening space between them. The wood was thick and rough, and as Jorrocks proceeded, Pigg’s unearthly notes gradually died out, and our Master had all the noise to himself. Being fond of the sound of his own voice, he proceeded, yoicking and cracking his whip, exhorting the hounds to “find ’im,” and keeping a good lookout a-head, when to his surprise, at a cross ride, Pigg’s horse came snorting and cantering towards him. Pigg, feeling uncomfortable, had laid down to sleep, and left his horse to his own devices. “W-o-a-y, my man! W-o-a-y!” cried Jorrocks, fishing at him with his whip as he approached, which only caused the horse to start and rush past him at a gallop. “W-h-o-a-y, my man,” roared Jorrocks, as the horse went scuttling down the ride without rhyme or reason. “Con-found the hanimal,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, as he eyed him staring about from side to side with the reins all dangling about his feet. “Con-found the hanimal,” repeated he, “was there ever sich a daft divil as that?—was there ever sich a misfortunit indiwidual as John Jorrocks? Cuss that Pigg, I wish I’d never seen him—worst warmint I ever knew. Yoicks, Lavender, good betch! Bet a guinea ’at we find a fox, and the ’ounds run clean away from me. Lose either them or my dinner, or both. Well,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, spurring on to where Lavender was feathering,—“well, needs must when a certain old gen’l’man drives, but if I ’ad my own way, it would be ‘’ome, sweet ’ome,’ for me. Dublin Bay ’addocks, with appropriate sauce, goose, and happle pye. Oh dear! A fox! for a ’underd; a fox! for anything that anybody likes to say,” continued our Master, staring his eyes out as he gets his horse short by the head. “Now for ten miles as the crow flies, with ten bottomless brucks, and Berwickshire doubles without end. Ah! thank ’eavens it’s not!” continued he, as a great banging hare bounced out of the wood, and took down the ride with Lavender full cry after her, and Jorrocks cracking his whip full cry after Lavender. At length he stopped her, and taking advantage of the partial scoring to cry off the hounds, he out with his horn and blew a shrill reverberating blast that drew out the rest, and away he rode with the hounds all clustering about his horse’s heels as if he was going to lay them on to a scent, but in reality to get them out of cover. The horn operated doubly, for a smock-frocked countryman, having caught Pigg’s horse, came cantering up to its sound, and Jorrocks and he were presently on the Woodford and Handley Cross road. Promising the man half a crown and his dinner for seeing him safe home, Mr. Jorrocks started away at a brisk trot, hoping he was getting rid of Pigg for good. And when “wor James” awoke, and learnt from a tape-selling tramp what had happened, he was very wrath, and vowed “he wadn’t stand such work—he wadn’t be robbed in that sort of way—no, he wadn’t. He’d hev redress. He’d hev justice—yis, he’d hev justice—he wadn’t be treated in that sort of way;” and he talked and fretted himself into believing that he had been most infamously used. Finding there was a magistrate in the neighbouring village of Yelverton, thither he directed his steps, and gaining an audience, boldly accused his master of stealing his horse, and applied for a warrant for his apprehension. The justice, seeing the maudlin state he was in, humoured the application, but pretending it would be necessary, in consequence of a recent decision that a man may help himself to a horse to forward him on a journey, to see that Mr. Jorrocks had not taken it for that purpose, he got Pigg into his dog-cart and had him driven over to Handley Cross.

And when Mr. Jorrocks reproved him for his improprieties, he replied that he (Jorrocks) “had ne business out a hontin’ on a drinkin’ day.”