Other formats

    Adobe Portable Document Format file (facsimile images)   TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

The Bird of Paradise

Chapter XII. The Race-Horse Moss Rose

Chapter XII. The Race-Horse Moss Rose.

On the last day of every calendar month long lists of cases, to be heard during the ensuing month before the Chief Justice and his brother Justices at the Supreme Law Courts of New Orleans, were posted on easels in the vestibules of the buildings, and copied into the evening and the morning papers to be scattered broadcast all over the States. On the first of June that year the list of criminal cases to be arraigned before the presiding about the middle, the name of John Graves, and opposite his name the awful charge of wilful murder.

The little party from Augusta, comprising Cosgrove, the athletic architect, the mother of the victim, Hallam, Marmaduke and Eugene, together with three policemen, proceeded by the first train to the city. Stopping at the nearest station, into the same compartment walked the great and mighty Julian Jasper Gould, bent partly upon the same errand as they were.

"Good morn', Payne; good morn', dochther!" as he placed a little brown hand-bag on the net-rack of the railway carriage. "I suppose you're all on the same tack; I got a subpœna on Monday, but I don't see what I can have to do with the thing, and I shouldn't have come if I hadn't wanted a new cylinder for the air-compressor. I gave twelve hundred dollars for the damned thing last week, and one of the pipes has burst already. He worked as a blacksmith for me for a couple of years, but I couldn't keep him sober, and I cleared him out six months ago. She was a good little sort, his wife: I knowed her this ten year; suppose they'll hang him, Payne?"

"Hang him!" replied Marmaduke: "he hasn't a dog's chance;" while his learned friend Hallam sat reading the paper in the corner and said nothing. Hallam had been out of the city suborning witnesses in Augusta.

Getting out at Montgomery, the midway station, they had ten minutes for breakfast, and a free-fight for chops; after which they scrambled to their seats, the whistle blew, and the train never stopped till it arrived in the city. Hailing a cab, the great man got into it and drove away to a page 71foundry in one of the northern suburbs, while the others took the omnibus passing the law courts.

A case of assault and robbery was being heard, and the trial of Graves appeared next to it on the easel. Hanging about the doors was a large crowd talking in little knots together, or wandering aimlessly through the spacious corridors. An adjournment for lunch was made, and still the case was only part heard. The condition of "part heard" obtained for two more days, and so, by way of a change, Marmaduke and Eugene attended a sale of thoroughbred racing stock at one of the city horse bazaars, the proprietor of which was called Ralph Kiss. Paraded before a considerable portion of the horse-loving world, around and around a tanned arena were submitted for auction sales the entire stud of a deceased sportsman. Printed catalogues were in every man's hand, and, as the thoroughbreds were drafted into the big circle, the auctioneer trumpetted forth their manifold and meritorious points, and ran glibly through the whole gamut of their past performances.

"Now, gentlemen," he cried aloud, with wild gesticulations, "let me draw your attention to the highly-bred gelding, Thunderbolt, by Thunder King out of Queen-Consort; his sire, by Ironmaster out of Fishwife, and his dam by Coat of Arms out of Rose of York; Rose of York full sister to Camarine, the winner of the Ascot Gold Cup and the Carolina Plate; Thunder King and Ironmaster, gentlemen, the winners of the English Derby, the Two Thousand Guineas, the Grand Prix of the Bois de Boulogne: and Fishwife, the winner of the Goodwood1 and Florida Cups." The magnificient animal, whinnying, snorting and neighing, was led into the arena. "Look at his bold fiery black eye, his proud and ornamental head, his arched and glossy neck—the prince of them all, gentlemen; look at his well-constructed back and loins, his well proportioned barrel, and every leg as clean as a whistle; look at his well let-down quarters, giving him great propelling powers from behind. It's not for the front legs, gentlemen, to drag him along, but for those hind-quarters to lift him and drive him." Rearing his Titanic and jet-black form, he pawed and smote the air; while the offers from all parts of the circle piled Ossa on Pelion2. Starting at ten thousand, his figure now was sixteen thousand dollars. "Any advance on sixteen thousand dollars? shall I say sixteen thousand five hundred dollars? I ought to say twenty thousand. No advance on sixteen thousand dollars—no advance—down. What name?" shouted Ralph Kiss.

"Mr. Julian Gould," said an agent for the great man, as he led Thunderbolt away to the loose-box. Thunderbolt never won a race in his life. With a tremendous turn of speed, he would fly like lightning for a few furlongs and die away like a falling star. He was built for speed, but he hadn't the heart of a pig, and if anything came near him after a furlong and a half he showed the white feather and would gallop no more.

With the great prize of the day in his hand, the groom was sent away to hand Thunderbolt over to the trainer, with whom Mr. Julian Gould page 72had made arrangements at New Orleans. For months in his early work he was the cynosure3 of neighbouring eyes, what time the skylark sings his matin song; but no horse was better cursed by his owner and backers when they watched his form and performance in the field.

Dozens of other first-class horses were brought into the arena, and the prices which they fetched ranged from one to three thousand dollars. The love for race-horses in Whitworth was lighted; it quickly began to blaze into an insupressible yearning to possess one himself.

"Those figures are too high for me, Marmaduke," he said; "come and have a look around the loose-boxes in the yard," and they both left the arena together.

Sitting on the pole of a dismantled buggy for half-an-hour, they discussed between themselves the qualities of a little black stallion, standing in one of the stalls, with a halter on his head and munching some dirty straw. Miserable and poor he looked; but the blood was there, and as Eugene entered to pat him on the neck, the little horse pushed him back to the door with playful lunges of his hind legs.

"He's game isn't he?" said Eugene. "I like his game head and he is a good colour; just look at those masses of muscle on his thighs: they prove him a born galloper," when the groom came and led the little black stallion away to the arena and Eugene with his friend followed behind.

"Now, gentlemen," cried the auctioneer, "we come to the next on the list: a smart little coal-black thoroughbred, poor and neglected, but as game a horse as ever trod the buffalo4. His sire was the illustrious Guelder Rose, by Sunflower out of Catherine Mermet, and his dam, the famous Water Lily, by Lotus-Planter out of Streamlet, full sister to the mighty Borderer, winner of the Goodwood Stakes and Goodwood Cup. The turf-contributor of the 'New York Herald,' in this edition which I hold in my hand, says that for his inches he is the smartest horse in America. Rising four year old; ran twice, carried eight stone for a mile, and beat the best mustangs in Louisiana. He is a trifle too good for country races now, and only rising four; what shall I say for him? How much for Moss Rose? Shall I say twelve hundred dollars?"

"Two hundred," said an old buyer near Marmaduke.

"Three," said Payne following suit, after the knowing buyer.

"Put a little corn in him and he is worth a thousand dollars of any man's money," roared the auctioneer.

"Four hundred," said Eugene, his mind made up to have him if he spent the last dollar he had.

"Five," said the buyer. "Six," from the agent who bought Thunder-bolt for Julian Gould.

"Seven hundred dollars," said Eugene.

"Here, gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "I'm ashamed to say I'm offered seven hundred dollars for the finest black horse of his size in the country. I might as well give him away and a ton of hay with him: page 73eight stone for a mile in one forty-four, and not likely to get any more weight."

"He'll take all sorts of blooming fine care he wont get any more weight." shouted, laughing, an old Indian buyer, whose acumen and judgment from long experience in horse-dealing was well known all over the American continent. This ejaculation being received with roars of loud laughter seemed to affect the market, and to choke off some of the fanciers of Moss Rose.

"Is there no advance on seven hundred dollars? No advance? Oh! well down he goes." He paused: held up the baton, surveyed the ring, and knocked Moss Rose down to Eugene.

The clamour continued, and the loud stentorian voice of the auctioneer could be heard above the buzzing throng, as Marmaduke and Eugene, after seeing the black horse to the stables, sought out their way back to the criminal court. They had just arrived when the assault and robbery case concluded, and the prisoner, a diminutive, sneak-thief larrikin, was sentenced to six months' incarceration for a jewellery robbery and assaulting a huge constable by bumping up against him.

Taking a large brief from his bag, Marmaduke spread it out before him on the table, having been asked by the State prosecutor to conduct the case on his behalf. Eugene took a seat behind him. There sat the embodiment of the majesty of the law in a large pendulous wig and clothed in a loose-flowing crimson robe. He was a highly esteemed Justice of the State, and his demise soon after was universally mourned. His clean—shaven oval face and his large, lustrous, blue eyes gave him an expression of beneficence and mercy. His quiet, low and even tone impressed the whole court, and indeed the whole country, with a feeling of love and esteem. What a grace was seated on his brow5 as he faced the haggard Graves in the dock!

The associate after the jury was empanelled called out—"John Graves, what plead you, Guilty or Not Guilty?"

With a hoarse and husky voice and a gurgling in his throat, he replied that he was Not Guilty. A low murmur was heard throughout the court.

Brief in hand, Marmaduke rose and presented the case before the jury, his Ciceronian oratory completely eclipsing his speech in the court below. Then Hallam rose to address the jury for the defence when Marmaduke had finished, but breaking down, it was thought he was going to withdraw. The evidence of the mother of the deceased and the witness Cosgrove being concluded, "Call Julian Jasper Gould," said Marmaduke to the crier, when in marched the great and mighty coal-king, bag in hand, himself. He had known the prisoner for two years; he had employed him as blacksmith at the Agamemnon mine; he had dismissed him for drunkenness; he had known the deceased woman well for ten years: she was a hard-working woman, and she had often complained to him of her husband's violence and threats against her life; he had not seen the page 74prisoner since he discharged him, and he had paid his wages to the deceased wife himself. Hallam rose as if to cross-examine the witness, but on second thoughts of the influence of the great man in the city, he straightway resumed his seat. The examination and cross-examination was thus concluded, the latter apparently to the dissatisfaction of the prisoner, who utterly broke down. His burly form shuddering, he cried in sobs and throes of remorse—"If it hadn't been for you, there would never have been any rows."

Hallam abandoned the plea of justifiable homicide, and tried to put in a plea of insanity. The witness, he said, had been well-known to him personally for twenty years, and was a man of high integrity and honour, and a man who, instead of being by inuendoes accused of inciting quarrels between man and wife should be complimented for his broad-cast beneficence and his benevolence towards all. He had known this drunkard to spend his wages in the public-house, and to neglect his wife and children, and had purposely paid over his wages to the deceased wife in order to prevent this lunatic from starving his wife and children to death. This frenzied cur now, he said, was trying to cast an aspersion on the character of one of the most respected gentlemen in the whole mining community of the United States. Hallam went ahead at such a rate that the judge questioned him if he was defending the prisoner or defending the witnesses, and thus snuffing out the flood of light which Hallam intended to throw upon the case, he proceeded, after the prisoner had made his statement, to sum up before the jury. Hallam was hoist with his own petard.

"Gentlemen of the jury, the case as it stands against the prisoner is," said the learned judge, "uncommonly strong. If a man makes an excuse and it is a lying and a bad excuse, he makes his case ten times worse. His excuses in the court below and here are of such a character. The theft of the revolver points clearly to willfulness and deliberation—malice prepense—and the circumstantial evidence is sufficient to bring about a conviction. The cause of death as stated by the medical witness from wounds of the blood-vessels of the neck, such as might have been caused by this knife: you may now retire to consider your verdict."

The gentlemen whispered to each other, not deeming it necessary to retire from the jury-box, and the foreman in reply to the associate declared the prisoner guilty.

"John Graves," said the judge, as he drew over his face a black cap, "you have been found guilty by a jury of your fellow-countrymen of the awful crime of murder. It is not my intention to expatiate6 upon the enormity of the crime, or to add more than it is my duty to do to your present sufferings; I have only to pass the last dread sentence of the law, which is that you be taken from hence to the place from whence you came, and from that place to a place which the President of the National Government may direct, and that there you be hanged by the neck till you are dead; and may the Lord have mercy upon your soul." Not a stir page 75not a sound could be heard in that court as the solemn tones re-echoed the sentence, and the life of John Graves was made forfeit to its Creator, as a thing that should never have been.

Engaging a horse-box and catching the last train back to Augusta, the doctor and the barrister travelled in the box with the horse, as the Railway Department insisted on someone being with the animal during the journey. They reached home close on midnight. Patrick Flynn took charge of the black mustang, caressing and fondling him like a baby. He placed him in the loose-box beside the old pet Rosie, and sat smoking beside Moss Rose the whole night long.

1 Goodwood is an English racecourse.

[Note added by Sara Berger as annotator]

2 To build something to a great height. Correctly, 'Pelion on Ossa' refers to giants in Greek mythology making a stack of mountains in order to climb to Olympus. OED Online (see Pelion).

[Note added by Sara Berger as annotator]

3 A thing which attracts attention due to its brilliance, from a Greek name, Kynosoura, for the constellation Ursa Minor. OED Online, sense 2b.

[Note added by Sara Berger as annotator]

4 Obscure; perhaps simply 'buffalo grass'.

[Note added by Sara Berger as annotator]

5 Shakespeare's Hamlet, III.iv.

[Note added by Sara Berger as annotator]

6 To speak at length. OED Online.

[Note added by Sara Berger as annotator]