Kitabı oku: «The Second String», sayfa 12

CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD
BARRY WAXES ELOQUENT

Barry Tuxford did not confine his attention to racing while in Sydney. He knew there were far more profitable games for making money, and being an old hand at most of them he speculated in various concerns, inducing Jack to follow his lead. They had no news of the pearling fleet, but this was not to be expected, as there were very few means of communication. There was, however, no cause for uneasiness with two such men as Danks and Hake in command, and Harry Marton to superintend.

Jack often thought of Harry and wondered what he was doing. He fancied it was rather like desertion to leave him, but Barry quickly dispelled this idea and said Harry was far more fitted for the task he was engaged upon than knocking about Sydney.

"It would not suit him here," he said, "and as you know, he has a horror of stocks and shares, which I do not wonder at, after the experiences his father had. I have more good news, Jack," he added, as he tossed him a letter to read.

Jack read it eagerly, and could hardly believe in his good luck. The Great Tom Mine had again struck it rich, and the shares had gone up by leaps and bounds; there was every prospect of his being a comparatively rich man in a very short time.

"And that's not all," said Barry, "I cabled to my agent in Perth, to buy every share he could secure at a certain price. That was before the new find, and he secured a nice parcel. You stand in of course."

"I could not think of it," said Jack, "it would not be fair, you have done too much for me already."

"Not at all; it is a pleasure to help a man like you; there are some fellows I would not lend a hand to at any price, but you are different. I am old enough to be your father, and damn me, if I don't feel something like that towards you," he added in an outburst of genuine feeling such as he seldom displayed.

Jack felt strangely drawn towards the bluff good-hearted Colonial. He had found out his true worth and knew him for what he was. There were men who almost hated Barry, but it was because he fought fair and square, and managed to beat them despite their underhand methods.

"I'm a lonely sort of man," went on Barry, "always have been, and I expect always shall be. I never 'cottoned' to a fellow as I have done to you, and I don't mind telling you, if you stick to me I'll see you all right, no matter what happens."

This was too much for Jack Redland. He grasped his friend's hand, and wrung it hard, but he did not speak. He could not. He knew every word Barry spoke he meant and there was a strange knocking at his heart as he looked at him.

"I'm an old fool, I know I am to rave like this," said Barry, "but I can't help it, and that's a fact. I've roamed about the world a lot, roughed it, and it's taken the gilt edges off, if there were ever any on; but you've knocked me all of a heap, Jack. Don't talk about my luck, it's yours that has stuck to me. I have had nothing but good fortune since I met you. My first pearling venture turned out a frost. You come along, and what do we get? We not only rummage out old Jacob Rank on his desert island, or whatever it may be, and rescue him, but we find a heap of pearls, a mighty lot of good shells, the best black pearl ever hauled out on the northern coast, and to cap all, we have a deal with that old shark, Silas Filey, that licks creation. Don't talk to me about luck, you're a regular living mascot, that's what you are."

The tension was relieved at this outburst, and Jack laughed heartily.

"Keep it up, skipper," he said, merrily. "Now you are under full sail let her go; I like to hear you, it does me good; it's as refreshing as a blow on the Sussex Downs. Don't let the wind drop yet, Barry, please don't."

"Stow your chaff and listen to me," said Barry, now thoroughly wound up. He was on the tide of a big success, and felt the force of it. "You came out here to make a fortune, and by Captain Cook, you shall get it. When you landed at Fremantle there was no hanky panky about you. Then you were a born gentleman, a swell. Oh, you needn't remonstrate! I'm not a wall-eyed kangaroo, or a burst-up emu. Oh, dear no! nothing of the sort! I'm Barry Tuxford, knockabout, good for nothing, up to everything, and I know a swell when I see one, although it has not been my fortune to meet many.

"I'm a Colonial, have always been fond of a rough life, but I know what it means for a man of your stamp to tackle a God-forsaken pearl fishing job. I liked you when you buckled to and never grumbled, and I admired your pluck when you planked down the money for those shares. I have seen men who call themselves swells do dirty mean tricks no straight man would be guilty of. They are not my sort. I couldn't sit down to eat my meals with a lot of swollen-headed nobodies. That's not my way. Let a man say what he thinks and speak out straight, then you know where you are. Judging from what I've seen, there must be some fine schools for liars in the old country; they seem educated up to it somehow."

He paused for a few moments, and Jack said —

"There are good and bad in every country. You must not judge us all by the worst samples."

"I forgive 'em since I met you," went on Barry. "In the old days on the gold fields we had a lively time, and no mistake. I was a lonely man there, although I had one good pal at first. He had a failing – he liked the drink and the girls, and any painted gazelle that came along could take all he had. But he was a thundering good pal to me."

Again he stopped, and a far-away look came into his eyes. He was recalling memories of the past, and they stirred him as they will always do men who have seen things and not gained their knowledge from talk.

Jack waited, and presently he went on —

"A real pal was Jake Morley, but as I said before, weak; and a perfect fool when the 'hell fire' they served out in the grog shanties was in him. What poison it was, brewed in the Devil's own vat, I should say, and it sent men wild and burned up both body and brains, when they had any. When Jake went I was lonely. He was as tender as a woman to me. I got sick, down with the fever, and there was precious little for us in camp, and what there was did more harm than good. Men fought and robbed, aye, and killed, too, for food in those days, and a man's life was not worth as much as a horse's. Jake stood by me all that time, some weeks, so I heard, and he got food somehow and somewhere. When I came round he made light of the whole thing, and went on a 'burst.' I didn't see him for days, when I found him he was at the bottom of a shaft with his neck broken. Drink, of course; that was what they put it down to, but I didn't. I had my own notions. A shove in the dark was easy, and he had enemies. I got even with one of them."

"Did you – " commenced Jack.

"No; I never killed a man, although I might easily have done so in self-defence, and no blame to me. There was gold then, heaps of it. The Great Tom Mine is a trifle to it; but it was harder to get, and there was no machinery.

"I did fairly well, but I soon sold out after Jake was gone; I couldn't somehow cotton to the others, thinking as I did one of them had done for him.

"But I was going to tell you we are in for a big thing – bigger than the Great Tom. I got off the track, my memory runs away with me at times; I hope you do not mind it?"

"I wish it would run away more frequently," said Jack smiling.

"I don't mind telling you things," said Barry, "but there are some men I would not open my mind to. Read that."

Jack took the paper; it was torn and dirty, and there was a lot of scrawling writing on it. With difficulty he made out the words, but failed to grasp the full extent of the meaning.

Barry watched him, smiling all the time, and said quietly —

"Hand it back, I'll translate it for you. It is from a man I employ to go out prospecting, and he's struck new ground about a hundred miles from the Great Tom Mine. It is rich, precious rich, and we are going to have the pitch, my friend. You can put all the 'ready' you have on to it, and I'll do the rest. Keep enough for your stay here, of course, but this is a big affair, and we must not miss it. I know my man, and can trust him; he never goes wrong, and he doesn't tell lies. He says the country is richer than the Great Tom. Do you know what that means?"

Jack gasped, "Richer than the Great Tom. Impossible!" he exclaimed.

"All things are possible in gold hunting," said Barry. "I shouldn't wonder if there was a nugget as big as a horse's head, only no one has had the luck to find it yet. It means hundreds of thousands of pounds, my young friend, it means that we are going to scoop the pool, and that we are not going to lose our heads, or go frantic, or howl out to the multitude how clever we are, and that other men are mere fools to us. Dear me, no, we are going to sit tight. I'm not even going to wire. I don't like wires, they leak," said Barry, with a laugh.

"Then what are you going to do? How are you going to communicate with him?" asked Jack.

"I am going myself," was the quiet reply.

"What!" exclaimed Jack.

"Fact; quite true, I assure you. There's a steamer leaves in the morning, and I'm off. We must not lose a chance, and I am the only man to attend to this affair. You can remain here and see after the horses, win the Sydney Cup; do what you like; but I must go. There's no help for it, and if you'll think for a moment you will see I am right."

Jack knew he was acting for the best, but he was sorry almost that the find had been discovered. He also knew what a keen disappointment it would be to Barry to miss seeing the horses run.

"It is a jolly shame," said Jack.

"Never mind that; I consider we are in luck's way. We shall be pulling the string at both ends and may land a big double. I would not miss this chance for anything. You want a fortune. You came out here for one, and by the powers you shall have it."

"Listen to me, Jack; you shall go home and marry the girl of your heart. I don't care whether her father is a Duke or a Marquis, or what he is. You shall have her, if we have to buy him over with thousands. There's more than that if this thing pans out all right, as it must. I'll go with you to beard the lion in his den; how will that fit in?"

"You mean it?" said Jack. "You will return to England with me?"

"Honour bright."

"Then I am glad this has happened. I would sooner have you as my companion on my return than any man, and Sir Lester will give you a hearty English welcome."

"He'll not take to a fellow like me."

"That he will. He's not a man to stand on his dignity where Barry Tuxford is concerned. You shall be my best man at the wedding, is that a bargain?"

"You're hurrying up," laughed Barry. Jack joined in his merriment and said —

"It is your fault, you are always hurrying; and I have got into your way."

"Don't forget while I am away to keep all this dark. You are sure to be asked hundreds of questions when they know I have gone. You'll have to rack your brains to concoct some cock and bull story for them, but I have no doubt you will succeed."

Barry was not long in making his preparations, and next morning he had left Sydney without anyone being aware of it.

Jack felt in the same condition as Barry had done when he lost his pal Jake – he was lonely.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH
BADLY RIDDEN

Such a man as Barry Tuxford was quickly missed in the circles he frequented in Sydney, and twenty-four hours had not elapsed since his departure, when Jack Redland was bombarded with questions as to his whereabouts. He found some difficulty in answering them, but parried thrusts in such a clever manner as would have aroused Barry's enthusiasm. It was with Joel Kenley he had most difficulty. Barry's instructions were clear: "Tell no one where I have gone." This, of course, included the trainer, although Barry had probably not meant such to be the case. At first Jack was inclined to tell him everything, but on second thoughts abandoned the idea.

He explained, as well as he could, that Barry had been suddenly called away on business of importance and might not be back for some weeks, also that he had left him in sole charge of the horses.

"It seems strange," said Joel. "He might have told me he was leaving Sydney."

"He had no time," replied Jack, "or I am sure he would have done so. I quite understand your thinking it a strange proceeding, but I hope you have confidence enough in me to act as we may think best."

"Certainly I have," replied Joel. "I know more of you than Mr. Tuxford, but naturally my curiosity is roused, and I should like to know where he is; however, if you are not at liberty to tell me it makes little difference."

"Do me a favour," said Jack. "Ask no more questions about him, and whatever you think keep it to yourself."

This the trainer promised to do, and Jack said that in due time he should be placed in possession of all the facts concerning Barry's sudden disappearance. They then discussed the coming racing season, and finally decided Jack should ride Lucky Boy in the Welter race at Rosehill.

This was to be run on the following Saturday, and some very fair horses were entered. The race was for amateur riders, approved by the Stewards, and professionals were allowed to be put up with seven pounds extra.

Lucky Boy had done well during the short time he had been at Randwick, and Joel Kenley commenced to think he was a much better horse than he anticipated. The Rosehill Welter would give him a good line to go upon. He did not expect the horse would win, and candidly said so to Jack, but he expected him to make a creditable display.

"It will be a good mount for you at any rate," he said, "and you can keep your eyes open and see what the others are doing."

There was a big crowd at the popular suburban course, and when the Rosehill Handicap had been decided, the Welter was the next race on the card.

Considerable curiosity was aroused as to how the new arrival from Western Australia would shape, and also as lo how Jack Redland would handle him. He had decided to ride in Barry Tuxford's colours, cherry jacket, white sleeves, because he was anxious Sir Lester's jacket should be on a winner the first time they were out, and Lucky Boy did not hold a first class chance.

Where was Barry Tuxford, the owner of Lucky Boy? This was a question freely asked, but no answer was forthcoming. During his visit to Sydney, Barry had somewhat astonished the mining speculators by the cleverness of his transactions, and on more than one occasion it had been a question of the biter being bitten.

The popular opinion, amongst these men, was not very wide of the mark. They thought he had gone away to prospect, or to examine some new land up country, but they did not know he had sailed for Fremantle.

Had there been the slightest inkling as to Barry's destination, and the reason for his journey, there would have been a ferment of excitement, and probably a rush by the next boat to follow on his trail.

Abe Moss put the question straight to Jack.

"Where's Barry Tuxford?" he asked. "You may as well tell me, I am sure to find out in time."

"Then you can wait for that time," said Jack, "for you will gain no information from me."

"Precious clever you think yourselves, no doubt," growled Abe. "Did he tell you before he left that I was to be 'in the know' when your horses were having a try?"

"Our horses always try, no matter what yours may do," replied Jack.

Abe Moss laughed as he said —

"Oh, yes, we all know that. You are perfect saints in Western Australia, too good for this earth. Has Lucky Boy a chance to-day?" he asked, as though he had a perfect right to put the question.

Jack was irritated at the tone, and the man's impudence, or he would probably have given him a different reply. As it was he said —

"He has a very good chance."

"Worth backing?" asked Abe.

"Please yourself," said Jack, as he walked away, inwardly hoping Abe Moss would lose his money, or fail to back Lucky Boy if he won.

There were eight runners, and of this lot Random was a very hot favourite at evens, and as Smith had put up seven pounds extra to ride him the race was booked a good thing for him.

Random was a very useful horse, and more than once, when he had beaten Black Boy, Joel Kenley thought the latter could have won.

He took Jack aside before the saddling bell rang, and said —

"Watch Random closely, stick to him all the way. I do not think you can beat him, but I want to find out what Lucky Boy can do with him."

"Is there any other horse in the race to fear?" asked Jack.

"Only The Spot, and perhaps Tell Tale."

It was Jack's first appearance on an Australian course, and he was naturally anxious to create a favourable impression. Joel had told him that colonial riders had a very poor opinion of "new chums" in the saddle, and added —

"But I think you will cause them to change their opinion before the day is over."

Although Joel thought Lucky Boy had but a poor chance of beating a horse like Random, with a clever jockey in the saddle, he was not without hope that Smith would hold Jack Redland and his mount too cheap, and perhaps throw the race away. Dick Smith had one bad fault, he loved to "snatch races out of the fire," make a close finish of it, when perhaps his mount could have won by four or five lengths. It was for this reason Joel never put him up if he could help it, and when one of his patrons insisted upon it he told him he did it at his own risk.

Random dashed down the course, moving with such freedom that backers were content to lay slight odds on him, and before the flag fell he was a six to four on chance.

Smith thought the race was all over bar shouting, and at the post he smiled sarcastically, as Jack rode up on Lucky Boy, and said to the rider of The Spot —

"Old Joel's going a bit balmy if he fancies that thing has a chance."

"They say the chap on him can ride."

Smith laughed as he replied —

"I think they are well matched, neither of 'em are much to look at."

This was, no doubt, professional jealousy, as Jack cut a far better figure than Smith in the saddle. The race was run over a mile, and at the start Tell Tale went off with a clear lead. Round the back of the course The Spot went up to him, followed by Sandpiper. Jack watched Random, and knew the horse could race up to the leaders at any time.

Smith wondered why Jack stuck so close to his mount, was he a better rider than he imagined? At the half distance Random drew up closer with the leaders, Jack following on Lucky Boy. Two furlongs from the winning post Tell Tale shot his bolt, then The Spot fell back, and Random dashed to the front. Now was Jack's time. If Lucky Boy was to win an effort must be made.

To the surprise of the riders of The Spot and Tell Tale, the outsider, for such Lucky Boy was, shot past them easily and followed close on the track of Random.

When he reached the Leger stand, Smith felt certain the race was won, and eased his mount in order to "canter" home at his leisure. It was a foolish thing to do. To everyone who watched the race, and knew anything about the spot, it looked any odds on Random winning a furlong from home. Had Smith kept him going he could probably have won by half-a-dozen lengths, but this was just where the jockey failed. Jack Redland knew every move on the board in riding a race, and when he saw Smith drop his hands on Random he was sanguine about Lucky Boy's chance. His mount was going well, although he would never have caught Random had he been kept at his top.

Before Smith realised the danger he was in Lucky Boy was alongside him, and the astonished jockey lost further ground through sheer surprise. Instead of Random holding his own the backers of the favourite saw with dismay that Lucky Boy was a very likely winner.

Joel Kenley also saw what occurred, and smiled quietly at Smith's folly. Random, win or lose, ought to have easily beaten Lucky Boy, but a win was a win, no matter whether it came about through the misfortune of others.

Jack rode Lucky Boy hard, and although the horse was not thoroughly wound up he responded to the call and struggled on.

Smith savagely spurred Random, venting his spite on the horse for a fault that was entirely his own. The severity of the punishment caused Random to almost leap forward, and for a second or two he seemed likely to pass Lucky Boy. It was a vain hope on the part of his backers, for when the winning post was passed Lucky Boy had a couple of lengths to the good.

It was a miserable fiasco, this was the universal opinion. An odds on favourite that ought to have won by half-a-dozen lengths was beaten by a miserable outsider.

Smith's failure was so glaring that he came in for a volley of groans and hisses, which did not improve his already bad temper. He was accustomed to cheers, and the ominous sound jarred upon him.

Jack acknowledged he had a very lucky race and did not expect to receive a warm welcome from the crowd. Racing men, all over the world, however, are good natured, and they cheered the new comer heartily.

The owner of Random roundly abused Smith in the paddock, and threatened to call the attention of the Stewards to the spur marks, this, however, at the jockey's request, he did not do.

Jack was delighted at his success, and Joel said —

"You won, but Random ought to have beaten Lucky Boy easily. How did Random gallop?"

"Very well indeed, I think he is a good horse; he had the foot of Lucky Boy most of the way."

"In that case," thought Joel, "Black Boy must be pretty good. I think we are likely to have a bit of fun in the Sydney Cup, a surprise for some of the clever division."

Abe Moss did not take Jack's advice, but backed Random, and when the lucky winner said to him —

"I hope you took my advice, Moss," he replied, angrily —

"Much it was worth, Random ought to have romped home."

"From which I presume you backed him," said Jack. "If such is the case I am glad of it. I always like to see such men as you lose their money."

"What have you against me?" asked Moss angrily.

"Nothing at present," coolly replied Jack, as he walked away.

"He's one too many for you, Abe," said the man standing next to him.