Young bloods - Scarrow Simon. Страница 66

Whaley nudged Arthur towards one of the bookies. 'That's O'Hara. He's the man for us. Gives decent odds and pays winnings out promptly. I've got an excellent tip for the first race. Come on.'

They pushed through the crowd towards O'Hara: a tall, broad-shouldered man with the build of a prizefighter and the scars to match. He stood on a box, while beside him crouched a young urchin, bent over a book, recording the bets as they were taken and handing receipts out to the punters.

'Hey!' Whaley called out. 'O'Hara!'

The Irishman looked round and caught sight of the English officer at once. 'Why, it's Mr Whaley. And what can I be doing for you this fine day, sir?'

'What odds will you give me on Charlemagne?'

'Charlemagne?' O'Hara closed his eyes for a moment and his lips moved silently. Then the eyes snapped open again. 'Nine to one. But for you, sir, twelve to one.'

'Taken! I'll have five guineas on him.' Whaley turned and nodded towards Arthur. 'My friend will have the same!'

O'Hara looked at Arthur, a shrewd calculating look. 'I don't know this gentleman, sir. We haven't been introduced yet.'

'My apologies. This is the Honourable Arthur Wesley, newly arrived at Dublin Castle.'

O'Hara bowed his head. 'Sir.' Then he prodded the boy with his boot. 'Liam, son, did you get the gentleman's name?'

'Aye, and he's down for five guineas, so he is.'

'Good boy.' He ruffled the child's hair before he bowed his head again to the two officers. 'Enjoy the race, sirs.'

Whaley waved a farewell and pulled Arthur towards the stands. Arthur brushed his hand off. 'What did you do that for,Whaley?'

'Do what, Arthur?' Whaley frowned. 'What are you talking about?'

'Making me take that five-guinea bet. That's almost all the money I have right now. If that Charlemagne loses I'll have no money to pay the rent at the end of the week.'

'Nor will I,' Whaley laughed. 'If we lose, we'll just have to do what every other young officer does, and borrow some money. Besides, how can that horse lose with a name like that?'

'Oh, that's very scientific, Buck. I don't suppose you bothered to check his form.'

'Why should I? The source of my tip is unimpeachable. Come on now, Arthur, or we'll be too late to find a good spot to watch the race.'

With a bitter sigh of frustration at his friend's thoughtlessness, Arthur followed him into the stands and they climbed up until they had a view of the whole track.The horses were already being marshalled down by the starting line and the jockeys urged their mounts into place with quick twitches of the reins and pressure from their knees as the crowd grew quiet in anticipation. The starter waited until all the mounts were as close behind the line as possible, then he dropped his flag and with a throaty roar from the crowd the horses kicked out and galloped down the opening straight.

'Which one's ours?' Arthur shouted into his friend's ear.

'Green and black colours! There, in third, no, fourth place.'

'Fourth? I thought you said he couldn't lose.'

'The race has just started, Arthur. Give the poor bloody horse a chance. Now do be quiet and let me watch.'

Charlemagne managed to stay up with the leaders as the horses swung round the first bend, but made up no ground as they pounded down the next straight towards the final bend. Arthur watched with a sinking feeling of despair. Then the animals swept round, with Charlemagne a full five lengths behind the three leaders. Suddenly, the lead horse reared to one side as the jockey's reins snapped. The second animal drew up and was immediately knocked flying by the horse in third place.

'Ahhhh!' roared the crowd, and then, as Charlemagne swerved past the tangle of horses and riders and thundered down the home straight towards the finishing line the crowd began to jeer and boo. As their horse safely crossed the line and the jockey punched his fist into the air in triumph Whaley and Arthur shouted with delight and pounded the rail with their hands.

'What did I tell you?' Whaley screamed. 'He did it! Come on, let's go and see O'Hara!'

Despite having to pay out a considerable sum to the two officers the bookie was cheerful enough since he had raked in all the money placed on the three unfortunate horses that had come to grief on the home straight.

'You gentlemen care to make another bet?' O'Hara indicated the board behind him on which he had chalked details of the coming races. Arthur was about to walk away when Whaley held him back. 'Just a minute. There's good odds on that last name in the fifth.'

'With good cause, no doubt,' Arthur responded. 'Come on. We've chanced our arm enough already today. Let's take the winnings and go.'

'But look. The odds are twenty to one.'

'Yes, but I doubt we can rely on another freak of fate today.'

'Oh, come on, Arthur. Let's just give it five guineas. We can afford that now. And if we win, we're almost twice as well off. Come on,' he pleaded. 'Just one more bet.'

Arthur looked at him a moment, and relented. After all, he was already more than fifty guineas better off. 'Just one last bet then. But I'll place mine both ways.'

The outsider came in third and Arthur smacked his fist into his hand as it crossed the line, much to the chagrin of Whaley, who had bet to win.The betting did not end there. Several more races went by and Arthur backed almost as many losers as winners by the end of the day, but he had been careful with his initial winnings and was pleased to leave the racecourse twenty guineas richer than when he had arrived.They went and found the other two officers and returned to the hired carriage. Henderson and Courtney had lost a small fortune but were putting brave faces on it.

'It's only money,' Jack Courtney shrugged.'I'll just have to send home for some more.'

'Wish I could,' Henderson replied unhappily. 'I already owe several months' pay to those sharks in Dublin. My father's paid 'em off once already. Swears he won't do it again.'

Arthur smiled. 'I'll wager he does.'

'How much?'

'Twenty guineas.'

'Done.'

'But you must let me write the letter to him.'

'What?'

'I write the letter or the bet's off.'

Henderson considered the stakes for a moment and then thrust out his hand. 'You're on.'

It amazed Arthur just how far one could go in placing a bet. In the months that followed he bet on the weather, the colour of the vicereine's dress for the next ball, Captain Wilmott's waist measurement, and once he even bet Whaley that the latter could not walk six miles round Dublin in less than an hour. Even though Whaley was quite drunk at the time, he took the bet, and through a supreme feat of endurance, won it. Other bets Arthur won, most he lost, and as the summer of 1788 settled on the city he found that he was in debt. He owed Dancing Jack money over a bet who could down the most Tokay one night at the castle. When Jack pressed for the money Arthur had none to give him.

'That's bad form, Wesley,' Jack responded with unusual seriousness. 'A bet is a matter of honour. It's like pledging your word. A gentleman always honours his debts.'

'And it will be honoured,' Arthur said firmly. 'As soon as I find the money.'

'Then see to it, before word gets out that you are not good for your bets.'

The first person Arthur turned to was his landlord, the bootmaker on Ormonde Quay. The bootmaker did not have to be persuaded; he had already made loans to a number of his gentlemen lodgers and knew that they would go to almost any lengths to repay him rather than be publicly dishonoured. Besides, the interest rate on the loans provided a nice source of income in itself. For Arthur, the problem got progressively worse as he was compelled to borrow money from one lender to pay off another, and all the time the sums he owed grew as fast as a vine, threatening to wrap itself around him and choke him to death in the long run. He briefly considered approaching his brother William for a loan, since William was now a respectable member of the Irish parliament, with enough sinecures to provide a comfortable living. But the prospect of enduring one of William's sermons on debt was too much for Arthur to bear. After a certain point, when it was clear that he would not be out of debt as long as he remained in Dublin, Arthur simply ceased to worry about his debts and accepted them as a fact of life.