Highest Stakes (11 page)

  "A horse whose belly is distended with food and water only adds to the inherent peril of slinging them aboard the ship," he explained to Devington. "Moreover, a bit of hunger will encourage them to take to their food once on board and help them to become reconciled to their change of quarters."

  "Are they all to be loaded by sling, then?"

  "I should think the few old campaigners within this lot shall walk upon the gangway with little enough fuss, but 'tis the green ones we must have a care to. I daresay the majority of them won't take to the gangway by any amount of coercion. A properly slung horse cannot injure himself, as his kicks and struggles meet only with air. 'Twill be by far safer and more expedient to sling the young ones.

  "For now, my orders are to leave off the oats and maintain them quiet as possible. It is also vital, Corporal Devington, to keep together pairs who are accustomed to standing side-by-side in the troop stables. If they are settled in the ship stables in their customary order of precedence, they will feed and stand quieter, taking comfort from a familiar presence in unfamiliar surroundings. They must load in proper order. 'Twill be a stressful day tomorrow, and nervous horses are prone to colic."

  By first light, the transport vessels were lined up for a half mile along the south bank of the river Thames. The veteran cavalry horses, with Devington's Ol' Jack and Captain Drake's Hawke among them, boarded in the precise order agreed upon and with little to-do. Once they were settled below, Captain Drake then directed all efforts to loading the restive young herd remaining in the paddocks.

  Devington led the first of the bunch to the landing, from which the sling was suspended. As the men approached with the contrivance that would be used to lift the horse, the wind caught the fabric and sent the canvas snapping and flapping akin to a sail. White-eyed, the colt shied in terror, snorting and bolting backward.

  "Are you men daft?" Devington rebuked angrily. "You can't expect him to just walk up and let us catapult him into the air. The poor beast must be allowed to accustom himself to the apparatus. Now lay the bloody thing down on the ground so it will cease that confounded flapping!"

  Obeying the harshly spoken command, the troopers lowered the canvas until it lay motionless and benignly blanketed the ground. Stroking and quietly murmuring, Devington led the quaking horse by degrees toward the object of its fear. Snorting loudly, the horse lowered its nose to the ground to sniff the fiendish fabric then jumped back in renewed alarm. With Devington coaxing, man and horse circumnavigated the sling, until, gaining courage, they walked warily across the monster.

  "You there," he commanded a trooper, "take hold the head collar and stroke him while I accustom him to the feel of it." Taking up the length of canvas, Devington approached the horse's side.

  "Easy now, my good fellow," he murmured and rubbed the fabric along the horse's body, causing its skin to ripple. Devington continued until the animal was desensitized to the sensation and relaxed his stance.

  Captain Drake, passing by to oversee the progress of the loading, halted his inspection to inquire: "Precisely how many horses have you loaded, Corporal Devington?"

  "Not counting the ones who walked themselves aboard, this is the first, Captain."

  "Indeed? Your counterparts on the other transports have already slung a half dozen aboard."

  "This horse was excessively afeared, sir."

  "Are not they all? 'Tis not natural for a horse to fly." The attending troopers chuckled at the wry remark.

  "Indeed you are right, sir," Devington answered, "but I would convince you that a bit of extra time and care now will greatly reduce the dangers to both man and beast later. If we proceed with gentle persistence, he will load undaunted the next time. If we make the experience traumatic to the animal, he will subsequently be overwrought with fear, thus creating a danger to himself and others."

  "Very well, Devington, have it your way. If, however, we are not loaded and ready to sail with the evening tide, it will be
your
neck. Understood, Corporal?"

  "Perfectly, sir." He saluted and turned back to the horse. "Now then. He has all but tasted the thing and knows there is naught to fear. We may proceed to sling him."

  The captain stood back to observe unobtrusively while Devington addressed the animal in caressing tones and two others passed the canvas under his belly. Reaching hastily for the breast girth, which would prevent the horse from sliding forward within the sling, Devington deftly secured it. A fourth man fumbled to fasten the breech band, which would in turn prevent backward slipping.

  Once assured that the animal was secure, Devington stepped back with a cry: "Make haste, lads, lest he decide to panic. Take him up anon!"

  With four strong men manning the pulley, the bewildered beast was hoisted ten feet above the ground and swung over the ship's hatch, where he was lowered with the greatest of care into a large opening to the stable deck deep in the belly of the vessel.

  Two additional men stood between decks to protect the animal's head and legs from striking the sides of the hatchway as he descended below. Once his feet were on solid planking, three more troopers awaited to release him and lead him to the stall and straw bedding that lay prepared to receive him.

  The sling was then returned and the next horse led up. And the next. And the next. The procedure was repeated thirty times, until the paddock stood empty and the stable deck was loaded to near its capacity of fifty horses.

  Returning later that afternoon to find Devington exhausted and anxious to locate his own pallet after ten unbroken hours of loading horses, Captain Drake remarked, "You have scarce an hour to spare before the tide goes out, Corporal."

  "We have loaded the lot of them, sir." As he spoke, he rolled his shoulders in an effort to loosen his tight and aching muscles.

  "Not quite so hasty, Corporal Devington. One yet remains."

  "I hesitate to naysay you, Captain, but the paddocks are empty."

  "The last of the horses we transport was not held amongst those in the general paddocks. He has awaited his turn in the relative luxury of the Riding Master's personal stables," Captain Drake remarked with a quirk of his brow. "Major Lord Bainbridge has given express orders that his prized young stallion be loaded last and that he is comfortably housed in the large box reserved for use by the veterinary surgeon."

  "Indeed? And what of the animals that might become injured or distressed on the voyage?"

  "Major Winthrop will have to address the issue with Bainbridge. The matter is far above our lowly ranks to resolve."

  "Very well. Where is this specimen of equine perfection that our Regimental Riding Master holds so very dear?"

  "Ah," Drake exclaimed, "here is the precious cargo at last!" He indicated two slight figures being tossed and dragged across the grounds by a magnificent, thrashing, plunging beast.

  The finely sculpted head, small hooked ears, and highly arched neck revealed the stallion's Eastern origins. Notwithstanding his behavior, the tautly muscled, raging beast was a true beauty to behold.

  "Our eminent Riding Master, Major Lord Bainbridge, especially selected this one out of the procurements as his own personal mount, but the stallion has proven an irascible brute. He plies all the arts of snorting, pawing, biting, rearing, and striking at his handlers."

  "Good God! A fractious fiend, if ever there was one. And we are to load him?" Devington asked rhetorically.

  "You might consider this a golden opportunity to prove the effectiveness of your unique training methods." The captain chuckled.

  "I shan't go this alone, Captain!" Devington replied as he observed the horse rear and strike again at one of the grooms. "If I had a day perhaps to work with him, such progress might be made with the rogue, but with barely an hour? 'Tis an impossible task you would ask of me."

  "And if I should offer you a full for'night's relief from stable duty?"

  Devington considered the bargain. "Two for'nights and five guineas, Captain. I shan't risk my neck for nothing."

  "Done," he answered promptly and with obvious relief. "By the by, you sold yourself short, Devington. I should have gone ten guineas for the sheer entertainment. Indeed, I shall now undertake to find a restful spot where I might
safely
observe your magic." He grinned broadly.

  "I shall require a long length of rope."

  "Easily found on a ship. You there! Trooper Benton, is it? Cut ten yards from that line."

  Taking up the cord tossed to him, Devington formed several loops, rolled his shoulders once more, breathed deeply, and turned toward the approaching horse.

  Taking firm hold of the lead, Devington abruptly dismissed the men who had escorted the horse at near peril to their lives. Devington then released the shank with which they had held the stallion and quickly slipped his own makeshift halter over the horse's head and moved back, out of striking range.

  "Now, my boy, give me your worst."

  When the stallion realized the slack in his tether, he set himself to renewed and violent plunging. Holding the line in his right hand, Devington sidestepped to position himself parallel to the thrashing stallion's hip. Giving the horse several more yards of slack, he took up the remaining length with his left hand and purposely made a large arc in the air to startle the stallion into forward motion.

  Anchoring his right arm closely to his hip to keep from being dragged, Devington again made the gesture, but rather than invoking the flight reflex he expected, the stallion spun around to face him. Rising again on his hind legs, he snorted and struck out with both forelegs. Devington narrowly dodged the thrashing hooves.

  "Yes, my boy, you are indeed much faster, bigger, and stronger than me and an altogether superior specimen of God's creation, but I have seen your like before. Only one of us can be master, and it won't be you."

  He swung the rope in another arc to the side of the horse's head. Dodging the rope, the horse landed and spun his hindquarters toward Devington. The captain then struck the horse on the rump with the rope. Surprised once more, flight instinct prevailed, and the horse launched himself forward to escape.

  Perceiving his advantage, Devington continued to use the rope to drive the animal from behind, forcing the stallion to run circles around him. Around and around he encircled his handler, until exhausted and licking his lips in the first visible sign of submission, he halted. Flanks heaving, he turned to regard his handler warily.

  "That's a good fellow. Nice and easy now." Devington advanced slowly toward the horse, taking up yards of slack rope and carefully approaching the stallion's head. Within four feet, he paused. The stallion snorted and shook his mane menacingly. He stood his ground, staring Devington down, but made no further move to strike.

  "You're a restive brute, you are, but I don't believe you are truly vicious, though you do your best to convince me." Speaking calmly and quietly, he moved ever closer toward the horse's shoulder, until he reached out his hand to stroke the horse's neck.

  The stallion snorted again but remained in place. Wary of the horse's every signal, Devington made his way around the animal, running his hands over every quarter. Coming last to the animal's head, Devington brushed the broad forehead. The horse lowered his head with a great sigh.

  Taking the lead close to the halter, Devington walked the subdued beast toward the sling, which lay again on the ground. At first notice of the canvas, the horse abruptly stalled. Snorting, he took three quick steps backward. Ears pricked forward in curiosity, he regarded the canvas suspiciously. Observing the flickering ears, Devington released some slack. The young stallion moved guardedly forward. Halting inches from the canvas, he stomped his foot and jumped back, his gaze never leaving the object.

  With sudden boldness, he strode forward, reached his head down, took the fabric up in his teeth, and tossed it about while trotting a small circle, his tail raised triumphantly in the air.

  "A born cavalry mount, b'God, for the one who can master him!" Drake remarked with astonishment. "You've an undeniable gift, Devington."

  "I won't rest on my laurels, Captain. Horses are a whimsical and capricious species. I'd rather load the beast before he changes his mind."

Foregoing dinner for his berth, Corporal Devington collapsed and fell instantly into deep slumber. His rest was short-lived, however, interrupted by a violent list of the ship and followed by the groan of his cabin mates as they tossed up their accounts into the chamber pots. Soon following suit, Devington was on his knees with seasickness and heartily thanking God Almighty that His hand of Providence had not guided him to join the Royal Navy!