# Charles O'Malley; the Irish Dragoon (Rackham, 1897)/Chapter 4

Chapter IV
The Hunt
Although we had not the advantages of a “southerly wind and clouded sky,” the day, towards noon, became strongly overcast, and promised to afford us good scenting weather, and, as we assembled at he meet, mutual congratulations were exchanged upon the improved appearance of the day. Young Blake had provided Miss Dashwood with a quiet and well-trained horse, and his sisters were all mounted, as usual, upon their own animals, giving to our turn-out quite a gay and lively aspect. I myself came to cover upon a hackney, having
I seized the opportunity of prosecuting my acquaintance with Miss Dashwood.
sent Badger with a groom, and longed ardently for the moment when, casting the skin of my greatcoat and overalls, I should appear before the world in my well-appointed “cords and tops.” Captain Hammersly had not as yet made his appearance, and many conjectures were afloat as to whether “he might have missed the road, or changed his mind,” or forgot all about it, as Miss Dashwood hinted.
“Who, pray, pitched upon this cover?” said Caroline Blake, as she looked with a practised eye over the country on either side.
“There is no chance of a fox late in the day at the Mill,” said the huntsman, inventing a lie for the occasion.
“Then of course you never intend us to see much of the sport, for after you break cover you are entirely lost to us.”
“I thought you always followed the hounds?” said Miss Dashwood timidly.
“Oh, to be sure we do, in any common country; but here it is out of the question—the fences are too large for any one, and, if I am not mistaken, these gentlemen will not ride far over this. There, look yonder, where the river is rushing down the hill—that stream widening as it advances, crosses the cover nearly midway—well, they must clear that, and then you may see these walls of large loose stones, nearly five feet in height; that is the usual course the fox takes, unless he heads towards the hills, and goes towards Dugan, and then there’s an end of it; for the deer-park wall is usually a pull up to every one, except, perhaps, to our friend Charley there, who has tried his fortune against drowning more than once there.”
“Look, here he comes,” said Matthew Blake, “and looking splendidly too—a little too much in flesh, perhaps, if anything.”
“Captain Hammersly!” said the four Miss Blakes in a breath; “where is he?”
“No, it’s the Badger I’m speaking of,” said Matthew, langhing, and pointing with his finger towards a corner of the field where my servant was leisurely throwing down a wall about two feet high to let him pass.
“Oh, how handsome—what a charger for a dragoon!” said Miss Dashwood.
Any other mode of praising my steed would have been much more acceptable. The word dragoon was a thorn in my tenderest part that rankled and lacerated at every stir. In a moment I was in the saddle, and scarcely seated, when at once all the mauvaise honte of boyhood left me, and I felt every inch a man, I often look back to that moment of my life, and, comparing it with many similar ones, cannot help acknowledging how purely is the self-possession which so often wins success, the result of some slight and trivial association. My confidence in my horsemanship suggested moral courage of a very different kind, and I felt that Charles O’Malley curveting upon a thoroughbred and the same man ambling upon a shelty were two and very dissimilar individuals.
“No chance of the Captain,” said Matthew, who had returned from a reconnaissance upon the road, “and after all it’s a pity, for the day is getting quite favourable.”
While the young ladies farmed picquets to look out for the gallant militaire, I seized the opportunity of prosecuting my acquaintance ​with Miss Dashwood; and, even in the few and passing observations that fell from her, learned how very different an order of being she was from all I had hitherto seen of country belles. A mixture of courtesy with naiveté—a wish to please, with a certain feminine gentleness, that always flatters a man, and still more a boy that fain would be one—gained momentarily more and more upon me, and put me also on my mettle to prove to my fair companion that I was not altogether a mere uncultivated and unthinking creature, like the remainder of those about me.
“Here he is, at last,” said Helen Blake, as she cantered across a field, waving her handkerchief as a signal to the Captain, who was now seen approaching at a brisk trot.
As he came along, a small fence intervened ; he pressed his horse a little, and, as he kissed hands to the fair Helen, cleared it in a bound, and was in an instant in the midst of as.
“He sits his horse like a man, Misther Charles,” said the old huntsman; “troth, we must give him the worst bit of it.”
Captain Hammersly was, despite all the critical acumen with which I canvassed him; the very beau idéal of a gentleman rider; indeed, although a very heavy man, his powerful English thoroughbred, showing not less bone than blood, took away all semblance of overweight; his saddle well fitting and well placed; his large and broad-reined snaffle; his own costume of black coat, leathers and tops, was in perfect keeping, and even to his heavy-handled hunting-whip I could find nothing to cavil at. As he rode up he paid his respects to the ladies, in his usual free-and-easy manner, expressed some surprise, but no regret at hearing that he was late, and never deigning any notice of Matthew or myself, took his place beside Miss Dashwood, with whom he conversed in a low and undertone.
“There they go,” said Matthew, as five or six dogs, with their heads up, ran yelping along a furrow, then stopped, howled again, and once more set off together. In an instant all was commotion in the little valley below us. The huntsman, with his hand to his mouth, was calling off the stragglers, and the whipper-in following up the leading dogs with the rest of the pack. “They’re found they’re away!” said Matthew; and, as he spoke, a great yell burst from the valley, and in an instant the whole pack were off at speed, Rather more intent that moment upon showing off my horsemanship than thing else, I dashed spurs into Badger’s sides, and-turned him towards a rasping ditch before me; over we went, hurling down behind us a rotten bank of clay and small stones, showing how little safety there had been in topping instead of clearing it at a bound. Before I was well seated again, the Captain was beside me. “Now for it, then,” said I, and away we went. What might be the nature of his feelings, I cannot pretend to state, but my own were a strange mélange of wild boyish enthusiasm, revenge, and recklessness, For my own neck I cared little—nothing; and as I led the way by half a length I muttered to myself, “Let him follow me fairly this day, and I ask no more.”
The dogs had got somewhat the start of us, and as they were in full cry, and going fast, we were a little behind. A thought therefore struck me that, by appearing to take a short cut upon the hounds I ​should come down upon the river where its breadth was greatest and thus at one coup act try my friend’s mettle and his horse’s performance at the same time, On we went, our speed increasing, till the roar of the river we were now approaching was plainly audible. I looked half around, and now perceived that the Captain was standing in his stirrups, as if to obtain a view of what was before him ; otherwise his countenance was calm and unmoved, and not a muscle betrayed that he was not cantering on a parade. I fixed myself firmly in my seat, shook my horse a little together, and, with a shout whose import every Galway hunter well knows, rushed him at the river. I saw the water dashing among the large stones, I heard its splash, I felt a bound like the ricochet of a shot, and we were over, but so narrowly, that the bank had yielded beneath his hind legs, and it needed a bold effort of the noble animal to regain his footing. Scarcely was he once more firm, when Hammersly flew by me, taking the lead, and sitting quietly in his saddle as if racing. I know of nothing in all my after life like the agony of that moment; for, although I was far, very far, from wishing real ill to him, yet I would gladly have broken my leg or my arm if he could not have been able to follow me, And now there he was, actually a length and a half in advance; and, worse than all, Miss Dashwood must have witnessed the whole, and doubtless his leap over the river was better and bolder than mine. One consolation yet remained, and while I whispered it to myself, I felt comforted again. “His is an English mare—they understand these leaps—but what can he make of a Galway wall?” The question was soon to be solved. Before us, about three fields, were the hounds still in full cry; a large stone wall lay between, and to it we both directed our course together, Ha! thought I, he is floored at last, as I perceived that the Captain held his horse rather more in hand, and suffered me to lead. “Now, then, for it!” so saying, I rode at the largest part I could find, well knowing that Badger’s powers were here in their element. One spring, one plunge, and away we were, galloping along at the other side. Not so the Captain: his horse had refused the fence, and he was now taking a circuit of the field for another trial of it.
“Pounded, by Jove!” said I, as I turned round in my saddle to observe him. Once more she came at it, and once more baulked, rearing up at the same time, almost so as to fall backward.
My triumph was complete, and I again was about to fallow the hounds; when, throwing a look beak, seen Hammersly clearing the wall in a most splendid manner, and taking stretch of at least thirteen feet beyond it. Once more he was on my flanks, and the contest renewed. Whatever might be the sentiments of the riders (mine I confess to), between the horses it now became a tremendous struggle. The English mare, though evidently superior in stride and strength, was still overweighted, and had not, besides, that cat-like activity an Irish horse possesses; so that the advantages and disadvantages on either side were about equalised. For about half-an-hour now the pace was awful. We rode side by side, taking our leaps exactly at the same instant, and not four feet apart. The hounds were still considerably in advance, and were beading towards the Shannon, when suddenly the fox doubled, took the hill-side, and made ​for Dangan, “Now, then, comes the trial of strength,” I said half aloud, as I threw my eye up a steep and rugged mountain, covered with wild furze and tall heath, around the crest of which ran, in a zigzag. direction, a broken and dilapidated wall, once the enclosure of a deer-park. This wall, which varied from four to six feet in height, was of solid masonry, and would in the most favourable ground have been a bold leap. Here, at the summit of a mountain, with not a yard of footing, it was absolutely desperation.
By the time that we reached the foot of the hill, the fox, followed closely by the hounds, had passed through a breach in the wall, while Matthew Blake, with the huntsmen and whipper-in, were riding along in search of a gap to lead the horses through. Before I put spurs to Badger, to face the hill, I turned one look towards Hammersly. There was a slight curl, half-smile, half-sneer upon his lip, that actually maddened me, and had a precipice yawned beneath my feet, I should have dashed at it after that, The ascent was so steep that I was obliged to take the hill in a slanting direction, and even thus, the loose footing rendered it dangerous in the extreme. At length I reached the crest, where the wall, more than five feet in height, stood frowning above and seeming to defy me. I turned my horse full round, so that his very chest almost touched the stones, and, with a bold cut of the whip aid a loud halloo, the gallant animal rose, as if rearing, pawed for an instant to regain his balance, and then with a frightful struggle fell backwards, and rolled from top to bottom of the hill, carrying me along with him; the last object that crossed may sight, as I lay bruised and motionless, being the Captain as he took the wall in a flying leap, and disappeared at the other side. After a few scrambling efforts to rise, Badger regained his legs, and stood beside me; but such was the shock and concussion of my fall, that all the objects around me seemed wavering and flouting before me, while showers of bright sparks fell in myriads before my eyes. I tried to rise, but fell back helpless. Cold perspiration broke over my forehead, and I fainted. From that moment I can remember nothing, till I felt myself galloping along at full speed upon a level tableland, with the hounds about three fields in advance, Hammersly riding foremost, and taking all his leaps coolly as ever. As I swayed to either side upon my saddle, from weakness, I was lost to all thought or recollection, save a flickering memory of some plan of vengeance, which still urged me forward. The chase had now lasted above an hour, and both hounds and horses began to feel the pace they were going. As for me, I rode mechanically; I neither knew nor cared for the dangers before me. My eye rested on but one object; my whole being was concentrated upon one vague and undetermined sense of revenge, At this instant the huntsman came alongside of me.
“Are you hurted, Misther Charles? did you fall?—your cheek is all blood, and your coat is torn in two; and, Mother o’ God, his boot is ground to powder; he does not hear me. Oh, pull up—pull, for the love of the Virgin; there’s the clover-field, and the sunk fence before you, and you’ll be killed on the spot.”
“Where?” cried I, with the cry of a madman, “where’s the clover-field?—where’s the sunk fence? Ha? I see it—I see it now.”
​So saying, I dashed the rowels into my horse’s flanks, and in an instant was beyond the reach of the poor fellow’s remonstrances. Another moment I was beside the Captain. He turned round as I came up: the same smile was upon his mouth—I could have struck him. About three hundred yards before us lay the sunk fence; its breadth was about twenty feet, and a wall of close brickwork formed its face. Over this the hounds were now clambering; some succeeded in crossing, but by far the greater number fell back howling into the ditch.
I turned towards Hemmersly. He was standing high in bis stirrups, and, as he looked towards the yawning fence, down which the dogs were tumbling in masses, I thought (perhaps it was but a thought) that his cheek was paler. I looked again, he was pulling at his horse; ha! it was true, then, he would not face it, I turned round in my saddle, looked him full in the face, and, as I pointed with my whip to the leap, called out in a voice hoarse with passion, “Come on.” I saw no more. All objects were lost to me from that moment. When next my senses cleared I was standing amid the dogs, where they had just killed. Badger stood blown and trembling beside me, his head drouping, and his flanks gored with spur marks. I looked about, but all consciousness of the past had fled; the concussion of my fall had shaken my intellect, and I was like one but half awake, One glimpse, short and fleeting, of what was taking place, shot through my brain, as old Brackely whispered to me, “By my soul, ye did for the Captain there!” I turned a vague look upon him, and my eyes fell upon the figure of a man that lay stretched and bleeding upon a door before me. His pale face was crossed with a purple stream of blood that trickled from a wound beside his eyebrow; his arms lay motionless and heavily at either side. I knew him not. A loud report of a pistol aroused me from my stupor; I looked back, I saw a crowd that broke suddenly asunder and fled right and left. I heard a heavy crash upon the ground; I pointed with my finger, for I could not utter a word.
“It is the English mare, yer honor; she was a beauty this morning, but she’s broke her collar-bone and both her legs, and it was best to put her out of pain,”