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.
Dublin offered other pleasures of the most carnal and sophisticated kind. And there was no more infamous club than Fitzpatrick's on Birdsall Street. So infamous, in fact, that it had an appendix all of its own in the latest edition of Harris's List of Covent Garden Ladies. It was to Fitzpatrick's that Arthur and Dancing Jack were making their way on a humid July evening. Even though it was past eight o'clock Dublin was bathed in a warm orange glow, accentuated by a thin mantle of smog. Aside from a brief shower earlier that day the weather had been glorious for the last week and the streets stank of sewage.The two officers were passing through one of the slum neighbourhoods and the streets were filled with ragged barefoot children, gaunt with hunger but still playing games amid the rubbish and filth strewn the length of the street. Loud singing spilled from a drinking-house at the end, and several men were slumped against the wall, having drunk themselves into oblivion. A haggard-faced whore was calmly going from one man to the next, rifling their pockets.
'Away with you!' Jack lashed at her with his cane and she shrieked as the blow landed across her shoulders. 'Bloody thief!' He raised his cane again and the woman scrambled back, rose to her feet and scurried round the corner.
Arthur glanced about and saw that the people in the street were gazing at the two smartly dressed officers with open hostility. 'Come, Jack, this is not a friendly place.'
