finished, jintlemin? Then let’s have ’em in, Jack!’
Heavy boots clomped upon the stairs and the crowd parted to allow the passage of a sharp-nosed, wiry man who carried some heavy burden. As he came closer, Hilditch saw that it was a cage and within the mesh a dark mass appeared to move. For an instant Hilditch thought that here was some small caged bear but then flaring gas sparked in a hundred tiny eyes and as the cage was jolted against the pit wall, the amorphous shape split apart and rearranged itself at either end and upon the roof of the cage. Tails flicked from the grill like the tongues of lizards; Hilditch heard now the squealing and saw that in the cage was a great mass of brown rats. The man deposited the cage on the floor of the pit. He bent to tie two pieces of string about the bottoms of his trousers, observing that he ‘could do wivart rats up there!’ and untwisted the loop of wire that fastened the cage.
II
The cage door being let open, the rats – so quick do they move that Hilditch can only roughly estimate that their number is around fifty – pour out on the boards and scatter this way and that, around and about the pit, nosing in crevices and searching for an egress, of which there is none. By Hilditch’s side, Captain Ratcliffe struggles to hold back the salivating and growling terrier as it strains and fights to be let go. The rats, sensing extreme danger, pile themselves at the opposing side of the pit, scrambling one upon the other in pyramids of fur and whiskers, screeching and tearing at each other, the topmost jumping hopelessly for the rim of the pit, where a man flashes an amber-toothed grin as he swipes at them with a club.
‘All ready, sirs?’ calls the wiry man as he shakes free a rat that has fixed itself upon the cloth of his trousers. He climbs from the pit and winks at Ratcliffe. ‘Then we’ll let the fancy commence!’
The soldier leans forward and drops the dog into the pit. It pauses a moment to size up the situation and then plunges into the largest pile of rodents, snuffling deep among the shrieking, squirming pile until it extracts a fat brown rat on which it fixes its teeth so hard that dark specks of blood appear on the rat’s neck. The dog shakes its prey as violently as it was itself shaken upon the rope. It bites harder, forcing more blood from the throat of its victim and then throws the rat upon the floor, where it lies convulsing in its death throes.
The dog darts again at the pile and pulls out another, smaller rat and, making an excited misjudgement, crushes the head in its jaws. It spits out the mutilated animal and despatches three more rats with greater efficiency. Now it has the measure of the job in hand it wags its tail and takes its time, plucking a rat from here, a rat from there; it is content to allow others to race between its legs as it breaks another small neck. So complacent is the dog that an unexpected reversal is all the more alarming.
Once more rushing a number of rats, the dog suddenly withdraws its snout, throws back its head and yelps. A rat hangs heavily from the dog’s jowls, its teeth firmly fixed in the soft skin. The dog attempts to shake free the rat and in so doing tears its own flesh. It squeals and backs away from the pain. Injured and confused, the dog turns on the remaining rats with renewed vigour and, loudly encouraged by the spectators who hang over the pit sides and sometimes beat the rats from the walls with sticks, kills one after another in quick succession. The number of dead steadily grows until more are laid stopped upon the floor than are still scattering about the ring.
A man close to Hilditch points to his pocket-watch. ‘I count thirty-eight dead or dying. Another twelve in three minutes, my beauty, another twelve!’
‘Don’t reckon your pot yet,’ Captain Ratcliffe says. ‘That dog is tiring of the game.’
No sooner has the other replied, ‘Says the expert?’ than he too sees that the dog’s attention is wavering. The gash in its cheek still bleeds and though the number of scuttling rats continues to drop, the dog is dealing out death in a most desultory fashion. The rats themselves appear to sense the change and are becoming bolder. One sits on its hind legs, rubbing its whiskers with tiny paws. Small black eyes glint in the gaslight and Hilditch is seduced by the absurd idea that the thing is praying to him, as some omnipotence holding the gift of life or death, when the dog flies at it, pinning its torso to the floor with sharp claws as it tears off the head with its teeth.
This final violence has thoroughly sated the dog and, pausing to cock its leg and piss against the pile of matted fur near the centre, it sees its present owner and jumps its paws on to the rim of the pit, where its ears are scratched. Unmolested, the last few rats traverse the floor without purpose.
The match over, money changes hands. ‘Well, Captain,’ William Saggers says when the bets are settled. ‘I’ll accept your money and then I’ll have a little bet myself. We agreed ’pon five guinea, I think?’
Captain Ratcliffe laughs dismissively. ‘A farmer might give you a few shillings. That’s no sporting dog.’
Saggers’ voice falls to a low whisper. ‘Don’t make a fool of me, Ratcliffe. I must get staked. There’s money here tonight, I can smell it!’
‘Then sniff it out, by all means,’ says Ratcliffe, turning away. ‘Just keep your nose out of my pockets.’
Saggers forces a smile but his brow appears to record the passing of darker thoughts. His eyes roam about the room but his gaze is unmet. A man whose attention is engaged before he can avert his eyes, listens to whispers and shakes his head. Saggers raises his voice. ‘What? Only five shillings, Bob? And my firm promise that you’ll have six on Saturday next? This ain’t worthy of you, Bob!’
‘Mr Willum, you know I’d never refuse you. But my last tanner went on that dog and I’ll go wivart my lunch tomorrow.’ Saggers grunts and watches blankly as a new dog sets about his rats. The small carcases are being dropped into a sack when Saggers seizes the boy Daniel and grips him by the neck. ‘This is your fault, Dan’l, you’ve brought me to this! What’s a betting man without his capital?’
Hilditch follows the altercation between father and son with interest. He is fascinated by this Saggers, who is clearly a pivotal figure in this alien world and may even, Hilditch thinks, provide him with some vital intelligence. It does not seem unlikely. Just as Hilditch himself has been identified instantly as a stranger, so too would a well-spoken and striking woman appearing suddenly in these parts. It is this woman whose memory has drawn him after her, into the East End of London, and she who impels him into such strange places as this. Engrossed in such thoughts, Hilditch fails to notice that Saggers’ eyes are fixed upon him.
‘Well, stranger! Dan’l says you’ve come a long way to see the fancy tonight. But you’ve yet to make a wager?’
Hilditch is non-committal and only shrugs, in the French fashion.
Saggers says, ‘Well, if you’re new to the fancy you’re wise to watch how it goes first. A man needs to know what he’s doing. And know something about dogs, too, eh?’
He leans over his chair and lowers his voice. ‘Lucky for you, I’m the ’knowledged expert on matters of a canine nature. Ain’t that so, Ned?’
‘’E’s that, all right,’ says a man in a garish waistcoat.
‘What I propose,’ Saggers confides, ‘is that I larns you something about the fancy, in return for a small consideration. Through the fault of others, I find myself short. But a gent like you would hardly come out without his tin, eh? Now, to begin, shall we stake five shilling?’
‘No, I think not,’ Hilditch replies.
‘Three, then? Or a round half crown?’ Hilditch shakes his head and Saggers frowns. ‘I knows my dogs, I tell you. And if we don’t win I don’t take my consideration. How much fairer can a man be? Give me a shilling and I’ll lay it down.’
‘No, I really think not,’ Hilditch says and turns away. He affects to observe the spectators about the pit, who have resumed their drinking and chatter and are, Hilditch thinks, at least as interesting as the spectacle in the pit. Now that the arena is being cleared once more of dead rats, those gathered about it are talking loudly.