The Pocket George Borrow | Page 9

those generally worn in that province. In
stature he was shorter than his more youthful companion, yet he must
have measured six feet at least, and was stronger built, if possible.
What brawn!--what bone!--what legs!--what thighs! The third Gypsy,
who remained on horseback, looked more like a phantom than anything
human. His complexion was the colour of pale dust, and of that same
colour was all that pertained to him, hat and clothes. His boots were
dusty of course, for it was midsummer, and his very horse was of a
dusty dun. His features were whimsically ugly, most of his teeth were
gone, and as to his age, he might be thirty or sixty. He was somewhat
lame and halt, but an unequalled rider when once upon his steed, which
he was naturally not very solicitous to quit. I subsequently discovered
that he was considered the wizard of the gang.
I have been already prolix with respect to these Gypsies, but I will not
leave them quite yet. The intended combatants at length arrived; it was
necessary to clear the ring,--always a troublesome and difficult task.
Thurtell went up to the two Gypsies, with whom he seemed to be
acquainted, and with his surly smile, said two or three words, which I,
who was standing by, did not understand. The Gypsies smiled in return,
and giving the reins of their animals to their mounted companion,
immediately set about the task which the king of the flash-men had, as I
conjecture, imposed upon them; this they soon accomplished. Who
could stand against such fellows and such whips? The fight was soon
over--then there was a pause. Once more Thurtell came up to the
Gypsies and said something--the Gypsies looked at each other and

conversed; but their words then had no meaning for my ears. The tall
Gypsy shook his head--'Very well,' said the other, in English, 'I
will--that's all.'
Then pushing the people aside, he strode to the ropes, over which he
bounded into the ring, flinging his Spanish hat high into the air.
Gypsy Will.--'The best man in England for twenty pounds!'
Thurtell.--'I am backer!'
Twenty pounds is a tempting sum, and there were men that day upon
the green meadow who would have shed the blood of their own fathers
for the fifth of the price. But the Gypsy was not an unknown man, his
prowess and strength were notorious, and no one cared to encounter
him. Some of the Jews looked eager for a moment; but their sharp eyes
quailed quickly before his savage glances, as he towered in the ring his
huge form dilating, and his black features convulsed with excitement.
The Westminster bravoes eyed the Gypsy askance; but the comparison,
if they made any, seemed by no means favourable to themselves.
'Gypsy! rum chap.--Ugly customer,--always in training.' Such were the
exclamations which I heard, some of which at that period of my life I
did not understand.
No man would fight the Gypsy.--Yes! a strong country fellow wished
to win the stakes, and was about to fling up his hat in defiance, but he
was prevented by his friends, with--'Fool! he'll kill you!'
As the Gypsies were mounting their horses, I heard the dusty phantom
exclaim--
'Brother, you are an arrant ring-maker and a horse-breaker; you'll make
a hempen ring to break your own neck of a horse one of these days.'
They pressed their horses' flanks, again leaped over the ditches, and
speedily vanished, amidst the whirlwinds of dust which they raised
upon the road.

The words of the phantom Gypsy were ominous. Gypsy Will was
eventually executed for a murder committed in his early youth in
company with two English labourers, one of whom confessed the fact
on his death-bed. He was the head of the clan Young, which, with the
clan Smith, still haunts two of the eastern counties.
* * * * *
'I say, Jasper, what remarkable names your people have!'
'And what pretty names, brother; there's my own for example, Jasper;
then there's Ambrose and Sylvester; then there's Culvato, which
signifies Claude; then there's Piramus--that's a nice name, brother.'
'Then there's your wife's name, Pakomovna; then there's Ursula and
Morella.'
'Then, brother, there's Ercilla.'
'Ercilla! the name of the great poet of Spain, how wonderful; then
Leviathan.'
'The name of a ship, brother; Leviathan was named after a ship, so don't
make a wonder out of her. But there's Sanpriel and Synfye.'
'Ay, and Clementina and Lavinia, Camillia and Lydia, Curlanda and
Orlanda; wherever did they get those names?'
'Where did my wife get her necklace, brother?'
'She knows best, Jasper. I hope--'
'Come, no hoping! She got it from her grandmother, who died at the
age of 103, and sleeps in Coggeshall churchyard. She got it from her
mother, who also