From the London Bicycle Club Gazette of 1879
"AN EXCITING CHASE"
"I will begin my story by crying Peccavi ["I have sinned"--see 1
below], but though I am ready to confess my sin, I can't say I am
sorry for it—-I consider that the scoundrels got no more than they
deserved. All the same, when I had had time to get cool I was greatly
relieved to find that the affair had not resulted in any serious
consequences, and I don't think that any amount of provocation would
induce me so to commit myself again."
"Several years ago, when I was still a member of the Unattached [a
bicycle club--see 2 below], I was riding [highwheelers] with a friend,
also of the Unattached, along one of the high roads to the north of
London. It was a cool, bright spring morning ; we had left the macadam
behind us and were spinning along at a good pace, when we overtook a
smart wagonette containing two well-dressed but fast-looking men
[meaning flashy, not speedy], and drawn by a pair of very good horses.
As we came up with them the driver touched up his horses, and a race
ensued for a short distance; then, seeing that he was being beaten, he
reversed his whip, and as my friend, who was leading, drew up level
with him, thrust the butt end into the wheel."
"Poor C. gave a lurch towards the carriage and fell heavily; the hind
wheel of the carriage went over the machine and, as I thought, over my
friend's leg also. I was close behind, and only saved myself by
running on to the grass and alighting on 'all fours' over the handles
[a sprawler rather than a header]."
"On seeing us both down and the machine wrecked, the men drove off,
jeering at us."
"Running to my friend, I found that he could not stand; he called out
that his leg was broken, and a stream of blood was running down his
boot. Taking him by the shoulders, I dragged him on to the bank, and
prepared to cut up the leg of his trousers, but he pluckily declared
he could manage that himself, and begged me to ride after the men and
find out who they were."
"So, telling him to remain where he was till I came back, I mounted,
and, coming up with the enemy after a smart chase, demanded their
names and addresses."
"They answered with a volley of abuse, and by changing from one side
of the road to the other, driving fast, and then suddenly checking,
did their best to obstruct and upset me. Keeping a safe distance, I
assured them that I was good for as many miles as their horses were,
and that I would follow them all day if necessary; after this I took
no notice of their remarks, and they drove faster, evidently hoping to
spoil my wind."
"We had ridden in this way about a couple of miles, when, at the
bottom of a hill in front, I saw the back of a mounted policeman.
Spurting past the carriage, I was soon by his side, then, dismounting,
I dropped my machine on the grass, caught hold of the horse's bridle,
and pulled him broadside on across the road. This obliged the enemy to
pull up, and I proceeded to explain to the astonished Bobby the state
of affairs, declaring that my friend had been run over, that his leg
was broken, that they had left him stunned and bleeding on the road,
aud ended by again demanding their names and addresses. These the men
refused to give, denying altogether the truth of my statements, and
asserting that my friend had fallen through his own carelessness."
"The policeman, however, backed me up, and after a long altercation
the driver gave a name and address; but I felt so convinced from the
fellow's manner that they were false that I refused to be satisfied
with less than a card or an envelope, saying, that a man who could act
as he had done would not mind telling any number of lies to screen
himself. The fellow again flatly refused, and at last the policeman,
who though willing was not bright, declared he could do no more and
let the carriage pass [see 3 below]."
"I need hardly say I was now more enraged than ever, and determined,
at all hazards, that they should not escape; so thanking the Bobby for
his well-meant efforts, away I went in pursuit."
"I had not gone more than a few hundred yards when I came to a patch
of stones, and a thought struck me. To dismount and fill my pockets
with two or three handfuls did not take many seconds, and then off I
started again. Thinking, apparently, that they had at last got rid of
me, the men were now driving very quietly, and I was able to get close
up to them before they were aware of my approach."
"I had a stone ready, and discharging it, hit the off side horse on
the quarter, causing him to kick out and plunge forward; a second
stone hit the near horse on the back, and a third glanced off the pole
[to which the horses were harnessed] and hit him on the neck. They
were now well started, and the driver had hard work to hold them; as
the pace increased my shots became wilder, still some told; one
knocked the friend's hat off, and another, a good big one, hit the
driver a smart crack between the shoulders."
"Whether he dropped the reins or not I don't know, for I was now some
distance in the rear; but the horses fairly bolted. The friend jumped
off the box, and rolling over in the road disappeared in the ditch,
and I saw no more of him. The horses, after galloping a short distance
further, dashed right into a pond. The wheel of the carriage touched a
post, and over they all went together."
"Four or five labourers, who were drinking at a 'pub' opposite, ran
forward to render assistance, and, looking back as I shot by, I saw
that the horses were caught."
"Taking the first crossroad, I made the best of my way back to the
place where I had left my friend, but found him gone, and on inquiring
a little further down the road, was told he had been picked up by a
brewer's cart, and taken to London. His leg turned out not to be
broken, but he had an ugly wound in the thickest part of the calf,
done, I suppose, by the step of the carriage; thanks to a good
constitution he was able to get about again much sooner than I
expected."
"We got a friend to make cautious inquiries about the enemy, and
learnt that neither the men nor the horses were seriously injured,
though the carriage was a good deal damaged."
"The address, as I fully expected, proved to be fictitious. Whether
the men belonged to the betting fraternity or to the swell mob, or
were sporting publicans, we never knew. To my knowledge I have never
set eyes on either of them since. Nor, so far as we could ascertain,
did they take any steps to trace us."
"I thought it best, however, to avoid that part of the country for
some time, and did not re-visit it until the donning of the L.B.C.
uniform had wrought a complete change in my personal appearance [see 2
below again]. As I said at first, I do not seek for a moment to
justify my conduct, and am truly thankful that it did not place me
within the clutches of a coroner and a Hertfordshire jury."
--The London Bicycle Club Gazette, 1879, p. 283-4
http://books.google.com/books?id=enFMAAAAMAAJ&printsec=titlepage#PPA283,M1
[1] Peccavi (I have sinned) was well-known Latin back then, partly
from Latin being taught, but mostly from the famous Latin-English pun
sent as a one-word telegram General Napier to announce that he had
conquered the province of Sind:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_James_Napier#India
[2] The Unattached was another London bicycle club, which had its onw
cap, uniform, and badge, different from the London Bicycle Club. Club
regalia was quite recognizable back then, at least to other riders,
just as we would recognize someone wearing a Trek jersey today. Club
gazettes on both sides of the Atlantic often noted with vehement
disapproval any non-members who wore the club uniform or anyone
wearing them while riding on Sunday. The New York Athletic Club was
outraged in 1897 because "a colored individual" was seen wearing the
NYAC Mercury-foot badge:
http://books.google.com/books?id=GzYCAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover#PRA5-PA23,M1
[3] Back then, there were no driving licenses or other ID cards. Short
of arresting the two men, about all the bobby could do was to ask for
a name, a visiting card, or an envelope with an address. False names
were a standard answer, and searching people for pieces of paper was
rare. Even in the 1920s, Wodehouse often had his characters take the
"elementary precaution of giving a false name" when arrested for drunk
and disorderly. Sometimes they did thirty days under names such as
"Leon Trotzky," which the judge in "Carry On, Jeeves" was "strongly
inclined to think an assumed and fictious name".
Cheers,
Carl Fogel