Billy and Prince

My father was the horseman on The Rhaa for most of his working life. A period of time which spanned the years between the two World Wars. It also encompassed the life span of two renowned draught horses Billy and Prince. The sons of old Maggy both born and bred on The Rhaa. Maggy took sick and although she recovered she was unable to suckle Billy. It was a time of rationing so the whole family gave up sugar in order to provide Billy with this life giving supplement.

Billy was the leader and the mischief maker, Prince was the steadier power house.

Both were huge animals but I always fell to Billy to walk in the clash because Prince’s feet were too big.

I heard many stories about Billy, several involving Freddy Crebbin.

Freddy had helped, (or hindered, depending whose version you believed) round our place from the time he was ten years old. One summers evening Pa had been out ‘dragging’ turnip ridges with Billy, and they met up with Freddy at the Church Yard Field gate. Freddy was in his late teens and must have been ‘feeling his oats’ for he started giving Pa a bit of lip, which, in it self, was a bit unusual. Billy was watching Freddy out of one eye and when he ventured close enough Pa said, “Take his hat off”

“My word he was quick,”  Freddy complained, ” He had me cap and a fair mouth full of hair before I could blink.”

“Still,”  He shrugged philosophically, ” I suppose I should have known better than to be  taking  liberties with them pair.”

Freddy tells a story which displays another side to Billy’s character. There was a ploughing match held at Ballamenagh, and some one had borrowed Pa’s team and plough. When the match finished Freddy set out to ride Billy, who he’d ridden many times before, back home.

Back in the field Pa stripped the plough gear of Prince, strapped on the float harness  and hitched him to the float. Loaded up the plough and set of home at a spanking trot.

They caught and passed Billy and Freddy at the bottom of Ballamenagh Road and disappeared off down Baldrine Hill.

Billy did not like being passed, nor seeing his partner going home and leaving him behind. He began to speed up to a trot then to a canter, with Freddy hauling on the bridle reins for dear life, but having no effect what so ever.

They were approaching the top of Baldrine Hill at a thundering, flat out gallop, when Freddy screamed “Whoa”. By his own admission it was purely an expression of terror, he had neither hope nor expectation that it might achieve any result. To his amazement and relief Billy checked his headlong charge, slowed to a trot then to a sedate walk which he maintained all the rest of the way home. 

Freddy always said, “I was there, I know it happened, and I still can’t believe it.”

One black winter’s night Freddie arrived at our place clearly badly shaken. As he had closed our Church Road gate he heard a heavy chain rattle. When he started in the Geary Road the clanking kept pace with him the other side of the hedge. When he stopped the clanking ceased. When he moved the clanking followed. In this manner he proceeded the whole length of the Vicarage Field.

If those two horses were left in a field together they would stay there if it meant that they had to subsist on gorse tips. Take one out different story. In just these circumstances Prince had attempted to leap the Corner Field gate at full gallop. It did not actually impede him that much, but all that remained of that gate was kindling.

Billy had been brought in to do some work and Prince had been hobbled to ensure he stayed put. Prince would know very well who was on the other side of the hedge and he had only been looking for as bit of company.

In the corner of our lawn is a length of cast iron pipe, four feet long and eighteen inches in diameter, with a shallow bite out of the rim. It was originally intended as gas or possibly water main, I have never bothered to enquire which, to be laid in Shaws Brow, over three quarters of a century ago. The chip out of the rim made it impossible to seal, and my father bought the whole length which he intended to have made up into a field roller. He harnessed Prince in the stiff cart and set out to collect his purchase.

What followed is one of the few times he ever admitted carelessness or inattention. There was plenty of help to load the pipe, which hung out over the back of the cart, slanting up across the front board and over Prince’s rump at the front. With it well lashed in place they turned for home.

Prince of course was quite familiar with the area and knew the way, up Police Station Hill and along Athol Street.

My father claimed that had he been given just a second to think they would have turned down and worked their way out of town by some other route. He also admitted that he was deceived by the configuration of the load, “It did not look that heavy.”

Prince however was not fooled  he could feel the extra drag on the tug chains and that mighty horse made his own decisions concerning the task ahead.

His last stride in Shaws Brow was a leap, he came out onto Police Station Hill with all four feet of the ground, six if you count my father who had been picked up bodily and carried along for the first jump. Realising it was dangerous to try to stop the horse my father released the bridle and became a spectator to the drama which was to follow.

Prince’s leaps became shorter and shorter, until all momentum was lost, and he had to resort to sticking his iron shod toes into the road surface and hauling the cart up that hill by main force. Had he lost purchase for a second, or had his massive strength failed or his resolve wavered, there could have been a disaster or even a tragedy. Gravity would have had it’s way, with who knows what consequences for people and property, but the cart would certainly have been wrecked and the horse damaged to some degree.

Prince was actually on his knees as he hauled the wheels up onto the safety of Athol Street.

One spectator remarked it was a good job that cart and harness were in tiptop condition to stand up to a testing like that.

David Kelly