piercing scream that came from Marigold. One of her young brothers, a mere child, had suddenly appeared from the cabin to see what all the fuss was about, and was standing alongside the tiller. She had instantly perceived the danger as somebody, thinking they were helping when the danger of crushing the horse was over, was pulling the stern in towards the towpath. She yelled a warning and shoved him out of the way a mere fraction of a second before the rudder hit the bank, which in turn caused the tiller to swing violently across the stern, just missing the child’s head. She sighed, a profound sigh, having just averted what would have been a tragedy. Marigold breathed a sigh of relief and picked up the child, taking him out of harm’s way.
Algie found his submerged bike at that very moment. He lifted it over his head, mucky water and weeds cascading over him, and placed it on the towpath with a look of demoralised anguish. Then he clambered out, forlorn, bedraggled by the same cold water. By this time, the pair of narrowboats had come to a stop.
‘Catch this rope, Algie.’ It was Hannah Bingham’s voice.
Algie turned and looked just as Hannah tossed it to him. When he stepped forward to catch it his boots squelched, oozing slime and mud.
‘Chuck one end to Seth,’ Hannah yelled. ‘He’ll fasten it to the hoss. You can help pull the poor thing out.’
Algie tried not to look at Marigold, but could not resist casting her a glance. He felt immensely stupid. She was obviously concerned at the sudden plight they all found themselves in, and she looked bewildered and flustered. She must think him such a fool. Surely, she must blame him for all this. He had ruined any chance he’d ever had of success with her.
Seth seemed to be making some progress calming down the frightened horse. He spoke to it as softly as the desperate circumstances would allow, and patted its trembling neck reassuringly. He fastened the rope to its collar, then tried to get the horse to limber up the vertical side of the canal.
‘Pull the rope,’ he called to Algie.
Algie pulled, but the horse resisted.
By this time a small audience had gathered, people using the towpath as a shortcut, and advice was not long in coming. ‘Tie some planks together and put one end in the cut, the other on the towpath, and walk him out,’ one man advised. ‘But planks’ll float,’ reasoned another. Somebody else suggested that they fix a blanket under the horse’s belly, then yank him out with a crane.
‘Where are we gunna find a crane of a Sunday?’ Algie queried impatiently, quietly shivering from the icy cold water that was running down his back, squishing inside his clinging clothes.
‘They must have one at the firebrick works.’
‘That bloody saft Algie ought to be made swim with the hoss to the nearest steps,’ Seth declared from the middle of the canal.
For half an hour they endeavoured to coax the horse to jump up onto the towpath, but in vain, for the sides were too high and too steep. Until Algie, desperate to avoid swimming to the nearest escape steps with the horse, and to redeem himself in the eyes of Marigold, had an idea.
‘Got any carrots, Mrs Bingham?’
‘Yes, by God,’ Hannah replied, at once catching on.
By this time, the pair of narrowboats had been hauled alongside the towpath and moored. She delved inside her cabin and emerged clutching several carrots. Algie squelched towards her and took them.
He made his way to the horse, sat on his haunches and offered the animal a carrot, which it sniffed suspiciously, then took in its mouth and chomped.
‘Here’s another,’ Algie said, dangling it in front of the horse’s long face, but about a foot out of its reach. ‘This time, though, you gotta come and fetch it.’ He stood up and moved away, but still held out the carrot for the horse to see.
‘Goo on, lad,’ Seth encouraged, acknowledging the vain possibility that this ploy might work. ‘Goo on, get the carrot.’
The animal fidgeted about fretfully in the water, evidently lacking the confidence or the will to attempt a leap. Algie moved towards the horse again, allowing it another sniff of the carrot, then backed away once more. The horse shifted backwards, and for a moment looked poised to leap, then seemed to change its mind. Seth, Algie and all the others offered more vocal encouragement until, with a monumental effort, the plucky little horse leapt up. Its front hoofs scraped on the compressed ash of the towpath, while its hind legs flailed to and fro, trying to find some purchase on the smooth blue bricks that formed the edge. At the same time, the men pulled on the rope. For a moment it looked as though the horse would fail and hurt itself as it tumbled backwards into the cut again. But miraculously, it made it, and a loud cheer rang through the spring air.
‘Thank God,’ Hannah exclaimed with a sigh of relief.
Algie kept his promise to the horse, which was now only concerned with acquiring the carrot, and popped it into its mouth. ‘Good lad,’ he said, patting its neck. ‘I’m just sorry as I caused you so much trouble in the first place. Now enjoy your carrots, ’cause they was sure to be for your master’s dinner.’
‘Well, at least you got him out,’ Marigold said, sidling up beside him. ‘That was a good idea to tempt him with a carrot.’
He turned to her. ‘I didn’t think for a minute that it’d work,’ he admitted, relieved and surprised that she was still speaking to him. ‘But I reckoned it was worth a try. I felt I had to do something, since it was me that caused all the upset in the first place. And I know that horses like carrots better than anything.’
‘It’s a good job as yo’ did,’ Seth Bingham interjected, his pique subsiding. ‘Else Lord knows how we would’ve got the poor bugger out.’
‘I’m really sorry, Mr Bingham,’ Algie remarked with earnest repentance. ‘The chain came off me bike just as I was going past the horse. It caused me to fall into him, and it startled him, I reckon.’
‘Did you hurt yourself, lad?’
Algie grinned self-consciously. ‘Gave me taters a right bang.’
‘Aye, well it’s over and done now. Now all we need do is change into some dry clothes. Hannah, find me another pair o’ trousers and a shirt, and chuck me a towel, eh?’
‘I feel I ought to make it up to you, Mr Bingham,’ Algie said. ‘To say how sorry I am.’
‘Like I said, lad, it’s over and done with.’
‘Let me buy you a drink in the Bottle and Glass.’
Seth managed a smile at last. ‘If yo’ insist. But we’n gotta get there fust. I’ll gi’ the hoss five minutes to get over the shock afore I get him to haul we there. The poor bugger was frit to death.’
‘I’d better get home and change into dry clothes as well, Mr Bingham.’
‘That you had, lad. Is your two-wheeler any the wuss for having took a look in the cut?’
‘It’ll dry out,’ Algie replied with resignation. ‘It’ll very likely dry out as I ride it home. I just hope the rust don’t set in.’
‘Aye, well just be careful where you’m a-going next time.’
‘I
