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LAST OF THE OLD WHIPS.
HE was sitting by a blazing fire in a cheerful, pleasant room, evidently enjoying a glass of “something hot” in the style that “Samivel’s father” would have thoroughly appreciated. But truth compels us to add that he had evidently seen better days, and that the comforts with which he was temporarily surrounded had been strangers to him for many a long day. Yet there were many still living who remember “Young Sam Carter” as a dashing whip who knew a good team when he sat behind them, and handled the ribbons in a most workmanlike fashion. But the old fire and energy are still unquenched either by the lapse of years or by the pressure of “hard times,” and the veteran gladly gives the rein to memory, and spins a yarn of the old coaching days.
“The last conveyance of which I had charge was the old ‘Accommodation.’ She was not a road waggon, but a van drawn by five horses, three leaders abreast, and reaching London in 16 hours. We used to start from the Globe Inn, Oyster-street, and finished the journey at the New Inn, Old Change, and at the Castle and Falcon, Aldersgate-street.
Yes sir, I took to the road pretty early. I was only about 16 or 17 when I took charge of the London mail for my father. Father used to drive to Mousall and back (that’s 72 miles) every night for fifty years. He drove the night ‘Nelson’ for thirty-two years. That was a coach with a yellow body, and about 1822 its name was altered to that of the ‘Star of Brunswick.’ It ran from the Fountain and the Blue Posts to the Spread Eagle, in Gracechurch-street. Its pace was about eight miles per hour, including changes. We only changed once between Portsmouth and Godalming, and that was at Petersfield, but the stages were terribly long, and we afterwards used to get another team at Liphook.
The night coaches to London used to do the distance in about 12 hours, the day coaches did it in nine hours, but the mails were ten hours on the road. The mail coaches carried four inside and three out, with a ‘dickey’ seat for the guard, who never forgot to take his sword-case and blunderbuss, though in my time we never had any trouble with highwaymen, and I never heard much about them stopping coaches in this neighbourhood. Of course, every now and then a sailor would tumble off and break a leg, a head, or an arm, but that was only what you might expect. There were plenty of poachers and smugglers about, but no highwaymen. We did not have key bugles, as the books often say, the horn served our turn. William Balchin, who was guard with me as well as with father, was a good hand with his horn. I was guard for twelve months to the night ‘Rocket,’ which ran to the Belle Sauvage, then kept by Mr. Nelson. It was established for the benefit of the people of Portsea, and only ran for six or seven years. The day ‘Rocket’ was much older and got a good share of the Isle of Wight traffic. Both these ‘Rockets’ were white-bodied coaches. Francis Falconer, who died at Petersfield about two years ago, drove the day ‘Rocket’ all the time it ran.
Robert Nicholls was the only coachman that I ever knew save money. He was a post-boy with me, and when he died he left a nice little fortune to each of his four daughters.
The ‘Independent’ ran to the Spread Eagle, and to the Cross Keys, Wood-street. It was horsed by Mr. Andrew Nance as far as Petersfield, after which the two coachmen, Durham and Parkinson, found horses over the remaining stages.
Yes, I knew old Sam Weller very well indeed. He drove the ‘Defiance’ from the George and Fountain to the Blue Coach Office, Brighton. The ‘Defiance’ was painted a sort of mottled colour. Sam was a lame man, with a good-humoured, merry face, fond of a bit of fun, and always willing for a rubber. His partner was Neale, for whom I used to drive. He afterwards became landlord of the Royal Oak, in Queen-street.
Do you see that scar, sir? I got that in 1841, through the breaking of my near hind axle as we came down through Guildford town. I was then driving the ‘Accommodation’ between Ripley and Portsmouth. One night we were an hour late in starting. I had the guard on the box with me, and as we were going pretty hard down the High-street at Guildford I heard the wheel ‘scroop.’ The axle broke, and the next thing I remember was finding myself in bed at the Ram Hotel, where I had lain without speaking for a week. Whilst I was ill my wife presented me with twins, so that we had plenty of troubles at once. When I was driving the ‘Wanderer,’ a pair-horse coach, my team bolted with me near the Seven Thorns, and on another occasion a dog-cart got in the way of the ‘Star of Brunswick,’ and we capsized, and a lot of mackrel was spilt all over the road. That was about half-a-mile this side of Horndean. When I was first acting as post-boy my chaise got overturned, but on the whole I have been pretty fortunate.
Once during a deep snow there was a complete block of coaches on the road at Seven Thorns. My father undertook to lead the way, and he succeeded in opening the road for the rest. My father’s name was James Carter. He was post-boy at the Royal Anchor Hotel, Liphook, at the time that the unknown sailor was murdered at the Devil’s Punch Bowl. In fact, all my people belonged to Liphook. The names of the murderers were Michael Cassey, James Marshall, and Edward Lonegan. They were captured the same day in a public-house, at Rake Hill, nearly opposite the present Flying Bull, where they were offering a blood-stained jacket for sale. The poor fellow who was murdered was buried in Thursley Churchyard.
I used to drive the ‘Tantivy,’ a day and night coach, which afterwards ran only by day. We drove from Portsmouth to Farnborough Station, then put the coach on the train, and drove into town from the terminus at Nine Elms.
Of course I remember the old Coach and Horses at index|Hilsea. It was afterwards burnt down. There was formerly a guard house and picket at Hilsea Bridge to examine soldiers’ passes. Hilsea Green we used to reckon the coldest spot between Portsmouth and London. Some body-snatchers started from the Green Posts, at Hilsea, with the officers in hot pursuit. They had a famous mare, Peg Hollis, oh, she was a good one to go! and got clear off.
Yes, I know Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence1 well. He was a good friend to me. Many’s the time he has sat beside me on the box, and at the end of the stage slipped a crown piece into my hand. Well, good night, gentlemen.”
G. N. GODWIN.
— Godwin, G. N. (1884) The Hampshire Magazine. April, 1884. source
What are the chances these are the body-snatchers mentioned above?