RAILL’S RETRIBUTION

Taranaki Daily News, 18 December 1929, Page 6 (Supplement)

RAILL’S RETRIBUTION

NEW ZEALAND'S GREATEST RING-IN

(By

“Moturoa.”)

Forty -years have sped their way . since the “Emmett” case was on every t, tongue, and for many years afterwards it was “The Emmett Case.” ’ No disqualification was ever less ; understood, and while the wide circle V of sportsmen in Taranaki and even / further afield pieced snatches of the /story together and hazarded guesses - at unknown remainder, this is ' the first time that the whole story, • embodying the motive of retribution •And the skilful carrying but of a ■. complicated scheme has ever been brought before the public.

The'New Zealand Turf has been remarkably free from “ring-ins” and foul racing—strangely free when it is considered- that hardly a country inthe world is as keenly interested in horse-racing. But there have "beeh a few-occasions when the penalty of disqualification has been necessarily imposed, on offenders, and few cases, have escaped the vigilant' eyes of the New Zealand racing stewards, and latterly the stipendiary stewards.

/’./Among the “ring-ms” on the New Zealand Turf, the “Emmett” incident' stands albne, ,and the complete story asks for some consideration and sympathy for’ the man, -wbb, by force of circumstances, and through hili'fierce love of fair play and clean racing, was forced to transgress the rules of the game to avenge a wrong. Therein lies the story.

-I Away to the West dark clouds gathered ominously. The Tasman Sea, calm and placid ago, lost its glimmering, silver sheen, and .assumed a dull, leaden greyness. The air;: heavy and dead and portent laden; no • arusile in the grasses; r no twitter in th© trees. . The clouds, now inky black and fringed with of slate, came on with, seemingly gathering- speed; spread fan-wise; then massed,, as ■ some great army of destruction hent on ill intent to all within its enveloping folds. Sharp puffs of spiteful, bitter wind; spits of rain merging into great, lashing drops; and then the deluge fell. "Cripes! we’re in for it now!” shouted my companion, '‘And there isn’t a bit of shelter anywhere.” I gazed round forlornly on the bare, undulating landscape, and realised how very far away our motor was, and how comSpletely we had been trapped. A blinding flash of lightning, followed swiftly by a resounding crash of thunder, brought us to our senses, and, gripping shotguns and hoisting hare-laden bags on our now dripping shoulders, we ran—ran as fast as our legs and our heavy burdens would allow us through the sloppy grass and tussock. Whither? I didn’t know, nor did I care. It was not & time to ask "Quo vadis?”. We were going .somewhere, and ..anywhere; was. better , than the bleak and barrep waste of Korn. And so we struggled on; half running, half walking, slipping and sliding; falling sometimes, but scrambling up with a muttered curse to continue the battle with the elements. We were certain to get to some habitation before long. And, sure enough we did, though not until night had fallen and we were properly spent. x » * « #

"Come in. Come right in,” said a cheery, welcome voice. "Never mind your wet,clothes. They’ll soon dry at the fire.” And'without waiting for a second invitation we entered the lonely farmhouse, and after exchanging ■our dripping clothes for dry ones, many sizes too big for us, we dropped into chairs before the large, open fireplace, and proceeded to thaw our perished extremities. “It’s a rough night to be out,” remarked our host, solicitously, and only then did I notice what a great, almost hulking bld chap be was. And hiS speech was touched with a slight brogue proclaiming him of ■ Irish descent. • ■'

“I suppose you both wonder who I am?” he said. Then, after a. pause, “My name is Patrick Rail], better known as ‘Patsy,* and ‘Patsy’ will do for fellow humans in distress.”

“I’ve heard of the name somewhere,” I replied, searching my memory. "I believe my father-spoke of a Patsy Raill who raced a,, horse called ‘Emmett’ very many years ago.”

.“And did he tell you that,there was some trouble, a bout the horse?” the did man flung baek at me, almost savagely, I thought. ‘‘l believe he did say something of the sort,” I admitted slowly, regretting having introduced a subject which was plainly to •our host’s dislike. But my shooting companion came to the rescue. “By Jove,” he said, Teaching for his shooting bag, “I clean forgot about the whisky. Just the thing to keep out the cold,” he added, producing a bottle, of Scotch. Glasses were quickly procured,, and it wasn’t long before all three of us were feeling bright and happy, and at peace with the whole wide world. I don’t know .whether it was the warming influence of the spirit, ■or the glow of the great fire, but our host unburdened himself before the evening closed of the true history of the famous “Emmett” ringing-in case; one of the greatest sensations in the annals of horse-racing in New Zealand, and for the authorship of which Patrick Baill was generally denounced. Yet, as I gazed into tho honest, time-worn face of the old raconteur, and listened to the reasons which prompted him to risk the greatest disgrace possible in the racing world —■ disqualification—-a wave of understanding, mingled with pity, surged through my veins. This is the story as Raill told it that evening.

The ringing-in of Emmett, through which I, and others, earned disqualification, was purely an act of Vengeance on my part. In tho early eighties I owned a mare named Lillian, which was a fair sort, and I had her “set” for a race at Hawera. Stopping at the •same boarding-house with me were several owners and trainers, - and from the work which my mare had been doing on the tracks at Hawera they considered, as I did myself, that she was a certainty. I backed her etraight-out and in doubles, and stood to win a tidy sum. The. night before the races these fellows took the pillow-slips from.their beds, and, going out into the paddocks, which were common in those days, filled .the pillowslips with grass, which they fed to my mare, allowing her to eat until she could hardly stand. The next,day Lillian was the size sof a house, but I got her to- the course and decided to run her in an effort to save jny money. The poor beast ran a great race, Ibut failed at the finish, being beaten by a horse owned by one:of the conspirators. They made bold of their dastardlydeed afterwards, and boasted how they - had “put one across jne.” I then swore vengeance on the perpetrators of that outrage.

.Revenge is sweet, but not always easy of accomplishment, and I used to lie awake at night, planning and plotting and scheming as to how I could get even with these scoundrels. "It was useless to think of coming at. any thing in the district, so I conceived the idea of going abroad; securing a good horse, and bringing it back under a cloak to achieve my end. As I was without the necessary Cash to carry out my plans, several hundred pounds being required; I had to take others into my confidence. After hearing my story they decided to assist in financing the scheme, of course,, with an eye to profiting well by their help. . Now, in order -to obtain a horse from outside, and to ring it in, very careful preparations had to be made, and in' case a question was asked,:as was more than'likely, a pedigree and record. had to be prepared, ready for emergency. I had at that time a thoroughbred chestnut mare, and I put. her to Puriri, Mr. R. Mcßae’s well known sire. The result;, was a ipheetnut colt foaly-of no particular markings, and-this feature,'fortunately, suited my purpose admirably. That was the second link in the chain. -The foal furnished well, and attracted attention by his fine appearance./' In the course of time he was handled and. ridden, and then put intd' easy work on the/private ' track- bn the farm. I did not exhibit him to any great : extent, blit, nevertheless, let ■•it be known that I had a colt that I hoped to race, some day, but he was not to be put into work for months yet and the third link in the chain of vengeance was forged. It was then that I decided on a trip to Australia, and for several months I travelled through various parts of New South Wales, always on the look out for a winner which corresponded in colour and conformation io the horse which I had at home. It was no easy matter to “match” a horse perfectly. There were so many things to consider, not forgetting the age, and this was the greatest obstacle io surmount. Several horses' which corresponded to these features camo under my notice during the course of extensive travels, but none was really & "topnotcher,”- and I did not intend to buy “a gold brick” and see my house of cards topple down when the stage was set for the “killing.” But- at length I dropped across a horse at Newcastle, well up in the weights, and a good winner. In age and natural looks -he was the dead ring of the Puriri colt, and I effected his purchase for £l3O, which wa* a good price for a horse in those days. Another link in the chain was now complete. With a brave heart, and determination to achieve my end, I quietly shipped the horse to Auckland, where I kept him in seclusion for several weeks, planning to smuggle him into Taranaki as soon as the coast was absolutely clear. This was the most dangerous part of the trip, and caused me no end of anxiety. Finally I arranged to get him aboard the s;s. Oreti (Captain Robertson), bound from Onehunga to New Plymouth, and, half-an-hour before the vessel was.timed to sail, I led him on to the Onehunga wharf. But my hick was out. Who should I see waiting to embark on the Oreti but Mr. Newton King and Mr. Albert Bayly, and I had to make a hurried exit, thug missing the trip. Making inquiries, I found that the s.s. Gairlock (Captain Arthur) was sailing in a couple of days time for Waitara, and I booked a passage. Nothing untoward happened to -frustrate my plans, and I can tell you that I breathed more freely when the stout little ship, carrying my “Vengeance Horse” and myself, cleared the Manakau Heads. Captain McArthur was as good a “sport” as he was a seaman, and he probably guessed that I had some motive in taking the horse down to Waitara secretly. Suffice to say, he crossed the Waitara bar, contrary to. signals, at daybreak next morning, and allowed me to disembark my horse at the old cattle wharf, afterwards proceeding to the town wharf as if nothing had happened. The chain was nearing completion. Resting the horse on the outskirts of Waitara, I scouted around to see that suspicions were not aroused, and after a day of suspense, rode through to Koru during the night. Once home, I felt safe, and it was an easy matter to wipe out all. traces of the Puriri colt, and to* replace him with the “ringer.”

For twelve months the horse which passed for the Puriri colt wad fed regularly, and hacked about on the soft clay roads. I never put too much polish on him, keeping him “in the rough” so as not to attract too much attention. He showed, in private gallops, that ho had lost none of his pace, and I inwardly chuckled as I thought—as you may imagine I often did—of the “surprise packet” which I had in readiness' for my enemies. When the time came to race I named him “Emmett,” having in mind the great Irish patriot, Robert Emmett (God rest his daring soul). The horse ran with only moderate success, which was as I intended, but I knew that when asked to gallop in rea,! earnest, nothing in the province could catch him. The day was drawing nearer; Patsy Raill’s great day of retribution, and of vengeance. I could scarcely contain myself at the prospect of routing my enemies. Hearing that they had entered their best horse for a big race at Waverley, I nominated Emmett, and took him through a day or two before the meeting. They appeared to think I had forgotten the Hawera incident and had buried the hatchet. They made fun of my “roughie,” offering me long odds, which, after apparent hesitation, I took to the full. I can tell you that I took no risks with Emmett that time, never letting the horse out of my sight, and on the day of the races I landed him fit and well on the course. It gave me great joy to see the cunning ones wagering heavily on their horse, and I accepted further wagers, as far as my means would permit me to go. The race drew nigh, and with shaking hands I saw to the saddling of my horse, trying girth and rein again and again, lest some foul chance should rob me of complete revenge. All was well, and the horses went to the post. The race started, and when the field settled down, Emmett and their horse were racing side by side, in front'. For my part there were only two horses in the race, and as a matter of fact the leading pair showed such pace that the others might have well been still in their stalls. “Your roughie doesn’t go badly for a few furlongs,”-remark-ed one of my enemies, as the horses came into the straight abreast. “The last bit will tell the tale,” I replied as coolly as I could, though all the while I was nearly bursting with excitement. On the bend Eminett, who had the outside running, dropped 'back half a length there was loud applause from tho opposition camp. , "You’re right. The last bit will tell the tale!” said one, with a sneer, and the crowd guffawed loudly. But Emmett

was not by any means beaten, and- though he was stacked up against something pretty good, I never had a doubt that he would fail me. On they came; they were at the distance now; and the way that Emmett was hanging on to his rival made my opponentsj feel uneasy. A hundred yards from the fateful winning post, Emmett’s jockey shook the whip at him, and he drew level. So they raced for fifty yeardg, first one and then the other appearing likely to win. The excitement was intense. "Come on, you beauty!” I shouted, and it seemed as if the horse heard me, for in a' flash he forged ahead, passing the judge’s box with a clear length advantage. By St. Patrick, I shall never forget the looks on those fellows’ faces. Beaten they were; properly trounced; and by Patsv Raill's “roughie!” The chain of vengeance ■was complete. °

But, like the wasters that they were, they took their beating very badly, arid a rumour was circulated that Eriimett was a "ringer.” But I was fully prepared for that, and quickly proved to the satisfaction- of the stewards that I had bred the horse, and that he was by Puriri from my old farm mare. The service by Puriri was admitted, and I got away with the stakes and the wagers, a tidy sum in all. But the thing that mattered most to me was that I had achieved my end, beating their best horse, and sending my enemies “broke.”

But that was not the end of Raill’s story. His object achieved, he had no further use for the horse, and sold him with a conditional £5O to one of his partners. Emmett was taken to the Auckland district, and won several important country handicaps there. The partner failed to part up with the £5O, and Raill wrote threatening to “spill the beans” if the money was not forthcoming by a certain date. The partner did not think that Raill would take such a drastic step, which spelt disqualification to all concerned, Raill himself included. So he still declined to ante up.” But he little knew the man he wa-s up against. Raill’s determination was remarkable, and he burned against wrongdoing in horse deals. Taking the train to Wanganui, he called a meeting of the Wanganui Jockey Club’s stewards, then the controlling body of the coast, and made a clean breast of the whole matter. What a sensation it caused! And the result was that Emmett, Raill and two others were disqualified for long terms. Hard words were said of those connected with the ringing-in, but those “in the know” admired the Master Mind which thought out the plan to avenge a wrong, and carried it out so cleverly. Raill’s strength of character was the outstanding feature, and, although the Rules of Racing had to be respected, there were few that did not applaud Patsy Raill -when the denouement was made.

For the enlightenment of those “old timers’ who look upon Raill as & wrong-doer, this story, as it fell from Patsy Raill’s lips a few years ago, is published in its entirety. Ring-ing-in has been attempted since that date many-times, but never with the complete success of the Emmett case, and the writer makes bold to state that never was the chief -mover in such a case influenced by better and ■ cleaner motives than those which stirred Raill’s Irish blood, and caused him to go to the uttermost lengths to attain vengeance.