Omnibuses and cabs

by Henry Charles Moore

The coachman got down from his box, took out his horses and went off with them at a trot, the conductor following with the omnibus lamp in his hand. In great indignation the passengers quitted the dark omnibus and wended their way back to the main street, vowing to let Shillibeer have a full account of everything that had occurred. But when on the following day they called on Shillibeer in a body, and complained of the men’s behaviour, they were met with the inquiry, “What was the number of the omnibus?”

“588,” was the answer in chorus.

“Gentlemen, that is not one of my omnibuses,” Shillibeer replied; but he experienced some difficulty in convincing the deputation that he spoke the truth. Some of his hearers were determined not to let the matter rest there, and when they had satisfied themselves that the omnibus in which they had had such an unpleasant experience was not a Shillibeer, they published abroad, on their own responsibility, that omnibus No. 588 was a pirate. Their caution against that particular omnibus brought forth a large number of warnings against other pirates, and the nefarious practices of the objectionable vehicles being proved beyond all doubt, the Government passed a second Omnibus Bill, compelling drivers and conductors to be licensed. But legislation did not succeed in checking to any great extent the fraudulent doings of the pirates.

The first real check they received came, a few years later, from the proprietors of respectably-conducted omnibuses, whose vehicles were imitated just as Shillibeer’s had been. These proprietors were now in a position to assert themselves, having just formed themselves into Associations. The associated proprietors started a crusade against pirates, and subjected them daily to a rigorous course of “nursing,” which is not such a harmless performance as it sounds, consisting as it does of two omnibuses working together to prevent a third from making a profitable journey. One of the Association’s omnibuses would keep just in front of the pirate, and the other close behind it, with the result that, there being three omnibuses where one would have been sufficient, none of them earned enough to pay expenses. The Associations were quite prepared to lose money, and when the pirates understood this they changed their tactics quickly. Whenever a pirate found it was going to be “nursed,” it would turn off the main road and wander about the back streets until its “nurses” had gone on. Then it would make another start in a clear road. To render that proceeding profitless, the Associations told off an omnibus to follow each pirate wherever it went. The result was that two omnibuses, sometimes empty, sometimes carrying mixed loads of amused, frightened, and indignant passengers, were frequently to be seen careering along quiet back streets with scarcely a yard dividing them. This state of things had existed for a few weeks, when a pirate owner heard something which caused him considerable uneasiness, and prompted him to keep a close watch on his men. The following morning he witnessed his omnibus begin its daily struggle, and eventually disappear down a side street closely followed by its “nurse.” He then walked to a quiet little inn some three miles away, arriving there in time to discover the rival ’busmen enjoying themselves at a friendly game of skittles, while their omnibuses stood empty in the road.

On one occasion a pirate scored off its opponents in a novel way. Having made several ineffectual attempts to obtain passengers, it started off into the country, followed by its “nurse.” When they had travelled some miles the driver of the respectable omnibus was surprised by seeing a gate suddenly closed in front of his horses, preventing him from following the pirate. At the same moment a gate clanged behind him, and, looking round, he discovered that he had been trapped. He had, in fact, followed the pirate on to its proprietor’s little farm. “’Ere you are, and ’ere you’ll stay,” the irate owner declared, with many oaths; while the pirate driver, with taunting shouts of laughter, whipped up his horses and started back to town. The farmer omnibus-proprietor made no attempt to detain the Association’s men, but its omnibus and horses he held prisoners until the following morning, releasing them one hour after his own omnibus had started out.

In 1855 the London General Omnibus Company came into existence, and had been established but a very short time when the pirates were repainted and lettered in close imitation of its omnibuses. They have continued to imitate them, but not always with impunity, ever since, and many thousands of people have entered pirates firmly believing they were the Company’s vehicles. Nine or ten years ago the pirates’ audacity in imitating the general appearance of the London General omnibuses was at its height, and certainly the imitations of their decoration and lettering were excellent enough to deceive all but the very wary. Unable to paint “London General Omnibus Company, Limited,” on their panels, they had in its place some inscription which might, at a glance, be taken for it. The favourite one was “London General Post Office, Lothbury.”

There are also many pirates who lure passengers into their omnibuses by having them painted to resemble the London Road Car Company’s vehicles.

The pirate is naturally of a roving disposition, and by no means restricts itself to one route: a “Kilburn” may be seen at Blackwall, or a “Bayswater” at Bethnal Green. But Oxford Circus is the place best loved by pirates, and any day of the week they can be seen walking to and fro, ready to begin their journey as soon as they see a number of ladies waiting on the pavement.

During shopping hours pirates are continually running to and from Oxford Circus, but it is interesting to notice that the name of their destination very rarely appears on them. “Regent Circus” is put up instead, and the public having doubts as to which really is Regent Circus, the pirates obtain passengers for both Oxford Circus and Piccadilly Circus, and turn them out at whichever they like. It is a great pity that the local authorities do not have the name Regent Circus, which is still displayed at Oxford Circus, removed, for it affords the pirate-omnibus men an excuse for painting on their vehicles a destination which is misleading. The Oxford Street shopkeepers should, in the interests of their customers, see to this, and, remembering that the police stated in court a few years ago that one, at least, of the pirate omnibuses which frequented Oxford Circus was worked in collusion with pickpockets, insist upon a closer watch being kept on the pests.

In the summer many pirates run to Kew Gardens on Sundays, and the exorbitant fares they charge—they collect them on alighting—spoil the day’s pleasure of many a poorly-paid clerk. Some pirates run on to Hampton Court, and a trick of theirs on these occasions should always be borne in mind. When one of them gets well beyond Richmond, and all fares have been paid—they collect them on these vehicles soon after crossing Richmond Bridge—a horse is supposed to fall lame, and the coachman declares, with many expressions of regret, that he cannot go any further. The passengers are wondering what they shall do, when another pirate omnibus comes along. The driver of the first omnibus calls out to the driver of the second, “You’ll take these ladies and gentlemen on for me, won’t you, Jack?” Jack answers in the affirmative, and the passengers change into his omnibus, quite believing that it belongs to the same proprietor as the other. It generally does, but, nevertheless, when they have driven on another mile or two, the conductor comes round for fares, and, in spite of indignant protests, they have to pay. By that time the first omnibus is back at Richmond picking up fares for London. In the evening it will make a shorter journey on a different road.