Ross Poldark (29 page)

They saw a girl of just seventeen, tall, with dark untidy hair and big dark eyes which had a disconcerting glint in them when they happened to meet your own. The glint suggested unusual vitality and a latent mettlesomeness; otherwise, there was nothing special to remark.

Mr. Renfrew peered at her with puckered astigmatic eyes, and Mr. Pearce, while keeping his gouty feet ostentatiously out of danger, ventured to raise his quizzing glass when he thought Ross was not looking. Then Mr. Trene glos eased off the top button of his breeches, and they bent to peer over the map which Captain Henshawe was unrolling on the table.

“Now,” said Ross. “Here we have the old workings of Wheal Leisure and the direction of the tin-bearing lode.” He went on to explain the situation, the angle of the shafts to be sunk, and the adits which would be driven in from the face of Leisure Cliff to unwater the mine.

“What's this here?” Mr. Treneglos put a stubby, snuff-stained finger on a corner of the map.

“That's the limit of the workings of Trevorgie Mine so far as it is known,” said Ross. “All accurate maps have been lost. These workings were old when my great-grandfather came to Trenwith.”

“Um,” said Mr. Treneglos. “They knew what they was about in those days. Yes,” he agreed
sotto voce
, “they knew what they was about.”

“What do you mean, sir?” enquired Mr. Renfrew.

“What do I what? Well, damme, if the old men was working tin here and here they was working the back of Leisure lode before it was discovered on my land. That's what I mean.”

“I think he's right,” said Henshawe, with a sudden quickening of interest.

“In what way does that assist us?” asked Mr. Pearce, scratching himself.

“It only means,” Ross said, “that the old men would not have driven all this way under such conditions for nothing. It was their custom to avoid all but the shallowest under ground work. They had to. If they went this far, they must have found some good return as they went along.”

“Think you it is all one great lode, eh?” said Mr. Treneglos. “Could it run so far, Henshawe? Has any been known to run so far?”

“We don’t know and shan’t know, sir. Looks to me as if they was following tin and struck copper. That's how it seems to me. It is very feasible.”

“I’ve a very great respect for the ancients,” said Mr. Treneglos, opening his snuffbox. “Look at Xenophanes. Look at Plotinus. Look at Democritus. They were wiser than we. It is no disgrace to follow where they led. What will it cost us, dear boy?”

Ross exchanged a glance with Henshawe.

“I am willing at the outset to be manager and head purser without payment; and Captain Henshawe will supervise the beginnings at a nominal salary. Mr. Renfrew will supply us with most of the gear and tackle at the lowest margin of profit to himself. And I have arranged for Pascoe's Bank to honour our drafts up to three hundred guineas for the buying of winches and other heavy equipment. Fifty guineas each would cover the expense of the first three months.”

There was a moment's silence, and Ross watched their faces with a slight cynical lift of his eyebrow. He had cut down the opening figure to the lowest possible, knowing that a big demand would result in another stalemate.

“Eight fives,” said Mr. Treneglos. “And three from Pas coe's, that's seven in all. Seven hundred on an outlay of fifty each seems very reasonable to me, what? Expected a hundred at least,” he added to himself. “Quite expected a hundred.”

“That's only a first outlay,” said Choake. “That's only the first three months.”

“All the same it is very reasonable, gentlemen,” said Mr. Renfrew. “These are expensive days. You could hardly expect to become interested in a gainful venture for less.”

“Quite true,” said Mr. Treneglos. “Well, then, I’m for starting right away. Decide by a show of hands, what?”

“This loan from Pascoe's Bank,” said Dr. Choake heavily. “That means we should put all our business through them? But what's wrong with Warleggan's? Might we not get better terms from them? George Warleggan is a personal friend of ours.”

Mr. Pearce said: “A matter I was about to raise myself, sir. Now if—”

“George Warleggan is a friend of mine too,” Ross said. “But I don’t think friendship should come into a matter of business.”

“Not if it be detrimental to the business, no,” said the doctor. “But Warleggan's is the biggest bank in the county. And the most up-to-date. Pascoe's has old-fashioned ideas. Pascoe's has not advanced in forty years. I knew Harris Pascoe when he was a boy. He's a stick-in-the-mire and always has been.”

Mr. Pearce said: “My clients, I b’lieve, quite understood it would be Warleggan's Bank.”

Ross filled his pipe.

Mr. Treneglos unfastened another button of his breeches. “Nay, one bank's the same as another to me. So long as it's sound, eh? That's the point, eh? You had a reason for going to Pascoe's, Ross, I suppose, what?”

“There is no grudge between the Warleggans and me, father or son. But as a banking partnership they own too many mines already. I do not wish them to come to own Wheal Leisure.”

Choake bent his heavy eyebrows. “I should not care to let the Warleggans hear you say that.”

“Nonsense. I say nothing that everyone does not know. Between them and their puppet companies they own a dozen mines outright and have large interests in a dozen others, including Grambler and Wheal Plenty. If they chose to close Grambler tomorrow they would do so, as they have closed Wheal Reath. There is nothing underhand in that. But if Wheal Leisure is opened, then I prefer to keep such decisions in the hands of the venturers. Big concerns are dangerous friends for the small man.”

“I quite agree, gentlemen,” Mr. Renfrew concurred nervously. “There was bad feeling in St. Ann's about the closing of Wheal Reath. We know it was not an economical mine to maintain, but that does not help the shareholders who have lost their money, nor the two hundred miners who have lost their work. But it helps Wheal Plenty to offer only starvation wages, and it gives young Mr. Warleggan a chance of showing a tidy profit!”

The issue had touched some sore point in Mr. Renfrew's memory. A wrangle broke out, with everybody talking at once.

Mr. Treneglos banged on the table with his glass. “Put it to the vote,” he shouted. “It is the only sensible way. But first the mine. Let's have the fainthearts declare them selves afore we go any further.”

The vote was taken and all were for opening.

“Good! Splendid!” said Mr. Treneglos. “We’re getting on at last. Now this question of the bank, eh? Those in favour of Pascoe's—”

Renfrew, Henshawe, Treneglos, and Ross were for Pascoe's; Choake and Pearce for Warleggan's. As Pearce carried with him the votes of his nominees, the voting was even.

“Damme,” mumbled Mr. Treneglos. “I knew that lawyer fellow would baulk us again.” Mr. Pearce could not miss hearing this and tried hard to be offended.

But secretly he was looking for a share in Mr. Treneglos's estate business; and finding Mr. Treneglos firm on his course, he spent the next ten minutes tacking round to the old man's point of view.

Left alone, Choake gave in, and the absent Warleggans were defeated. Ross knew their adventure was so small as to be hardly worth the attention of a large banking firm, but that they had received it he was in no doubt George would be annoyed.

Now that the chief hurdles had been taken, the rest of the business went through quickly enough. Captain Henshawe stretched his big legs, got up and, with a nod from Ross, passed the decanter round the table.

“I don’t doubt you’ll pardon the liberty, gentlemen. We’ve sat round this table as equals, and we’re equal partners in the venture. Nay, though I’m the poorest, my share stands biggest in the general pool for my reputation's there as well as my fifty guineas. So here's a toast. Wheal Leisure.”

The others rose and clinked their glasses.

“Wheal Leisure!”

“Wheal Leisure.”

“Wheal Leisure!”

They drained their glasses.

In the kitchen Jud, who had been whittling a piece of wood and humming his favourite tune, raised his head and spat expertly across the table into the fire.

“Something's moving at last. Dang me if it don’t sound like they’re going to open the blatherin’ mine after all.”

“Dirty ole black worm,” said Prudie. “You nearly spit in the stew pot that time.”

W
HEN HIS NEW PARTNERS HAD GONE, ROSS LEFT THE HOUSE AND STROLLED across his land towards the site of his mine. He did not go down to the beach and across the sand hills, but made a semicircular detour which kept to the high ground. Wheal Leisure was on the first promontory midway along Hendrawna Beach, where the sand hills gave place to rock.

There was as yet little to see. Two shallow tunnels slanting down and a number of trenches, all made by the old men; a new tunnel with a ladder, and a few turfs cut to show where the new work was to be. Rabbits dodged and dipped their tails as he moved about; a curlew cried; a strong wind murmured through the coarse grass. Little to see, but by the end of the summer the view would be changed.

During the years of planning and frustration, this idea had grown on him until it took first interest in his mind. The venture would have been started eighteen months ago if it had not been for Mr. Pearce, who felt a natural care for the safety of his nominees’ money, and the hesitances and pessimism of Choake, whom Ross was now sorry to have brought in. All the others were gamblers, ready and eager to take a chance. Despite all the fine arguments today, there was really no improvement in prospects over a year ago; but old Mr. Treneglos had happened to be in boisterous spirits and had carried the others with him. So the gamblers had at last had their way. The future would decide the rest.

He stared across to where the chimneys of Mellin Cottages were just visible in the valley.

He would be able to help Jim Carter now, help him without suspicion of charity, which the boy would never accept. As assistant purser at the mine, he could be brought in to relieve Ross of some of the supervision, and later, when
he had learned to read and write, there was no reason why he shouldn’t be paid forty or more shillings a month. It would help both Jim and Jinny to forget the tragedy of two years ago.

Ross began to pace out again the position where the first shaft would be sunk. The irony of that tragedy at Mellin Cottages was that physically, actually, it could have been so much worse. In the end only one life had been lost, that of Reuben Clemmow himself. The baby Benjamin Ross had suffered a cut on the head and cheek, which would never be more than a minor disfigurement, and Jinny had escaped with a stab which closely missed her heart. She had been in bed for weeks, with internal bleeding, which her mother, eventually forgetting her Methody scruples, swore she cured with a lock of her grandmother's hair. But that was long ago, and Jinny was well and had had a baby girl, Mary, since then.

It could have been so much worse. But just as baby Benjamin would always show the marks of the attack on his face, so it seemed Jinny was to carry them on her spirit. She had become listless, silent, unpredictable of mood. Even Jim was often not sure what she was thinking. When Jim was at the mine, her mother would trot over and stay for an hour, amiably prattling about the happenings of the day. Then she would kiss her daughter and trot the few steps back to her own kitchen with an uneasy feeling that Jinny had not been listening at all.

Jim too had lost his buoyancy because of the sense of guilt that he could not be rid of. He would never forget the moment when he came back to find Reuben Clemmow dying on his doorstep, and the entry into his own bedroom with his child crying in the darkness and a weight that had to be pushed off the trap door. He could not escape from the fact that had he not gone out the tragedy would not have happened. He gave up his association with Nick Vigus, and no more pheasants made their appearance in his kitchen.

In fact these were no longer needed, for the whole neighbourhood took their case to heart. A public subscription was raised and all manner of presents were sent them, so that while Jinny was laid up and for some time after wards they enjoyed a bounty they had never known before. But it was a bounty Jim privately disliked, and he was relieved when it tapered off. His pitch at Grambler was yielding good results and they had no need of charity. What they had need of was something which would wipe out the memory of that night.

Ross finished his pacing and stared down at the sandy earth. The eternal enigma of the prospector faced him: whether this acre of ground held under its surface riches or frustration. Time and work and patience…

He grunted and looked up at the sky, which promised rain. Well, if the worst came to the worst, they would be giving a few miners the chance of feeding their families. Conditions, everyone agreed, could hardly be worse throughout the county, or indeed throughout the country as a whole.

Conditions could hardly be worse, they thought, with the 3 percents at fifty-six.

The whole nation felt down in the mouth after the unequal struggle against France and Holland and Spain, the perverse unbrotherly war with America, and the threat of further enemies in the north. It was a spiritual as well as a material slough. Twenty-five years ago she had been leader of the world, and the fall had been all the greater. Peace had come at last, but the country was too weary to throw off the effects of war.