`Morwenna? Oh, I do not believe there is a day. There was some dispute, I believe. Morwenna did not want it
yet. Anyway I am glad because I
do not wish to lose her while I am home.' Geoffrey Charles put his cup back on the side. The twigs in the hearth had burnt down, and only a gleam or two showed in the h
eart of the fire'. `I will ask
Uncle George
for a piece of y
ew:
-
He can get anything.’
They went
outside and talked in the fitful sunshine. Geoffrey Charles did not notice his friend's silences. At, length Drake said: `You must go, boy; else they'll be sending out a search party and saying' I'm a. kidnapper. But would ee do something for me? Something special?'
`Of course! Certainement! What?'
'I want for you to take a message to Miss Morwenna. Tis something I forgot when last we met up in your room, and now Mr Warleggan's back tis more'n I dare to come to the house. Tis just
-
just something I forgot tell her when last we met, up in your room.'
While the boy waited outside, throwing stones across the valley to disturb some rooks, Drake went inside and with a pencil borrowed from his visitor tried with trembling fingers to make the letters Demelza had taught him. He scarcely felt the pain in his arm.
`M. Will yow met me at the charch Sundy five a clok. Ile wait. D.'
He had no means of sealing the message, but he tied it with a s
trip of ribbon off an old shirt
of Ross's which had come to him via Demelza. He had no fear that Geoffrey Charles would open it. When he went out again with the pencil and the quill of paper he asked the boy to give it to her when she was alone, and this he promised to do.
Then.
Geoffrey Charles was mounted on his pony, and Drake grasped the small soft hand and s
tood watching the boy trot away
towards the main track at the Gatehouse. Then he went into the cottage again and knelt before the fire, trying to bring it to life again. He went for some shavings and strips of woo
d he had brought from his work
and fed these to the embers, and presently by blowing on the sticks he brought a flame back licking at the new wood. He stayed there. It was not cold, but he felt cold. There was no need to revive the fire at this time of year and if Sam had seen it he would have said it was wasteful. After March you burned wood only to cook, and as often as not went to the baker's even for that to save your fuel. But Drake was cold. He began to shiver. He felt he needed the fire. He needed it for company as much as for heat. He felt as if the warmth had gone out of the world.
BOOK THREE;
It was the third week in May before Tholly Tregirls called at Nampara again. Shortly after his visit to Demelza there had been a row at Sally Chill-Off's kiddley, for which he was partly responsible. Normal times Sally kept good order, and the fact that she was a wid
ow always helped. Men regularly
staggered home drunk, but for the most part it was a peaceful procession, and if one or another became aggressive and sought to pick a quarrel, there were enough responsible ones to sit on his head or throw him into the ditch outside.
Tholly's arrival changed that. In theory the presence of a man in the house-and a powerful, tough man-should have contributed to law and order. But it released the customers from an unwritten obligation to see to the safety of the widow. Also, village folk have long memories, and there were some who remembered Tregirls without warmth or pleasure.
Afterwards no one quite remembered how the trouble began; but in fact the instigator of it was, of all people, that Jud Paynter. Under the influence of Sam and his teaching, Jud's Wesleyanism, which wavered with the years, had suddenly caught fire, and, although he did not allow it to interfere with his drinking habits, he felt himself called to attend prayer meetings and to imbibe new wisdom weekly.
One trouble with Jud was that anything he learned he felt powerfully concerned to pass on, and as his voice was always loudest in a crowd, what he was saying could not altogether be ignored even in the noisiest company., That night, well warmed with noggins of beer laced with rum, he had got himself into a comer in which were also Jacka Hoblyn, Sid Bunt, Joe Nanfan and two St Ann's men, Kemp and Collins, and was giving them the benefit of Sam's reading of the day before, so far as he was able to remember it.
`There were this yur king-gracious know 'ow long ago - but this yur king in the Good Book
-
true as I'm telling ee. Nebranezzar. He d'put up this yur golden image - big, biggerer 'n a house, biggerer 'n a mine chimley - set 'n down in a plain and says, 'e 'says, any time I d'blow on my 'arp,
Sackcloth
dulcimer and salt box all you
do
'as to flatter -
down and c
reep around like bullhorns. And
any as don't, any as don't flatter down and worship when you d'hear the trump of the 'arp, sackcloth, dulcimer and salt box, phit,' into the burnin' fiery furnace, and yer dead. See? So-'
'Ye got the names all wrong,' said Kemp disagreeably. `All wrong. I mind when I were in dame school I was telled the story. Nebranezzar indeed!
`How long was you in dame school, Tom?' Tholly asked, filling up a glass. `Long enough to put a knot in the dame's daughter?'
He meant it as a joke, but Kemp was one of those with a memory.
`Then,' persisted Jud, showing his two teeth, `then up starts three men. Like you, me and Jacka here. Up they stands and they d'say, "King, oh, king, live for even But don't 'spect we to crawl around like bullhorns whenever you
d'blow
on the 'arp, sackcloth, dulcimer and salt box. Becaus
e we aren't going to, see?’
'And, all kinds o' music,' interrupted Kemp. `That d'come in somwhere. And all kinds o' music.'
`Well, that's what I just said! 'Arp, sackcloth and the rest. That's music, see? Didn't know, I s'pose. But that's music ...' Jud took a long swig of his laced beer, and his frothy mouth presently appeared over the rim to continue his tale. `So soon as the king d'hear this ... So soon as 'e heard-'
`Damme, you're spitting on me!' said Collins, and wiped his face with his sleeve. `Spraying all over like a wet shower! '
"E d'say to the three
-
Danged if I mind their names
-
'e says, bow down or in the furnace. Bow down when I d'blow the 'arp, sackcloth, dulcimer and salt box, or in the furnace. Frizzle, frizzle,
and yer dead
'
'Tis only a tale of old Jews,' said Jacka. `That's all tis, anyway. Tis naught to do wi' we.'
'Tis out the Good Book!' Jud asserted wildly, nearly upsetting his drink. `All from the Good
Book! Tes out the book o' Job.
I d'know, and I tell ee Tes naught but the merest ignorance to say other-'
`All the Good Book's about Jews,' s
aid Jacka. `I reckon I don't b'l
ieve the half of it.'
`Jesus Christ were a Jew,' said Tholly, returning with more drink and picking up the conversation as if he had never left it. `Maybe we're all Jews, eh? You Tom Kemp, me, the
next man. If God's a Jew, who
wants to
be other?' -
`Nay, Jesus were a Christian!' shouted several voices.
`If ye all d' want to know the truth,' said Jud, getting up and draining his glass. `If ye all d'want to know the word o' truth from
the Good Book, like I say,
like I tell ee, like Gospel, like the word, Jesus Christ were a Cornishman, and never say nothing different '
There was a howl of laughter from those around, and when Jud tried to sit down Collins put his boot there so that Jud jerked up again.
`Go on! Let 'im talk!' shouted Kemp.
'Tis fit to beat you, this is!
'
`Course he were a Cornishman!' Jud snarled, his bald head glistening with sweat. `A St Austell man, that's what 'e were, an' no missment. I tell ee. Born at Bethel, nigh St Austell. I tell ee! It all happened around these yur parts. Sermon on the Mount. That's st
ill there, where that was, nigh
to Market Jew. St Aubyns d'live there now or some such swells. But tweren't like that in the old days ! Tweren't like that
‘
tall!'
'Aw, giss along!' said Collins. `Great old may-worm, you. Don't know your backside from your front. Why if I-'
`Jud!' said Kemp, and snickered. 'Jud! The
re's a fine name for ee. Wonder
how ee come by Jud? Think you twas Judas to begin?' He let out a ro
ar of laughter. `Judas Paynter,
Be that it? Judas Paynter!'
Entirely
by accident, though it looked by design, Jud brought his glass down with a thump on Kemp's head, then turned and caught his elbow on Joe Nanfan's beer and upset it into Collins's lap. Thereupon he fell across Jacka Hoblyn, upsetting his drink too. In a flood of wasted beer and self-pity, Jacka got up and hit at Jud, who instantly disappeared among their trampling feet, and a fight was on. Tom Kemp, his old grudges simmering against Tholly, with the furth
er insult of being called a jew,
threw the remains of his beer in Tholly's face. Jacka smacked Kemp across the face with the back of his hand, and there followed pandemonium. It was as if the urge to violence had been only just under the surface for most of the evening, and this incident broke the surface up.
In fifteen minutes half the drinking room of the kiddley was wrecked; and when at the end of that time most of them found themselves outside, the drunken fighting went on; and when morning came twelve or fourteen of them were still lying asleep or half-conscious or in a drunken stupor in the
road or in the ditch beside
the inn, some half-stripped, soiree lying in their own vomit. It was midday before the last straggler roused himself and crawled away. Jud arrived home limping in the middle of the night, and in the morning nursed a bruised nose and a
deep
sense of injury. During that day he repeated often enough and loud enough for Prudie to hear: `He were a S'n Aus'ell man!'
Later Widow Tregothnan said: 'Twas not all your fault, Tholly, by no means, but you'll get the blame, for in ten year there's been naught so bad, and I don't fancy the complaints.'
`Why,' said Tholly, `I reckon I only put out four or five wi' my own hands. The rest went peaceable enough.'
`Peaceable? It looks like it. And hands? You mean hand. That there hook is no hand, and some of them you grasped'll feel it
. I don't want the magistrates
on me. I reckon you'd best move away till the fuss has died over.'
`Move away? But I only just moved in! How long, my dear? I cann't bear to be without you.'
`Give over. A month will do. But mind ... I'm serious; when you return no more of this, or I'll have to lose you.'
So a month he was away. He took his small under-nourished pony and his six bull pups and went off to Penzance, where he helped to organize a bull baiting and other activities not smiled on by more respe
ctable citizens. In that time h
e contrived to sell all his pups at good prices, and to spend the proceeds
on good living as he understood
it. Nevertheless he retur
ned to Sawle with a new suit an
d ten guineas in his pocket, though he did not satisfy any of Sally's curiosity as to how he had come by them.
Ross had also been much away these last Weeks, and, coming home one day at Bargus Cross where the old disused gibbet stood, he was not altogether pleased; to see the tall hunched man waiting for him, with his battered hat, his black woollen cloak, and his long legs dangling on either side of his pony, like a Sancho Panza waiting for a Don Quixote. Having made the comparison Ross hid a smile as he came up. He wondared briefly, with a return of his old self-criticism, whether in fact he did spend part of his own life tilting at windmills.
`I see you coming,' said Tregirls. `How do, young Cap'n. Can I keep ye company a mile or two?'
'I am taking you out of your way.'
`Far from it. I was thinking of calling 'pon you, but I
been away' P'
nzance way and I had nut been
back long.'
A profitable
trip?'
'So-so. I sold all my, bull-pups, so if you was wanting one
twill be some time afore the next litter.'
`I thought I said no. Did you not see Garrick when you
called at Nampara?'
'Garrick?'
`Our dog. He does not take kindly to other dogs.' They jogged on.
`I seen your lady wife,' said Tholly. `She told me.'
`We had tea together, me and
your lady wife.' `I'm surprised that you recognized the taste.' `What of?'
The tea.'
`Well, twas some strange for me, I must admit.' `A shock to the system.' Silence fell for a while.
`I got on famous with your lady wife.' `That she said also.'
`She said that pony I sold ye was worth its weight. Best
animal ever you bought.'
`This,' said Ross, `is the best animal I ever bought.'
`Oh . . . Well, she's getting on, though, isn't she? Look
at her muzzle. Look at her crest. She's going grey. You'll
need another soon.'
`Maybe.'
`Leave me know when you do.'
`I hear you have found a cosy berth for yourself at Widow
Tregothnan's.'
`We get along. She needed a man.'
`To keep order in her beer shop, no doubt.'
`Oh, that. Twas all a misunderstanding. No harm done.
Peaceable as a dovecote now.'
A dove? Ross glanced at his companion. More the
carrion crow. `How are your children?'
`I only seen them last week for the first time. They've no
room for me, Cap'n.'
`Does that surprise you?'
'Twas all a long time ago. Forgive and forget, that's my
motto. But not they . . Mind, what a difference betwixt
them! Emma d'take after me, Fine strong healthy wench !
Personable too.' Tholly licked his lips. `Aye, personable too.
It she warn't me own ,'.. But Lobb! Poor meader, Just like
his mother:' No Life
in 'im. Bent he is, too, bent like a old man. Might be fifty. And his childer! ... Eldest one is halt saved, cann't hardly speak, has fits. And the others, poor patched little things, crouching in the hearth among the cinders, bellies flies swelled up, le
gs like spiders. All down-trod,
the whole boiling of them.'
From this high ground you could see the sea appearing and disappearing along the edges of the land. You could see the trees around Trenwith and those about Fernmore, the Choakes' place, the drunken spire of Sawle Church, even a distant trail of smoke rising from the one mine working in the district.
`They've made their own life,' said Ross. `You can hardly expect them to feel a sense of duty towards you.'
Tholly chucked to his pony and dug in his heels. "I had a thought to help Lobb and his family.'
`Can you help
them?'
`I can help them if other folk help me.'
Ah, thought Ross, the catch. One should have expected it.
`In that case charity had better go direct.'
Tregirls hunched up his chest to breathe more easily.
`Charity was not in me mind. Work sometimes, if so be as ye've the work. And when ye need a new nag, when that old mare has had her day, that poor old stumbling mare you're riding, when she's had her day, who better to find yer a new one? I can buy and sell. I know all about women and animals. So -when you have the thought to buy . . save your own time, young Cap'n, leave it to Tholly, eh? How's that?'
Ross caught the speculative eye of the man beside him and laughed. `I'll think of it.'
They rode along saying nothing for a while till they came to the fork in the trail where Ross would go on and Tregirls should turn for Sawle.
Ross said as they reined in: `There is something I could put in your way blot I do not know if you would fancy it. Do you speak French?'
`Aye. Rough
and ready but plenty of it. Like a native, as you might say.'
`This
- this that I might put in your way: there might be some danger in it or then there might not.' Tholly rattled the bones in his bag. `That sound like my
young Cap' n.
It sound like him
and like the Old Cap'n over again.'
`Well, clear your
mind, Tholly, it is not. In a
few weeks' time I am going to France as part of a French expedition which is expected to land
-
well, somewhere on the French coast. There will be very few English except English sailors on the ships and English marines, but I am going and thought to take half-dozen men with me who would be under my orders, though I should myself be under orders either from the English commander or directly from the French.'
`I'm your man.'
`Wait. Before you agree too readily let me make other conditions plain. There would be no raiding, no foraging, no stealing French property or taking French women. Anyone found guilty of any such crime would be shot.'
`All proper and above board, eh, Cap'n? But I reckon
we're at war with the French!
'
`Not when we cooperate with them in a landing. So .. , there would be no pickings for you, Tholly. Indeed, if I found you with any I should feel it my duty to shoot you without delay.'
`So what is there in, it?'
`Payment. I'll pay each man who comes. A fixed sum which will be his only reward.'
Bartholomew Tregirls coughed horribly into the cool spring air. `How much?'
`Twenty guineas.'
The coughing resumed, and when Tholly was able to speak Ross was unable to catch what had been muttered.
`What?'
'I said, make it fifteen, Cap'n, and I'll come.'