Read The Miller's Dance Online

Authors: Winston Graham

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Genre Fiction, #Family Saga, #Contemporary Fiction, #Romance, #Sagas

The Miller's Dance (17 page)

After a while he set it down on the bench and there was silence.

'Nice drawing,' said Trevithick. 'Proper sketching. Proper job.' 'Thank you,' said Jeremy.

'Wish I could do 'em as tidy as that. Me, I was never so neat. I belong to scribble and scrawl.'


To good purpose,' said Jeremy.

'What? Oh, aye. Yes, I'd agree on that...'

Another silence. Trevithick thumbed his chin, which rasped for lack of a recent razor. Then he slowly shook his head.


it won't do, Mr Poldark.' Jeremy looked at him inquiringly but did not speak, it won't do,' said Trevitnick. in what way, sir?' . 'The boiler. Tis all wrong.'

it is your own boiler, Mr Trevithick. You have just said so.'

'Oh,

tis my boiler sure 'nough.'

‘I
t is one you designed for - for thrashing, I believe. Isn't it? I thought it just the high-pressure boiler we needed. Is there something wrong with it?'

'Not
wrong.'
Trevithick rubbed his chin again. 'Not for its purpose. But for your purpose,

tis too
big,
Mr Poldark, that's all.'

I
don't understand. You have often-'

'Well, I tell ee. And there's none who knows better.'

They waited. Trevithick screwed up his eyes again.

After a few moments Jeremy said: 'That one you built in
Pen-y-daren in Glamorgan... did it?... Have you not said often that there is
little
difference betwixt a boiler you have designed for stationary work and one which moves?'

'Quite true. Quite true. In principle there's
little
to choose. What matters be the power you generate.'

'So is that not-'

'Wait. Wi' a moving machine that is necessary, but that be not all. Look ee at that there boiler again, boy! Regard it Fill it with water. My Pen-y-daren engine weighted upwards of five tons. This would be more. And Pen-y-daren was on
rails.'

Jeremy had flushed deeply. Ben Carter was staring at Trevithick as if he didn't take in what was being said.

'I'll tell ee about the Pen-y-daren engine, boy. I built it for a wager. That ye may know. Sam Homfray, the ironmaster, wagered five
hundred sov'reigns that I coul
d build an engine which would haul a ten-ton load for ten miles down the Tramway. And so I did.

Twould have pulled
thrice
the weight. Easy! We did it in four hours. We should have done it in half the time but the rails kept
breaking
or
spreading
under the weight. See? The weight was too great. What d'you suppose would happen to this machine ye are building on the common roads of Cornwall? Twould be bogged down every hundred yards! And the tramroad yo
u ran on in London, the Catchme-who-Can: d'ye know why twas
abandoned? Because the rails kept breaking.'

'But... you succeeded in Cornwall - eleven years ago.'

'Oh yes, my son, and could again - and more so.
More
so. But who wants it? Who'll
pay
for it?'

Because he did not know what else to do, Jeremy began picking up and folding away the designs of the other engineers he had been examining.

Trevithick said: 'That's a Murdock drawing, isn't it? Good man, Murdock. Might have done a deal for steam travel but Watt would not
let
him. Dog in the manger. Cat
in the manger, Watt is. Oh, he's an engineer, an inventor—I give ee that Separate condenser. Clever in his way. But cautious, canny, suspicious, niggardly,
mean
... What has
he done for the boiler? He found it a hot-water tank. He left it a hot-water tank. Or
would
have done. If he had his
way
twould never be anything more. Know what he said 'bout me, eh? Said I deserved hanging for introducing high-pressure steam!' Trevithick laughed. 'D'ye know he once tried to get an act passed through Parliament forbidding the use of high-pressure steam! Did ye know that?'

Jeremy listened to the clank and bang of a distant hammer.

'Bu
t you sti
ll
believe
in steam travel?'

'Bless you, my dea
r, of course I do! Twill come
and at not too dis
tant a date. But wi' small boil
ers, ever
smaller
boilers. Higher and higher pressure. A hundred and fifty pounds! If ye are ever to produce a boiler to run an engine on the roads ye should have one no bigger than a big bass drum—such as ye might see in a military band. Why, the one I built in Coalbrookdale nine years gone - twas not dissimilar from that! Four foot diameter, cylinder seven inches, with a three-foot stroke - working forty strokes per minute, needing three hundredweight of coal per four hours, and working a
miracle. So
they said, all the other engineers. They said twas
impossible
such a small boiler should work so much steam! D'ye know, twas then I first turned the exhaust steam up the chimney and found that
the
harder the engine worked the greater the draught up the chimney, and so through the grate, the hotter the fire would burn!'

Jeremy said miserably: 'So this boiler, you think, is no use.'

'Nay, boy, tis a handsome boiler if put to its proper purposes ... But not for providing power for a vehicle for the common roads.' Trevithick glanced at Jeremy. 'Ye could use it as a specimen, no doubt—up and down a few hundred yards?... Twould attract some attention. Or if ye are set upon doing something, seeing as you have got so far, maybe ye could approach those infidels running the Portreath-Poldice tramway and see if they can be persuaded out of the use of horses. The machine ye are building no doubt would work there - if the rails was strengthened.'

'Have you approached them yourself ?'


Nay, I have other fish to fry.' Trevithick took a deep breath. "This building of Plymouth breakwater... And the high-pressure beam engine for Dolcoath... And the plunger pole high-pressure engine ... And I have plans for a vertical Barker's mill to drive a ship ... Then there's a cultivator to think on. And an improved thrashing machine. Nay, I can spare no time for road travel. There's no
money
to it, Mr Poldark. As for you, you're a gentleman and can afford the money to experiment. But me - not long since adjudged a bankrupt -
I
have better fish to fry.'

There was silence. The distant hammering had stopped. A workman went past with an empty wheelbarrow. A sudden rainstorm lashed upon the dirty window of the foundry.

'Well, Ben,' Jeremy said, it seems we have been making . fools of ourselves...'

'On the contrary, boy.' Trevithick gripped his arm as he was turning away. 'This be a new age just beginning. Doing what you've done be valuable experience. You start off 'gainst most other folk with a head start! You've a talent, I can see that - the way even in those drawings ye've foreseen obstacles and made provision for 'em like not many would do... Look ee...'

'Yes?'

'Let's see those drawings. Got ink, have ee?' 'No. There's this pencil.' 'Right. Mind if I draw on the back?' Jeremy shook his head.

'Now look ee here.' Trevithick began to sketch in broad lines, but with the clumsiness of a child. 'This is the type of engine ye need. Like this, like this, like this. Not just a boiler wi' water but a boiler wi'
tubes.
Many tubes with the water in 'em. Many, many tubes. Like a man's intestines, see? Ye build it small,
small,
wi' endless tubes top and bottom wi' the fire box in between. Then ye put up the pressure to maybe two hundred pounds per square inch! Then ye've got nigh on
limitless
power in a small space - and
light
in weight, light in w
eight, see...'

'Yes,'Jeremy said,
if….
'

'That's the boiler of the future, boy - especially when it has to go on wheels, has to travel. There's one drawback yet...'

What?'

'If I was building that now, who's to make the design sound enough, accurate enough? There's no one here—yet Twill
come.
But

tis
not the design that's lacking, it’
s not
the
idea
,
it’
s the execution. This be a constructive problem, boy, not an inventive one.
I
can do the inventing. Others have to carry it out ... Maybe in London or the Midlands -precision making - like making watches and clocks. That's what we need. But we haven't got it yet They're improving every year. Tis only a matter of time. A decade maybe. Maybe less. Then you'll have your horseless carriage, boy. And I shall ask permission to be the first to ride in it with ee!'

Chapter Seven

I

 

Soon after her return from Truro
,
Clowance met Stephen at the Gatehouse. She told him about the play as they wandered hand in hand round their future house. When Dwight had occupied it he had made it a comfortable little house and had kept one servant. They looked up now at the castellated turret where the two main bedrooms were, stopped and peered in through the narrow gothic windows of the parlour. It was all decayed but superficially so. Like Trenwith, it was built of granite and even the Cornish weather could do little to hurt it.

‘I’l
l move in in two weeks,' Stephen said. 'These here rooms are good enough, and I can work on the rest better if I'm living in. The summer is coming, and I'm not one to shrink at the first touch o' damp.'

'I'm sorry it is not better, Stephen. Not better for you.'

I
'm sorry tis not better for
you
- but as for the rest, why ten years ago this'd have looked like Windsor Casde to me!'

She squeezed his hand. 'Can you get along with Wilf ?'

'He's no great talker, is he. Just nods and grunts. A miller I used to know near Dursley, he was just the same. Mebbe I shall get that way, nod at you, grunt at you when I want anything.'

'You'd better! But Will’
s
amiable
enough.'

'Amiable? I wouldn't go so far as that. No harm in him, I'm sure... His wife's got more to her than he has.'

'Mary? Trust you to notice. She's a great church worker. Don't know what the Odgerses would do without her. Pity they have no children.'

'Captain Poldark spoke as if this might advantage me, but Wilf s no great age at alt. Doubt if he's more'n ten year older than I am. It will be long afore he is likely to have thoughts
of retiring.' it is a beginning, Stephen.'

'Yes, it is a beginning. I believe after all I would have gone down a mine again to get you.'

'Well, you haven't had to, have you...' .

'D'you know what I did Sunday and yesterday while you were away?'

'No?'

'Didn't Jeremy tell you I borrowed his pony ? Well, I went so far as Penzance. It was a long way - for the pony - so I spent the night under a hedge. Got back only in the forenoon of yesterday. Clowance...'

She looked at him. is something wrong?'

'No. Not betwixt us ... Clowance, do you have any money of your own? Cash.'

'A little. How much do you mean? Shillings or pounds?'

'Pounds.'

'Is it for the Gatehouse? To pay for repairs?' 'No. Oh no.'

'But you want it for something?' 'How much do you have?'

‘I
n the bank, thirty pounds. Out of the bank, six pounds five shillings.' 'Would you lend it me?' 'All of it?' 'All of it.' 'Of course.'

He stroked her hand. 'There's trust for you. How soon could you get it?'

I
could get the six pounds at once. It is under my bed. The other I would have to withdraw from the bank. I would have to go into Truro, or send someone in. When did you want it?'

'Next Monday at the latest.'

Clowance pulled at her hair,
I
believe Zacky Martin is going in on Friday for my father. He is the sort of man who would do it quietly - as a favour. Or do you not mind my father knowing?'

'I mind. You see...'

What?'

I
have invested in Wheal Leisure, as you know. I bought me two shares, for forty pound. But when the engine started there was another call. They'd warned me when I first invested but I took the risk. Well, that second forty pound drained me out. Doubt if I've more'n ten pound left in the world. Now I want to borrow some, and your father'd not approve of me taking it from you.'

'Well, I'll ask Zacky. I know he'd do that for me. How would you want it?'

'Cash if possible. Some notes will do if they're Bank of England. But all guineas would be best.'

'All right,' s
aid Clowance. ‘I’l
l ask Zacky in the morning.'

There was a low wall beside the front gate, and he pressed her
gently
against it, kissed her.

'Don't you even want to know what I want it for?'

'Of course. I am dying with curiosity. But I know you will tell me in due course.'

He kissed her again.
'Wonderful
girl. I'll tell you now.'

Which he did.

 

II

 

By chance a fierce gale blew up towards the end of the week, shattering the quiet of the April weather, totally destroying Demelza's garden. It was when she stood at the window watching her flowers being maliciously beheaded one by one ... that was the only time in her life when she was thoroughly irritable. The whole family knew and understood this and walked carefully in her presence. It was so ghastly to Demelza because the wind never stopped, not until every petal had been twisted off and was gone. Obscene stalks waving in the wind were
left. It was as if the climate derided her efforts, brought things on with sunshine
and mild air and then, like an evil child, in one day destroyed the lot.

A particularly bad time in Penzance, for an earlier wind
from the E.S.E. had induced a number of vessels to shelter in the Road; then the wind veered to S.W. and blew a full gale, catching them on a lee shore. The few that had been lucky enough to attach themselves to the pier of the harbour were able to warp in, but the rest had to cut their cables and run upon the sand. The few who attempted to weather the gale fared no better. Among those lost was the
Gauge,
John Aldridge master, from Bideford to Deptford with timber for the navy; she ran on the August rock with five of her men drowned in full view of the spectators on the shore. The
Nimble,
with Adam Gribble as master, from Cardiff to London suffered a like fate—'though with fewer casualties; as did the
United Friends,
Henry Geach master, from Swansea to Fowey, the
William Charles,
Edward Amery master, from Jersey to Swansea; the
Nancy,
Joseph Jolly master, from Bideford to Plymouth; and the
Nettle,
Arthur Morris master, from Falmouth to Fowey. This did not take account of the vessels wrecked near by.

Nevertheless the lifeboat came under the hammer on the Wednesday, as advertised, and was knocked down to two young men, strangers to the town, for twenty guineas.

Unaware of the connection between any of these events, Ross found himself irritated by the sudden disappearance of his future son-in-law. Stephen had borrowed Will Nanfan's pony on the Monday - as a change from borrowing Jeremy's - since when nothing at all had been heard of him. Wilf Jonas, who was expecting him to start work on the following Monday at seven a.m. found himself without his assistant. Clowance told the first lie she had ever told her parents when she informed them that she didn't know where Stephen was. (But perhaps it was only a half lie, for she was not asked if she knew what he was about, and as to where he was, he might be in Penzance, which clearly was where he had been going, but that was half a week ago.)
What no one particularly noticed was that Paul Kellow had disappeared at the same rime as Stephen. It was of course customary for Paul to be away from home and to be away for more than a week at a time, and the Poldarks often did not meet the Kellows for longer than that. Only
Clowance, visiting Violet on her sick bed, heard her speculating as to where her rogue of a brother had disappeared to, and accordingly put two and two together.

So the mystery remained, and the first to see the two when they returned was Dwight Enys.

 

III

 

On the following Thursday, which was April
30,
Caroline had been out riding all afternoon and evening, and came in fresh and glowing to find Dwight already returned and Sophie and Meliora waiting for a bedtime story.

She breezed in, kissed all three of her beloved in turn and breezed out again, resisting the heartrending cries of her young and calling over her shoulder: 'Supper in fifteen minutes, Dr Enys.'

So he shortl
y joined her and they ate codfish with shrimp sauce, mutton steaks with frilled oysters, a plain lemon pudding.

She said: 'You have set your face against coming tomorrow?'

'Well, Harriet doesn't really want me! At least, she doesn't
need
me. She's
your
friend, and they especially desire a quiet wedding.'

'You know I never l
ike going to functions without you.'

I
know. But Myners will be with you... You must not even go at all if the weather is still bad.'

I
told her that. Miss Darcy, of course, invited me to spend two nights, but I said no. The ceremony is at noon, which means I should leave soon after nine. Be back about six.'

it's a long day.'

'You know I like it. I was born to live half my life in the saddle.'

They ate a while in silence.

'Do you think it will be a success?'he asked.

'What, the marriage? My dear, I don't know. They are such
opposites.
Yet I suspect that in spite of everything, she has a slight feeling for him, which will help. She has never said so much, but reading between the lines-or, rather, into the pauses -
I
get that distinct impression. And he is very much taken with her. You know what a really impossible
snob
George is. Yet it may be more than that...Elizabeth was always delicate - a lady in the best sense. Harriet, if I may put it so, is
indelicate
- a lady in the worst sense - and this surprises and delights him. How long it will last, of course, I cannot tell. At least I do not feel yet to blame for so flagrantly contriving their re-meeting here.'

I
hope it will work—if only for her sake. Perhaps a
little
for his. It is not pleasant to see any individual, however undeserving, so much alone as he has been since Elizabeth died.'

The servant took their plates away.

Caroline said: 'Was the mutton not tender?'

'Darling, I ate a splendid dinner not many hours ago. Don't fuss me as if I had just got out of that French camp.'

'You remind me of that time...
Well, what has your day been?
I dare not comment or you will think I am still applying Malthus to the daily doings of Sawle.'

He laughed. 'Sawle has been much as usual... One or two patients, as usual, slipping away. One new patient I did not expect.'

'Who was that?'

'Do you know the Thomases? John, the elder brother. The younger ones are called Art and Music' is Music the one in the choir?'

'Yes. A trifle... simple. Though by no means a simpleton. He asked me a couple of months ago if I could help him
’ ‘
in what way?'

'He has not developed. The voice and the walk. Other things. It seemed to me a plain physiological defect; it happens sometimes: some malfunction of the blood or of the glands; one can never tell. Some of my colleagues would blame it on the humours.'

'What did he want?'

'To know if I could tell him why he was not normal. It is a most unusual sign, for anyone to ask. He has changed much in the last twelve months. Today I asked
him
why he had changed, and he told me why. He has a fancy for a girl.'

'Good lack!' Caroline said,
I
did
not suppose him to have inclinati
ons of that sort.' 'Nor
I
-'

'And who is the fortunate woman?' 'Ben's sister. Katie Carter. She is a parlourmaid at the Popes', where Music works in the stables.' 'Does she know?'

I
don't think so. Though women, if I'm not mistaken, generally do.'

I
did,' said Caroline. 'But then we were of a higher perceptive standard. I hope.'

'Well, he came to me this afternoon, asked me again. It occurred to me that sometimes - once in a hundred rimes-it is the mind that blocks development of the body. Someth
ing has happened to you in the
past, and in return your mind will not accept change, development, responsibility. So you remain—frozen, unable to live an ordinary life. That is how it is sometimes.'


And Music?'

I
don't know. He came today. To be on the safe side I invited Clotworthy to be present... As far as I can tell Music is normal. There is no evidence of atrophy or underdevelopment. Nor is there evidence ... He told me he walked that way because he had burned his feet as a child; but there was no sign of any scars or burn marks. It again suggests something in the mind.'

'So how can you help him?'

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