The Angry Tide (5 page)

Since the persecutions instituted
by Mr Tankard at Mr George Warl
eggan's suggestion ceased, Drake Carne's business had prospered. Even in times of war, even in times of scarcity, even in times of depression, people needed a blacksmith, especially one who could also make a serviceable wheel. Drake had had the great advantage when he began of taking over a going concern, even if run down; there had not been any need to create a new connection in the face of opposition. 'Pally' Jewell had been there forty years before him; the difference was a young man in place of an old.

It was sourly observed of Methodists that they prospered more than other men. The reason was simple: once they had truly laid hold of the faith they eschewed gambling, wenching and, for the most part, drinking, so that, aside from their religious meetings, they had not much else to do but work. While regarding this world's goods as of secondary importance, Wesley had never for a moment forbidden his followers to prosper, so long as they did so in a godly and modest and sober way. And this was happening to Drake, and faster even
than most; for the loss of Morwe
nna left him without the solace of a wife and the distraction of a family. He worked. From dawn till dark - and often after by candlelight, he worked. With the shop went six acres of land, and this he farmed, mainly growing animal feed which he sold to the big hous
es round. (Not of course, to Tre
nwith.) He kept chickens and goats and a few geese. When for any reason business slacked off he made spades and shovel and ladders, and the mines bought them from him. Recently he had taken on two undersized boys of twelve, the Trewinnard twins, as assistants. He was putting money in the bank, not because he felt it was any use to him, but because he had to put it somewhere,
Sam, his brother, still came every Tuesday and Saturday and stayed and talked a while and prayed with him. Drake had broken away from full participation in the life of redemption, and, although still a member of the Connexion, he had never returned to it in the way Sam would have liked and nightly prayed for. Sam, whose religion had been the cause of liis failure to win Emma Tregirls, pursued it with unremitting zeal, and saw no cause to abate his conviction that divine love ruled and must continue to rule the spirits of those who dwelt in Christ, He would gladly and joyfully have married Emma unredeemed; Emma, though she loved him, could not accept the fact that she needed redemption.

One day Drake received a note from Demelza asking him if he could spare a few hours to put in a new fireback she had bought for the library. 'I have not seen you
at all
th
is month,' she wrote, 'We have been so Busy haymaking the Storm all but ruined one field but the rest was in and thanks be the ricks stood the strain. Ross is back from London looking so pale as if he had been living in a Vault but well and he has already made his mark upon the House of Commons. Though he denies it. Have you time to take a meal with us? You know four people who would like it among them your loving sister
Demelza
.'

The boy was waiting - it was Benjy Ross Carter, now thirteen, with a scar on his face, though on the other cheek, not unlike that of the man he had been named after - so Drake said he would be over about four the following Wednesday, On the Wednesday, having left the forge in the care of Jack Trewinnard, the elder by half an hour, he walked to Nampara and saw to the fireback.

It was a simple fitting and one, Drake would have thought, any handyman could have managed; but he fixed it, and then drank tea with his sister in the old parlour which remained, in spite of alterations and extensions, the life centre of the house. Demelza was looking very well and specially pretty - she bloomed at regular intervals like a perennial flower - and the children clambered all over Drake for a while and then were gone. Ross was still up at the mine.

Drake said: 'A fine pair of children you have, sister.'

'Grufflers,' said
Demelza
.

'Please?'

'Grufflers. That's what Jud calls them,'

Drake smiled. 'Th
ey have a betterer start than we
had.'

"Their father is a small matter different.'

'And their mother.'

'You never knew Mother, did you?'

'Not so's I recall. You was - you were
always mother to the six of us’

'I knew her till I was eight. Then I - came in for her family. When you're young like that you don't think, you don't compare, you don't wonder. As you get older it's different. Oft I've puzzled since why she ever
wed Father. She was an orphan -I beli
eve she was a love-child - but her aunt brought her up on their farm. She used to send me to sleep when I was little talking about the ducks and the hens and the gecsc. She was pretty. At least I think so. Till she was dragged down with all us children and all that poverty. I never knew Father came home in the evening till he'd drunk what he'd made.' 'Father ever good-looking, was he?'

'Tis hard to say for sure, isn't it? It's hard to see wh
en people are old. Was Dr Choake
e
ver good-looking? Was Tholly Tre
girls? Or Jud?'

D
rake laughed. ‘I must go, sister. Thank e
e for the tea. Will Jeremy go away to school soon?'

Demelza
wrinkled her eyebrows
at
the thought. 'I am trying to teach him what I know and then he can maybe have a tutor for a while. I shall never hold him in if he has the wish to go away, but at seven or eight it is savage for a boy to be torn from his home. Ross did not go till after his mother died, when he was turned ten,'

'Of course,' Drake said, 'and Geoffrey Charles, he was eleven when they sent him to Harrow.'

This was such a sore subject that for a few moments neither spoke.

'Here's Ross now.'

Then there was pleasant talk for a space, while Ross refused fresh tea and gulped a cup from the old pot standing up and asked Drake to come to the mine
one morning, for they had recentl
y received a consignment of tools, screws, nails and wire from Bristol, and he suspected the quality was inferior but was not sure enough to be able to complain.

Drake said he would come next Monday at seven, and was edging his way towards the door, when Demelza said:

'I believe Rosina Hoblyn is just leaving. D'you know her, Drake? She's from Sawle and lives with her family. She does n
eedlework and millinery for me.’

Drake hesitated. 'I expect mebbe I seen her about.'

'I've given her a stool - you know the old one, Ross, that was in the box bedroom. It will be useful for her at home, but as she is a little lame it is a long way to carry it.'
Demelza
went to the door and called. 'Rosina.'

'Yes, ma'am.' Rosina came to the door, needle in hand. When she saw the two men she looked surprised.

'Are you ready to go? That must be near finished.'

'Oh, it is. I was but adding a stitch or two, here and there, waiting for you to come see twas right and proper.'

'D'you know my brother, Drake Carne? He's going your way; he lives at St Ann's, so it'll not be out of his way at all, and he can carry the stool.'

Rosina said: 'Oh, ma'am, I can manage that. Tis no great weight; and I'm used to fetching and carrying water and the like.'

'Well,' Demelza said, 'Drake is going that way and is about to leave. You do not mind, Drake?'

Drake shook his head.

'Then go get your bonnet.'

The girl disappeared, and soon came back, carrying her work-basket and the stool. This was handed to Drake, who took it, and they set off, over the creaky wooden bridge and up the may-lined lane out of the valley, Ross and Demelza watched them go.

Ross said: 'Is this another of your matrimonial experiments?'

Demelza narrowed her eyes. 'That little limp stays with her in sp
ite of al
l Dwight has been able to do. She's a nice girl,'

‘
A more flagrant contrivance I never saw.'

'Oh, no it was not! I don't think so
...
Since they both happened to be here at the same time
...'

'At your invitation.'

'Ross, Drake needs a wife. I don't want to see him dry up in his youth from disappointment and loneliness. I want to
see
him - in joy again, as he used to
be. He's my favourite brother.’

Ross poured himself another cup of tea. The teapot just filled his cup with its last dregs. 'There's something in what you say. But have a care: matchmakers often burn their fingers.'

‘
I shall do no more. It is just - putting them together once or twice - that's all.'

Ross swallowed his second cup. 'Does Drake ever mention Geoffrey Charles when you see him?

'He mentioned him today. Why?'

"He'll see a big change in Geoffrey Charles if he comes home this summer. I took him out when I was in London. I didn't tell you, did I, I took him to Vauxhall. It seemed a suitable thing to do.'

'George would not like it.'

'George can rot. We listened to music and, avoiding the harlots, sipped a glass of wine in the gardens; then we went into the Rotunda to admire the statuary. I took him back at seven. He has changed. He is very - grown up. Next term, he tells me, he will have Lord Aberconway as his fag.'

'Well, that is what happens to boys, isn't it. They grow up very sudden. There's nothing you can do about it, But I'm sorry if it isn't a good change.'

'Well, I'm not saying he's disagreeable now - far from it! - he's very good company. It's just that these years at Harrow have turned him into a worldly-wise young ma
n. Do you know more than anythi
ng what I felt as he walked beside me? That his father had been born over again. I knew Francis from childhood, of course, but it is in his teens that I remember him most vividly. Geoffrey Charles has become the living repeat of his father. And as I liked Francis -most of the time - so I like Geoffrey Charles. He's witty - lively -perhaps a little unstable at the moment - but good company for all that.'

'But not good company for Drake.'

'I don't think it will work between them any longer.'

On the way up the lane and then across the moorland towards Gtam-bler nothing was yet working between Drake and Rosina. Rosina was wearing a yellow bonnet and a faded but clean yellow muslin dress with a white frilled hem, from under which small black boots appeared regularly as she strode beside her tall companion. Her limp was hardly noticeable on level ground. With the stool over his shoulder Drake was trying to pace himself to her speed. He was wearing green barragan trousers and a coarse shirt open at the throat, with a green neckerchief.

The silence had lasted such a long time that at last he forced himself to break it,

'Going too fast for you, am I?'

'No, no, tis just right.’

'You've only to say.'

That ended conversation for a time.

Then, after moistening her lips experimentally once or twice, she said: 'I go over most once a week now. Tis easier for Mistress Poldark if I d'go there to work than she sending it over. Mending and patching I do for her an' all.' 'I never seen my sister make much sewing,' Drake said, 'No. She d'say she's not handy with a needle. But she have the
ideas. Oft when I go there she have the idea and I make it up just as she want,' 'Who learned you?'

'Mostly myself.' Rosina pushed a strand of hair out of her mouth. 'Being laid up so long, see, you start to work with your hands. Then I borrowe
d a book on it from Mrs Odgers.’

'You can read?'

'Yes. Mother would bring home laundry from Trenwith, and often twas wrapped in news
paper. Mind, I don't read easy.’

T could neither read nor write till I was past eighteen. Then my sister learned me.'

'This sister?'

'I've only the one. Several brothers.'

'Sam is your brother, isn't he? The preacher. I seen him about often. A rare goo
d man.' 'Are you a Methodist?' ‘
No, I just go church Sundays.'

They had reached the outskirts of Grambler. Both knew that if they once walked through the village together and as far as Sawle the news would be everywhere that Drake Carne was courting at last, and it was to be Rosina Hoblyn.

'Look’
said Rosina.
'I
can manage from here. Reely. There's no weight to the stool, is there.'

He hesitated, the busy wind pushing and thrusting at him. 'No. Tis of no moment. That is if you don't have the mind to wish otherwise.'

‘I
f you have not I have not,' said Rosina.

So exercised in mind was the Reverend Osborne Whitworth in matters closely concerning himself that he did not open Nathaniel Pearce's letter until two days after his return home. Of late Ossie had been finding excuses for refusing the old man's invitations to whist because like as not when the day came Mr Pearce would be laid up with gout and have to cancel, or when he played be too absent-minded to return his partner's lead. For a time Ossie had borne this because of the chance of meeting the notary's influential clients, but now he felt he had met them all and knew them well enough to do without an intermediary. But when he did finally read the letter it was not after a
ll an invitation to whist. Mr Pearce
was ill and urgently wished to
see
him.

Ossie delayed another couple of days, and then, being in Truro on other business, stopped outside a door bearing a wooden sign on which was printed, 'Nat. G. Pearce. Notary and Commissioner for Oaths'. As he mounted the shaky stairs which seemed ready to collapse under the attack of worm, following the slatternly pimpled woman who had let him in, Ossie wrinkled his nose
at
the stale smell in the house, a smell which became more pronounced as he was shown
into the bedroom. Used to smells
associated with occasional and reluctant sick visiting, Ossie did not have a tender nose, but this was distinctly unpleasing.

The Notary and Commissioner for Oaths was sitting propped
up
in bed in a nightshirt and nightcap, His fat face with its terrace of chins was the colour of a mulberry just before it comes ripe, A coal fire burned in the grate and the window was tight shut.

'Ah, Mr Whitworth, I had thought you had forgot me. Come in, my boy. You will regret to see me in this state. 1 regret it myself. Everyone regrets it. My daughter weeps tears nightly and says her prayers at my bedside. Eh? What's that? Speak plain, please, this gouty condition has affected my hearing a little.'

‘I
have been busy with parish affairs,' shouted Ossie, not accepting the chair he was offered and standing with his back to the fire. 'There is a great deal to be attended to, with Whitsunday but two days off, and matters in Sawle needing my attention. I have also had business in St Austell. In what way may I assist you?'

'One thing,' said Air Pearce, 'one t
hing about you, my boy, is that
I can always hear what you say wi
thout your having to raise your
voice, Eh? I suppose it's you being a c
leric, you're used to preaching
and the like. Well
...'
He blinked
his bloodshot eyes a couple of
times. 'Was it Thomas Nash who wrote a poem - "I am sick, I must
the
,"? Well, I am sick, Mr Whitworth,
and doubt not at all that Dr Be
henna is right in taking a delete
rious view of my chances of re
covery. I'm sixty-six, my boy; though
bless my soul it seems no time
since I was your age. Life is like - lik
e one of those hobby-horses you
ride at a fair - round and round you go enjoying every momen
t, and
t
hen the - then the music stops’

Ossie lifted his coat tails so that with his hands behind his back each tail was draped over one
arm. He observed that Mr Pearce
was emotionally moved. Indeed tears trembled and fell on to the bed sheet. The old fool was clearly very sorry for himself.

'Gout? That's nothing. You told me once you've suffered from it for twenty years. A little fasting and you'll be up and about again. Did you forswear any luxuries for Lent? Tell me that.'

'The gout?' said Mr Pe
arce. 'That was what you said, wasn't it? All, the gout I have had in my limbs for half of a lifetime; but now it has risen to my heart. There
are
times in the night - I tremble at the thought of them - when I stretch up - and up and up - hoping for the next breath. One of these days, one of these nights, my boy, and the next breath will not come.'

'I wish I could help you,' Ossie
said coldly. 'I'm sorry if you
are
so sick.'

Mr Pearce remembered his manners. 'A glass of canary? It's on the side there. Noblemen have seen fit to congratulate me on my choice of a canary. Help yourself, will you?'
Ossie
did so. 'No, alas, I may not drink it afore sundown,
Behenna
says; though what difference it will make in the end, the good God knows
...
And talking of the good God, Mr Whitworth, I'd remind you that I am in your parish. St Margaret's extends to take in this corner of Truro, even though all the rest belongs to St Mary's. Anyway, I could not bear the comforts of the sour Dr
Halse
.'

Ossie for the first time realized why he had been called. Offering solace to the sick and
the
bereaved was one of the duties of his office that he was least attracted to, but when driven into a corner he made some show of it. For the most part, since he had a good memory, this consisted of quotations from the Bible: obviously nothing that a mere parson could say could be so ap
t or so authoritative. But Mr Pe
arce was an educated man and clearly would not respond to the first quotation that came to mind.

In the end he shouted: 'Job in the time of his tribulation said: "If a man
the
, shall he live again? All the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come. Thou shalt call, and I will answer thee: thou wilt have a desire to the work of thine hands."'

Silence fell. Mr Pearce
said: 'I believe a glass of canary
will
be helpful to me, my boy.'

It was poured. It was drunk.

Mr Pearce said: 'You're a parson, my boy. You're in holy orders. The bishop has laid hands on you. So you ought to know. If anyone docs, that is. Eh? Eh? What did you say?'

'Nothing,' said Ossie.

'Ah, well, I suppose that's about what anyone would say confronted with such a question. All the same, d'you know, I'd be interested. Do you believe what you teach, parson? D'you believe in an afterlife? My daughter docs. Oh, yes. She's a Methody and considers that it is only important to repent here and now and all the rest will be added to you after you
the
. That's fundamentally what the Bible teaches, isn't it, not regarding which particular branch of religion you swing from. Repent and you'll live again.'

Ossie
said: "Thou has hold of me by Thy right hand. Thou shall guide me with Thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in Heaven but Thee? My flesh and my heart faileth. But God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever."'

'You dropped your voice,' said Nat Pearce, Notary and Commissioner for Oaths. 'This unusual in you, my boy; you've one of those voices that
carry.
But I don't supposition that what you have had to say is quite in my particular field. Maybe you'll find a fox, but taint the same one! D'you know, I would wish to repent if I could believe there were something to it, for I've not been so well behaved these last few years, Tis pressure of circumstance that has been
at
the bottom of it all,'

Ossie moved reluctantly to the chair and lowered himself into it. 'St James says: "Blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he is tried he shall receive the crown of life.'"

'Eh? Yes, that's very well.' Mr Pearce raised a swollen mulberry of a hand and
scratched among the ruffles on h
is chest. 'But I haven't altogether
endured
temptation, my boy. I
have yielded,
here and there, and that is the point, ain't it. I'm not at all easy in my mind, and I don't fancy passing on to meet my Maker with a burdended conscience. I'm terrible uneasy. You truly believe there is such a Being, do you? You believe these tales of hell-fire and eternal damnation? Upon my soul, I don't know what to think.'

'God is eternal,' said Ossie, 'God is omnipresent, God is the supreme judge. There can be no turning away. If you go down into the nethermost parts of Hell He is there also. There is no escaping Him, Is it the sins of y
our youth that trouble you now?’

'Youth? Whose youth? Mine? Nay, nay. Did I sin then? Maybe. If so, I have forgot. I have forgot what they were. Nay, my boy, tis the sins of age that trouble me. Those of the past ten years,'

Ossie took out a handkerchief and breathed into it. 'What sins can you have in mind, Mr
Pearce
? Gluttony? Sloth? Concupiscence? I detected you once, I believe, cheating at whist.'

Mr
Pearce
had his hand behind his ear. 'What? Oh, that. If it had only been
at
whist, my boy
...
If only at whist
...'

'Then pray what is wrong? I haven't all day to listen.'

Mr Pearce
coughed, trying to clear the phlegm gathering in his throat. 'I have - from time to time, my boy, indulged in a little speculation. It seemed harmless enough. There was money to be made, d'you know - in India - in Italy - in some of our burgeoning industries. It is difficult for a country solicitor to accumulate wealth, though all his life he attends on it. Alas, in the main, my little speculations were unfortunate. It is chiefly the war. Italy was overrun. Madras was seized for the French. Some of our English industries have failed for lack of outlet, with all Europe closed against them. So, money was lost instead of made. Eh? Eh? I say money was lost instead of made,'

'So you
are
less well off,' Ossie said, never one to jump quickly to another's meaning. 'What is there to that?'

'Alas,' said Mr
Pearce
. 'I have to tell you, my boy, that - that some of the money I speculated with was not
...
well, not my own.'