Warleggan (19 page)

A half-hour's
conversation might be all Ross needed with Mark Daniel; but the arrangements for such a conversation, and its venue on one of a group of wind-swept islands well out
in the Atlantic in
mid-winter, needed a margin on either side to allow for delays. Ross estimated he would be away
a
week.

A message had arrived from Mark that he was willing to come. Ross had suggested the twenty-ninth of January as an approximate date, because Trencrom had said the One and All would leave on the twenty-eighth and they could
drop
him off at St.
Mary's the following
day and pick
him up on their return. Mark had agreed to the twenty-ninth, but, with his own journey in an Irish ketch even more dependent on wind and weather than Ross's,- he might well be days early or
late.

With such news Ross decided to risk his last £75 on the purchase of coal. What had, seemed a useless gesture-now looked a fair business risk.

As the month neared
its end political crisis again overshadowed the personal worries of men. The long-drawn tr
ial of Louis the Sixteenth had
ended in a sentence of death. There was still chance of a reprieve, but few really believed it would come about. The Convention could hardly retract now. Changes took place in England
overnight. The noisy Jacobin clubs silently
closed their doors. Arguments which had gone on for years in taproom and in coffee shop came to an end. Men waited. Some
went home and looked out
old fowling pieces and rubbed up relics of earlier wars.

On the twenty-fourth it was known that the execution had been carried out. That settled it. Few people
in England had much admiration
for Louis beyond the manner of his dying; and it
was less than one hundred and
fifty years since they had cut off the head of their own king; but sentiment does not derive from logic. Theatres closed, crowds demonstrated
outside
the Palace. The, French ambassador was given his papers. Now it was only a question of time.

It was in this atmosphere that Ross took leave of Demelza on Sunday
the
twenty-seventh and made his way by easy stages to St. Ives, where the One and All had been undergoing repairs. Her
crew,
mainly St Ann's men, had found their own way down the coast in ones and twos; and soon after six on the following morning the seventy-ton cutter slipped out on the flood tide. A thin layer of powdered frost lay on her decks and did not melt until the sun rose
. It seemed to Ross, standing
in
the bows with the small waves lipping
at the
yellow gun
wales as she went
about, that the sun came up
directly above w
here Nampara would be. To feel a
deck under
his feet again after so long was unfamiliar and exciting.

To Demelza, rising early and knowing that if things went according to plan he would be at
sea before dawn, the
wintry day was charged with apprehension. No study of the, battered old linen map, showing the Scilly Isles far out of
reach of
the French regicides, was a complete reassurance. As she went about her daily work, she blamed herself for getting into the habit of worrying. It was entirely outside her nature so far as her own safety went, but w
ith Ross the tendency had grown
on her. She must check it; she must correct it. One could only wis
h that he was a man
less prone to attract trouble:
Determined to be practical, she hummed and sang at her work all morning, and in the afternoon for the first time fo
r months opened her spinet and played a
few airs. Once she had, taken lessons from Mrs. Kemp, but that was, in the happy days of moderate prosperity when Julia was alive,
- She wished she could fi
nd time and interest to take it
up again. just playing a chord sometimes gave, her exquisite pleasure, it struck down into her soul, not merely heard but felt, emotion of a new kind. In the middle of this exercise Dwight Enys arrived.

Whe
n she opened the door to him he said
'Was that you playing? I'm sorry, I'd no wish to disturb you. Is Ross in?'

His cloak was
flecked with hail, though she
had not noticed the shower,

`No, Dwight He's ... from home for a day or two. Won't you come in?'

He took off
his cloak and hat on the threshold and shook them. Over the hills the sky was as brown as an old blanket with the passing storm.

`Did you walk?'' she asked as he followed her into the parlour.
`Yes. I came about five bec
ause I thought Ross was usually
back then: I should have come days ago but have been putting
it off.
”

'You'll take tea? It's that cold. I wish 'twould snow and then
the cold might come down,'

`Do yo
u know when Ross will be back?"

By Saturday, I b
elieve. Is it something urgent?
'

`Oh
no, not urgent: Not in the ordinary sense.' Hesitating, nonplussed, Dwight sat on the edge of a chair: `Jeremy is
well?

'Yes. Can you
hear him? He has Tinny Scoble's
t
wo little boys in to play, and Jinny is minding
them for me.' She turned to watch the kettle, which was making some preliminary, intermittent noises. `I'll go fetch the teapot. I
forgot
to bring it in.'

When she came
back, he was
staring out of the window. Dusk: had come suddenly, as if the sides of the valley had closed in, and the firelight flickered and glowed across the room. She thought, I wonder if he's safely there now;
I wonder what the Scillies
look like. She pictured them as high barren rocks. Dwight helped her to light the candles.

As the light flickered on her skin, she said `I know Ross wouldn't mind you knowing. You have all our other secrets, almost, so another makes small difference. He has gone with Mr. Trencrom and is dropping off at the Scilly Islands to meet Mark Daniel, who has been found at last. The One and All will pick Ross up again and-bring him home about Fri
day or Saturday; when they will
anchor off our cove.'

Friday was the first of February. Too late for him. 'I hope Daniel has some good news for you.'

The candles had died down to tiny pearls of light, and these now began to melt the tallow and to burn lozenge-shape.

`It seems a century since that night
,' said Dwight. 'When you stood
between us, you only, and Mark would have killed me. I'd have welcomed death, then, beca
use I'd betrayed all the things
I valued most----and the people who trusted me.'

'We were all over
wrought that night I'm
glad nothing worse happened.'

In a distant part of the ho
use there was a bump and after
a pause a giggle of childr
en's laughter, Demelza; who had
expected tears, relaxed again,

Dwight said. 'The la
st thing I want is to remember
t
hat
time, Because I came
today to see
Ross to tell him that I am leaving this district
very shortly.’

She waited for him to go on, `Is it to do with Caroline?'

`Yes. We're to be married. But because of her uncle's opposition it must take place in secret. So we're leaving together late on Saturday night,' He went on to explain why any other solution was impossible, why they could not live here, why he owed it to her to start afresh in a town where neither of them was known. Demelza listened in silence, and her silence to his overstrained perceptions was a criticism.

She said : `Well, I'm glad to hear it for your sake, Dwight; sorry for our own. 'Twill not be only in Sawle and Grambler that
you'll be missed. We shall feel
quite lost. And Jeremy.'

`Thank you. .. .'

The kettle now seemed to be bursting with steam and water, and the fire was spitting its protests. She made tea.

`I'
ve been in correspondence with
a physician who studied with me in London. He's ill and needs a change, so has agreed to come for six months on trial, with the prospect of staying. It will be far better than leaving no one at all. Wright is a good man, older than I am, but w
ith similar views. I'm sure you
will like him,'

`Yes.'

`Of course I know it will not be the same for a time. With
out conceit I know that. An
d it means also something for me
- o
n which
I depend. I shall miss people -
and of course chiefly you.' He frowned out of the window to hide his feelings. `I want you to tell Ross, will you, how much I feel I owe to him, to you both, for your friendship. The whole thing has been a great grief to me.'

After a few moments Deme
lza brought him a cup, of tea.
Marrying someone you love isn't a tune for grief, Dwight: The last thing Ross or I should want
-
or I'm sure that any, of your friends would want.... Worry about us and our ailments so much as you like unti
l Saturday. But after Saturday,
you should forget all that, and begin your new life as if Sawle and Grambler had never been. 'Twould not be unfeeling to do that. It would
b
e good sense.'

When Dwight had gone, Demelza cleared away the tea things. Time Jeremy was thinking of bed. Dwight's visit had left her lonelier than ever. The discussion had curiously
skirted the character of the girl in the case. Ross had once pr
edicted Caroline would wipe her
feet on Dwight, but perhaps he had
revised his opinion since then.
Demelza knew Bath by, repute. That it would suit Caroline was fairly clear. Whether Dwight
would settle
into the conventional pattern remained to be seen.

Strolling round the small bleak island of St. Mary's, Ross waited impatiently for some sign of the Irish ketch bearing Mark
Daniel. So far in two days
there had been none. The winds had been contrary, veering and backing between northwest and east. An active man, and with, so much at stake in this meeting, he found the time unbearably slow. Three French c
rabbers put into the sheltered
water between St. Mary's and Tresco on Tuesday when the, weather was bad, but their crews did not come ashore.

Hugh Town was little more than a straggle of thatched cottages and, fish cellars clutching the shore of the island where it curved inn a natural harbour. Every night the new revolving
oil light
on St, Agnes Island, only installed three years, sent out its warning to wandering ships. Previously the light had come from an oak log fire. Although in the centre of the island and eighty feet above sea level, it had sometimes been put out by the sea. For more than a hundred years now no local man had been permitted to be in charge of it, after one wreck when, the fire wasn't kindled until the ship was on the rocks.

Dressed in old clothes, Ross was still conspicuous about the island, and at the tiny inn where he stayed conversation stopped whenever he came in
to the room. On the Wednesday h
e was, rowed over to St. Martin's and spent a couple of hours up the Beacon Tower, watching the horizon for ships. From this vantage point the multiplicit
y of the
islands looked like an anchored fleet.

On the Wednesday, Mr. Ray Penvenen told his niece that in view of the prospect of war he thought i
t better
to leave for London on the Friday instead of the Sunday. He, had certain banking interests, and he would prefer to be in, to
uch with them as soon as possibl
e. But Caroline did not like this at all. Apparently s
he was not ready to go. Nothing
would induce her to leave before Sunday morning, If he wanted
to go before, he must leave without her. After argument, in, which she seemed needles
sly downright, he gave way. She
had been so considerate to his views in other respects that he felt he must humour, her in this. Nevertheless h
is mind was not quite easy, and
several times
that evening she looked
up, from her reading to find his eyes on her.

On the
Thursday, Dwight had to go into Truro to draw some money and to obtain letters of credit for his journey, On coming, out of the bank he almost bumped into a tall fair soldier in the uniform of the Scots Greys. Such figures might soon become a commonplace of countryside and town, but this man's great moustache was familiar. Then Dwight remembered where he had seen him before-leaving the cottage of Vercoe the Customs Officer at St. Ann's. It was almost twelve months ago: sometime last spring.

On Thursday afternoon a small fishing vessel appeared in Crow Sound and presently nosed her way into the quieter waters of the Road. She was fore-and-aft rigged, but she carried a large square sail on her mainmast. After about half an hour a dinghy brought a man ashore.,