‘I put in just to say goodbye, little cousin. Off tomorrow by the noon tide, loading at Par and carrying to Norway. We’ll be more than a month away, I suspicion, even if all goes well, which it seldom does with the Chasse Marée. Damned Frenchies can build well when they want to, but not when they knocked the old Chasse together. Last trip even just from Swansea … “A leaky ship with her anchor down, Hurrah, me boys, Hurrah!”’
‘I think perhaps that’s where Bella gets her aptitude from.’
‘What aptitude?’
‘Liking to sing comic songs, not always in tune.’
‘Thank you, Clowance. You are too kind.’ He stirred his tea and stretched his sturdy legs towards the fire.
Clowance said: ‘Do you ever regret leaving the Packet Service, Andrew?’
‘No choice, little cousin. The bailiffs were after me.’
‘That doesn’t answer my question, big cousin.’
His heavy sandy eyebrows wrinkled. ‘I sent Jason and Fred Barton up to furl the mainsail, and the strap supporting the upper block gave way. Down they came, yard and all. It was the greatest good fortune no one was crippled. That shouldn’t happen on any vessel decently crafted … We were off Land’s End. Luckily the wind was taking off and the sea was light.’
‘You told Stephen?’
‘Oh, yes. He pays the bills, doesn’t he? Not too pleased about it neither … Clowance.’
‘Yes?’
‘What do you think of young Jason?’
‘I’ve … hardly met him.’
‘D’you like him?’
‘So far as I know him. Don’t you?’
‘Not much. A bit above himself, you might say. Stephen’s pushing him up the ladder, wanted to make him mate under me for the next voyage. He hasn’t the experience. A lad of that age should be the ship’s boy. It’s the way things go, always have gone, at sea; begin at the bottom, cooking, cleaning, brass-polishing, scrubbing. There’s six of us on the Chasse Marée, and there was some grumbling on the last trip. The older men don’t like it.’
‘I suppose Stephen wants to do the best for his nephew.’
‘Dear yes, my handsome. But I don’t think it will do. Heigh-ho, I mustn’t bother you with my troubles. Where is Stephen now?’
‘I don’t know. Still in Truro perhaps.’
‘Oh no, I caught a glimpse of his jib this morning coming out of the chandlers – Priors, that is – he was luffing up towards the Royal Standard, but he was wearing a grim face, and we’ve not been seeing quite eye to eye recently, so I did not hail him.’
Clowance poked the fire and put on some coal. ‘Why have you not been seeing eye to eye?’
‘Well, chiefly over Jason. I told him last Monday what I thought, so he’s taken Jason off the Chasse Mareé. I’m sailing one crewman short, will pick one up in Par. I’ve made Fred Barton mate. He’s forty-eight, married with two children; he’s been at sea since he was sixteen. He deserves the extra money.’
Clowance thought Stephen might well have wanted Jason to sail with Andrew to keep him from being too much in evidence when she was about.
Andrew had been watching her expression. He suddenly laughed. ‘You’re a dear, good girl. I wish you had fallen in love with me.’
‘I always thought that was a joke.’ She smiled wide-eyed at him. ‘Wasn’t it? About it not mattering us being cousins…’
‘Truth and jest – you can’t always separate ’em, can you? Anyway … What’s the time? I must weigh anchor.’
‘Stay till Stephen comes.’
‘I still have to take leave of my parents. My dear mama continues to extend all her usual indulgence towards her one ewe lamb.’ He got up.
‘What were you going to say, Andrew?’
‘When?’
‘A moment ago. You broke off.’
‘Did I? So I did. But you should not have noticed. Ah well…’
‘Well what?’
‘Little cousin, you are very persistent. Well, to tell the truth—’ He broke off. ‘Have you noticed when folk say “to tell the truth” it means they are going to tell a big lie – or else that they have been lying before? To tell the truth then, really the truth, since I know you are happy wed to Stephen, and lost to all your other suitors including me, my eyes and my fancies are straying elsewhere.’
‘Oh?’ Clowance looked pleased. ‘In a particular direction?’
‘In a particular direction.’
‘May I know the fortunate young lady?’
‘You may. You do. But slightly. Whether you consider her or me fortunate in this matter is another kettle of fish.’
‘Come along,’ said Clowance, getting up. ‘Who is it?’
‘Thomasine Trevethan, George’s younger sister. You’ve seen her once or twice at Cardew. George Trevethan is twenty-six. Tamsin is twenty.’
‘But how lovely, Andrew! What should be wrong with it? Does she not care for you?’
‘I believe she cares. Yes, I know she does. But her father owns the gunpowder mills up the valley. They’re a family with money. I have reason to know they do not think the master of a tramp schooner that he’s got no interest in – no financial interest in and no money outside his meagre pay, is any sort of catch for their only daughter.’
She went with him to the door in the half dark of evening and watched him tramp off towards the steep steps that led to the harbour. He had borrowed a skiff which would take him down the creek and across to Flushing.
There was a moon somewhere but the gathering cloud and mists off the sea had so far obscured it. ‘And like a dying lady lean and pale,’ Clowance had read somewhere, ‘who totters forth wrapped in a gauzy veil.’ That was what the moon would be like tonight, rising slowly, overlooking the dulled silver platter of the bay, the tendrils of smoke climbing up from the roofs of the town. Lights winking here and there. When the evening comes and the busy world is hushed. Even footsteps, voices, the barking of a dog were absorbed into the empty air.
Where was Stephen? Of course she should have known he was home because the fire had been in, though smouldering on its last embers when she returned. What was there to eat in the house? Eggs, bread, butter, milk, the remains of a flitch of bacon. Should she go down to the quay, buy some mackerel or a piece of hake? She was not hungry and he might have eaten out. Better to wait until he came. He must have expected her today, but there was no note.
Somehow she must persuade him to be more generous towards Andrew. He was not at all an ungenerous man but perhaps possessive, reluctant to share any power he had come by. It would not help that they had had words over Jason.
But she could see how the Trevethans would feel. A young man, son of one of the most respected of the packet captains – though at one time there had been ugly stories about him – a young man in the service but suddenly giving it up for a less esteemed position as master of a tramp schooner – with some reputation in the town for drunkenness and debt. Not quite the best catch for the only daughter of a well-to-do middle-class family with social ambitions. Clowance did not very much care for George Trevethan who, she thought, rather sucked up to the Warleggans and laughed at everything he said himself as if there were a hidden joke. Thomasine she only remembered as small and fair and rather pretty, with a retroussé nose.
But she must work on Stephen. Andrew would be away at least a month; lovely if something better could be arranged for his return.
She made herself another cup of tea, nibbled a biscuit and read the Cornwall Gazette. But it was getting late, and she was tired after a long day. The candle flickered in some draught she could not locate, and her eyes pricked. She undressed and lay on the bed in her nightgown and dressing-gown, sure that she would keep awake if she didn’t actually get into bed. But almost at once she drifted into a deep dreamless sleep.
She woke with a start to hear someone moving cautiously about the room. She sat up instantly.
‘Who is it? Stephen?’
‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I thought no
t to wake you. These floorboards creak like old bones. Go back to sleep.’
She knew at once he had been drinking. No one else would have known, for he had far too hard a head to show the obvious signs.
‘You’re late. Is everything all right?’
‘Late!’ he said. ‘You’re a fine one to talk! Where’ve you been all day?’
‘At Nampara, of course. I said I’d be home for supper – I had dinner with Valentine and Selina, that’s all.’
‘I was waiting for ye! Then I went out again.’
‘Is something the matter? Make a light, will you.’
‘Nay, go to sleep. ’Twill keep till morning.’
She had a box by the bed so she scraped the tinder and presently lit the stub of candle. As the light grew he was standing by the dressing-table in his shirt sleeves. His jacket was on the floor. He looked ill.
She got quickly out of bed. ‘Let me get you something to eat.’
‘I’ve eaten,’ he said roughly. ‘Had a bite at the Royal Standard wi’ one or two lads. Stopped on for a game of billiards.’
It was not only a bite he had had.
‘Stephen. Come and sit on the bed beside me. I’m sorry I was late but I really did say I’d be home for supper. Has there been some trouble while I’ve been away?’
‘Aye, ye could call it so.’ He would not let her lead him to the bed but sat in the tall wooden armchair which stood between the bed and the window. She sat on the bed and knelt up, looking at him.
‘Is it one of the ships?’
‘Not so easy as that. It all happened yesterday afternoon. I could’ve done with ye when I came home. But you were off at Nampara!’
She waited, knowing he was trying to lay some blame on her for whatever had happened but carefully not rising to the bait.
‘Something happened in Truro?’
‘That’s it. Good guess.’
‘Then tell me, Stephen! What can I say until I know?’
His hand bristled as he rubbed his chin. ‘It was yesterday afternoon. The bank’d asked me to call. When I went in, there was Warleggan himself and that fellow Lander, his chief clerk or whatever he is. They said they wanted to see me because they had been going through me ledgers and books, et cetera, et cetera, and found discrepancies in ’em. Discrepancies! Why, most o’ me books and accounts since I joined ’em had been under Lander’s sharp eye! I told ’em so. But they said they had only worked on the figures I gave ’em and that some of the figures they had found were false. False! What the hell was I to say to that? Inaccurate by a pound or two, maybe. But genuine mistakes – and all small things! They wouldn’t find one to get that hot about. ’Twasn’t even as if they were all in my favour! Small things one way, small things the other. Ye know I’m not one for cheeseparing, for counting the pennies. But I might’ve been cheating the bank – deliberately cheating them of hundreds of pounds! Their faces! Holy Mary, their faces. Like I was a criminal. Clowance, I can’t tell ye what ’twas like…’
‘So what happened then? Does it mean you will have to employ a clerk in future? Because if so—’
‘Future? There isn’t one! Not in Warleggan’s. They’ve said, they told me they’re going to withdraw all the accommodation they’ve offered me and invite me to find another bank! They’ve given me two weeks. Two weeks!’
Clowance drew her feet under her. But it was her heart that was cold.
‘And can you?’
‘Find another bank? What hope? ’Twill soon get known that Warleggan’s have withdrawn and’re calling in their notes. And when they hear why – and Warleggan’s are sure to make it sound as bad as they can – who’ll want to take on someone who’s been found out a swindler?’
Clowance got up and ran down the stairs, brought up a half-used bottle of brandy and two glasses. He might have already had too much, but she needed it. She was feeling sick. They sipped together. The spirit took her breath away.
‘If that happens…’
‘Bankruptcy.’ He put his head back against the chair. ‘Bankruptcy. I can’t cover me debts. Can’t begin to.’
‘Three ships.’
‘Buying and selling are different things. Specially if it is under pressure.’
‘How much – do we owe?’
‘There’s a permanent three-thousand-pound overdraft on the security of the ships. And I’ve also taken out a tidy number of accommodation bills – these aren’t secured by a commercial transaction but are just – credit.’
‘How much would that be?’
He made an irritable gesture. ‘Can’t be sure. Mebbe eight hundred pounds.’
She finished her drink and nearly choked.
‘But they cannot do such a thing, Stephen! We have been friends of theirs. We go to their home! We hunt with Harriet! Surely – aren’t you making too much of this threat? Perhaps George was angry, said more than he meant, will cool off in a few days…’
‘Strange thing is,’ said Stephen, ‘through it all – and Lander did most of the talking – ’twas as if George sort of liked doing what he was doing. Once or twice I caught his eye and ye could see as if there was malice there. I been wondering – d’ye think he led me into this, encouraging me to borrow from him so that one day he could ruin me? D’ye think ’tis a way of getting revenge on you and your father? The old Warleggan-Poldark feud?’
Clowance shook her head. ‘George has always been specially nice to me – before ever I met you. I don’t think even he could be as devious as that … But it always has been a danger, hasn’t it. So many people warned us when we first went to him.’
‘When I first went to him,’ Stephen said bitterly. ‘You warned me. But I didn’t expect to suffer for an old feud!’
‘Are you trying to blame me now?’
‘No, of course not.’ But he was a little, trying to offset some of the responsibility.
‘What will you do now?’
‘What I’ve been trying to do last night and all day today. Find somebody, someone who might help give me a breathing space!’
‘And is there anyone?’
‘Never in this world. Of course today I went back to Carne’s, where I was banking before – before Warleggan’s – but they were not interested. I might get eight hundred pounds from ’em but they’d want one – or maybe two – of me ships. I’ve tried – these two evenings I’ve tried at the Royal Standard – ye know most of the Packet captains, the agents, the merchants, the chandlers, meet there. Often when ye launch a new vessel, whether for trade or – other work, folk will take a share, not unlike opening a mine – like the two shares I own in Wheal Leisure – they’ll take a share in a ship or ships. I thought maybe if I could divide up into, say, sixty-four parts of, say, a hundred pounds a part, it would take care of all our troubles. Maybe even fifty pounds a share would see us through. But d’ye know what I got? Captain Buller said he might take one share. And Jim Prior said he’d take two shares if I could get a bank to guarantee ten.’ Stephen poured himself another drink. ‘It’s different ye see than if you are just starting. Like laying foundations; people will come in. But they all know I’ve got the backing of Warleggan’s – why do I need their money now?’
‘What will you do next?’
‘There’s little enough to do. George Warleggan has got me in a trap and it will not be easy to get out. I might likely go to prison!’
‘There’s the Cornish Bank in Truro,’ said Clowance.
‘Ye mean your father’s bank?’
‘It is not his bank, Stephen, or all would be well. He is but a small shareholder. But I am sure they would step in if – if there was any danger of – of prison. If my father were here…’
‘That would not be easy neither,’ said Stephen. ‘I can’t just go up to my father-in-law and say kindly lend me four thousand pounds to keep me out of gaol!’
There was silence for a long time. Clowance said: ‘Come to bed, my dear. Perhaps things will look better in the morning.’
Step
hen half laughed. ‘Don’t believe it. Warleggan’s are the power around here. If they draw back, repudiate me, there’ll be no one willing to take me on. If I sell my three ships and am still five hundred pounds short, maybe the Cornish Bank will step in to see me clear of the worst. With you my wife they could do no other. But aside from that I reckon all is lost.’
III
Tallien said: ‘You have already denied, Poldark, that you know anything of Mlle de la Blache’s work as a spy. We find that hard to believe.’
‘Why should you? I met her only when I first arrived in Paris in February.’
Tallien fingered his eye-shade. He was less sinister with the downcast eye hidden.
‘That we know to be untrue. You knew her in England before you landed in France with the Bourbon uprising of ’95. We have reason to suppose you met in Paris in ’03. As you have frequently been used as an agent by the British Government, it is likely that you have been in touch with her ever since.’
Ross got up and walked to the barred window. It was a room, not a cell, but it was a small room.
‘I came to Paris in 1803 with a doctor friend and made an effort to trace Mlle de la Blache, because I had a ring given me by her fiancé Charles de Sombreuil, before he was murdered by your jackals and at your express command. I failed to find Mlle de la Blache because she was not then in Paris. She was married to Baron Ettmayer and living in Vienna. Are there any more charges you can trump up?’
‘Oh, any number,’ said Tallien. ‘One merely of common assault, which you may have forgotten.’
‘Clearly you have not,’ said Ross.
Tallien looked at the guard by the door. They were alone except for him.
‘The guillotine disposed of many people better than you, Sir Ross. More worthy than you, Sir Ross. Who were a greater loss to the world than you would be, Sir Ross. Unfortunately the Old Lady has gone out of fashion. In the end she became too greedy. You will be surprised to know that towards the end I spared many lives. Many lives I spared, especially women. Now Mme la Guillotine is reserved for thieves and criminals. The firing squad has returned to deal with the traitor and the spy.’
The Twisted Sword: A Novel of Cornwall 1815 Page 21
