Virtue’s Reward (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 11)

by Andrew Wareham

  Robert feared he could detect jealousy in his brother’s reaction, and perhaps a desire to protect his own idol, Mr Stephenson. He changed the subject, asking after the well-being of the Stars.

  “They flourish, Robert, the English family gaining in wealth and local importance, while the Americans, although eccentric in some ways, are growing in stature. We have received letters from Mr Henry Star relating his adventures on his return to the South of the States and to the great good fortune he experienced then. He was ship-wrecked, it would seem, Robert, but survived the adventure due to the exertions of his brother Mr Luke Star and of a Greek acquaintance of his known only as Mr Stavros. They are now in course of freeing the Presidency of Texas from Mexican despotism, or so it would seem. It is rather strange to me, and the details are unknown, but Mr George Star has confirmed the tale, he having been the confidant of Sir Erasmus Clapperley’s son who is lately returned from the Mississippi regions himself.”

  “Clapperley’s son! Was he not forced to leave England, one jump ahead of a Warrant, Joseph?”

  Joseph grinned – he had heard of the story from both sides and was convinced that young Mr Clapperley was far too clever for his own good.

  “An inefficient attempt at fraud, one believes, Robert. All has been made good and his would-be victims paid off and the evidence laid against him withdrawn. I am told that he has vowed to mend his ways; he was young then and will do better now. Of course, if he is now in Mr George Star’s company then it will not be long before he is back into the ways of sharp practice…”

  “I understand that Mr George Star has become rich in very short order, Joseph.”

  “Five cotton mills; a lead mine, showing very high values of silver as well; a new business in made goods, reach-me-downs for the better-paid of the labouring sorts; a country seat that is of some distinction; a little of land as well – he is among the wealthy now, that is for sure. He married well, of course, and has children whom he dotes upon – which is understandable but also offers a redeeming facet. I have no doubt that he will make his million, and more, much as Father did; he has much the same ambition, possibly greater, and far less in the way of scruples.”

  Robert was less than enthralled.

  “I was told by an acquaintance that if one shook hands with Mr George Star then one should count one’s fingers afterwards.”

  “He is not quite that rapacious, Robert. Very nearly I will admit. I hear that he has shown an interest in the construction of a railway. I shall not be entering into any contract with him if he does – he will not buy his rails from Roberts Iron Founders!”

  Robert allowed himself to return to the topic of the railway.

  “What of the railway to Radstock? Will it be practicable?”

  “Irrespective of the gauge, it will be a simple enough task. The sole problem will lie in the purchase of land or the lease of a right-of-way through areas of Bristol to reach the docks. Captain Hood is to take that task off my hands, Robert. There is a choice of several routes across flat lands to reach Bristol, either to the north or more directly from the east, and there is the possibility of simply following the valley of the River Yeo to reach the coast to the west of the town and creating our own set of wharves on the Bristol Channel. The dirt and dust of coal makes me inclined to follow the latter course, I would add – I cannot imagine that the burgesses of Bristol would favour their town being turned into the blackened like of many of the North Country ports.”

  Robert had his doubts – that would surely be an expensive way of doing things. Joseph felt that it would be cheaper in the longer run, particularly if they were able to lay their hands on extra acres that might eventually be turned into housing for the workers who would inevitably be pulled into the new harbour.

  Captain Hood found his new occupation to be of surprising interest – he had not thought that the purchase of land would be so entertaining.

  It was amazing just how many landowners fancied themselves as masters of sharp practices; he was offered a bed and entertainment in the houses of the great majority, a dinner accompanied by quantities of alcohol and the attempt to discuss business afterwards when his mind could be assumed to be muzzy. Unfortunately for them, he had a hard head for alcohol and was in any case used to actually drinking far less than he seemed to. His glass was refilled frequently, but was almost never emptied, particularly when it came to port and brandy after dinner. It was easy enough as well to never quite get round to signing any document until the morning. For a man who had caught a number of very professional traitors and Bonapartist agents, the manoeuvring of English country gentlemen, most of limited education and less intelligence, was pathetically amusing.

  He wished to purchase rights-of-way only, except where a station seemed desirable or where a small yard made sense for the movement of local produce. At the coast itself he needed the acreage for a set of wharves and storage for a few thousand tons of coals.

  The landowners were dedicated to selling him their most useless land – which he did not object to, except when it was hillside or marsh, as was generally the case. He explained repeatedly that the route was determined by the surveyors, that he had no control of it and that in any event steam engines would not climb hills or burrow through mud. The message was slow to percolate through the agricultural brain.

  The largest landowner at the coast was possessed of an expanse of sandy beach and low hills and just one area where deep water came close to the shore. He would sell that inlet, he said, but only as a part of the whole package. A thousand acres of sand dunes plus fifty of the land the Captain actually wanted – all or nothing, take it or leave it!

  Captain Hood consulted with Joseph Andrews and was persuaded that they must take the whole package – not only was it in the ideal location, they could turn it to a profit.

  “Sir Erasmus Clapperley and Mr George Star have created their own estates on areas much like this near Southport. The land is unsuited to agriculture, but it can be used for a park where children can trot their ponies and launch their sailing dinghies. Distant from the coal wharves and their smoke and smuts we could build four or five country houses for the ship-owners and merchants of Bristol, each with its stretch of land. By the wharves themselves, a few warehouses perhaps; a works where the steam locomotives could be built and repaired; possibly a small shipyard for the colliers; definitely terraces of workers’ houses. Even the mineworkers themselves could live there, carried up and down the line each morning and evening to their toil, their children at least able to enjoy the sea breezes.”

  “You are very convincing, Mr Andrews. I shall close with Mr Frobisher at a price which must be argued fiercely. If I do not negotiate to the penny he will be convinced that I am to make a great profit from him and will possibly pull out himself.”

  Captain Hood returned to Somerset and to Mr Frobisher’s estate office; there he stated his principal’s willingness to consider the purchase of the whole acreage, but solely for the purpose of allowing his railway to be built. The price, he said, must be pared to the very bone.

  Frobisher suggested that the fifty acres around the deep-water channel must be worth at least twelve pounds apiece; he would let the sand dunes go for a token payment of, perhaps, four pounds an acre.

  Captain Hood laughed incredulously.

  “Four thousand six hundred pounds, sir! At four and one half per cent – which is the return on Consols in recent months – that would be an income of two hundred and seven pounds per annum. I cannot imagine that you could rent all of those acres for as much as one hundred pounds a year, Mr Frobisher!”

  Hood had walked the land and had observed a pair of retired donkeys and a flock of milking goats and not the least sign of cultivation. Along the shoreline there were a few fishermen casting rods and some children picking for shellfish of various sorts, but all in a desultory fashion, not in the way of people making a living.

  Frobisher said that he had the intent of bringing the acres into agricultural
use – it would take only a few years to bring the sand dunes into fields – some loads of chalk and the application of the dung cart would work wonders, he did not doubt.

  “I shall watch your progress with interest, Mr Frobisher. I am to meet with Mr Tremaine, who is your neighbour, tomorrow morning and shall take the more northerly course for the railway line, sir. It is in some ways less convenient to our needs, but I am sure we can make a bargain, sir.”

  Captain Hood stood and began to make polite farewells.

  Frobisher perceived that he had made an error and sought to regain his position. Even two thousands would be very useful on the estate, enabling him to metal the lane leading to the Bristol Road and to drain a piece of marshland that had irritated him forever. Greed was understandable, he told himself, but occasionally misplaced.

  “One might, Captain Hood, reconsider the price I was quoted. My agent is often too enthusiastic in his attempts to protect my interests.”

  The agent, silent at his master’s side, turned red in the face but said nothing. He had suggested an asking price of two thousand five hundred and a willingness to accept far less.

  Captain Hood, experienced at reading the expressions of those sat across a table from him, expressed his agreement. One’s employees often over-reached themselves in their enthusiasm to aid their master’s cause, so he suggested.

  Both stared accusingly at the agent, who kept his countenance and temper, jobs being in short supply locally.

  “The land around the inlet is capable of pasturing a small herd of dairy cattle, perhaps, sir – but, sadly, there is no town within reach that might purchase fresh milk and butter and cream, and the cost of a cheesery would be rather high. I fear, Mr Frobisher, that in reality one would be hard pressed to justify six pounds per acre for those fifty. As for the thousand of dunes? A few goats scrabble for a living there at the moment, one believes! Any price for those acres is more an act of charity than of commercial logic, sir. Shall we say thirty shillings the acre, sir?”

  An hour of argument brought Captain Hood to reluctantly accept that a total of two thousand one hundred pounds would be fair – his railway and little harbour would, after all, generate smoke and smuts that would cause some distress to Mr Frobisher in his house some two miles distant.

  They sent the agreement to their attorneys, Captain Hood laying down a deposit of ten per cent to show his immediate good faith.

  Pressure from the Minchinhampton interest enabled him to persuade the recalcitrant few of inland holders to sell the rights of way he required and the line was made possible without the need for an Act of Parliament to grant rights of compulsory purchase. Where a large majority of landholders wished to build a canal, or by extension a railway line, it had long been feasible to create the means of legal compulsion of the few who would not cooperate with their neighbours – but it was an unpopular procedure and subject to much legal scrutiny.

  Far better for the community to achieve less vigorously attained compliance. It was a certainty that at some stage there would be a fire in the fields next to the track, arguably caused by cinders from a passing train. Where the right-of-way had been grabbed by law the railway company would certainly be instantly sued, with great publicity, and with little sympathy from the judges. Disorder in any railway town could be regarded as a minor local problem, or could be exaggerated into an issue for the columns of the national newspapers – all depending on the attitude of the local landholders.

  During the period of construction, particularly, there would be the problem of the navvies; it was not unknown for hostile magistrates to sentence half of a gang to transportation after a particularly jolly pay-day.

  Captain Hood had some sympathy for the landholders whose ancient way of life was to be disturbed by the railway, but his estate would benefit no end from the salary and bonuses he was earning. Such being the case, the folk-ways of Old England loomed very small in his mind.

  Three months and he was able to hand Brassey a map of the purchased rights of way and of the inlet on which he was to build his wharves.

  “With your agreement, Captain Hood, I should like for my men to start at the coast first. The harbour working and I shall be able to bring in the rails themselves and the sleepers by small ship. Chairs for the rails to rest in and spikes to hold them in place are weighty objects as well, sir, and far more easily brought in by sea.”

  Captain Hood had not thought that far, was forced to admit that it made sense.

  “The workshops as well, I presume, Mr Brassey, to assemble the locomotives and wagons.”

  Brassey had thought that was obvious, but he was a courteous man, simply gave his agreement.

  “I shall make a start as well on the bridgework, Captain Hood. It is often the case that bridges take longer than is planned for, so it is as well to have time in hand. I find that the surveyors tend to be thorough in their examination of the surface of the land, sir, but may not observe less obvious features.”

  “I know nothing of constructing roads, railways or canals, Mr Brassey. You have many years behind you in the trade and you must use that experience for the best, sir.”

  Brassey appreciated the free hand he was being given, and he was a rarely honest man, one who would not abuse any liberty he was offered.

  Captain Hood found his work in Somerset to be ended and made his way slowly back to Kent, by the muddy old roads and the modern turnpikes, none of them providing easy travelling. The sooner the land was covered by railway lines, the better.

  He sat down with a map, idly sketching and pencilling in the lines that must be built. The shape of England, straddled on either side of the Pennines in effect, meant that there had to be lines on a north-south axis on West and East coasts, meeting at London in all probabilities. A nuisance in many ways, but that was the shape of the land. From London there were many routes south and to the Channel Coast. Every journey of any distance must be made through the capital, it seemed.

  What was the best route to Dover, now? The Andrews interest wanted that line built at an early juncture, for the best use of their Cross-Channel steamers. It could be as well to hasten the formation of a London and Dover Steam Company to pass a Bill and hasten the process of buying up rights of way. Over such a distance it was a certainty that there would be use of the legal powers of compulsory purchase. Dealing with fifty small landowners had shown how difficult it could be to obtain the agreement of all; from London to Dover might demand working with a thousand. He must speak with Mr Joseph Andrews on the matter.

  Joseph was much more concerned with the progress of the smaller branch lines in the Cotton Belt. It would be desirable to connect each spinning and weaving town to Manchester and Liverpool, and then of course to London. The Stars, he knew, owned substantial mileages of canal side, ideal for the track of any railway – canals always chose the flattest and easiest routes. The Andrews themselves had bought in a number of sensible locations, particularly valley bottoms which offered the sole passage through steep ranges of hills. It was necessary to purchase the land joining these points, or to negotiate their sale to other companies wishing to build and discovering that their rival already owned sections they must come to possess.

  He needed the services of a lawyer to make these purchases and sales; he also needed to work with the vendors and buyers in later years. He really did not wish to avail himself of the services of Mr Farlow. He sent a letter to Mr Michael, begging him either to recommend a local man of good reputation or to grant him the services of one of his juniors.

  A month later two legal gentlemen came knocking on his door; one, slightly the senior, introduced himself as Mr Thomas Michael, third son to Mr Michael and recently qualified. His clerk was Mr Quillerson, known he believed to the family.

  “My father believes that we may provide the services you require, sir.”

  An office and a set of maps was provided and the young gentlemen put themselves to work.

  Book Eleven: A Poor Man

&nbs
p; at the Gate Series

  Chapter Seven

  Nellie Parkin was mad, barking at the moon crazy, they all knew that. But they knew equally well that she had good ideas, and that the men would follow her - when she talked, shouted more usually, at a meeting they all listened.

  The hard core, the few men who regarded themselves as revolutionaries, all respected and feared her. She carried a butcher's knife and had no hesitation in using it. Any would-be blackleg who thought about breaking a strike in their area knew that she would be knocking at his door within the day, and that if he wasn't at home then his wife and children would do as far as she was concerned.

  They sat and listened to her rant at them, a committee meeting, so-called, none of the leaders present willing to catch her eye for fear of being called to face her afterwards. They knew that such an unfortunate might end up with her knife in his belly, or pulled into her bed if she was of that mood. Those who dared joke said that they were not sure which was the worst punishment or was likely to hurt more.

  The Ludd Committee, named after the traditional champion of the working man, mythical but known in every industrial town in England and Wales, knew that they would do as they were told. Most of them had a suspicion she was using them for some dark purpose of her own, but she was too dangerous, and too popular with the ordinary hands, for them to argue with.

  "The farm workers are up in arms, brothers! Captain Swing walks the nights again, but he has not a word to say to General Ludd! We should work together. A farm burned out one night and the cavalry and the militia pulled out of town to hunt for the rural arsonists next day. There is our chance to make our mark and run them ragged! If we know that a farm is to go up in flames ten miles away then we can be ready for a pair of mills to burn, all unguarded. And then Swing's people can burn another place when the horse soldiers are sent back to town, and then we can call our people out in every weaving town in Lancashire! Working together we can break them - we are a hundred to their one!"