“I have made one or two enquiries, gentlemen, and have discovered that the insurgents in both Greece and South America are able to access small arms with some ease – more than twenty years of war have left the arsenals of Europe awash with muskets and ball – but field artillery is less available and of siege and fortress guns there are effectively none. Similarly, they find difficulty in arming ships of war. It would be possible, therefore, to make a loan partly in specie, for use overseas to buy in muskets and powder and ball, but in Trade Bills for expenditure in England for the purchase of great guns at specified iron works.”
It seemed an excellent suggestion to both bankers – these were likely to be very risky loans and an increase in their profit margins made sound commercial sense. They were happy as well to put themselves on good terms with the government, there was much to be said for the possibility of a battalion or two of redcoats to lean upon recalcitrant foreign debtors; one never knew what the future might bring.
Robert left for Kettering, to give his father all the information he would need before any possibility of contracts arose.
“Is it safe, Robert?”
“Good Lord, yes, sir! None of the politicians understand finance – they all think money grows on trees, cannot tell one sort of Bill from another and believe Bank of England notes to be as good as gold! Add to that, not one of them seems to be aware that gold has to be dug out of the ground before it can become coinage and that it is in increasingly short supply at the moment and consequently we have far too few sovereigns in circulation for our needs – although one might have thought that to be the simplest of concepts for them to grasp.”
“Use more silver, perhaps, Robert?”
“Bimetallism? How does one maintain a fixed relationship between the two metals, sir? At the moment a silver crown is worth five shillings, so four of them make one pound. A sovereign has a face value of one pound but the gold in it is worth at least twenty-three shillings, so, if I can make the transaction, I can change one hundred sovereigns for one hundred and fifteen pounds in banknotes, and I can then change the banknotes into four hundred and sixty silver crowns and then swap the crowns for sovereigns, metal for metal, at face value, turning my one hundred gold sovereigns into one hundred and fifteen – something for nothing! It cannot last, obviously, either silver or gold will disappear from circulation, Gresham’s Law saying that the gold will be hoarded, so bringing in more silver will simply result in less gold, sir. No, the only answer is either to find more gold or to use more paper – bank cheques, Bills of Exchange or safe, guaranteed banknotes.”
“Guaranteed? How?”
“Against tax revenues, sir – the Bank of England is in effect a branch of the government already, it should be made wholly so in fact.”
“That will take a change of government, I suspect, the Party would not approve of the government owning a bank rather than simply controlling it at a distance. Silver, while I think of it, is no answer – John Company needs all of the silver it can lay its hands on for the China trade, exports tons of the metal each year, can never bring its trade into balance because the Chinese will not import our goods in exchange for their silk and tea and rhubarb.”
“Grow tea in another country, sir? India, perhaps?”
“I wonder, Robert, might it be possible? A letter to Wolverstone, do you think? What does tea need to grow and to thrive?”
A post-chaise and four drew up on the driveway. Morton opened the front doors, noted that the horses were not distressed, no great sweat marks around the harness – there had been no urgency to their travel, he did not have to ready himself for an emergency. Captain Matthew Star and young Mr Joseph got down and stretched – it was a long journey; he nodded to the footman to collect their valises, two each so they had had time to pack not merely to fling shirts and smallclothes into the nearest bag. He greeted them formally, as was only appropriate, and led them into the hall; Miss Robinson appeared briefly, caught his eye before disappearing in search of the housekeeper – rooms would be prepared within the half-hour.
“Will you take a refreshment first, gentlemen, or will you wish to be conducted immediately to my lord?”
“Could you bring something to us, Morton? Say coffee and a slice of cake or some of cook’s macaroons? Is my father in the library? I’m glad he is here, we had wondered if we might not have to traipse all the way to Wales to find him.”
“He has been here for some three weeks, Mr Joseph. Local affairs demanded his attention, as he will no doubt inform you.”
Morton opened the library door, ushered the pair inside but did not announce them.
Charlotte was sat across the desk from her father, beamed at the unexpected arrival of her husband-to-be, narrowly prevented herself from embracing him – that could wait till later, and not in public, her mother’s training had been far too thorough.
“Business and pleasure, sir,” Joseph announced. “Matthew has been far too long away from the attractions of the Hall and we have a matter that must be discussed with you.”
Morton came in with a laden tray, followed by another of three different cakes but no macaroons – cook had not baked today; there was an apology and an assurance that they would be on the table at supper.
First cups of coffee in hand they sat around the work table, noting it to be littered with accounts of various sorts.
“Taking Charlie through the quarter’s expenditures on the Hall, she is holding house in preparation for her own, you will be glad to hear, Matthew. Have you a house in mind yet?”
“A choice of four, my lord – would it be possible for Charlotte to accompany you when next you come north, sir, to give her opinion?”
“In three weeks time? Will you be back at the yard by then?”
“We intend to be back by the middle of next week, my lord, certainly by Friday at very latest, we could not safely stay away longer.”
“Mr Fraser is sitting in for you, the while, I presume?”
“Whilst he can, my lord, but he is much engaged at the New Works – they have had orders for field artillery, naval cannon and siege and fortress guns and he is concerned to provide improved carriages and limbers.”
“Already? The Greek and Peruvian gentlemen have been very quick off the mark. Robert will tell you all about it when next you see him.”
“Ah, with respect, sir, to my knowledge neither Greece nor Peru have armies or navies of their own, do they?”
Tom grinned. “They will have, gentlemen!”
They chuckled together – another business coup for Roberts, it would seem.
“We were approached on Monday, sir, by a pair of London merchants who had travelled to the Mersey to observe our tugging-boat in action. They were much taken with the Lady Verity and wish to float her like on the Thames, and possibly, for they are very go-ahead gentlemen, with one or two larger that might venture as far as the Downs where shipping may often be weather-bound for weeks at a time. We discussed prices and they were happy enough with our proposals, sir.”
“Building in Liverpool and steaming around the coast to London? The Irish Sea and the Western Ocean can be rough waters indeed, and the Channel can cut up nasty, as I remember – that could present difficulties, would you not agree, Matthew?”
“Very much so, my lord – we must build in London or on the Estuary close to.”
“There are several shipyards in London – the Isle of Dogs, I seem to remember as a popular location for the trade. What have you in mind, run your plates and manufacture your engine parts in Lancashire and send them by canal to be assembled in London?”
“That was our first thought, yes, sir.”
“Good – it is probably very practical, apart from one minor problem, my sons – I cannot do it this year or next, for lack of funds. I am committed very heavily at the moment, every spare pound is earmarked to other projects for our expansion. If the enterprise is to go forward, then you must find the funds elsewhere. I would suggest that you took your
selves to London, to Robert and the banks – you will in any case need to find a site for your yard, so it makes sense to do so.”
“I am too young, sir.” Joseph, nodded towards Matthew, not a lot taller than him but with a man’s powerful build. “I do not look like a businessman yet, sir, whilst Matthew seems more than his ten years my senior. One of the disadvantages, Father, of fair colouring is that one grows a very light beard – I can still go three days unshaven without comment! I had thought of a moustache, but it requires somewhat more in the way of whisker than I can yet produce!”
Tom nodded, it was a legitimate point. No banker could look at Joseph and see a mature man of affairs; despite his intelligence and ability he could not present business proposals with any expectation of success.
“What do you know of finance, Matthew?”
“Very little, my lord.”
“Then you have perhaps three days in which to learn enough for your purposes, sufficient to sit with Robert and provide him with a set of figures that you will both understand and find believable. You have, of course, outlines of the yard you wish to create – minimum land area, buildings, slips, wharves, stables – and some idea of the number of tugging-boats you will wish to build in each of the first three years and of how many men and of what skills you require. What of the longer term? Will you expand into the production of other vessels?”
“Passenger ferries, my lord, to cross the Thames where it is too wide to bridge and perhaps to run services along the river itself. We are, indeed, in active production of a ferry to run between Birkenhead and Liverpool at the moment.”
“Good! A longer term plan will always make sense. Now, you know the wage rates you will wish to pay so you will be able to set out your weekly and monthly labour costs in detail. What you cannot offer with exact certainty is the timing of payments in – your income, gentlemen, so you must have reserves to keep you going for some considerable time – you must be able to surmount difficulties with your cash flow. In the Great Crash of ’95 I bought out more than one businessman who had literally thousands in assets to hand, and owed only hundreds in cash, which he did not possess. The finest business in the land can go into bankruptcy for lack of a few thousands at the right time, so this is the most important part of the proposition you intend to put forward. Ideally, you will show orders placed with you with firm completion and payment dates; if you cannot do that, you must have very well-argued estimates in their place.”
“No doubt you could help us greatly with that, sir.”
“I could, Joseph, but I do not really intend to – if you wish to become a businessman rather than a mere tinkerer with iron and steam, then you must learn the necessary skills, and money is the first and last of those. If you wish to run a large business then you must accept the responsibility for all of the men and women who will work for you and depend on the wage you pay – you have no right to let them down! You will hire bookkeepers and managers, in time, and come to rely upon them – but you must know all that they do, and know it better than them, because it is your responsibility, not theirs!”
Book Four: A Poor Man
at the Gate Series
Chapter Six
The Cape, that was the place or Botany Bay perhaps. They said that both were open plains, grassland, maybe the odd rocky hill or even a mountain or two, but not this unending, bloody, blind jungle where it was impossible to see more than ten feet in any direction, where the bugs crawled in their thousands and the mosquitoes flew in squadrons, light cavalry of the air, waiting their turn to land when the previous occupants of any bare flesh were sated and staggered off. The ground underfoot was a mush of rotten leaves and stinking mud, heaving with leeches and bloodworms and God knew what else. The bushes to the side of the track were either full of thorns or covered in stinging ants and scorpions. Where there was a patch of dry ground there was certain to be a snake or something equally venomous and hungry. Uphill there was open forest, and that was full of nasty little men with blowpipes and poison darts, so they said. Down the slope was the river, apparently occupied by crocodiles and worse – the locals swore that bull sharks penetrated seventy or eighty miles inland, well into fresh water.
The companies followed their guide along what he said was the path that would lead them to the open rice lands and the villages and town they were to attack. They had been three days on the march, had achieved probably twenty-five of their thirty miles, had sent a quarter of their men back sick and under the escort of a full company, were left with just fewer than two hundred for their task.
James marched at the head of the Rifles company, leading the column – he had had experience of fighting in tropical swamps, the only officer to have done so. Others senior to him had fought through Spain, had stood in the line at Waterloo and others, lesser, battles, but none had slopped through mangroves and stinking black quagmires. He stood to one side, watched his men, the half of them still fit, as they passed, rifles at the trail or cradled according to their preference.
“Keep up, lads, hold together! Hold the pace! Don’t drink all of your water now, Black! Maxson, put your hat on! Sweat’s better than sunstroke, man!”
He trotted past them again, returning to the front and letting it be seen that he was there and was doing more than them – that was how the Rifles behaved!
There were two guides, one a local man who knew the terrain, he said, and the second who could translate, more or less, from his language.
“How much further to go?”
There was a long, complicated exchange accompanied by much arm waving.
“One hour, lieutenant, sir, master, and then it is to turn, or change direction, onto the hillsides to the right-hand side and over the hilltop, sometimes known as the crest line, and there are the lands we seek, and the first village, with a wall which the brave soldiers will instantly take and destroy or even obliterate, sir!”
“Donnelly, go back to Major Woods and tell him that the guide says we are one hour from the target area.”
His runner turned back, walking carefully rather than attempting any more rapid progress.
The major came back with Donnelly.
“The guide says that the first village will soon be in sight, sir, we turn uphill in a few minutes, he says. The village is fortified, he tells me, sir.”
“The reports said that all of the villages were open, that the only fort was in that town, whatever its name is – Malavelly or some such!”
The guide pricked his ears up at the sound of Malavelly, smiled deprecatingly, made a statement to the interpreter.
“Sirs, my lords, it is with regret that I have to say that the guide, the local gentleman who is the sole source of our knowledge, myself being no more than a humble transcriber of his words, tells me that Malavelly is not to be found in this river valley but in the next, at a distance of, I shall calculate into miles, sirs, oh dear! Forty miles, sir.”
“How do we get there?”
Another very spirited discussion.
“Go back to the ships, sir, and instruct them to proceed along the coast a matter of some twenty miles to the next large river, and then start again. It is not possible to progress across the mountains that lie in between the two valleys, they being steep and very jungle covered, full of tigers, snakes and very bad men.”
Major Woods swore.
“This is intended as a punitive expedition, Mr Andrews, to burn out a local lord – I don’t know what they call them here - who has shown a willingness to attack our traders. The whole country is close to war and we are considering their conquest, I understand. It is important that we should not antagonise those who might be friendly to us, though equally necessary that our enemies should realise that we should never be attacked. I am very unwilling to return tamely – we may well have been seen already and it would smack of turning tail – so we should at least make contact with these villages and discover their feelings, I think.”
‘Discover their feelings’, James had
a strong suspicion that meant sticking his head up and seeing whether some nasty little brown man would fire a cannon at it. He was the only lieutenant to have smelt powder at all, his own captain was needed to command the detachment and only one redcoat captain remained on his feet and he was far too experienced to risk casually, was much too valuable a man, so he knew who would have the job of scouting out the village and its intentions.
His two missing fingers were to blame, he suspected – they announced his valour to all, were a permanent reminder that he had fought hand-to-hand at a very early stage in his career and was either one of England’s Heroes or a complete bloody idiot. Whichever, he was marked out for any especially hazardous task, ‘give a dog a good name’, one of his superiors had said, laughing loudly.
The country changed, suddenly, absolutely – on one side of the hill nearly impenetrable jungle, on the other neatly terraced and carefully worked fields, millet and sorghum on the higher slopes, rice padi in the bottomlands. The land was empty, not a worker in sight when they should have been busily weeding and hoeing – the word was out, they had been seen.
“Skirmish order, Sergeant Murphy, but warn the lads to do no unnecessary damage to the crops. From all I’ve seen these people are close enough to starvation at the best of times, no need to make it worse for them.”
“Yes indeed, sir, ‘tis not as if they were Paddies, is it, sir?”
The sergeant was too valuable a man to rebuke, and James was too junior an officer to try to do so. He knew that most of his father’s workers were, or had been, Irish, fled their own lands because of famine, had sufficient insight, and memory of his father’s lectures, to realise that the preponderance of Paddies in the ranks was due more to hardship than any patriotic love of King George.
“No need to repeat our mistakes, Sergeant Murphy.”
The Pain Of Privilege (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 4) Page 16
