A Parade Of Virtue (A Poor Man At The Gate Series Book 9)

by Andrew Wareham

  "Bad news for landowners, Henry!"

  "Why? If wheat don't make a profit any more, then find something that does! The world will not stand still, that is for sure."

  Henry had no respect for traditional ways, it seemed. Robert wondered whether he was right.

  "We will need machinery, Robert - there will never be a great excess of labourers such as you have in England. Seed drills, mechanical reapers, gang ploughs, harrows and horse rakes - all of those new inventions that have been produced here over the past years. Either as imported goods or, better by far, as the output of a manufacturer in the States. Was you to set up a branch of Roberts on one of the new coalfields then I believe you could build a large and very profitable enterprise inside ten years."

  "Why not produce in England? There are ships in plenty and freight rates are low across the ocean."

  "How long would English patents remain unbroken, Robert? With a manufactury in America, producing under designs protected by American law, then the goods would be within reason safe. An English firm prosecuting its case in American courts would be less successful, I suspect."

  Robert nodded - Henry would know what he was talking about when it came to breaking or bending the law. Rumour suggested he had shown expertise in those fields.

  "There would be a need to send skilled men across the Atlantic to set up and run the manufactury and train up local labourers. How would we stand for tax? Would the American government wish to charge Englishmen more than its own folk?"

  "Unlikely, I would think, but, you must understand, it is not the same in America as in England. The State governments have a substantial degree of power in their own right and it is necessary to operate in Washington and in the local capital as well. A hundred jobs, as a start, four or five thousand dollars a month in wages in the local town, will predispose the State people in your favour. The Federals might worry about larger policy matters, but they operate very slowly - by the time they had come to any decision the place would be up and running and it would be too late for them to make changes. I could deal with the political aspects myself, Robert - but I know nothing of manufacturing in iron and steel."

  They talked over the next few days before going north together to visit at Freemans, Robert anxious to discover all he could about the new, massively expanding America.

  "What of the Spanish?"

  Robert came back to that question repeatedly.

  "The number of Anglos in the Texas is growing, and in California. The Spanish authorities do not like it, but they are losing control of their own colonies, we are truly talking of Mexicans now, and the weakness they are displaying will provide many opportunities."

  "Land is attractive, especially by the hundreds of square miles. There is much interest in England in the American south-west."

  Henry was made welcome at Freemans, Grace and the boys especially so. Thomas was very kind to them, the paterfamilias personified, while Lady Star was happy to be dressed more elegantly and to display a greater sophistication than Grace could ever lay claim to.

  "A tutor for your lads, Henry?” Lord Star was much in favour. “A good idea, they are bright boys, both of them and need a sound education. An English school would do them some good, was it the right one, but they would be away from you for the whole of their childhood, as they could never return home in the holidays. Best is an intelligent, educated, open-minded young gentleman, possessed of a knowledge of the mathematics and the sciences as well as his Latin and Greek. Robert's Mr Fraser is the man to discover a candidate, I believe."

  "Definitely so, Henry,” Robert agreed, “for it will have to be a Scottish gentleman - there are no educated men to be found in England. If you want a very mere pedant, fluent in Latin and Greek but knowing nothing else, well, they are two a penny! But educated people are not a speciality of the English, I fear."

  "Does that augur well for the future of the country, gentlemen?"

  "No. England has started this process of industry, but other countries must overtake us, and soon. I am putting money overseas, a little of my income each year has bought and will continue to buy lands in the Cape and Botany Bay. I am considering mines in the States and Canada, shares in merchant houses in India and China - well spread, not too many eggs in any one basket."

  Lord Star said he was doing much the same.

  "I have bought sheep lands in the Cape, and am looking in Botany Bay. My brother Luke was to go to the colonies for me to assist in that process when he was side-tracked to Greece."

  "Ah, yes - I heard a very little of that. Navarino Bay was a surprise in the States, I must say. Mr Luke Star was present, you tell me? I had thought brother Luke to be... well, just that!"

  "A minister and a brother to all mankind? I had thought the same, Henry. He is visiting with George for a day or two, will be back at the end of the week, will no doubt surprise you then. Robert, you will stay, I trust?"

  Robert could afford a week and was not immune to the plea in Lord Star's voice.

  "Robert, you still produce great guns, I believe. What of small arms? Rifles, particularly."

  "I had thought that the world's best rifles were of American manufacture, Henry."

  "They are, a very few thousands a year produced in effect by hand. I am more interested in reliable, plain firearms that will kill a deer at a hundred paces in the hands of an ordinary man. Or knock down a savage Indian at fifty yards. Working guns, in fact."

  Robert was interested.

  "I need another ten thousand a year of thirty inch rifled barrels, straight and true but not marksman's pieces. Percussion lock, of course. There's a thought in itself - percussion caps will be needed by the million. Another job for your Alec Fraser, I think."

  They made a visit, all three together to the Roberts Works, marvelling at the sheer volume of smoke and soot one set of shops could produce.

  It was raining, not uncommon in Lancashire where the winds blew in off the Irish Sea, and the smoke rose up the tall chimneys only to fall straight back down to the ground again, further blackening the grubby washing on the lines behind the terraces that surrounded the manufactury.

  Henry coughed and spat black specks onto the cobbles, rather disgusted.

  "The Lancashire man's infallible ailment, Henry. The lungs always wheeze around here. They tell me it can be worse around the new areas where pottery is being made."

  Alec Fraser now presided over a set of drawing offices, a dozen men busy at their boards, as well as the old manager's rooms.

  "Rifles, my lord? Aye, it could be a possibility, though a little finicky and small for our skills, I believe. Was we to make drawings and then prove them out, build a few pieces by hand just to see that all was well with them, then we might perhaps make our way down to Birmingham where there are men adept in small-arms manufacture. A judicious investment, my lord, could expand a go-ahead young man to his benefit and ours. As for percussion caps - well outside my field of knowledge, my lord, but I am sure that a few days of enquiry could point us in the right direction. Captain Eustace Hood, my lord, is in residence here for the while, due to the existence of an adventurous young bookkeeper who is to grace the Assizes next week."

  Robert explained that Captain Hood was by way of being an intelligencer, a man who could discover anything about everything.

  "Generally, he serves to discover the occasional criminal on our staff, but he can find out exactly who makes percussion caps, and where, and how."

  Captain Hood was introduced to Henry and greatly disconcerted him by addressing him by his nickname, and thus displaying an unexpected depth of knowledge for an Englishman.

  "Ti Henry? A pleasure to meet you, sir! I had wished to offer my thanks for your services in the Godby Fletcher business. Mr Murphy assured me that you had played a major part in that affair, sir!"

  Robert, who had not been fully aware of Henry's involvement, listened and seconded the thanks.

  "It was no hardship to me, gentlemen. I had a great respect fo
r Lord Andrews, and was very displeased with his would-be murderer. I was happy to assist Mr Murphy - though I rather doubt he needed me to hold his hand!"

  Robert agreed.

  "A fierce gentleman, when occasion arises, though I believe he is considering matrimony with a young lady of half his age who appears to be taming him most effectively."

  Hood laughed, said he had met the girl in question.

  "A pretty little thing, English peaches and cream, and very bright and determined not to let him get away - not that he wishes to. She will be very good for him, my lord."

  "Good - I have a liking for Mr Murphy, and much use for him, I suspect. Now, Captain Hood, percussion caps!"

  "I have used them, of course, my lord, but otherwise know nothing of them. An omission in my education, and one that may be remedied. Is the wish to purchase them, to improve upon them or simply to manufacture them, my lord?"

  "Yes."

  "Excellent, my lord. Before Mr Henry Star returns to the States, I should imagine?"

  Hood excused himself and wandered inconsequently off, taking pains as always to seem a very meek and unobtrusive little man.

  "Is he as dangerous as he looks, Robert?"

  "More so, Henry, far more. He will have a pair of short-barrel pistols tucked away in that loose greatcoat he effects, and a knife in his waistband I doubt not. Between his ears is a viciously keen brain, awake to every nasty quirk ever devised by the human race. I pay him highly, why I know not, for he spends almost nothing. He does not drink alcohol, for he dares not lose the edge of his alertness, knowing that he has made enemies; he does not keep a mistress, for that would expose him to the possibility that she might be bribed; he eats very little, not wishing to become fat and slow; he spends the least possible on clothing, for he would not dare to be conspicuous. He has bought a house and some land, I believe, - quite a lot of land, in fact - but rarely visits there, for fear of becoming predictable to his enemies."

  "I have talked with one or two men in his trade - demented caution seems to be their hallmark. Suspicion of the whole world, a certainty that any careless move may be their last, a belief that one day 'they' will get them. Poor chaps, their minds becoming their own enemy as they fall into deeper and deeper fear."

  "Can they ever escape the circle?" Henry was moderately interested, and thought it courteous to respond in any case.

  "Only by going far away, to another country or to a wholly different world where none can ever know them."

  In Upstate New York, White, the blacksmith was increasingly concerned for Oliver Merton.

  The opening of the Erie Canal - a huge success, as every politician in New York State had always known it must be - had resulted in the expected influx of new faces. The population of the inland areas of the state and along the Great Lakes was doubling every year. Untaken arable land was no longer to be found within fifty miles of Andrewstown and the village itself had expanded with another store, a saloon and a schoolhouse already built and more of the facilities of civilisation promised.

  White's forge had become a livery stables as well, as forecast and greatly to his profit, and they now had a flatboat on their own stream running timber down to the canal. All was well, it seemed, and Oliver had at first been pleased to increase his bee skeps and breed more horses; his family had grown as well, equally to his delight, but a year before he had suddenly appeared worried, fearful almost.

  "I am sure I saw a man passing through, Mr White. He looked at me as if he knew my face!"

  "Well, I am sure that is always possible, Mr Merton. Many a man has left England this last year or two, and often passed through here searching for a place to settle."

  "But I am sure he may have recognised me!"

  White thought about that, wondered whether he should comment upon its apparent irrationality. He chose to ignore it, being unwilling to cause offence.

  A month later there was another one, a stranger who might possibly not be all he seemed, might be a man from the past. Now, this very week, he had seen Merton scurrying into a back-alley, arm up to his face to hide himself.

  "Not a word, Mr White! Don't draw his eye to us!"

  White obligingly drew back into cover, peered at the figure Merton was staring at.

  A man of much his own age, tying a horse up at his rails, evidently intending to make use of the livery stable. A very ordinary seeming gentleman, dressed normally for a rider in the back-country, a little better-off than some, perhaps. He had a rifle in a saddle bucket, but that was nothing unusual, few men travelled unarmed, particularly far from the large towns and their constabularies.

  "I met him, I know that man, Mr White. He must be looking for me, he cannot be here by accident."

  White wondered why that might be, but he had to go across to the stables, would take the opportunity to talk.

  "If he is hunting for a fugitive he will ask questions. I am the first man for him to talk to - the proprietor of a stables must know every man in the area."

  "Be careful!"

  White reassured Merton and walked across the road.

  "Good afternoon, sir! Are you wishful to put the nag up for the night?"

  An open face and a pleasant smile.

  "If you please. A feed would be welcome as well, I have worked him hard this last few days, riding the area around."

  "I'll get the boy to rub him down as well, sir. Petronius!"

  The lad, very black of skin, came running, pocketed the couple of cents thrown to him with a knuckle to the forehead.

  "Runaway family, I guess?"

  "Perhaps, sir. The father works my fields for me - a quiet, reliable, sober man, and very welcome here."

  "He is at no risk from me, sir. I am not in search of his like. I simply did not expect to see one of his sort here."

  "He is welcome, in his place, sir."

  "I am buying for a merchant in Albany, sir. Fodder rather than food crops. Maize, barley, oats, beans especially - I think this is too far out to pay the cost of hay."

  "Very little untaken here, sir. I buy a quantity for my stables and we have a breeder of heavy horses as well. Most of the farmsteads run a few of cattle, dairy as a rule, and there are a goodly number of hogs needing winter feed."

  "The same story almost everywhere, sir. I am sorry, I do not know your name?"

  "Mr White."

  "My name is Humphrey."

  They wandered inside, talking idly, settled up for the night's livery.

  "The saloon has a few beds, Mr Humphrey. It is hardly a hotel as such, but it can feed you and will provide a place to lay your head."

  "Much the same as in England - one must take whatever comes on the road."

  "I have not been back to England since leaving some eight years ago. I imagine all is much as it was?"

  "I have only been here for six months, Mr White, and I suspect you would see some changes back home. More smoke, towns spreading, and now the threat of these damned steam kettles!"

  White was interested - they had their own steam engine at the saw mill.

  "Locomotive engines, sir. They say the country will be covered by their iron rails inside thirty years - but I shall not be there to see them! I am working for Hackenby in Albany for the while, but I intend to make my way to the Lakes and west to my own homestead next spring. I was born on a farm and shall return to my roots, as it were!"

  Humphrey seemed to think he had made a joke, so White laughed with him.

  "A military career, sir?"

  "No, Mr White, more by way of being a thief-taker, but working for government. Not Bow Street but one of the other departments. That is over now, and I am glad it is, too. I believe that others of my erstwhile colleagues have come to the States to settle down to an honest way of life."

  White was politely interested but said only that they had little of law-breaking in their small community.

  Humphrey retired to the saloon and White made his way to Merton's farmstead, told him of all he had gleaned.
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  "I thought it was him, Mr White! A bad man, one who would seek out misguided labourers and inveigle them into sedition and then sell them to his employer. I could not do with his ways and left their company - not entirely to their pleasure."

  It rang false. White suspected that Merton had been equally involved in the process of entrapment but had finally sickened of it and had come away, deserted them as it were. No matter, he had shown himself a good enough man in his new home.

  "He will be gone tomorrow, Mr Merton. I do not believe he is hunting for any man."

  White returned to his own home and wife and children, ate the meal waiting for him, helped put the three to bed then sat by the fireside, told the whole tale.

  "You said some years back that you did not wholly trust him, my dear, and I thought you were wrong. Well, you were not! He is in flight from an unsavoury past, it would seem - but we should judge him by what he is now, not according to speculation of all that he may have been. As well, he cannot run from his own conscience, I fear!"

  She smiled in satisfaction - she had never liked the man!

  Humphrey left in the morning and all seemed well, but Oliver Merton could not be comfortable, several times coming to White to ask whether he had seen strangers spying around the village.

  "They never forget, you know, Mr White, never let go! If they should fear that I might talk, name names, you know what I mean, then they would be quite without pity. I wonder sometimes whether I should not send a letter to London, just to tell them where I am and that they need have no suspicions of me. But that might serve no more than to remind them of my existence. I was famous, once, you know... people knew my name... I was more than just a back-country beekeeper and horse breeder! But everything has its price... I must go home, they might have found out where I live!"