Victorian Dawn (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 12)

by Andrew Wareham

  As he had half-expected, there was an immediate response; the captain regretted that he had orders to sail, must be safely offshore before night fell, and therefore he could not on this occasion accept hospitality. The ship had watered recently and had no shore needs, but his purser would be very glad to purchase fresh foodstuffs such as the bumboats were displaying. Due to the recent outbreak of hostilities on the China Station there would be frequent naval traffic in local waters and the captain had no doubt that other friendly contacts would occur.

  “In other words, Captain Baker, keep your bloody pirates out of the way for the next few months!”

  “Yes, my lord. Time perhaps to bring the pirating to an end, to use our armed vessels to enforce peace in local waters, in fact. We can regulate the slave trade, of course, ensuring that only approved vessels take any part in it, but otherwise should confine ourselves to protecting our traders on the tin run. If the Navy is to be regularly present hereabouts, my lord, I believe we have no choice!”

  Rajah Star finally accepted that the old days were gone; he had become respectable; possibly, he had even grown up.

  “We must, in fact, join the polity of civilised nations, Captain Baker. So be it. God Bless the Queen! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!”

  Book Twelve: A Poor Man

  at the Gate Series

  Chapter Eight

  “Following the great success of our steam fishing boats, Sir Matthew, and the benefit that local people have gained from the additional access to fish in the markets, should we consider another yard on the East Coast?”

  “In brief, Joseph, and not to list all of the pros and cons – no.”

  “I am sure you have good reasons, Sir Matthew.”

  Joseph allowed his disappointment to show; he had thought that the benefits of the boats working the Irish Sea must have justified further expansion.

  “The German Ocean, Joseph, is a very different sea, with conditions in no way similar to those of our waters. The boats spend far less time at sea; even those working the Dogger Bank are rarely two nights out and they do not need to cover distances in a short time. Our boats must bring their catches in before they go off; steam renders them independent of the winds. The cost of coals means less on our coast as a result. I much suspect that the boats working north out of Scottish ports could benefit from steam, but the country is poorer and they cannot scrape the capital together yet. So, I much regret that I feel the proposal will not be workable in this decade. I suspect, in fact, that the East Coast must wait until all the problems of screw propellers are solved. They will demand far less power than the paddle-wheel and will make steam propulsion less costly – but there is still work to be done in their development, I fear.”

  Joseph thought for a few seconds, decided that he simply did not have the time to enter into an examination of the needs of steam shipping.

  “I am rather busy for the while, Sir Matthew. I am still interested in the question of great guns, of course - the rifled cannon, of perhaps one hundred pounds, some ten inches in the bore, is a possibility with a little more of perseverance. Then one must consider the steam engine itself, you know – there is a need for small engines, stationary or even on their own road wheels, to work in manufacturies and even on farms. Add to that, we must examine the matter of mines and how best to introduce machinery to work underground. Then there is the nature of the railway track itself, and of the different wagons that might be utilised, and how to stop them – it is no easy matter to brake a train travelling at forty miles an hour, you know, Sir Matthew. I really do not know that I can provide an answer to the application of the screw propeller to small ships, or large either.”

  “Did you say farms, Joseph? Steam engines, on farms?”

  “Yes, they are already in existence, you know. I was in conversation with your brother, Mr Bob Star, only last week, on that very topic.”

  “Poor old Bob! So very sad!”

  “To lose a baby in such a fashion, Sir Matthew! Not to the inscrutable workings of divine Providence, but the evil of a wicked revolutionary – small wonder that he is upset still and has found himself unable to return to farming. He has, however, discovered another direction for his talents, as you must know. He was renting much of your moorland, was he not?”

  Sir Matthew said that he had been able to find another tenant on equally generous terms; in fact, he had found little difficulty as the man who had walked into Bob’s farm had been anxious to retain all of the sheep walks.

  “He is out of the ordinary run of tenant farmers, this Mr Goulding, for having ideas that are, quite frankly, above his station! He has some idea of being what he refers to as a ‘gentleman farmer’. His father is a large sort of squire somewhere to the south of the Midlands and, while being unable to buy him a tract of land of his own, still pays his second son an allowance and was able to set him up to become tenant of a large farm, paying the many expenses to be incurred in the first year or two of a lease.”

  It was the opinion of both Joseph and Sir Matthew that one could be a gentleman or a farmer, the two ways of life mutually exclusive. However, if this Mr Goulding thought differently then he was at liberty to prove his point, while he continued to pay his rent strictly to time.

  “What is Bob’s interest in steam, Joseph?”

  “In the first instance, threshing machinery. There have been horse-powered threshers these last twenty years, efficient and money-saving as well. The horse walks a circle tied to a beam which propels the machine; not unlike a waterwheel in concept, a rotary motion that turns the wheels. The threshers are far more efficient than men with flails – quicker, which is a gain in itself for taking the grain to market, and using fewer men. They have the drawback that a horse cannot work a twelve-hour shift unbroken; it must have its rest periods, must be fed and watered and allowed hours in the paddock. The result is that the machine must stop frequently, or add to its costs by utilising two or even three horses.”

  Sir Matthew could see the immediate gains to be made by the application of steam, provided fuel was readily available. In the Midlands and North Country, and of course, in the West Country now that there were mines at Radstock, there would be a supply of within reason cheap coals.

  “I seem to remember that the farm labourers were used the spend almost the whole of the winter months with their flails and winnowing sieves, Joseph. Machinery must make the process far quicker, but then the machine itself will sit idle for as much as eleven months of the year, will it not?”

  “Ah, but that is the nub of Mr Bob Star’s proposal! There must be more than one machine to be powered by the steam engine! Hence the need to make the engine small and, preferably, portable on its own wheels.”

  “What have you in mind, Joseph?”

  “A saw mill, as a first suggestion. Every estate needs to spend time and money on winter fuel. Dead trees and uncommercial timber go to the axe and handsaw by the tens of tons. A saw powered off the steam engine will be far more efficient. Then there are the machines already in existence for fodder – turnip and chaff cutters demand hours of tedious labour turning the handle. I wonder if it might not be possible to churn butter other than by hand? Dairies as well must be kept spotlessly clean, the cheesery in particular, and a steam hose off the boiler could be most effective. All of these are on my drawing-boards at the moment. They will, no doubt, be made at the works on the Thingdon Estate, for the southern parts of the country, and at the Roberts Works for the north.”

  “Should you develop a small but powerful engine, then I would wish you to inform me of its details, Joseph. It has been occurring to us at the yard that we could install one or more extra engines in a deck cabin, to power the rudder, perhaps, and certainly to take the donkey work out of anchoring. There are many large sailing vessels as well which would benefit from an engine to power the sail lifts. We could build on licence, or, indeed, purchase direct from the Roberts Works now that there is to be a railway line within a mile of the yard.”

&
nbsp; “Why at a mile, Sir Matthew? Could you not run a small branch line directly into your main shed?”

  “It would have to come through the outskirts of the town, Joseph. I do not know how many houses – tenements mostly – would have to come down, and there is a shortage of roofs already.”

  “The price of progress, Sir Matthew. If rents rise as a result of shortage, then builders will soon provide more houses – that is a matter of no concern to us! Supply and Demand, sir – let the market rule!”

  Matthew was ready to be convinced, his wife having said the same to him, at some length.

  “Is all well domestically, Joseph? The family thriving, one trusts?”

  “Ah, that was the other matter I had to discuss with you, Sir Matthew! I knew there was something else, but the question of fish drove it out of my mind. There is much to be said for a piece of fresh cod, you know!”

  “There is indeed, Joseph. Now, what was it of your family?”

  “A place to keep them, essentially, Sir Matthew. An estate, one might say. I am very unwilling to purchase a country place of my own, you know. Not so much for the money as the time it must demand of me, and a new set of skills to learn as a landowner. What do you know of leasing an estate, Sir Matthew? Is it both practical and convenient for a man in my situation? I had wondered if Rothwell might not be my answer, he having any number of estates under his hand these days. I much wish for the children to ride and disport themselves in the company of others of a like sort, and that they cannot do well in town, or so I discover; the company they sometimes keep is in fact often thoroughly undesirable for the gently bred.”

  Sir Matthew agreed – one had a responsibility to one’s children.

  “A large house, but not perhaps one of the greater sort – a score of bedrooms so that you may fill them with guests on occasion, that would be quite sufficient. Located where, one wonders – not that that will matter too much, because the railway will soon join all counties together. We may discuss the matter at Christmas, do you not think? You will be present, will you not?”

  “Definitely, Sir Matthew. It promises to be a rare occasion. By the way, is Mr George Star still involved with the fisheries enterprise?”

  “Not to such an extent, Joseph. He started the businesses and then stepped back from them when they became merest routine. He put managers in charge in the ice houses and markets that he built up and keeps an eye – a sharp eye, I doubt not – on the Fisheries Bank which he created to lend money to fishermen to buy their new boats. I have watched that myself, to keep my own eye out for usury, but his rates are most reasonable and he has shown unwilling to repossess a boat where the owner has fallen into trouble for a storm or other bad luck. He has a good name in the fisheries!”

  “Well… I must imagine that no man can be a villain for every hour of every day, though I had thought him to try hard. I have a contract with him for tin from the East, first deliveries due any week now and I thought very carefully before doing business with him. That fellow Tonks is involved, of course, and he is one I do not like! I am buying their zinc as well, for my brasswork – their prices are very keen, easily the best I can discover. I wonder why!”

  “Possibly family, but more likely that they wish to be able to give your name as a satisfied customer, Joseph. The Andrews name is known to many and respected by all of them; it is no small accolade to be a major supplier to our concerns.”

  Joseph left the yard, promising to dine with the family within a week or two. He made his way back to his own premises, slowly by coach and four. A few months, he thought, and he would be able to journey by rail, far faster and more comfortably. Reaching the offices, he relaxed with a set of drawings for an hour, experimenting almost idly with the design of a heavy naval cannon to be placed on a pivot and set on the centreline of a ship of war, capable of being turned to either beam or forwards to act as a bowchaser. It seemed to him that if a gun could be used on either broadside then the ship would need one half of the number of cannon, and each could therefore be twice the weight of existing pieces. The ship must be steam-powered to turn the pivots, that was a given, and so it must be clad in iron sheeting to protect the boiler room and the paddlewheels, or better yet a screw propeller. Far bigger ships and with huge steam engines – it was an exciting prospect.

  He left his office to walk down to a local chophouse that knew him and his tastes and would put an acceptable meal before him. He drank tea and then made his way back to work. His secretary had placed a folder on his desk in his absence; it contained details of a proposed contract to supply rails to a line to be built northwards to Glasgow, a branch to serve the Lake District in passing.

  “Not my idea of a sensible business proposition,” he murmured to himself. “Too many hills in the way!”

  He scribbled a brief note approving, but only on the basis of a fifty per cent deposit and the remainder of the cash paid on the nail on delivery. Credit was not to be offered.

  That done he felt he could relax for the day; it was nearly ten o’clock and he had started at six in the morning as always. Time for his one luxury, his sole self-indulgence; every man needed a source of relaxation, he told himself, there was nothing out of the ordinary in his little nostrum. He pulled out the pipe and spirit lamp and went through the satisfying ritual of preparing his smoke; one pipe, never more, and he was ready for deep, refreshing sleep. He wanted another, knew he always would; he would never succumb, however; not a second time. He tidied the apparatus back to its cupboard and then walked through to the little bedroom at the rear, stretching and falling asleep almost before he had his clothes off.

  Locke, his man, entered the room a few minutes later, picking up the discarded clothing and making all tidy, knowing that he would not wake his master.

  “Poor little bugger,” he thought, shaking his head and drawing a blanket over Joseph’s shoulders.

  Locke cast a knowing eye around the office, ensuring that no evidence of Joseph’s little habit might be visible in the morning. He pulled back the curtain and opened a window, wedging the door to ensure a through draught to blow the air clean before lighting a Spanish cheroot and taking the occasional puff to ensure that there was an overriding smell of tobacco. He took his master’s discarded clothes through to the laundry basket that went home every night; he told Joseph that he must dress fresh from the skin up every day as a matter of smartness, but it also ensured there was not the slightest whiff of opium about him. It was the duty of a gentleman’s gentleman to protect his master, Locke believed, and besides that, he liked the young fellow and had a compassion for him – he had had a hard life, even if he was not aware of the fact himself.

  Sir William Rumpage knew that he had had a hard life, and was proud of the fact. Few men had made their way from navvy’s shovel to manager’s office, and picked up a knighthood while doing it. He never forgot what he was, woke up each morning in his comfortable bed with a feeling of surprise, and with added determination that his children would not have to tread the paths that he had followed. He marched proudly into the Liverpool shipyard, flanked by Mr Hathaway and Mr Knowles from Southampton, the three coming to learn what was new in their world and, they much suspected, to announce an innovation or two of their own.

  Sir Matthew made them welcome and said that he had heard of their converted sail-loft, used now to set out the lines of every new hull they launched.

  Mr Hathaway, primed in advance, replied.

  “Aye, Sir Matthew, being a sail-loft it is uncommon long, as you will know, so that even the biggest of square sails could be laid out flat to be sewn together. I am told that more than one maincourse of a first-rate man of war was made up there in the past. The loft is more than two hundred feet long and nearly sixty wide. We have not yet exceeded those dimensions and so we can draw exactly to size, the hull chalked out to the tenth part of an inch. The blacksmiths can walk up and see exactly what they have to produce, and on occasion can tell us in advance that it can’t be done, which
saves time and money in itself! More than once we have discovered that the parts of an engine simply would not fit into the space available, not and leave any way for a boiler to be stoked or an engineer to lubricate a bearing.”

  Sir Matthew expressed his appreciation, having had to put on a night shift to rebuild parts of a vessel in the past and still make the launch date.

  “More than anything though, Sir Matthew, the drawing-loft, as we now call it, has allowed us to standardise, to use identical parts for different ships and engines. Repairs are cheaper and we can use less-skilled men, for to an extent they are bolting the frames together, or riveting plates, rather than constructing them from scratch. I do not know how it is up here, but down in Southampton especially there is a shortage of skilled engineers, or even of trade-apprenticed metal workers. Things are not so bad in London, Sir William tells me, but half of the ships in the country are built on the Thames and there are many other industries there as well.”

  Sir Matthew agreed that the shortage of skilled men was reaching the proportions of a disaster.

  “Not merely a shortage of time-served tradesmen, Mr Hathaway, but a lack of men who can read and write sufficiently to be trained as improvers. I do not believe that more than one man in four of those I employ can read with any facility, and fewer can perform the most basic arithmetic! The plates go down to the slip to be riveted into position on the frames of the hulls, each chalk-marked to go to a specific location, and yet we find time and again that they have to be removed – and sent to scrap, for they cannot simply be shifted to their proper place, as you will know – for the men being unable to read the instruction correctly. It is a commonplace to find a left-hand plate being fitted, with great difficulty, in reverse on the right!”