He liked riding in
the
dark. Grambler village was near asleep, th
ough it was barely nine. A light flickered, surprisingly, in Jud's cottage. He wondered if people had got tired yet of calling the old man Jud Pilchard. Someday, he thought, he would have a track made cutting through the roug
h gorse and heather and the littl
e ravines so that it was not necessary to make this half circle on the way to Nampara.
As he climbed the rising ground towards Wheal Maiden a badger ran across the road and Sheridan side-stepped in alarm. The saddlebag clinked. Jacka's eyes had strayed to it, lying on the table between them, before Ross's accusations had driven everything else out of his head. A lot of money to be carrying through the night - a splendid haul for some cut-purse if he but knew.
A patter of fee
t beside him and Sheridan side-stepped again. Ross gripped his whip, but it was two young people he
had disturbed lying in the gorse
; they were off, hurrying, not to be recognized.
How could
Ossie
's horse have thrown him? Give the man his due, he was more at home in the saddle than in his pulpit. A man dead in the road, hanging by one stirrup. A house burned down. A bank and an honourable man broken. All this had happened while he was beating about in the English Channel on his way home. Now he had to try to repair the unrepairable. All the king's horses and all the king's men
...
Past the mine which had temporarily destroyed his own mine and which did not yet show any promise of making up for it. Life was such a gamble, and the safest, sturdiest man existed on such a tightrope of circumstance that the merest vibration could throw him. We lived, belonged, felt solidly based, important in the world - and then, flick, and we were nothing.
Lights in Nampara tonight. Demelza was waiting by the parlour door. She looked at him and he smiled and threw his hat and cloak down. She helped him pull his boots off. But she didn't ask anything.
'I've waited supper,' she said. 'It's hot, so give me five minutes.'
'Of course
.' But when it came he did not e
at much.
'Not hungry?' she said.
'Just tired. Tired of talking, dred of arguing, tired of inquiring, tired of riding.' 'Eat a bit more.'
'No,' he said, 'I think I just want you.'
To acknowledge his appreciation of their work and their co-operation Ross gave the mine folk a day's holiday on
the
Thursday. A flag - an old one of dubious derivation once belonging to Joshua Poldark - was hoisted to the top of the headgear, and at midday those miners who were underground came up and no more went down. They joined the queue outside th
e office, where Captain Henshawe
kept th
e accounts. Ross stood beside He
nshawc and spoke to each man as he was paid and gave him an extra two shillings 'for his pat
ience'. He told them that Pascoe
's Bank had closed its doors but might re-open, and that in any event the mine was safe. It would mean 'hand to mouth' for the next few months, but there was no cause for alarm. So long as everyone pulled together.
The holiday took the miners by surprise, but they soon got into their stride. A mass of sixpences was collected and two men set off in a cart to buy
a barrel of beer from Sally Tre
gothnan; since the day was fine it seemed more fitty that everyone should carouse together at Nampara than disperse to various beer shops. A few men broke up some old pit props - of which there were a lot lying about since the accident, too sodden to be trusted again below but dried out now in the winter air - and built a huge bonfire, which crackled and spat dispiritedly for a time but presently caught and roared up into the sky. Some of the tributers started making fireworks out of the gunpowder, and blew up old kegs and boxes. It was not a safe exercise, but Ross did not interfere: these men were all old hands in the use of explosives, and if they could be trusted with their own lives below, they could be trusted now. It greatly amused the women and children, who shrieked with terror and laughter, as splinters of wood fell in flakes and strips around them. Later they had a feast, roasted a pig on the fire and potatoes in the embers.
While this was going on the sun came out and splashed the scene with colour: dotted blues and greens and browns on a slope of the valley about the flame and smoke of the fire; coarse, hard-workin
g faces, young ones yet unscarre
d, greasy hands, raised mugs, banter and laughter, the flirtings of youth and the croak of old age; a rare companionate time.
Ross said: 'Our combe is badly scarred. Rubble and refuse and pits and sheds. Every month more of the vegetation is going.'
Demelza said: 'We can none of us live without it.'
'Neither of your brothers is here'
'No. Sam went home to fetch Drake but has not come back.' 'I can understand Drake not wanting to mix, yet.' 'Perhaps I should go see him.'
'No. Leave him be. Sam's the one to deal with it. I think Drake has to work this out for himself. And it will take time.' 'Will you be away again tomorrow?'
'Yes. There's a half dozen more people I must see. Then it must wait on Basset's return.' 'Do you know when?' 'They expect him Saturday.' 'What hope do you have, Ross?' 'Not the greatest.'
As Ross rode up to the gates of Tchidy on the following Monday he thought: sometimes before I have tried my tact and other persuasions, and not often with success. Once before magistrates, trying to save a young miner from prison and - as it turned out - death. Complete failure, due to ignorance both of tactics and tact. Once I pleaded for my own life - much against my own wishes, having been bullied
into it by my counsel, Mr Clyme
r - and, presumably, succeeded. Once I went to
see
my dear friend George
Warleggan
on
behalf of this same Drake Carne
who is always getting into trouble, and by a fair mixture of persuasio
n and thre
at - chiefly threat - succeeded in getting him to drop a charge of theft. Once - and not so long ago - I came to see the man I am now about to visit, Franc
is Basset, Baron de Dunstanville
of Te
hidy, and suggested he should help to commute the death sentence on a rioting miner to transportation - and signally failed to move him.
Since then his relations with Basset had been noticeably cool. They had not been assisted either by his having turned down Basset's invitation to stand as his nominee for Parliament, and then, little more than a year later, accepted Viscount Falmouth's nomination for precisely the same seat. It suggested, quite wrongly, that Ross did not care for the thought of having the newly created lord, de Dunstanville, as his patron and preferred the senior peer, Lord Falmouth. It might even suggest a personal antipathy. Which was not the case either. But Ross had gagged at the thought of trying to explain his own infinitely complicated motives to another man, especially one to whom such an explanation might look like an excuse and an apology.
In any case, how could you state one of
the
principal ingredients, the simple fact that one year you were happy with your wife and contented in Cornwall; the next you were not?
As the great Palladian mansion came i
nto view with its noble porticoe
d front and its four sentinel pavilions, he decided that if for any reason Basset should be busy or seem preoccupied with other things he would pay his respects, make an appointment, and ride away. What was to be discussed was too important to everyone to be aired at the wrong time. But his lordship was in: his lordship would see him: his lordship had caught a slight cold on the journey and seemed not unwilling to have a visitor to pass an idle hour.
They d
iscussed the unse
asonal weather, the backwardness of all vegetables and cr
ops, the pleasure with which, th
ese first few days of May, one
a
t
last felt a balmy touch in
the air. They talked of the sie
ge of Acre and wondered if Sydney Smith would inspire the Turks to hold out; whether, with the balance of power in Europe
at
last beginning to swing against France, that man Buonaparte would be content to remain bottled up in Egypt or whether, if he failed at Acre, he would try to slip through the blockade and return to France.
There seemed to be no particular signs of coldness or disaccord on Basset's part. Perhaps he was a big enough man to disregard small lights. He told Ross in friendly fashion of a lawsuit he was in with the Hon. C. B. Agar over mining rights, and another suit likely to come up with Lord D
e
voran on the rights of a water-course. He was always involved in some minor litigation or other. He also said money was now available for the re-opening of the great Dolcoath Mine, which would not only profit him as mineral lord but also give work to eight or nine hundred miners. The project had been almost cancelled in M
arch with the price of copper th
reatening to fall below £100 a ton, but now that it had rallied the great day could not be far off. By the bye, would Captain Poldark be present next week when the opening ceremony for the new Cornwall General Infirmary took place?
Ross said he would have that pleasure, and added that it was an agreeable change to be able to talk of happenings in the world, both near and distant, in a modesdy optimistic tone. The war. Conditions in the county. Summer on the way. He had, however, been deeply disturbed on his return to
Cornwall to discover that Pascoe
's Bank in Truro had failed.
Lord de Dunstanvillc sneezed. 'Unfortunate, yes. You were not here either, then? Unfortunate. But I'm told on good authority tha
t the depositors will lose little
in the end. I presume you are quite substantially involved, Poldark?'
'Yes. But it is not for that that I am so much concerned. It
is rather that Harris Pascoe
is ruined, and, unless he can be re
-
established, Truro will lose one of its most prominent and upright citizens, and one of the major influences for good in the town.'
'Re-established
? Is there any possibility of th
at? I'm afraid I'm a little out of touch widi local affairs; but Tresidder King called to see me yesterday, and I had the impression that our bank was taking over the assets and making itself responsible for the liabilities of Pascoe's Bank, and therefore any attempt to revive that bank had long since failed.'
'So far as I can tell, no attempt was made.'
'Then I don't see what prospect there is of its being re-established now, after several weeks have passed.'
'A numbe
r of its old clients would grcatl
y favour that, my lord.'
'Sufficient to provide finance?'
'That I don't yet know.'
Basset dabbed his nose. 'I should gready doubt if the money could be found at this time. In any event - in any event, the day of the small bank, the personal bank, is coming to its close. I a
ppreciate that Pascoe
is a man of great integrity, but for years - you know for years -Ins bank has been insufficiently financed. It has wavered more than once. If it had not been for the help we gave it two years ago it would have fallen then.'
'Any why would it have fallen then?
'Why?'
'You must know, my lord.'
For the first time Basset began to look a little irritated. I must be careful, Ross thought.
He said: 'Two years ago the banking system of England stood in danger and Pascoe's was only one of many in trouble. It would have survived well enough if it had not been for pressure exerted on it by
Warleggan
's Bank at the w
rong moment, throwing all Pascoe
notes on the market, cutting off normal credit co-operation, ceasing to discount bills that were to come through Pascoe's hands,
etc.
You, my lord, I believe, returned from London just in time to save the situation.'
The little man nodded. 'Yes, that is so.'
'On th
at occasion a credit of six thousand pounds saved Pascoe's. This time about the same sum would have saved it again.'
'This is rather my point, Poldark. One cannot - or one should not have to - go on supporting another bank in this way. It should -'
'Even when the pressures
are
false ones?'
'False? Well, I don't know about that! This man Pearce, whom personally I only knew by sight, had got himself deeply
into trouble and involved Pascoe
in it. That doesn't seem -
'
Pearce
was an honest man most of his life, but ran into debt late on by incautious speculation. What impulses moved in him we shall never know now
...
He took money from trusts: in some cases he was the only trustee
surviving, in other cases Pascoe
, a very old friend, r
elied on him too far. But Pascoe
could meet all the claims, and wished to. The total was less than eight thousand. There was no need for the general public to take alarm. And would not have done, I believe, but for these, my lord.'
He took
the
anonymous letter out of his pocket and handed it over. Basset put on a very small pair of spectacles, the lenses of which were smaller than his eyes. Outside blackbirds and thrushes
were fluting. They had had littl
e to call about yet, and so were carrying it on into the middle of the day.
Basset said: 'Monstrous. How many -'
'Fifty,' said Ross. Careful, I must not interrupt him so much.
'Urn
...'
Basset scratched
at
his greying hair. 'And this business about his daughter?'
' Warleggan's closed suddenly upon her husband who, to my shame, is a relative of mine and should be kicked from here to Plymouth.'
'Yes, well
...
yes, well.'
'I'm told, my lord, that you have held the Warleggans in poor favour ever since you returned from London two years ago and found them on the point of forcing Pascoe out of business.'
'Who told you that?'
'I can't remember.'
'Or don't wish to. Well, yes, there's some truth in it. We all have our ethics in business, and I have little fancy for sharp practices.' 'Still less so now than then, I hope.'
There was a long silence. Basset sniffed and blew his nose. 'Where I slept on Thursday night last was infernally draughty. It's very difficult at times. If one stays at an inn one has no hesitation about complaining of the poor quality of the bed curtains. But when spending the night with a friend
...'
'Yes, my lord, it's difficult. But it's better than the trip I had by sea.'
'Tell me
of it.'
Ross told him of it. Basset invited him to dinner. Ross accepted. The other man seemed disinclined to discuss the matter of Pascoe's Bank further at this stage. It was clear that he wanted time to think. Ross almost suggested that he might come back another day, but decided not. To let Basset have too long to think might give him
an opportunity of having Mr Tre
sidder King to see him again, and although Ross had never met
the
gentleman he distrusted him. Of course, there might still be the
dusty answer, the I
must consult my partner
s' escape. But it was worth waiti
ng.
Dinner was with the ladies: his wife, his daughter, his two sisters, no one else. Ross was thankful he had a son. Small talk was pleasant and not taxing, but Lord de Dunstanvillc did not join in it. In spite of having been received in a more friendly fashion than he had expected, Ross did not allow himself to be too hopeful. Francis Basset, among many other attributes, was a business man. The wealthiest man in Cornwall - so far as actual money went - did not willingly throw away opportunities of becoming wealthier. And his bank in Truro had just swallowed a rival. Was he going to make it regurgitate its meal on a point of principle? Was he going to recreate a situation in which those of his clients who happened to be dissatisfied with the accommodation they were being offered at Basset's could turn round and say, 'Very well, then. I'll go to Pascoe's.' Was it common sense to expe
ct it? Basset disliked the Warle
ggans, and this event would make him distrust and dislike them more. But he had no deep-rooted, long-standing enmity such as Ross had. He had none of that personal conviction to sustain him.
Yet, from his many visits to friends and old Pascoe clients over the last few days, Ross knew it must all depend on Basset. They wished Pascoe well, as Harris had predicted, but where was the money coming from to set him up again? Humpty Dumpty had had a great fall. If Basset, Rogers & Co. were prepared to back him there would be no shortage of clients willing to r
eturn. But the money that Pascoe
had personally lost was lost. The nucleus, as Harris had called it. The foundation on which everything else was built.
The ladies left the table early; the day was so mild that they were off to pick bluebells and wild orchids in the woods. The two men were left at the strewn table.
Dc Dunstanvillc said: 'My steward has had this Somerset cheese sent him. It weighs 20 lbs, and he feels it will not endure long enough for him to eat it all, so I am obliging him. Pray help yourself.'
'Thank you.'
'And port? How is Mrs Poldark? I do remember her preference for port.'
'She's well, thank you. You
have a good memory, my lord.' ‘I
found her a very taking person, with a wit as sharp as a knife and a warm sense of humour.' 'Thank you. I trust you will come to visit us again.' 'No, you must come here first - if we can get this banking matter
out of the way without quarrelling.' 'I should be most grateful if we could.'
'You mean you would be most grateful if you got your own way. Well
...
that is difficult. Tell me first whom you have seen and what help they promise.'
Ross had been afraid of this question. It was the destructive one -yet he must not answer it too evasively. He gave a list of the names: Lord Devoran, Ralph-Allen Danicll, Henry Prynne Andrew, Henry Trefus
is, Alfred Barbary, Sir John Tre
vaunance, Hector Spry,
etc.