Jeremy Poldark (30 page)

Then Betsy Triggs heard footsteps at the door
and they all waited eagerly to see what news the returning searchers brought.

Jud Paynter limped in. He was in his best
underclothes and was very wet and very cross. The tablecloth he'd borrowed
from the kiddley down the lane wasn't much protection from, the rain.

"Ere," he said truculently,
"what's all this? An' where's my pipe?"

Jud's recovery was a nine days' wonder and
scandal in the district. The doctors and apothecaries who had not bothered with
him when he was supposedly dead now rode long distances to see the freak who
had recovered. They peered at him and sounded him and took samples and talked
in long Latin names about it. They prescribed febrifuges and antimonies and
inserted setons and administered glysters, and one of them even wanted to fire
off a pistol near his ear to help to disperse any lingering fever. Only Jud's
language made it impossible. After the first impetus of his recovery he was
very ill again, and he lay in bed with a dirty bandage round his head glowering
up at his tormentors.

Ordinary people in the district also flocked to
see him, but when he began to get better their presence annoyed him so much
that Prudie couldn't let them in any more. Even then they clustered round his
window and peeped in through-the broken boards, and when he saw them he would
shout and swear and aim anything he could lay his hands on, so, that Prudie had
to hide even her best boots.

Gratitude for his escape didn't stir him deeply;
his chief feeling, was anger with Prudie.

Darned old fool," he said to Ross when Ross
called. "Darned old fool. She spends all me money on me funeral, and I
aren't dead. All me money! Drunk-away, like it was poured down a drain. She
could as lief've throwed it to, the crows"

"How did you first-come round?"

Jud said with dignity that he had been lying
quiet in his coffin when the rain coming through the leaky roof had begun to
fall on his face, and this had wakened him. He. explained that he had been
dreaming of gin but the taste was wrong, and when he first sat up he thought he
was at sea in the One and All. It seemed to be a rough night so he climbed out
of his bunk and went on deck, but when he got there it was raining faster than
ever and he saw trees and knew he was home after all

" Then I feels thirsty so I goes down
Jake's lane to Jake's kiddley and goes in, wanting for a drop o' custom to
ease, me, like, and damme, what d'you think, they all ups and screams like they
was stuck veers and goes scrabbling over each other to get out o' the other
door-and leaves me all alone. So I finished up the drinks they'd left, an' puts
the table sheet round me 'ead and goes home to find Prudie."

She thought the money was hers," Ross said.
"Everyone thought you were dead. It was her wish to give you a fine
funeral."

It was her wish to have a rare old caprouse,
that's, what twas! Drunk they all was. Drunk as emmets round a jam pott And on
my gold! When I was strick down there was fifteen gold sov'reigns, What is
there now, eh? Three sovreigns and two kegs of brandy an' a wooden coffin
standing on its end like a grandfather's clock wi' no facet Tedn right, I tell
ee!"

In the weeks that followed Jud made a slow
recovery. He limped about with a stick, one leg dragging a little, and would
speak to no one. Nor did he take kindly to the inquiries of his friends. It was
almost impossible to go out for a drink without being asked what Heaven looked
like or whether Gabriel hadn't answered his knock, and if` there was gin or
brandy up-along,

All his life he'd been a disgruntled man, but
what made his present grievance almost impossible to bear was that he could
tell' no one the worst of it. He had risked the reprisal to gain the guineas,
and now had suffered the reprisal and lost the guineas as well. If he ever did
see Gabriel there would be a fine tale to tell.

On the first Friday in May Ross and Francis rode
in to make final arrangements about the opening of the mine. They explained
something of their plans to Harris Pascoe in the back room of the bank, and
Pascoe eyed the cousins and wondered how long the partnership would last. He
had only the outsider's view of their misunderstandings, knowing nothing of the
long friendship of their youth, and, he was grateful for being spared the
necessity of refusing them a loan on their venture.

Francis said: "There is one point on which
I already have Ross's agreement. I want my interest in this mine to be vested
in my son's name."

" Your, little boy? He's only a child,
isn't he?"

I'm heavily in debt to Warleggan interests and
have recently quarrelled with the family. So far, I'll give 'em credit, no
pressure has been put on me; but you know how Ross and the Warleggans get on,
and if they learn we are in partnership they may try to get at him through me.
If this interest belongs to Geoffrey Charles, no one can touch it."

We c-can arrange that. There are, of course, a
few extra difficulties which may crop up in the possession of this sort of
property by a minor. I suppose you would not prefer it in your wife's
name?"

Francis looked at his fingers. "No. I would
not."

"Just so. Very well, then. When do you
intend to begin work?"

"The first of June," ;Ross said.
"The engine pieces are already well ahead, but of course we shall not need
pumping gear right at the outset."

“I suppose you're having a Boulton and
Watt?"

Well, no. There are two young engineers from
Redruth, Henshawe speaks highly of, and we think they will build a more
efficient one at a smaller cost."

Only t-take care not to get involved in.
litigation over, that. Watt has the important patent, and I believe there are some
years for it yet to run." Soon after, they called on Nat Pearce, who was
to draw up

the deeds of association; then they had a meal
at the Red Lion Inn. Francis had some business of his own to do, so he left
Ross talking to Richard Tonkin, who had joined them at the meal. Tonkin had
news of many of their former associates, but Ross would have welcomed this at
any other time more sincerely than now when he was trying his best to forget
all the circumstances of twelve months ago.

Tonkin went on to say he had heard that Margaret
Vosper, nee Cartland, nee nobody knew what, had left her husband and was making
up to Sir Hugh Bodrugan, Ross said, Indeed, indeed, thinking, Well and good if
it keeps him from sniffing round my home like a mangy old tomcat. They rose
from the table and moved to go downstairs. At the top of the stairs they saw
George Warleggan coming up.

Tonkin half hesitated, glanced at Ross, saw no
change in his expression, and continued down a step behind: him. George had
seen them now, but he made no effort to avoid them. Indeed avoidance was impossible;
they would meet at the bend in the stairs.

Ross would have gone down as if the other man
did not exist, but George put his long malacca cane against the banisters
waist-high, barring his path. It was a dangerous thing to do.

Well, Ross" he said. '" This is
favourably met. We've not seen each other for some time."

Ross looked at him.

"As you remark."

A ruby as big as a pea made oriental gleams in
George's ' extremely expensive neckcloth. Ross, by comparison, was shabby.

George said: "You're not looking so well as
when I last saw you. Can it be the anxieties of the trial?"

"Nor you," said Ross. "Can you
have had some disappointment?"

George poked the rail with his stick. "I
know of nothing to cause me disappointment. I am well satisfied with my many
enterprises. I hear, by the way, that you're embarking on a new one."

As usual you have your ear well to the ground,"
said Ross. "Or should it be to the keyhole?"

The sense of inferiority in the depths of
George's consciousness was one that Ross more than any other man could call
up. It was altogether the strongest element in his lust for power and far more
important as a cause of his hatred for Ross than any of the more obvious
reasons.

He withdrew his stick. "I like a gambler.
Especially, one who plunges when the luck is running against him."

"A good gambler," said Ross,
"always knows before other people when his luck is beginning to turn"

"And a bad gambler believes it when it
isn't true." George laughed. "I must confess I found some amusement
in your choice of partner. Francis of all people. Have you forgotten what he
did for the Carnmore Copper Company?

Ross was well aware that Richard Tonkin was
listening intently.

He said: "By the way, one of the witnesses
at my trial was only, three weeks ago set on and nearly died from an attack
made by hired bullies of some sort. I shouldn't like to feel that this kind of
retaliation was to become a common practice."

The flicker of surprise in George's eyes looked
genuine. He leaned against the wall to let two people pass up the stairs.

"He must be an idle creature who has time
to carry on personal vendettas with village riffraff. But why should you
suppose it to be anything of the kind?"

"Whoever is behind it would be mistaken if
he thought intimidation could remain one-sided. The miners, you know, have
their own way of showing their displeasure."

We all have," said George politely.
"Oh, I hear you've been disposing of part of your holding in Wheal Leisure
- one of the few really profitable ventures in the county. A grave mistake, I'm
sure

"Time will show."

George said: "Of forty-four engines built
in Camborne and Illuggan during the last ten years only four are still working.
In Leisure you had a rare combination of good ore and easy drainage. At Grace
you have certainly not the drainage. What are you looking for gold?"

"No," said Ross, "freedom to call
our souls our own.

George, flushing, said quickly, spitefully:
"I suppose you know where Francis got the money he's investing in your
mine, do you?"

" I've an idea. It was very obliging of
you"

"Yes, we paid it him - the Warleggans - for
services rendered. Six hundred pounds or thirty pieces of silver."

Down in the taproom two men were quarrelling
over a mug of beer: their rough growling voices seemed to Tonkin like the reverberation
of some worn-out clockwork mechanism which failed to move the arrested figures
on the stairs. Then before , he could do anything they slipped into motion.

Ross reached out a hand and grasped George by
the neck cloth. It had annoyed him from the first moment he saw it'. With it he
pulled George towards him and shook him. For a second of surprise George did
nothing, but choked with-the sudden tightened clasp about his throat - then he
lifted his cane to hit Ross across the head. Ross grasped the hand at the wrist
and twisted it down. George bunched his other fist and hit Ross a, swinging blow
on the side, of the head. They overbalanced and cramped against the banisters
which, being immensely strong, did not give way.

Tonkin stepped forward with an, appeal to their
common sense, but he was ignored; for a moment they were beyond common sense; a
man below had seen them and was calling for the innkeeper.

George, empurpling, swung his great fist again,
but he was off balance and the force was half astray. The cane clattered to the
floor, and Ross, loosing his grip, hit George in the mouth. Then at last he
released the neckcloth and grasped George about the waist. Like two bulls they
swung across the stairs, knocking Tonkin out of the way. There was little in it
for strength, but Ross had led the harder life. George felt his feet going.
Raging angry at this exhibition, he sought Ross's eyes with his thumbs; but it
was too late. He was lifted off his feet, was going over the banisters. At the
last moment he sought to, cling to something, but only tore the front out of
Ross's shirt. With a great crash he fell to the floor below, landing on a chair
and a small table and smashing them as if they were matchwood.

Ross swayed and gasped and spat, began to come
down the stairs. His forehead was bleeding and the blood was trickling along
his eyebrow and down one cheek George was twisting and groaning on the floor.
The landlord came rushing out and halted appalled at the sight; then ran to the
foot of the stairs.

"Captain Poldark, sir disgraceful What is
the meaning of it, please? ... Mr. Warleggan, what has happened? ... Are you
hurt, sir? Captain Poldark, I want an explanation.... Mr. Tonkin, pray give me
an explanation. One does not expect the gentlemen ... a table and two good chairs
... damage perhaps to the banisters. Captain Poldark ..”

As .Ross came down the last step the little
innkeeper got in his way; Ross saw the red waistcoat and, in the last flicker
of an anger such as he had not felt for years, he shoved it out of his path. He
meant it, as no more than a gesture but the little man staggered back and sat
down abruptly against the wainscot, and a plate came down from the wall and smashed
beside him. As Ross walked out of the inn George Warleggan was just getting to
his knees.

At Nampara they were cutting hay. The crop was
good this year, and John and Jane Gimlett and Jack Cobbledick were at work
together with two of the younger Martin children, superintended a little
discontentedly by Demelza, who had been forbidden to take a hand in it. She was
proscribed so many things these days and didn't like it. She felt fine, and it
was a waste loafing about when there was much to do.