Warleggan (10 page)

Time passed. Try to count. Sixty minutes make one hour. He reckoned three hours had passed. Must be after eight now. Someone must come soon. They would of course come straight to the place where they had been blasting this morning. A drip of water somewhere, and this his ears again and again magnified into r
escuing footsteps. To keep his
sanity he counted
up to two hundred and then sh
outed and began again. But he
was getting lightheaded. And the strain on his arms. Cramp seized him often, his legs were leaden, already swollen and dead. Sometimes he forgot numbers and talked with people who came close to him in the water His father, gouty and eruptive and purple. `Francis, Francis. Where are you, boy?' Aunt Agatha., not as she now was but younger and severe; dandling him on her knee. He was running across the sands of Hendrawna with Ross after him, their feet glinting in the sun.

He began to count again; and then suddenly heard a crash of splintering wood and looked up and saw Ross kneeling at the edge of the shaft reaching down a hand to help him
out. Ross said sourly
: `My God, why can't you learn to swim!', and Francis reached up a despairing hand to grasp the help. Their fingers seemed to touch, and then a foul swirl of liquid closed over Francis's mouth and nose and, he kicked and struggled to get to the surface again : he had lost grip of the nail, had nearly lost life in his dream of salvation, only death had wakened him; on
ly death; in time the automatic
responses of the body. So it would be every time, every time until the last.

Try to reassure yourself.
This time tomorrow.
In a few weeks you will be able to laugh about this experience. Or be dead. . . . This time tomorr
ow between comfortable sheets,
recovering. Or a swollen corpse covered with a sheet in the great hall of Trenwith waiting an early burial.

His breath was going. That was the worst. If he shouted now, he had to suck at the air for half a minute afterward to recover. By now it was well after ten. Somebody must come soon. He could not disappear without trace and cause no comment! Curnow had seen him come down. They would grow anxious. They would think. What were their brains for! Henshawe was often at the m
ine between five and. six. Often
he joined Ross and Francis to see how the work was going. Not today. Not of course today.

Francis let out a higher-pitched shout, much nearer a scream. He stopped, gasping at the air. The nail turned in his painful clutch. Any further movement and it would come out.

`Help, help!' he shouted. `Help, help!' a dozen times, and a dozen times more. It went on and on and on, until the
volume decreased and the breath in was as noisy as the breath out. Tears were running down his cheeks.

There's reason for me to live now l Oh, God, I don't want to die.

At about this time
Elizabeth closed the book with
which she had been teaching Geoffrey Charles to read.

`It's time for your supper, my darling. Papa will be home soon, and you know he likes you to be in bed, by seven.'

`Just this bit, Mummy.'

'No. You've had more than your share today.'

`Can I go out and play until Papa comes?'

`No, darling. You can play until your supper's ready. Don't be far away when I call you. . . . And put on your cap!'

Geoffrey Charles galloped from the room, and Elizabeth
looked up at the clock. It was nearly half past six.

Chapter Seven.

Ross was back just before eight He found Demelza upstairs repairing for the fifth time the curtains over the north windows of their bedroom. She hadn't heard him come.

`Why, Ross!
You're earlier than I expected. Have you supped?'

'Sufficiently. What are you doing?'

`A little tear that Jeremy made this morning. He dearly likes something to cling to for support.'

`Soon you'll have made new curtains with your stitches.'

`Not quite so bad. What was in your letter?'

He sat in a chair and began to pull at his boots; then as she came over, he let her pull them off instead. It was a relic of their old days which for some reason she liked to preserve. While she was doing it, he told her what the letter said.

'And it was true, about the mortgage, I mean?'

He nodded. `True enough. When I borrowed the
money; my first concern was to
get it; I didn't greatly care how, It was
Pearce when I went to him who
first spoke of a second mortgage. The next day he produced the money and I signed the paper for it.... I accepted this as a form of mortgage, though in fact it was a promissory note. I suppose I knew, but I paid no heed to it at the time. Nor should I have needed to if Pearce had kept possession of it, as any friend and honest man would, I went to visit him. D'you think me a bully, Demelza?'

`Were you rough with Mr Pearce?'

`I didn't put a finger on him, but I suppose I was rough in manner; I thumped his table and broke the lid of his snuffbox. He quivered like a jelly, all fat and no backbone; but the damage is done. The bill has been passed on as Pascoe said, and Cary Warleggan now possesses it. So we have to face that.'

'You didn't go to see him?'

`I called at his house, but he was away. I think it was the truth, for the blinds were down.'

`And what now, Ross?'

`The Warleggans can do nothing until November. Then they
can give me a month to redeem the note. In December I must
find fourteen hundred pounds or default.'

She put his boots beside the chair but remained; kneeling, her
elbows on his knees, looking not at him but into space.' `Can we borrow no money elsewhere?' `I don't know.'

What shall you do?'

`There are seven weeks before the notice 'can be' given. I have Pascoe to thank for that. And four more after that before
it takes effect.'

She did not much like the look on his face, and she, wriggled her knees round and got up.

She said: `Are you sure Cary will
do this,
will demand repayment?'

Would you not if you felt as
they do
for me?' `Have I ever seen Cary?'

`At that party.
A man of fifty-odd with small ey
es and an uncomfortable way of using them. George, though I detest him, has certain principles
-
at least I think so. Cary has none. 'He's the moneylender of the family, the scavenger. George is accepted in most circles of society. So
on he will be in all. That will
impose some standards on him. Nicholas, his father,
of,
course,
is reputable enough. Uncle
Car
y, the best hated of them all.'

She shivered; `I w
ish I could earn money, Ross. I
wish
I could help
you in some way. All I do is
-
is mend your, curtains and bear your child and see after the farm and cook your meals and
–“

`I should: have thought that one person's work.'

'But there's no money in it! Not even a gold piece. O
ne thousand four hundred pounds
! I'd steal it if I could, turn highwayman or bank thief! Harris Pascoe would, never miss it. Why does; he not lend it you?'

Ross looked
at her gravely, wryly,
`This Is a new phase. Always before you've been pressing me to keep within the law
He stopped as there - was a knock on
the door. It was Gimlett to
say, that Tabb was below and wanted to know if Mr. Francis was still here.

`Here? Of course not
Ross looked at Demelza. `What time did he leave?

`About an hour after
you
- He walked up to the mine.' At least-'

`His
horse is still here, sur,' said Gimlett. 'I give him his feed, but didn't think to tell mistress as I reckoned she'd know about it'

Ross pushed past him and went downstairs. Tabb was standing; in the hall. Tabb explained that Mrs. Poldark had been getting anxious, so she'd sent him over just to make sure Mr. Poldark was come to no harm. Usually, now the nights was drawing in, the squire belonged to be home by seven. Ross went round to the stables. Francis's horse was there right enough and looked up expectantly at the sound' off footsteps.

Demelza had followed. Ross said': `Did he note say anything when he left? Perhaps he's walked over to Mingoose House." To Tabb he said: 'Ride to Mingoose House, will you. In the meantime I'll go to the mine and see how long he stayed there,
and in what direction
he left'

A new moon was out and the misty rain had cleared. Demelza walked with Ross, hopping now and then to keep up, though her own stride, was long. The engine house was lit and there were lights in two of the sheds.

Ross went into the
changing-shed, where a lantern burned low. On a peg were Francis's ordinary clothes
Outside, Demelza was thoughtful, waiting, `I think he may be still here.'

`Here? But, Ross
–“

The stared at each other for a moment; neither spoke.

Below ground eight hours was the usual core, but tending the engine twelve. This change was made at eight, and the elder Curnow was now in charge; His brother, he said, had told him nothing when he went off. As they we
re asking, Captain Henshawe cam
e in and Ross explained the situation to him.

`Well, sur, he may be down there still, forgetful of the time; but I should not suppose so. Hold hard a minute, and I'll fetch a couple of men to go down with us.'

Demelza stood in the engine house. The curious slow, regular sucking motion of the great engine was like an animal gasping, a giant sea mammal newly landed, breathing out its life on the wet sand. A strange conviction of fatality
had
come on her. She had no reason for knowing, yet felt as if she knew.

Other men had come in now, and they watched Ross and Henshawe and Jack Carter and
young
Joe Nanfan climb into the bucket and lurch bumping out of sight. After they had gone, those that were left clustered in a self-conscious group; and she knew they would have been more at home if she had not been there. She, the miner's daughter become squire's wife, had more than the disadvantage of womanhood.

But she forced herself to go towards them and ask if none had s
een Mr. Francis this afternoon
and if someone would go and knock up Daniel Curnow and find out what he knew.

Then came a long wait. Gimlett had stolen up from the house and stood beside her. `The wind's cold, ma'am, shall I get ee a coat?' `No . . . thank you.' It was not the cold of the night that she felt but an inner cold that no coat would cure. Tabb came galloping back. They'd not seen Mr. Francis at Mingoose. `You'd best go tell Mistress Poldark,' said Demelza. `Very good, ma'am.' `No, wait. Wait a little while.'

Looking back, Demelza could see the lights in Nampara, the one in their bedroom that she
had left. Beyond it and to the
right the sea, with a dagger of moonlight, in the black heart of the water. `We can none of us separate ourselves from the consequences of our own behaviour,' Francis had said. `I have been trying to for long enough.'

One of the men returned from Dan Curnow's cottage. Cur
now had seen Mr, Francis go
down about four but had not
seen him come up. He had not thought of mentioning it
to his brother.
Peter Curnow spat in disgust.

A few minutes later a miner came running up the ladder.
It was Ellery, who was working
on the sixty-fathom level. Some of them had been told and were helping with the search. Francis had not been found but his pick had, standing with the handle out of, the water near where they had been blasting this morning.

Demelza looked at Tabb. "I think you had best
go fetch your mistress,'

It was
Ross,
carrying a lantern, who first swung, himself up into the tunnel which Francis bad followed, Like Francis he was surprised to see that the tunnel went on, and he b
eckoned Henshawe to follow him.

They were tired of shouting:
their voices only beat back
against them from the wa
lls of rock or were thrown away
in the echoing darkness. They reached the winze and tried to cross it, but Ross's foot slipped on the slimy rock and Henshawe had to, catch his arm.

`Thanks. It's a place for,-' Ross stopped, and crouched on his heels and turned the light of the horn lantern down the winze. Just within sight was water, and floating on the water was a miner's hat. And there was something else there besides the hat.

`Have, you your rope?'

`Yes.
'

'Put it round my waist'

He went down and found the body floating. Francis had been dead about an hour. In one of his hands, clutched so that they could barely unfasten it, was a rusty nail.