Jeremy Poldark

  Out here you could feel the breeze quite strongly, and the dinghy was so light, almost keelless, that it was inclined to be blown off its course. Several times she corrected it after glancing behind her, and the third time she was a little perturbed to see the cliffs no nearer at all. Up to now she had pulled only with her arms and not at all with her body, knowing that she must be careful of that; but now she began to put more weight behind the oars and was comforted to feel the boat respond on the heaving sea.

  Sometimes she suspected, while considering it rather disloyal to do so, that Ross in opening a new mine had allowed his judgment to be warped by his detestation of the Warleggans—so that his desire to be free of their interference had led him to overoptimism about Wheal Grace. As for Francis, he, she knew, was a gambler too, but a much less astute gambler than Ross, so that his participation in the scheme was no reassurance at all. It was well enough for the rest of them. Henshawe risked a hundred pounds which he could comfortably spare. The two young engineers from Redruth were to be paid for their engine as they built it. The tut-workers and spallers got their monthly wages; the tributers spent only their time and trouble; it was the Poldarks who risked all the rest.

  She had been rowing for two or three minutes, confident she was gaining ground, but when she looked round she saw that her progress had been diagonal and towards the sharp rocks of Damsel Point. They were only fifteen or eighteen feet away and the sea slithered and slapped around them, not making a lot of fuss but rising and falling enough to knock the bottom out of a boat. She veered quickly away and in doing so lost most of the ground she had won. It was while righting her course again that she began to feel queer. At first she thought it was a touch of the seasickness. Then she knew it was not.

  On the clifftop, half in the shadow, half in the sun, some jackdaws and some choughs were quarrelling. The sweep of black wing against black wing glinted like jet. The sky was an indefinite pallid blue with faint streaks of sunlit cloud trailing across it from the south. She began to row in earnest, putting all her strength into it, knowing now it was touch and go. In the roots of her hair where it grew at the sides of her brow tiny beads of sweat formed. Her bottom lip was caught up and her eyes went cloudy.

  She thought, Well, this is my own fault, nobody’s but my own. So I get through it myself or go under. This will be a nice homecoming for Ross. Then it seemed for a minute that she must give up rowing, that her life must be sacrificed for two minutes with her head between her knees; but with the horizon blurring and the noise of sea rushing into her head she kept on. A beast, a devil, had seized her and she must give up or die.

  Then when it seemed impossible to breathe any more, the grip was suddenly relaxed. The beach was perceptibly nearer now. No distance. Like a mirage it danced over her shoulder, luring her with its safe dry sand and its promise of home.

  The choughs flew off, quite low over her head, glints of red about their legs; they were defeated; the jackdaws were triumphantly settling into the hollows on the cliff edge. They were farther away. Progress. But the Beast was nearer again, waiting to pounce. She thought, Ross will be home at seven; I shall not be home by then, never home again. But somehow I must get home. He will have no one to tell about the mine. Wheal Grace. Named after his mother. Perhaps it will be lucky. It was lucky once. The house had been built from the proceeds. There’d been money enough in mining in the past. Trenwith built out of Grambler. Tehidy from Dolcoath; half the big houses of Cornwall had come that way. But money enough had been lost too.

  The wind contrarily, wickedly, had grown stronger, the ebbing tide pulled at the light boat, out towards the open sea. Perhaps there would be someone about who would see her, someone walking along the cliff. Or if she allowed her dinghy to drift out one of the St. Ann’s fishing boats would surely catch sight of her. While there was life…

  Unexpectedly a wave broke under her and she missed her stroke; the boat moved as if an arm six times as strong had used the oar. She turned and saw she was nearly ashore. It was the wrong end of the little cove, by the stream, not so sheltered and the waves were breaking; but it would do. She tried to guide the craft, but a second wave turned her broadside on and almost upset her. Then it burst upon the beach, dropping the dinghy on the stones before sucking it out again with a rattle and a roar. She climbed over the side and, as another wave burst jumped into the sea, clutched the boat, trying instinctively to pull it ashore. The effort wrenched her and she gasped and let go. She had hurt herself. Then she fought her way through the returning surf and found herself on hands and knees on dry land.

  The Beast had come back, and she crouched there unable to move, in its direst grip.

  Three minutes passed. The waves continued to beat out their rhythm; but the sun had gone behind a tiny cloud. Robbed of its colour, the cove looked suddenly shabby and cold and the sea dangerous. Halfway across the cove it deposited the dinghy upside down, its oars lost and a plank staved in.

  Demelza stirred and got to her feet. She was soaking wet and could hardly stand. She squeezed out the front of her skirt and blouse and began painfully to limp up the valley to the house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On the following afternoon Verity stood at the window of her house overlooking Falmouth Harbour, listening for the arrival of the Plymouth coach. She would have dreaded this coming meeting even with Andrew at her side. In his absence, the situation, in occasional moments of panic, seemed unfaceable. Then she would rally and ask herself what but a little constraint had she to fear from two young people still only in their middle teens?

  Although James must have been in the town some hours he had not shown up yet. She glanced at the clock behind her, and as she did so the horn sounded clearly. She could not see the coach from here, but she could picture it turning into the yard of the inn, the lathered horses, the passengers climbing down, the bells ringing, the sailors yawning at the door, the man she had sent to meet Esther scanning the faces; Esther herself, the girl, half woman, the face in that miniature but older by five years.

  Verity swung round on the small circular mirror, peered at herself. To the girl she would seem old, dowdy, a usurper. Youth was so mercilessly hard in its decisions; it had its own unyielding standards and had not yet learned enough to know that time would prove them arbitrary. She stood there until the doorbell rang; then she took a deep breath and went down. Masters was at the door with a slight, rather tall girl.

  “You’re Esther? Come in, my dear. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You must be tired. Can you take the box right up, Masters; you know the room? Do come in, my dear.”

  Cheek was cold. Face a little broad over the cheekbones, noticeable grey eyes, honest but self-centred, slightly hostile. “Mrs. Stevens is in bed with stomach trouble,” Verity explained. “She has been ailing on and off for weeks. I have a meal ready for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. May I first go to my room?”

  “Of course. Come down just at your leisure.”

  In the upstairs parlour again Verity walked to the window. No warmth. Did her own welcome ring false?

  A three-masted packet boat was shaking out her sails as she moved slowly among the other shipping towards the open sea, taking advantage of the first ebb. Captain Buckingham in Percuil, bound for the West Indies. Verity forced herself to sit down, pick up her embroidery. Calm and unstrained friendship. She was the adult, must set the temper of the stay.

  Esther was a long time, but when she came in she looked older without her bonnet. Verity got up.

  “I’ve set our meal in here, Esther. I always dine here when I’m by myself, for I love to watch the shipping.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Those eyes. So small and so direct. Could it be fright, not hostility?

  “Your father was greatly disappointed to have to sail. He had looked forward to this moment for a long time.”

  “They did not tell me he wouldn’t be here,
not until I had taken my seat in the coach.”

  At supper the girl toyed with her food. A slight smear of pockmarks on her cheeks.

  “You know your brother’s in port, Esther?”

  “I knew he was coining. I did not know he was here.”

  “The Thunderer dropped anchor this morning. Your father had a note from him last month when a frigate put in with mails.”

  “Yes, I heard too.”

  So he wrote to his sister. “I believe he has been with the East Indies Fleet…Are you happy at your school?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I leave at the end of the year.”

  They talked awhile but made no progress. She parried questions like a swordsman parrying dangerous thrusts. It was impossible to get near her. With a sinking heart Verity rose and went to the side table to carve the beef. She could see a nightmare week end terminating in complete failure. Esther would go away, and when Andrew came back he would know that she had failed.

  “I don’t think you’re at all like your father, are you, my dear?”

  Esther’s lack of response had forced it out of her. She could feel the girl’s eyes boring into her back.

  “No, ma’am. I take after my mother.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that…Well, I think you are going to be very attractive.”

  “Mother was very beautiful,” said Esther. “ I wish I was like her in that.”

  Verity looked up and suddenly found that the oval mirror with the convex surface reflected the dining table. The girl was sitting straightly in her chair, white frilled dress cascading from narrow shoulders. Her face wore an extraordinary expression of pride and resentment. Verity’s knife wavered, slid across the beef. She looked down.

  “Of course,” she said, “I can never begin to replace your own mother, but I hope you’ll always look on me as a loving and well-wishing friend.”

  “You know Father killed her, don’t you?” Esther said.

  There was silence.

  Verity turned. “I know all I want to know.” She put the plate before her stepdaughter. “That there was a terrible accident, and—”

  “He killed her. Ever since then people have been trying to teach me different, but I know! He went to prison for it, didn’t he? She hadn’t any near relatives. They sent me to his. They’ve tried to poison her memory, but they’ll never do that. I know she was good and a saint. I know!”

  Verity brought her own plate and sat down. Unhappiness and resentment put an edge on her voice. “I know it’s not a fit subject for discussion between us. Please finish your meal.”

  “So I’m to be forbid to speak of Mother before you too, ma’am?”

  “Certainly not. Unless speaking of your mother means speaking against your father.”

  “He has plenty to speak for him. She hasn’t one but me.”

  Verity’s heart was thumping. “It’s right and good,” she said, “that you should think and speak of your mother. But it is neither right nor good to dwell on her death. Remember the happiness she had, not the—”

  “She never had any happiness!”

  Their glances met.

  “How do you know?” Verity said angrily. “I think it’s necessary that we should come to an understanding, Esther—”

  She broke off and listened to a loud rantan at the street door. I can’t face the other one tonight, she thought. Between them they’ll…I can’t. I can’t.

  Esther’s eyes were lowered at last “That’s James,” she said.

  In dead silence they sat there together, listened to the front door being opened and feet on the stairs. The feet hesitated for a moment, then there was a rap at the door and it opened and a square-built boy came in. Darker than his sister, smart uniform of a naval midshipman, curly hair, brown eyes.

  “Well, I wondered if there was anyone aboard,” he said in an unnecessarily big voice. “I thought as the door was unhitched there’d most likely be a skeleton crew. Good day to you, Essie. You’ve grown.” His eyes wandered to the other person. “I suspicion you’ll be…”

  With a great effort Verity rose. “Come in, James. I’ve been looking for you all day.”

  He banged the door behind him. “Are you Miss Verity?”

  “Well, I was. Now I am—”

  “Ha! I know. May I call you Aunt? Twould split the difference, so to speak. Sorry I missed Father. If I’d known I should ha’ spoke to the captain sharp and told him to make haste. He and I are on good speaking terms, though for the most part the speaking is on his side!”

  He came across, flung his cap on the window seat, patted Esther on the head, came round the table to Verity, looked her up and down. He was taller than she. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Aunt.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her just below the ear. Then he gave her a hug that squeezed all the breath out of her.

  “You’ll pardon the liberty,” he said, speaking as if he was in a high wind, “but one don’t get a new mother every day o’ the week! When I had the letter we were in Penang, so I says, ‘Come, lads, we’ve a toast to drink, for I’ve a new mother, an’ that’s better than a wife any week, being more comfort and less responsibility.’ I never wrote, not being over-handy with a pen, but drink your health we did with a will.”

  “Thank you,” said Verity, feeling suddenly warm. “That was kind of you.”

  “Well”—he glanced round—“nice to be home again. Though the walls are uncomfortably steady! D’you know, I truly believe that is why sailors get foxed so soon as they come ashore, it is so that the deck shall rock again like they’ve been used to. Esther dear, do not look so sour at me.”

  “You’ve not changed a bit,” said Esther.

  The boy turned and laughed aloud at Verity. “That, ma’am, is not intended as a compliment. D’you save any supper?”

  “Yes, I did!” said Verity. “Mrs. Stevens is in bed, so I’ll fetch it.”

  “I’ll go below myself! That’s if you’ll trust me in the galley. Mrs. Stevens will not.”

  “Go down and bring up anything you want,” said Verity.

  They ate in stony silence until he came back.

  ***

  “You’ve not been aboard a man-o’-war, ma’am?” said James, stretching his legs in satisfaction. “I wonder if I could arrange it. I wonder if you’d pass as my real mother. No, you’re too young. Still, stepmothers have rights. Ha! I think it could be arranged.”

  “Perhaps Esther would like to come.”

  “No, thank you, ma’am.”

  “Essie doesn’t like the sea. More’s her misfortune. But I fancy a good sailor has been lost in you.”

  “It remains to be seen, for I’ve never sailed. Do you take sugar, James?”

  “Thick wi’ sugar. So as the spoon will stand. As for sailing in bad weather, I never knew what rough weather was till we ran into a hurricane off the Nicobar Islands…”

  “Sugar, Esther?”

  “Thank you.”

  “We were out for a cruise after the Malay pirates when the weather blew up…” Firmly launched on his story, James talked and sipped and sipped and talked. Esther had shown no friendliness for her brother, had unbent in no way. Her eyes still had that hurt, hostile look, as if she had just witnessed something shameful, as if the world was against her and she knew it was only waiting its chance to pull her down.

  “…We squared the boom, saw the boats made fast, lashed the guns afresh, double-breeching the lower deckers, then we got the t’gallant mast down on deck, in fact everything to set up a ship safe and snug. D’you follow my meaning, or do the words confuse you, eh?”

  “Very much,” said Verity, “but go on.”

  “Ha! Well, at four bells the hurricane broke, with the sea fairly raging; it was a terrible thing to be in! After an hour or so I thought to turn in but my bunk was full to t
he brim with water so I decided twould be drier on deck.” James laughed and made the ornaments rattle. It caught at Verity and made her laugh too. “Comic to look back on, but at the time wi’ the waves riding beside us fit to swamp an island and the gale screeching like a thousand hungry parrots there was another face to the picture!”

  “I think I will go to bed,” said Esther, “if I may be excused.”

  Verity said: “You’ll be tired after your journey. Should you care to lie on in the morning?”

  “Thank you, I always wake early. Good night, James. Goodnight to you, ma’am.”

  Again Verity touched her cold cheek, and then she was gone.

  James said: “Mind if I smoke, ma’am? It is a dirty habit one gets into.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Well, just then the captain called me up on the poop, and as I got there I heard him say to the lieutenant: ‘The ship makes a very good weather of it upon this tack,’ he says, says he; ‘but we must wear her. Do you go forward and have the hands stand by.’ ‘There’s no canvas can stand against this,’ says the lieutenant. The captain says: ‘We must take the risk,’ he says, ‘for the wind have backed, and we are drawing close upon Sumatra.’ I should not worry over Essie, ma’am. She is not so hard as she makes out.”

  The change of topic was so abrupt that Verity half smiled. But she did not speak.

  “Lord bless you, everyone thinks she’s unfriendly; but half of it is just her trim. Different people take the same thing different ways, as you might say. You know about Mother, of course. Ha! Well, you’d say it was as bad for one of us as for the other; but you’d be wrong. I was eight when it happened and Essie nine. The year after, when I was nine, I weighed anchor and went to sea; I shook it all off as the littlest frigate will shake off the head of a comber that’s flopped aboard when she wasn’t looking. But Esther—Esther’s been like a craft wi’ no canvas. She got waterlogged with the shock and she’s been wallowing in the trough ever since. Instead of trying to forget it, she’s brooded and brooded and made her mother a saint. Which she wasn’t, nor anything near; God forgive me for saying so. And when she meets someone fresh, especially someone new to the family like you, all that side of her comes up and she seems a bad case. I’ve told Father before now she needs careening; no one can sail sweet with a foul bottom—beg pardon, Aunt, if it sounds indelicate, but it’s true. Howsoever, she will improve as the days go by. Mark my words!”