The Angry Tide

  There was now a faint glimmer of light showing from over in the direction of the city. The air was fresh here, with none of the town smells to pollute it. The leaves squelched under Ross’s feet. Dwight came across. His face looked thin.

  ‘I’ve agreed with Craven that the light will be good enough in twenty minutes. We have that time still to come to some accommodation.’

  ‘I want no accommodation,’ said Ross.

  ‘God curse it!’ Dwight said and it was rare for him to swear, ‘have neither of you any sense? The blood-letting will solve nothing!’

  ‘Let us walk,’ Ross said. ‘The morning air is chill, and warm blood makes for a steady hand.’

  They began to walk through the trees, a hundred yards this way, a hundred back again.

  Ross said: ‘Let us not dramatize the situation, Dwight, but if by chance his aim is better than mine, you and Caroline, as our close friends, will bear responsibility for the future of those in Nampara.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘There is nothing writ. It will all have to be understood.’

  ‘It is understood.’

  Time passed slowly. Ross remembered a story he had heard somewhere of two men who had challenged each other to a duel, and they happened to be dining together at one of their houses in a great company of society. Having dined and spent the evening and supped, they left at one, and each rode to the rendezvous in his own coach and sat there in the dark till six, when they got out and shot each other to death.

  Trees at last were assuming definition; and in the distance the shape of buildings could be seen. Fortunately with the end of the rain had come a break in the clouds, so that as sunrise neared the day broke suddenly.

  Dwight said: ‘Come, it is time.’

  Chapter Six

  I

  They came together and while the pistols were examined and loaded Dwight made one more effort.

  ‘Captain Adderley, I think it is acknowledged even by you that at the time of this disagreement in the House Captain Poldark apologized for his brief loss of temper. That is the act of a gentleman, and it would equally be the act of a gentleman if you were now to accept it. Why do you not both shake hands and go home to a hearty breakfast? No one knows of this encounter except yourselves. At your request it has been kept secret. Therefore there is no honour to be maintained in the face of other people. There is nothing to lose and everything to gain by looking on this as a superficial quarrel not worthy of bloodshed.’

  Adderley’s macabre face looked as if it had spent all its time in the dark. ‘If Captain Poldark will apologize again now, and undertake to send me a written apology couched in suitable terms, I might consider it. Though I should think ill of him if I did so.’

  Dwight looked at Ross.

  Ross said: ‘My only regret is that I apologized in the first place.’

  Dwight made a gesture of despair, and Craven said: ‘Come, gentlemen, we are wasting time. It should all be over before sun-up.’

  ‘One thing,’ Adderley said. ‘I take it that your second has given to mine the letter of challenge that I wrote you.’

  ‘Yes. You asked for it.’

  ‘And mine has given to yours your reply. So there is no evidence as to the occurrence of this duel, except for the presence of these two men, who are sworn to secrecy. The noise of the pistols may attract attention even at this early hour, so if I should kill you or wound you I shall waste no time in inquiring into your injuries but shall mount and ride away as quick as I can. If by mischance you should injure me instead you have my full permission to do the same. And the injured party has been set upon by a highwayman.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Ross said.

  ‘I would hate,’ Adderley said, ‘to languish in gaol for shedding your blood, my dear.’

  So they stood back to back. They were both tall men, and much of a height, but Ross the bigger boned. Pistols in hand; one in each hand, loaded and primed. Too much gunpowder destroys the equilibrium, sir. If anything, sir, it is better to undercharge. Too much velocity affects the precision of the shell. Was this fear one felt? Not quite. A keyed-up will for violence, to destroy something that was half in the other man, half in oneself. To fire. To fire. Imagination stopped. So did apprehension. Flesh and its frailty was not as important as will and its integrity. One put all one’s future on the table for the throw of a dice. Heart pounding but hands calm, eyes clear, senses over-acute, smell of wood smoke, sound of a distant bell.

  ‘Fourteen paces,’ said Craven. ‘I will count. Now. One, two, three.’

  The paces were slow as his count was slow.

  ‘. . . Thirteen, fourteen. Attend. Present. Fire!’

  They both fired simultaneously and it seemed both missed. The light was still not too good. Ross had heard the ball go past.

  ‘That will do!’ Dwight said, moving forward.

  Adderley dropped the empty pistol and changed hands, raised the other. As he saw this Ross did the same. Just as he fired the pistol was knocked out of his hand and he felt a searing pain in his forearm. To his surprise the force of the ball had swung him round. He half doubled, clutching his arm, and then through the smoke saw Adderley on the ground.

  Blood was oozing through his fingers in great thick gushes. Dwight was beside him, was trying to tear the rest of the torn sleeve away.

  ‘Adderley,’ Ross said. ‘You’d best go and see—’

  ‘In a moment. You must get that—’

  ‘Dr Enys!’ Craven was plucking at his coat. ‘Captain Adderley is serious wounded.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Ross, as Dwight hesitated.

  Dwight said: ‘Get something round your upper arm quick as you can – else you’ll bleed to death.’

  Ross sat down on a stone and tried to tear a piece of his shirt; it wouldn’t give; eventually a piece of lace came away, and though it was thin it was strong. He wound this below his bicep with his left hand and then, unable to tie it, just twisted and twisted till it grew very tight. Then he could only hold it there. His forearm was a mess. Could not see if the ball had smashed the bone, but he had lost the use of his fingers. The trees were moving in an odd way, and it was all he could do not to keel over on to the damp, sere leaves.

  The three men were over there in a group – could not be more than thirty paces away – clearly. Had he hit with his first or his second shot? And if so, how good (or bad) had been his aim? He gritted his teeth, got up. Arm was still bleeding but it was not gushing out. More blood than he’d ever lost from his two wounds in America. He began to walk.

  Just like pacing out for the duel, only twice as far. Long way. Twenty-eight paces. Adderley was stirring. That was a good thing. Not dead. Not dead. As he came up John Craven suddenly left the group, went running off through the trees towards the gate of the Park.

  Dwight had his bag and had cut away Adderley’s coat and shirt and waistcoat, was holding a pad of gauze. It seemed to be at the base of the stomach, or the top of the right leg. Ross swayed up to them.

  Adderley’s eyes fluttered. ‘Damned pistols he muttered. ‘Not . . . accurate. Damn near missed you altogether . . . my dear.’

  Ross said: ‘Where’s Craven gone?’

  ‘To get a chair,’ Dwight said.

  ‘Didn’t . . . ride . . .’

  ‘He thought it quicker. There’s usually chairs by the tollgate. Look, sit down here. Then if you can hold this pad on Adderley’s thigh with your left hand. I can tie your arm.’

  ‘Hold the pad myself,’ Adderley said. ‘You get off, Poldark. While the going’s good. That’s – what we agreed.’

  ‘I’ll stay till the chair comes,’ Ross said.

  ‘Damn fool,’ said Adderley. ‘I knew it. Wish I’d killed you. No room for damned fools.’

  Ross squatted on the grass and held the pad over Monk’s stomach, while Dwight tied up his arm. It was done with much speed and efficiency, and after a few minutes Dwight was able to slacken the tourniquet he had first put on.

  ‘
Can you ride home?’ he asked.

  ‘I – suspect so.’

  ‘Then go. Adderley’s right. Craven might come back with a couple of the Watch.’

  ‘Shoot him if he does,’ said Adderley.

  ‘He might have no choice.’

  ‘I’ll stay till the chair comes,’ Ross said obstinately.

  Shafts of early sunlight were touching the tops of the trees. The faded leaves, still damp, were lit up with brass spears. Monk was only half conscious now. Ross looked at Dwight inquiringly. Dwight made a non-committal gesture.

  They waited.

  Leaves continued to fall, making eccentric landings on the trio of silent men. Running feet, and Craven came into view followed by a hackney chair. Panting, the chairmen set the chair down, and with great difficulty Monk Adderley was lifted into it. He seemed at this stage to have fainted altogether.

  Dwight said: ‘Mr Craven, I’ll go with this chair. Do you help Captain Poldark to mount and then bring the other horses.’

  Ross said: ‘I think I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No,’ said Craven. ‘Fair’s fair, and the conditions have been properly observed. So observe the rest. I advise you to go home and send for another physician.’

  While the chair moved off, Craven somehow pushed Ross up on to his horse, and with his bad arm held in a temporary sling, Ross gathered the reins and turned his horse quietly round to begin what was going to be an interminable journey to George Street.

  II

  By nine Dwight was round. He found Ross in bed but unattended, since he had refused to see any other physician. Demelza was doing what she could for him. She was looking more sick than Dwight had ever seen her since she had had the morbid sore throat.

  ‘Well,’ said Ross. ‘What of Adderley?’ and gritted his teeth while Dwight cut away the bandage.

  ‘I’ve extracted the ball which had lodged almost in the groin. Lead is sterile and I have taken what precautions I can.’

  There was silence while he examined the wound.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘This could be worse. The ball has split a splinter off the radius. I’ll have to take that piece of bone out. The ulna is sound.’

  ‘Damned if I know whether I hit him with the first or the second shot.’

  ‘The second. The blow on your arm deflected your aim fractionally down. Demelza, have you a bowl?’

  ‘Here.’

  ‘A bigger one. And brandy. This will be more painful than it should be, Ross, because if it had been done at once the shocked arm would still have been partly insensitive.’

  ‘I don’t want brandy,’ Ross said. ‘Just do what you have to do.’

  So Dwight did what he had to do, and there was a lot of blood, and a moment when he had to saw the edge of the splintered bone. And sweat ran down Ross’s face and he gripped the bed with his good hand until the rail bent, and there were sweat and tears on Demelza’s face, and then presently the bandages were going back, and Demelza, anxious to keep everything as secret as possible, was carrying the bloody bowls out herself, and Dwight was closing his bag. And then they all sat and did drink brandy. And there was a long silence between them. The few words that were dropped into the silence did not keep it at bay. They had all retreated into their own thoughts: wry, bitter, anxious, recollective. Outside London was fully awake, and the customary noises in the street were temporarily joined by the lowing of a cow. Upstairs two maids were busy: you could hear their footsteps on the floor.

  At length Dwight tried to break the sour spell.

  ‘Have you ever heard of a man called Davy?’

  Ross looked up. ‘Who?’

  ‘Davy. Humphrey Davy, I think he’s called.’

  ‘No.’ He made an effort. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘A Cornish youth working in some laboratory in Bristol. He claims to have discovered – or invented – some new gas called nitrous oxide which he says induces insensibility when the fumes are breathed. The man is not yet twenty-one, but has already published his findings. He claims that, as the gas is capable of destroying pain, it may probably be used to advantage in surgical operations. I could have wished for some now.’

  ‘So could I have,’ said Ross.

  Dwight got up.

  ‘No doubt even if his claims be true it will be years before my profession puts it to the test. We are nothing if not conservative in our ideas.’

  There was a further oppressive silence.

  ‘Is the pain easier?’ Demelza asked.

  ‘A little,’ said Ross. ‘Do you know, I have been considering. However much Adderley may have wished to keep this secret, it seems very likely to come out, now we are both in this condition.’

  Demelza looked at Ross, his drawn face, the blood already seeping through the new bandage. And she thought: I shall never forgive him for this.

  III

  And she thought it all the following days. To her it seemed like a blasphemy against life, to risk so much for so little. It showed a newer, darker side of Ross than even she had ever known. But also it showed a person bound by a foolish tradition of his class that he of all people should have been clear-sighted enough to disavow.

  He was so introspective, and anyway so ill for a few days, that she could not bring herself to say anything to him, and the only person she could unburden herself to was Caroline. Caroline said: ‘I was surprised myself – and yet, looking at it now, I am not so surprised. It was always – on the cards.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  Caroline steered away from explaining. ‘Monk Adderley’s a fighter. He will be all his days. It was just misfortune that he chose Ross.’

  Demelza’s dark eyebrows wrinkled and contracted painfully. ‘That is not what you meant at all, Caroline. And it is not what I mean. They speak of honour. Honour having to be satisfied. What is honour?’

  ‘A code of conduct. A long tradition. Ross would have lost respect if he had not fought.’

  ‘Respect? Whose respect? Not mine. And what else might he not have lost which is a small matter more important? His life? His health? We don’t know even yet if those are safe. His wife, his children, his home, his career? What are those compared to respect?’

  ‘Men are like that.’

  ‘I don’t want men who are like that! Four years ago, Caroline, Ross risked all this before – to recover Dwight from Quimper prison in France. That is what I call honour. This I call dis-honour!’

  Caroline looked at her friend. ‘Go kindly with him, Demelza. You know him better than I; but if I read him right he will not escape his own self-criticism over this affair.’

  ‘So he should not! . . . But, Caroline, I feel so much of it is my fault.’

  ‘Your fault!’

  ‘Well, my responsibility, like. It was over me. The quarrel was really over me. You know that, don’t you.’

  ‘I know it was partly over you. But I do not believe it would have got so far on that alone. Ross and Monk detested each other from the moment they laid eyes on each other, and that is something in the blood, not a matter of behaviour.’

  Demelza got up. ‘Was my behaviour at fault?’

  ‘None that I saw.’

  ‘You see, I was – happy. Ross and I were happier together than we had been since – since before Hugh; and I was excited, enjoying myself in a new society. Perhaps I was freer with Monk Adderley than I ought to have been. Maybe I’m too free for London society. Maybe men – anywhere – take too much encouragement from my manner, even in Cornwall. But it’s the way I was born. Of course in all these years I’ve learned a lot, but maybe I haven’t learned enough. Ross should never have brought me!’

  ‘My dear, you can’t make a general principle out of a single mishap. You could have come to London twenty times without this happening! Take heart that it’s no worse. One or both of them might have been dead.’

  Demelza said: ‘That’s what I think every minute of the day.’

  And then Monk Adderley died.

/>   IV

  Ross’s fever was abating by the third day, and he was just making plans to get up, much against Demelza’s wishes, to call on his adversary when John Craven arrived with the news.

  Ross stared at him in grey silence, lying back on the pillows from which he had just part risen. Demelza, by the window, bit the back of her hand.

  Craven said: ‘His own doctor was with him two hours before, and Dr Enys visited him last eve, but there was nothing to be done. There appeared, Dr Enys said, to have boen some blockage in a blood vessel.’

  ‘When . . .?’

  ‘This forenoon.’ John Craven brushed a hand across the arm of his tidy jacket, glanced at Demelza and then away. ‘I came to tell you because that was what he wished. And to warn you.’

  ‘Yes. I see that.’

  ‘He has given it out that he was practising with his pistols in the Park, when one of them was accidentally discharged into his stomach. This I will confirm.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Craven.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, Captain Poldark. It comes distasteful in me to condone a lie and indeed to call in question my own honour in so doing.’

  ‘Then do not do it.’

  ‘Dr Enys and myself were both sworn to this before the duel began. As it turned out, it may be necessary to go further than we had ever expected; but that is not your fault but the fault of the undertaking.’

  ‘Then I’ll release you from it.’

  ‘Ross—’

  Mr Craven looked again at Demelza. ‘Have no fear, ma’am. I don’t think he can release us from it, even if he so chooses. The man who could do that is dead.’

  No one spoke.

  Craven said: ‘Captain Adderley also told me to tell you – and here I simply pass on his message, sir – that you were a damned fool to stay in the Park until the chairmen came; so there could be two witnesses that another man, also wounded, was in the vicinity. You are obviously, sir, in no position yet to hide your own wound. However, Captain Adderley instructed me to pay each of the chairmen five guineas to stop his mouth, and I think this will be sufficient.’

  Ross swallowed and licked his lips. ‘I was this moment about to come and see him. I wished to go yesterday but Dr Enys said I must not move for another day. Now . . .’