The case of Dr Enys was a peculiar one. It had not been clearly established how far he was implicated, and the witnesses who were called went no further towards making the position clear. Dwight himself refused to offer any explanation for his movements, and Dr Halse’s exasperation became obvious. No man, no educated man, could suddenly appear on the cliff edge and start building a bonfire without certain conclusions being drawn. This much and a lot more Dr Halse said in a long homily which followed his consultation with the other ten members of the bench. It was, he said, a peculiar disgrace that a well-known physician of the neighbourhood should allow himself to become so involved in this reprehensible traffic. A heavy responsibility rested upon all men of reputation to help to stamp out the illegal conduct of their less enlightened neighbours, not to encourage it, not to participate in it, as, failing any other explanation, it must be assumed Dr Enys had been doing. The opinion of the bench was that Dr Enys should be fined £50 or serve three months’ imprisonment.
Dwight accepted the censure and the fine unmoved; and when the hearing was over, he refused to accept either sympathy or offers of help from those who had heard the case. All through this month, for a young man normally so kindly and tolerant, he had shown unexpected brusqueness and rancour towards friends and sympathizers. His popularity in Sawle and district had shot up to new heights – except in the house of Vercoe – and there were many who wondered why he would not be befriended. He showed impatience at any friendly move and a blank face to all advice and condolence.
Even Ross and Demelza he had seemed to avoid; and when he and Ross rode home together from the sessions, it was almost the first time they had had a private conversation.
For a while they discussed the outcome of the day. Ross thought that neither Bottrell nor the St Ann’s man would serve their sentences. Already the Navy was crying out for men, and the two prisoners, both with experience of the sea, would probably be given the choice of fates. ‘Not that one is much better than the other, but there’s a matter of self-respect involved. I should suppose Bottrell at least will choose the Navy.’
‘I was glad you were not charged, Ross. I thought they might have tried to pin something on you seeing that it was your land and knowing how hard they worked to get you convicted at the Assizes.’
‘So they very well would have but for Trencrom. He provided me with witnesses to show that I was far away at the time of the run.’
‘A man came to me just as I was leaving the court, said he was from Mr Trencrom and that Mr Trencrom would insist on paying my fine.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I refused, of course! I did not go to that trouble for Trencrom’s sake.’
‘No, you did it for mine. Have I told you what I feel about that?’
‘You need not bother.’
‘I am under an enduring debt.’
‘Oh, nonsense.’
They went on for a few minutes. The day was windy but not cold. Seagulls were wheeling and screaming overhead and a gleam of sun gave sudden brilliance to their wings. Ross was the last person to push inquiries where they were unwelcome, but he was aware that something was very much amiss with this young man.
‘I saw your friend Wright the other day. I suppose you still intend to leave the district now that this fuss is over?’
‘I’ve no settled plans at all.’
‘Then – your marriage to Caroline?’
‘Is off. It was an adolescent folly. Fortunately we discovered it in time.’
Ross stared at his friend. ‘As an outcrop of this smuggling affray?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Demelza insists that it must be. She says you told her you were leaving late on the Saturday night. How was it affected by your arrest?’
‘Not to my detriment, I see now. We should never have made anything of it, Ross. We were – incompatible, in the grip of a foolish passion. It couldn’t have lasted and would have led to misery on both sides.’
‘What has it led to now?’
‘A temporary unhappiness that later we shall be grateful for. If you but realized it, I am in your debt, not you in mine.’
Dwight spoke firmly enough, but Ross saw that it was costing him a good deal. He would have liked more than anything to say something to help, but privately he was of the same opinion as Dwight. The relationship had been foredoomed. Far better bitter disappointment now than the humiliation and misery of a lifelong mesalliance.
After a time Ross, having searched his brain for a new subject, said:
‘McNeil the dragoon officer looks none so well from his wound. Is it true he’s staying with the Bodrugans?’
‘Yes. They’d known him since his first visit and invited him. I still attend him.’
‘You? That surprises me.’
Dwight smiled slightly. ‘I know. Both sides of the law. But I took out the ball and dressed his wound at your house on the Saturday night, and he seemed grateful that I did not bleed him. Anyway he requested I should see him again, and I’ve done so.’
‘You’ll have had some good talk on the ethics of smuggling.’
‘We do not discuss it. But I don’t think he bears any ill will – except to the man who shot him. He’s by no means fit to travel yet and should not have been in court today; he bitterly begrudges every day which prevents him from joining his regiment and fighting the French.’
‘I think if he’s patient, the opportunities for glory will not all go in the first months.’
‘No, possibly not. It’s hard to foresee how long it will last.’
‘Well, when a nation with less than fifty thousand troops, mostly in foreign parts, engages to fight one with an army of half a million, all at home and striking from central lines . . .’
‘We have allies.’
‘Prussia and Austria? They blew hot and cold last year when their opportunities were greater. Holland? I think the Dutch will need more than a few of our gunboats and a regiment of Foot Guards to give them the will to fight.’
Dwight said: ‘I have thought these last weeks I should wish to do something myself. It’s difficult to know what, but the notion attracts me now – and it would I think help to relieve the – the sense of futility.’
‘Well, take your time. Think all round it, for once you’re in the pan it’s hard to jump out.’
Just before they separated Dwight said: ‘And your visit to – to Mark Daniel, was it all to no purpose?’
‘It was to some purpose, for it showed me what an over-sanguine fool I’ve been.’
‘He had no advice that was of use?’
‘None at all.’
‘How long shall you go on?’
‘Until the coal is done.’
Dwight was silent until he drew rein to turn off.
‘How was Daniel, Ross?’
‘The thing had left its mark, as you’d suppose.’
‘Yes . . . as I would suppose.’
Ross rode down the valley. Another matter of importance to himself came out of the events of Black Saturday. Nampara Cove was now useless to Mr Trencrom. The gaugers could not watch it every night, but the notoriety of the raid and all that had gone with it put the cove out of bounds for a long time to come. There could be no question now of the Poldarks taking the risk, for Mr Trencrom would not take the risk. That was going to make a great difference to Ross’s income, just the vital difference he had not counted on. He had gambled again, and again lost. . . .
He had asked Demelza not to come to the Quarter Sessions; and since he was not in danger himself, she had agreed. Now he had it all to tell, and supper was late as a consequence. Afterwards they talked of the mine. The venturers of Wheal Radiant were interested in the headgear; and this morning before the sessions began he had seen a representative of another mine for the sale of the surplus stores.
Demelza said suddenly: ‘Ross, I have never mentioned it; but one day at the beginning of the year I went into St Ann’s to buy a few things we needed – y
ou remember, I asked for Darkie – and while I was there I met Mr Renfrew the chandler . . .’
He had picked up the Sherborne Mercury to glance through its pages; now to give himself time to think he carefully folded it and took it across to the shelf by the window where the old copies were stacked.
‘And Mr Renfrew said it was a poor thing you’d sold the last of your shares in Wheal Leisure. I’ve never sought to ask you about it because – well, if you did not want to tell me, you did not. Perhaps you thought to save me worry. Or perhaps Mr Renfrew is mistaken and he was speaking of the first shares you had sold.’
Ross came back to the fire and stood beside it. ‘No, it is true. I sold them in early January. I made £675 for them, which showed a handsome profit on my investment. Of course we have not the income . . .’
‘Has all that had to go into Wheal Grace?’
Because she made it easy for him to lie to her, he could less than ever do so. ‘No. Only £75 of it. The rest I used in discharging a debt of honour . . .’
After a moment’s silence Demelza said: ‘Oh, well, I thought he would know, being in the mine himself. Ross, do you think that the beer we brewed last will be right to drink yet? The other is gone, and John I know favours a little with his supper.’
‘Tell him to try it. It should be fair enough. Demelza, I have wanted to explain about this for a long time but have not known quite the best way to do it. I was waiting in fact for a good opportunity, waiting for a time when it would no longer matter what I had done with the money. Instead the explanation comes on me when it matters more than ever.’
She looked thoughtfully at him. ‘It is your money, Ross. You must do with it as you please.’
‘Not entirely. My obligations are various. But one, in this particular, seemed above the others.’
Something in his expression gave her a hint of what was coming. She put down the thing she was sewing.
So he told her what he had done.
‘Sometimes,’ he ended, ‘one feels an obligation in one’s mind. Regardless of whether it is so truly or not, it seems a matter of conscience and so becomes one. I had induced Francis to sink his money in the mine. Now he’s dead and Elizabeth and Geoffrey Charles are penniless and alone. However indifferent a protection I am to you and Jeremy, I am alive and active – constantly doing what I can; I offer some sort of shelter from – from the wind. Elizabeth has none such. With this money they can do a great deal, tide over these first difficult years.’
‘Yes. I see that.’
‘Before Christmas, of course, I was in no shape to help anyone at all. But my unknown friend gave me the breathing space. And he gave me the idea that I might copy him. It was rash, but I needed – for my soul’s sake – to be free of the burden of the sense of obligation. Of course I was then relying on the money from Trencrom continuing for the next few years.’
Demelza did not speak. She broke the cotton and stared at it with narrowed eyes.
‘With Trencrom’s money,’ he said, ‘we could spare this interest and capital. Without it we’re in difficulties again – or shall be in time. Fortunately there’s nine months of the year still to go. But I repent my generosity, and unhappily so must you also.’
She began to thread her needle again.
‘Do you blame me?’ he asked.
‘Of course not. Not for myself, I don’t. I am not so sure for Jeremy. But then ’tis done, and no good will come now of talking of it.’ She hesitated, pushing her dark hair away from her forehead as if it was some unwelcome thought. ‘Do you think Elizabeth is in so much need?’
‘I think she was. Why?’
‘Well, I have heard that George Warleggan is being very obliging to her.’
‘I’ve no doubt he would be if she would let him. But she will not. Who spoke to you of it?’
‘Sir Hugh Bodrugan.’
‘Has he been here again?’
‘Yes, he came to call one afternoon last week. He was passing, he said.’
‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘I forgot. He wanted for us to go to the Meet at his house last week. I said we had another engagement because I knew you would not go.’
He bent to light his pipe, but the mouthpiece would not draw so he knocked out the tobacco and began to fill it afresh. He was surely the last person now to complain either at someone’s fancy for his wife or at her failure to tell him of a passing visit. But perhaps the irritation he felt rose not from Sir Hugh’s visit but from what he had said.
‘One of George Warleggan’s ambitions, long before Francis died, was to drive a wedge between them and me, and the easiest way to attempt it was by befriending them. Once he succeeded, and both Francis and I suffered as a result . . . In trying to help Elizabeth now, he is only continuing the same tactics. Although that wasn’t my aim in arranging for her to get this money, it does have the effect of strengthening her hand against him.’
‘Yes,’ said Demelza, and went on with her sewing.
On the twelfth of March, which was a Tuesday, Captain Henshawe came to see Ross in the library, where Ross was working. There was a peculiar expression on his face, and he carried a small sack which he put down on the floor while he took off his hat and wiped his forehead.
‘You’re hot?’ said Ross. ‘You’ll soon cool off here. There’s a draught that’s been mislaid from January blowing under the door. What’s that, the last of our coal?’
Henshawe said: ‘Young Ellery’s just come up and brought this bag with him. I thought you might like to see what was in it, sur.’
He emptied the bag on the floor. There were about a dozen pieces of quartzose rock, not noticeably different from a thousand others that had been mined and crushed in the last twelve months. Henshawe’s eyes travelled curiously over Ross’s face as Ross looked at them.
‘Pick ’em up,’ said Henshawe.
Ross did so, weighed one or two in his hand, put them on his desk, tried a couple more. Very heavy.
‘What is it – lead?’
‘Tin.’
‘What sort of proportion?’
‘Goodly. There’s a thin streak or two of copper, as you can see, and some siliceous minerals. It’s in that main shaft we’ve been sinking below the sixty fathoms. Plumb light-blue killas. They come on it today.’
‘You’ve been down?’
‘Yes. They’ve been driving through granite and hard black killas, as you know; but they passed out of that yesterday, following the eastward split of the old copper lode, as we decided. There’s been tin mixed with it for twenty fathoms, but never in much quantity, and the copper even poorer. Indeed, as you know, ’twas only just alive. This is the first time there’s been any rich indications.’
‘Is there any size to the thing?’
‘This is from a reg’lar bunch of ore, as you can tell by the weight. The lode is narrower than ’twas, and generally comby; but this bunch is six feet or more across, and we don’t know how deep.’
Ross tilted his chair back and stared at his desk. ‘I was in the process of closing the books of the mine. Saturday is the end of it. The infidels from Wheal Radiant are coming nearer to my price for the headgear. I have kept them waiting two days as a business tactic, but I shall send over tomorrow and accept.’
‘And this?’
Ross turned over a piece of the rock with his foot. ‘As we have spent eighteen months and all our money seeking copper, you can hardly expect me to become excited over the discovery of a small parcel of tin.’
‘From the look of it below, I should say it was worth a second thought.’
‘Do you want me to come down?’
‘Yes. I’d like for you to.’
‘Who found it?’
‘Ellery and Green.’
‘And they think they’ve discovered El Dorado?’
‘They’re keen enough, as you’d imagine. After so much wasted effort . . .’
‘In their eyes it appears much bigger than it really is, eh?’
&n
bsp; Henshawe said cautiously: ‘I’d like for you to see it before we say more about that.’
Ross got up and shut his ledgers. They went out and began to walk across the valley. Low grey cloud was blowing across the sun, and the thin smear of smoke from the mine chimney merged and blew away with it. Farther west, rifts in the shifting canopy showed distant sky, blue and pale-green and misty indigo. It was a quiet day and should have been mild, but some northern air had infected it and the wind was chill. The trees in the valley were still as black as mid-winter.
There had been silence all the way. As they neared the mine, Ross looked up at the slow, measured swing of the balance bob. Trevithick had said the engine would last fifty years, and no doubt he was right – given the opportunity. Ross could tell that Henshawe was quietly very interested in this discovery; but there had been so many bitter disappointments that in self-defence he would not allow himself to perceive any novelty in this one. And unless they had actually struck a bed of tin which needed the absolute minimum of further outlay, with a quick return for what was raised, there was no chance at all of keeping the mine in operation. In any case, tin was basically less profitable than copper, the ore being so much more expensive to extract at surface. There had been tin mines in this area before – Grambler had begun as one in the seventeenth century – and there were still a few alluvial workings, two-or three-man concerns eking out an existence; but he had never seriously thought of finding or mining the mineral in any big way. And the tin industry was still in a depressed condition; no one would be willing to finance an exhausted copper mine on the strength of a few samples of rock.
They went down, and Ross inspected the find. Work had stopped in other parts of the mine – only the great engine still patiently sucked water out of the sump – and men were more or less taking it in turns to pick at the rock, weighing this lump and that in their work-seamed hands, bending over it and talking and nodding and comparing experiences of the past. Most of them were stripped to the waist, for the heat had much increased in the last twenty fathoms. Ross took the pick himself and worked away for a few minutes, while Ellery stood beside him pointing out the breadth and inclination of the lode.