Magnus Merriman (19 page)

Kinluce is an East Coast constituency. Predominantly an agricultural district, it contains two little towns, one of which, called Kingshouse, is the market-town of the surrounding neighbourhood, and has also a few small industrial interests: the other, called Kinlawton, is a health-resort and the home in their retirement of many officers in His Majesty's service, Civil Servants, and elderly ladies. North of Kinlawton there are several fishing-villages, and on the western border of the county, that abuts on a mining area, there is a fringe of colliers' hamlets.

The constituency has a reputation for keen thinking and a fierce interest in politics. At this time, however, there was such confusion in the general situation that even the most ardent of political amateurs were handicapped by a certain dubiety as to what their parties stood for. There were many critics, indeed, who maintained that politics had lost reality, and that it was impossible to tell one party from another except by the accent of their speakers: and even this difference was rapidly vanishing owing to the number of wealthy and aristocratic people who, during the Socialist Party's tenure of power, had announced their conversion to its principles.

The Socialist Prime Minister, Mr Melvin McMaster, had held office for some two years. During that time the policy of his government had travelled so far to the right that now only the most bigoted Tories could discern the red hue of Socialism in its complexion, and not a few people declared that it was more Conservative than the Conservatives. Having completely failed to do what it set out to do it had much in common with all other post-war governments, and so orthodox a record of unachievement had given it a certain dignity. Its prime task had been to reduce unemployment, for the progress of civilization had brought into existence this curious state of affairs: that the world's work, which used to be of such huge proportions that no one could hope to do all that was required of him, had now so shrunk and dwindled as to be a rare and elusive treasure. Work, that was once a curse to mankind, blinding him with sweat and
torturing him with aches and pains, had now become a boon to be sought for and not found. And though the granaries and warehouses of the world were packed full of food and all kinds of commodities—owing to the benign progress of civilization—the world had grown so poor that it could not afford to buy them. Unemployment was therefore not that paradisal state which it might have been had provision been made—in the progress of civilization—for the distribution as well as production of commodities, and all the governments of the world were pledged to reduce it. Some, by methods considered unamiable in this country, had made a partial success of their endeavours, but all British governments had come to the conclusion that unemployment was due to cosmic embarrassments, planetary influence, the delayed invention of contraceptives, God's providence, and other matters over which they had no control. And therefore, the problem being insoluble, their only duty was to maintain the unemployed by charitable contributions until their
morale
had gone, after which it would be safe to neglect them.—It was found that three years on the dole was generally sufficient to break a man's spirit, so three years was declared the period for which the unemployed were entitled to relief.—The conversion of Mr McMaster's government to this theory was hailed as a triumph for Conservatism, and there were rumours on the wing that he intended, before long, to go to the country with a programme illuminating such a view, and plead with the electors to return, with him at its head, a National-Constitutionalist government prepared to maintain, against any odds, this truly wise and conservative policy.

Faced, then, with the prospect of a general election before the year was out, and also with the emergence of a new party, the political associations in Kinluce were taken aback by their sudden by-election, and found it difficult to decide what to do. For several days Magnus, who had taken up residence in the Grant Hotel in Kinlawton, was the only candidate in the field, and Captain Smellie was already prophesying that the election would be a walk-over.

By virtue of his greater political experience the Captain adopted a somewhat patronizing manner towards Magnus.
Their first few meetings were ill-attended, and Magnus said, ‘I'm afraid the electors aren't very enthusiastic about Nationalism.'

Captain Smellie smiled in a superior fashion and answered, ‘Now don't you worry about that. I've sized-up this constituency pretty well, and I understand the mentality of the people. They're not giving anything away, but I happen to know that you've made a very favourable impression. I've tapped a great many sources of information, and I
know
that the whole county is well-disposed to you.'

Captain Smellie had a rich purring voice, and he spoke with such confidence that Magnus was compelled to believe him, though so far as he was aware the Captain spent every day smoking a large pipe in the Committee Rooms and had not met a dozen electors all told. He carried with him a brief-case and a huge leather portfolio full of documents, pamphlets, Blue Books, and official forms, and these he would examine with frowning intentness, squinting so hard that he appeared to be reading two pages at once. Whenever Magnus asked what he was doing he would answer, ‘Planning the campaign, Merriman, planning the campaign. To work without a plan is mere waste of time. I've had considerable experience in business of this kind, and I know what I'm talking about. Now I think you'll find this little book on electoral law and procedure well worth your attention, and if you'll go away and study it I'll get on with
my
work. I must co-ordinate my sources of information.'

When a week had passed and still no other candidates had been adopted, Captain Smellie, purring contentedly, said, ‘You'll find my prophecy is coming true. You're going to have a walk-over, Merriman. I've been in touch with all the local organizations, and I have it on good authority that none of them can find a suitable candidate.'

Unfortunately for the Captain's reputation as a prophet, the Socialists, on the very next day, announced their adoption of Mr Robert Nimmo as a candidate, and two days later the Conservative Association chose as their nominee a Mr Gatwick Buchanan.

Captain Smellie said, ‘I thought as much. They were trying to pull the wool over my eyes. They're frightened
of us, Merriman! But they can't deceive me. I had a very good idea of what was going on all the time—and I don't think that either of their candidates will cut much ice in Kinluce.'

It was true that neither Mr Buchanan nor Mr Nimmo were ideal candidates. The former was a recently converted Liberal—the Liberal Party was so diminished in numbers and authority that many truly patriotic people, realizing the folly of adhering to its principles when there was no chance either of putting their principles into practice or themselves into office, had resigned from it to join either the Conservatives or the Socialists, sacrificing their personal inclinations with the cheerful alacrity of patriots and practical men—and though a majority of the Kinluce Conservative Association was satisfied with Mr Buchanan's newly-acquired probity, there was a minority that shook their heads over his Liberal past, and suspected that his Conservatism was lukewarm. And all the remaining Liberals in Kinluce naturally detested him for his recusancy.

Mr Nimmo, on the other hand, was a lifelong Socialist, but his creed was far too extreme to have the approval of Mr McMaster and his Cabinet, and Mr Nimmo was hard put to it to reconcile his own interpretation of Socialism with the practice of a Socialist Government. He suffered a further handicap in that he had previously worked as a miner in West Kinluce, and many of his early associates were so jealous of his advancement that they would certainly refuse to vote for him although he preached the creed which they protested.

With three candidates in the field the political atmosphere became fairly lively, and the county was already well sprinkled with bills and posters, in a variety of colours, that exhorted the electors to vote for Nimmo, Buchanan, or Merriman. Magnus toured the constituency in a hired motor car, addressing small outdoor meetings by day and small indoor meetings at night. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he toured the county with the intention of addressing such meetings, for it often happened that when they arrived at a village they discovered that the meeting had been advertised for the following night, or the preceding night, or not advertised at all. For these mistakes Captain
Smellie blamed his sub-agents, Mr Boden and Mr Bird, and protested that no one, not even Napoleon, could efficiently conduct a campaign if he were unable to rely upon his subordinates. But he was not shaken by these reverses. He would say that Mr Boden and Mr Bird required discipline: that was all: and when they had been sufficiently disciplined they would do their work very well indeed.

‘And I know something about discipline,' he said with a hoarse laugh. ‘Ha-ha-ha! Leave them to me. I'll make them jump. As soon as my plans are complete this campaign will go like clockwork.'

It happened one night that they went to a village called Pitsharnie with great anticipation of a successful meeting, for Captain Smellie had reported that the villagers were already addicted to the principles of Nationalism and would undoubtedly be there in force to welcome their candidate. Magnus was in high fettle, moreover, because on the previous day he had addressed a large and attentive meeting in Kinlawton, and had dealt in excellent manner with half a dozen determined hecklers. He was accompanied to Pitsharnie by Miss Bracken from Edinburgh and by a Mr McCunn from Glasgow, and on the way he talked to them in tones almost as optimistic as Captain Smellie's.

But when they arrived at Pitsharnie they discovered that not a single poster adorned the village, not a handbill had been distributed, and the school in which the meeting was to be held was occupied only by the caretaker.

‘By God,' said Captain Smellie, ‘this is Bird's fault—or it may be Boden's. But I think it's Bird's. I'll give him hell for this. I'll give them both hell. This is the last piece of muddling I'll put up with. There'll be no more muddling after this, Merriman. Take that from me. I'll stand no more of it, and Bird won't readily forget what I'm going to tell him tonight.'

They returned to Kinlawton in some gloom. Miss Bracken and Mr McCunn were very annoyed at not being able to deliver the speeches which they had prepared, and they made many invidious remarks about the efficient manner in which other elections, at which they had assisted, had been conducted. Captain Smellie agreed with everything
they said, assured them that so small a disaster as this would not impair the chances of their candidate—which were excellent, he said—and reiterated his promise to deal in exemplary fashion with Mr Bird and Mr Boden.

Mr Bird and Mr Boden were drinking stout and tonic water in the Commercial Room of the small hotel where they lodged. Mr Bird was a wizened little man with a red nose and a thin straggle of black hair: Mr Boden was a hale and hearty fat man with false teeth which he usually kept in a little tin box, where he found them more comfortable than in his mouth.

Captain Smellie came in with an air of great determination and fixing Mr Bird with a converging stare—the angle of his squint grew more acute under the stress of anger—said brusquely, ‘Look here, Bird, how many bills and posters did you have distributed for the meeting tonight?'

‘Oh, quite a number,' said Mr Bird.

‘I asked you
how many
?'

‘Well, I think there were six posters and some handbills.'

‘But there were twenty-five posters and a hundred handbills in the parcel I sent you.'

‘There weren't nearly as many as that,' said Mr Boden in a loud bluff way.

Captain Smellie grew polite and ingratiating before his opposition, and his masterful frown gave place to a winning smile.

‘Oh, come,' he said, ‘I think you're making a mistake. They go into very small bulk, you know.'

‘Maybe,' said Mr Boden, ‘but there were only six all the same. And you were late in sending them as well.'

The Captain turned to Magnus. ‘You see what I have to contend with,' he said. ‘This is a very difficult constituency to organize, but when my plans are complete …'

‘But I saw no bills at all at Pitsharnie,' Magnus interrupted. ‘What happened to the six you did send?'

‘We put them up at Pitmidden,' said Mr Bird.

‘At Pitmidden?' exclaimed the Captain. ‘What the hell did you take them there for?'

‘Because you told me that you had a meeting there tonight, as well as at Pitsharnie,' said Mr Boden.

‘Good God!' said Captain Smellie. ‘Why wasn't I informed of this earlier? Merriman, I've never had to work with such a faulty organization before. How can my plans be carried out in face of such incompetence as this? I must go back to the Committee Rooms at once and set to work to repair this damage. But don't be disheartened, Merriman. You're winning! I have it on the best authority that wherever you go you make a most favourable impression. You're doing very well indeed.
Mine
is the harder part; I must go and make new plans immediately.'

‘Plans!' said Mr Boden contemptuously, and finished his stout and tonic-water.

His growing perception that Captain Smellie was hardly so competent as he pretended to be gave Magnus a lot of worry, but fortunately Mr Boden was both able and energetic, and the task of organization fell more and more on his shoulders. They were severely handicapped by lack of funds, but Mr Macdonell had written several times saying that Lord Sandune, an aged and wealthy peer who had dabbled in politics in the latter years of Queen Victoria's reign, was a recent convert to Scottish Nationalism and would shortly be appearing in person in Kinluce, not only to support Magnus on the platform, but to contribute handsomely to Party funds. Now came another letter from Mr Macdonell in which he stated that Lord Sandune would definitely be in the constituency early in the following week.