The Angry Tide (13 page)

'But if you're seen
...
for God's sake go!'

'No
...
I think I'm safe tonight. George would not risk a major scandal in front of all his fine guests. Not that I want any trial of strength - ever.' Someone moved a candle into
the
window of the lower room, and the light fell on his face, showing up the bony places, the trace of scar, the heavy eyelids. 'Nor did I seek word with anyone; but when you came out I could not resist speaking to you.'

She said, relaxing a littic: T came - just for a breath of air.'

'Is Geoffrey Charles here?

'Yes. He was in the garden just now. But I pray you, don't attempt to speak with him tonight.'

'I've no such intention. I saw him in London.'

'Yes, he
told me. It - pleased him greatl
y.' She fingered her scarf. 'No doubt you found him very worldly-wise, Ross.
Blast.
In one so young.'

‘I
t means nothing. Francis was the same. He'll grow out of it.' 'Do you think he's like Francis?'

Ross hesitated, measuring the tactful answer. 'In the better ways, yes.'

There was a burst of laughter from an open window, and someone moved in front of the candles. 'Valentine?' Ross said.

'He's well. Now please go.'

'And yourself and George? I must ask that.'

‘
You've no right
...'

'After our conversation of a couple of years ago
...'

'That was not of my seeking. It should never have happened.'

'But it did.'

She said: 'Then forget it. Please forget it.'

'Gladly. If you'll tell me how I may. It has been unquiet on my mind ever since.'

She hesitated. 'It is over - done with.'

'I'm
very
glad. For everyone's sake. The suspicion
..

'Will only rise again if it lias cause. Such as your coming here now -'

'Ma-am, is this gentleman annoying you?' A light voice, affected but not at all feminine.

A man came out of the shadows. A tall etiolated man with the short hair of a soldier, tight smiling lips and the palest of blue eyes that looked almost sightless in the shadowy light. He wore a suit of cream satin, with scarlet buttons and a scarlet neckcloth. It was impossible to tell how much, if anything, he had overheard.

'Oh!' said Elizabeth, and paused a moment and swallowed. 'Not -
not at all. No, it is not so at all.'

Ross said to the man: 'Why should you suppose it likely?'

The newcomer whispered: 'Sir, I have not the honour of your acquaintance'

'Capt - Captain Ross Poldark, my cousin,' El
izabeth said. 'Captain Monk Adde
rley.'

'Your servant, sir. I confess when I saw you talking to Mrs Poldark I took you for a threadbare troubadour who had come to sing outside our windows on this pleasant night and was being dismissed without his proper
pourboire.'

'I sing ill,' said Ross, 'and accept
pourboires
with even less grace'

'That's a pity. I always accept what women have to offer, on principle'

Elizabeth said to Adderley: 'Come, we must go in. The ladies -the
other
ladies - will be missing you.' When he did not move she took his arm.

'Stay,' said Adderlcy. 'The name Poldark means something to me. A
re you not in the House?' 'I am’
said Ross.

'A new member?"

'That is so. I don't recall having met you there.
’

'Nor is it likely. I attend so sel
dom.' Monk Adderley laughed gentl
y, a melodius but manner sound. 'They are all so tedious, those old men, and they take themselves seriously, which is almost the worst fault a gentleman can have.'

'Almost
the worse,' Ross agreed. 'Good night, Elizabeth.'

'Good night.'

'Your name came up in some connection,' said Adderley. 'Some light connection. I don't remember precisely how. I belong to Lord Croft, by the way. Who owns you?'

'No one owns me,' said Ross.

'Well, damn it, my dear, you sit in someone's interest? These Cornish boroughs are as rotten as a basket of bad eggs.' 'Lord Falmouth's interest,' said Ross.

'Ah, well, then. And are you not one of the eggs, eh? That's what I mean. Call and see me sometime when you're in Town. Everybody knows where I live. We'll throw a dice together.'

'Thank you,' said Ross. 'I shall look forward to that. With anticipation.'

As he turned
away he did not catch Monk Adde
rley's aside to Elizabeth, but he supposed it to be derisive.

When he got home Demelza was waiting up for him in the parlour, though she was making some pretence of sorting through Clowance's frocks. She was wearing a tight-waisted frock of navy blue lawn, with a paler sash. Her hair was down, but she had trimmed it a few days ago so it only just reached her shoulders, 'You're abroad late,' Ross observed.

'Clow
ance is bursting out of cvcryth
ing. She'll become a real roly-poly if we're not careful.'

'Wait another couple of years until she begins to grow upwards; then she'll be as thin as Jeremy.' He pulled off his neckcloth and frowned at himself in the mirror.

'Have you been fishing again, Ross?'

'It could be so described. In troubled waters.'

The ribbon in one of Clowance's frocks was frayed.
Demelza
picked at it. 'Have you been to see Elizabeth?'

'No exacdy. I went to look at my old home - to
see
what sort of company the Warleggans were entertaining, that there should be so much fuss and talk about it. Naturally I didn't go in.' 'It was - risky, Ross.'

‘
Not risky. I know the secret ways too well. Francis and I used to explore the shallow tunnels together, those that had been made and abandoned by men dead before Queen Anne.'

'But
...'
she hesitated, 'it is not what you would have done a year ago.'

He looked at her. 'No
...
No
...
Although I've had several clashes with George since he came to live at Trenwith, I have never sought them. The last was when Drake was arrested
- and then, of course, the electi
ons of last year
...'
He nodded slowly. 'But you're correct in supposing I was willing to live and let live. There was room for us both in the world -
I
thought. And still do. I -
I
was seeking no clash, no encounter, going there tonight. It was just - as I said, an impulse to see
..,'

'And you saw?'

'A little. I found Elizabeth walking alone in the garden and spoke to her. She was not over-pleased to see me - and that is understandable. Her marriage to George seems to have become peaceable at last. So she says, but not why. One can only speculate why and hope that it is permanent. Clearly she wants it to remain so - and uncomplicated by jealousies - however unfounded - that might spring to life again from his discovering mc on his property, talking to his wife.'

'And you, Ross?'

He shrugged a little impatiently. 'I've told you - explained to you -too often. There's nothing new to add.'

She folded the rest of the frocks and stood for a moment knee on chair, heel raised.

Ross said: 'But another man came on us when we had spoken a few words. I've forgotten the name Elizabeth gave him, but he made the back of my hair stand up.'

Demelza came across to him. 'It's the wrong sort of thing to do, Ross. Oh, I don't mean because of Elizabeth now. I mean because it's in the spirit of enmity, of - of challenge. You said a few years ago that we had all we wanted. You said - exactly - live and let live
...
Is it because I've failed you since then?'

He patted her hand. 'Perhaps we've failed each other - just a little anyway. But don't magnify this, don't blow it up and out of proportion - it was a single act of - of unreason, if you like. You have to face the fact - must have faced it long ago - that I am not always a reasonable man.
’

Demelza sighed. She could say no more to this. 'I hear you near drowned Jud last night by being unreasonable in another way.'

'Jud never even dowsed his pipe! He swims well enough and always has. But you should
have heard his language when we
pulled him in by the line like a stranded fish! And he'd kicked off his
boots -
he'd lost his
boots -
which made him most furious of all. There he stood with his bare toes sticking up and water dripping from him all ways, even from the brim of his hat, fairly frothing with indignation!'

Demelza said: 'I'll give him an old pair of yours.'

'What's worse,' Ross said, 'they've dubbed him with a new name today. They're calling him Jud Pilchard. I'm afraid he'll burst a blood-vessel in annoyance.'

'It is the small boys he doesn't like,' she said. 'They call after him from a safe distance. It was long enough before they stopped asking him about the Archangel Gabriel.'

'By the way,' Ross said. 'Jacka Hoblyn had a serious if respectful word with me later in the night. He wishes to know if I have any idea as to my brother-in-law's intentions towards his daughter.'

'And what did you say?'

'That I had no idea. Drake has seen Rosina four times, I believe, but if he has
no serious intentions Jacka doe
s not want him to keep other eligible young men away.'

'There
are
no other eligible young
men! If Jacka's not careful he'll spoil everything! Drake's not one to be hurried or driven.'

'Well, it's time for bed. Past time.' Ross snuffed the candle above the window seat and drew back the curtains, opened the window to release a moth, shut it again. Demelza put out the other two candles, picked up the fourth and stood waiting for him, the door half ajar. The dickering light showed up her dark eyes and pale skin, the thoughtful expression, the velvet chair at her side with its foliate back, a half-empty glass of wine,
the
black bottle beside it. Conversation had moved rapidly, as it was wont to do, from the grave to the ridiculous. It was a saving grace in their relationship, but now it did not ameliorate enough.

She said: 'Ross
,,.'

'What?'

'No matter.'

He came to the door and put his arm round her as they went out. They climbed the stairs together, companionable, it seemed, at one.
But there was an ache in her. ‘I’ve failed you’
she'd said. 'Perhaps we've failed each o
ther,' he'd replied - not light
ly, but almost as it were in passing, as if it must be an observed and accepted fact between them. Perhaps it must. Perhaps he was right. But it should not be so said. It should not be so said.

Chapter
Ten

The eighth of October, which wa
s a Monday, dawned for Sam Carne
much like any other day. He rose early, prayed on his knees for half an hour, worked in his garden as soon as it came light, and then had a sparse breakfast before walking across to Wheal Grace, with his tools on his shoulders and his croust, which today was bread and cheese with a piece of cold boiled bacon, in the pouch of his jacket.

He went down with Peter Hoskin, and they reached the 40-fathom level and stooped off through the rough muddy passages and the dripping echoing caverns to the same old tunnel they had been working away at two years ago. Now that the south lode was proving deceptively thin, Ross and Henshawe and Zacky Martin had decided to try again to link with the old Wheal Maiden workings. They had considered the risk of unwatering the old mine, but Maiden had always been known as a particularly dry mine, being on a hill; and various adits still drained away into the Mellingey Stream. Also, before Wheal Grace, another mine had been begun on
the hill and all the slime and l
eads from these excavations had been emptied into Maiden and filled up the main shafts. Ross said he thought there was more likelihood that Sam would start working upwards, as became a religious man, and finally force himself up through the floor of his new chapel.

Some hope had been raised by the recent discovery of two or three pockets of promis
ing ground near the end where th
ey were working; and before they came to their usual sp
ot they passed two couples, Elle
ry and Thomas, and the youngst
ers, Aaron Nanfan and Sid Bottre
ll, who were stoping these small lodes. Once they got to the end there was a fair amount of ground to go at, for they had used a charge last tiling before leaving yesterday. They stripped off their shirts, folded them on a convenient piece of rock and began to work.

Peter Hoskin was a great chatterer. He talked whenever Sam was near enough to hear, and s
ometimes when he was not. Not th
at Sam minded; but today he didn't
listen. His mind was on Emma Tre
girls. Twelve months had gone by since Demelza had got her a position as a maid at Tehidy. More than twelve months. Sam had agreed to the year's separation, for he had no choice. But now the year was up. If he did not hear soon, should he write to her? But Emma could not read, and the thought of some other tweeny spelling out his love-letter was distasteful. He thought perhaps he should go over and ask to see her. Having been born nearby, he knew Tehidy like the back of his hand, but it was such an enormous house and one could hardly walk up to the front door and ring the bell.

He decided that that was what he would do, precisely that - or a side door anyway. He'd ask for a day off next week and visit his stepmother and his brothers. Perhaps he could persuade Peter Hoskin to come at the same time and visit
his
family. There had been an occasion - a sad occasion - when they had walked together on family business before.

The morning went quickly, and towards the end of it Peter's sharp eyes spied another streak of keenly ground almost over their heads. The other four were called up to examine it, and it was agreed that Zacky Martin should be invited to inspect it tomorrow to get his agreement that it was worth overhand stoping. Afterwards they all tramped back past the wheelbarrows and the picks and the hammers and the keg of gunpowder and the fuses and the rubble and the planks to a cooler corner, where they ate together.

It was a noisy meal, for they were lusty men, and the two youngsters seemed to enjoy the sound of their own voices, their laughter echoing and re-echoing round the cavern, two hundred and forty feet below ground level. In spite of his religion, for none of these men was a Methody, Sam was popular in the group. When he chose to be he was good company and once in a while could be persuaded to imitate the voices of other people, which he did well. Like children, once they'd enjoyed an experience, they wanted it exactly the same again, and it didn't matter that Sam had
imitated Dr Choakc or Jud Paynte
r last week; he had to do it again.

So there was a lot of laughter that day, especially about Jud's fishing expedition and what Prudie had said. Then it sobered a bit as they talked of the big party the Warleggans had had and the food they'd eaten and the liquor drunk: Char Nanfan and others had been asked to go and help, so they knew all about it. Then Ellery began to tell of Tholly Tregirls's bulldog; but by then it was time to get back to work.

It was an hour later that Sam took his pick out of the relatively soft ground he was attacking and found the end moist. At first he thought it an ordinary leakage of water such as might occur at any time. Then he bent forward so that the candle in his hat showed up where his pick had been. A little rill of water was escaping into the tunnel.

'Peter!' he said. 'Come here! Look at this!' Peter was just pushing the barrow away, but the urgency of Sam's voice made him set it down and come back. He stared. 'God and his angels!" he said. While they watched the rill had doubled in size, 'You'd best go back. Go back warn those others. Get out of here!' 'Yeh, but d'ye think -'Go on. Hurry! Get 'em up to grass!'

Water was coming now as if out of the spout of a thin drain pipe and shooting three feet from the rock. Every second the aperture was enlarging. It looked as if they had found Wheal Maiden, and it wasn't dry after all.

They were at forty fathoms and must have struck the lowest tunnels of Maiden. If these excavations had not drained away, a great quantity of water might have built up in this part of the old mine, through the shafts and tunnels, almost up to surface level. And now at last it had been granted an outlet.

Not stopping to grab his shirt or his tools, Sam ran back after the others, shadows lurching as he ran, with the water pursuing him and gurgling about his ankles. Less than a hundred yards from where they'd been working a winze, or underground shaft, had been driven to the level below, where both the valuable lodes of tin were being worked. Fifty yards beyond that was the first air adit with a wooden ladder as far up as the 20-fathom level and a tunnel beyond.

Sam caught them up in the cavern where they had had their crous
t. 'Go up!' he shouted. 'Warn 'e
m up there!'

He began to climb down to the lower level, shouting as he went. Before he was half down a wall of water fell on him knocking him against the side of the ladder. Half drowned, half stunned, he fought for the next rung and the next and found himself at the bottom. The water was already roaring in its fall, like thunder. Because the winze had been driven three fathoms deeper than the next levels he was able to jump out of its way and gain a brief lead. But at the rate the water was falling it would fill the bottom of the winze in two or three minutes.

He began to grope and run along
the
tunnel, which was narrow here and dark. He had lost his hat and therefore his candle and it seemed minutes before he stumbled over a barrow and broke into a cobbly gunnis and thence into a vaulted chamber where tiny points of flickering light showed where the miners were working. The lights were like glow-worms, but yellow instead of green. As he came in there was a brief explosion and a wafted pungent smell of dynamite, where men had set off a charge.

He began to shout, to shout at the top of a voice trained for prayer meetings; but no revival in the great
We
sleyan amphitheatres had brought him to such a vehemence as this. Work stopped; the men nearest to him downed tools and came back to him.

However reluctant some of them might have been to receive his Message above ground, they took in this one very quickly indeed; miners live in constant danger: fire, falls and flood are their greatest fears, and Sam spoke of the last. In seconds they had dropped everything and were pushing and filing back
the
way he had come, into the narrow tunnel which was their only way of escape. He went on, shouting his warning to the furthest away. But they came quickly too; no need to convince them, only to say the word; he passed them by, every one, warning them of the flood they'd have to face, of the danger of the deep well that by now would have been created by the sump of the winze: that to try to climb the way he had come down would be suicide: they must swim across the winze to the north tunnel on
the
other side, where the gro
und rose slightly, and fight th
eir way up it till they reached the main shaft. If they reached that they were probably safe - though one of them must warn the workers on the northern lode.

Soon the cavern was empty and dark: Sam cast his eyes around it -no one remaining - then he followed in the wake of the last candle. He had gone no distance before he was in swirling water up to his waist, then to his armpits; the struggling men ahead of him made the water rise higher by the displacement of their bodies in the confined space. Air was short as water rose - pockets of it seemed to explode in his ears. The danger was the winze: men could not swim across more than perhaps two at a time: as he reached it be bumped against the man in front of him: there were more than a dozen waiting to take their turn, and the water pouring down from above was now carrying with it stones and planks of wood and any rubbish that it could sweep along. To swim into and through that waterfall,
with only a half confidence th
at the tunnel at the other side would offer them any real escape, needed nerve and determination. One man funked it and decided to try the ladder up the winze. He got about twenty feet and then fell with a great explosion into the water, just missing one of the swimmers, and was lost to sight.

'The Lord is my light and my salvation,' shouted Sam, his voice carrying above the uproar. 'Whom then shall I fear? The Lord is the
strength of my life; of whom th
en shall I be afraid?'

Five were left - then four, then three, then two, each one submerging and beginning the swim under water to minimize the weight of the waterfall from above. Then it was his turn.

'The Lord is my light!' he said to himself, took a deep breath and sank his head into water that was already up to his shoulders. The thump on his back told him he was under the waterfall. The distance was nothing - ten strokes, but at the other side he came on legs, flailing in his face; was the other tunnel blocked with men or was it in fact
lower
in the water to begin? Were they just kicking and drowning? His blood was pounding and his lungs heaving. A foot caught him in the chest and kicked him further off. He stroked his way cautiously back, surfaced now, taking a grateful breath, for the waterfall was at the other side of the winze. A man was floating face down; he caught his hair and pulled him towards the place where the beginning of the next tunnel ought to be. But it was pitch dark and he was no longer sure.

Then a voice, echoing in the dark. He made for it. 'Sam - is that Sam? Where's Bill?'

His groping foot caught on the edge of the tunnel, a hand grasped his and pulled; behind him he held on to the hair. Men were shouting now further up. He came to his feet, banged his head against the roof of the tunnel, water floated into and out of his mouth; his nostrils were just above the water. He held on to the hand.

The hand began to pull. They'd formed a chain. The ground must be rising gently. But as the tunnel rose, so did the water, so that step by step they were no better off. Someone in front must have stumbled, for he heard a choked cry and a splash and commotion; but presently they moved ahead again.

The ground rose abruptly by about a foot and mercifully the roof rose as well, so that Sam was head and shoulders clear. Distant from them, the way they were going, was a faint glimmer in the utter blindness of the dark: someone from the north lode, maybe, had come to help.

Sam shouted at the man in front of him:
'Can ye give me a hand. Bill -I
think tis Bill - is in a bad way.' They heaved the unconscious man over on his back and supported his head above water. It was probably Bill Thomas, but you couldn't be sure. Sam didn't even know who was helping him. They got the man on to Sam's back and proceeded again, step by step. Here and there the water deepened or the tunnel roof was lower, and Sam had to put his face into the water so as not to scalp the unconscious man on the rock roof above him.

The light grew nearer. It might not mean everything in the way of safety but it meant eyesight.

Sam had forgotten that a longish excavation had been stopped just near the main shaft, but now he saw candles bobbing on the other side and realized there was another swim ahead. He and his helper -it was Jim Thomas, Bill's brother - launched themselves together and began to ferry their burden across. At the other side was Zacky Martin, who had come down at the alarm, and a half dozen others, up to their waists, crowding the narrow tunnel ahead. Sam and Jim were hauled out of the water and Bill taken from them.

Now it was better - now they were through the worst - words and news exchanged - who was missing? - how deep was it in the sout
h lode? - the north was four fee
t or more but everyone was coming safe out of that. There'd only been two men prospecting still deeper - one of them had got up, somehow clinging like a monkey, the other had been swept away; but there was a chance he might come up through one of the old winzes still further north. Who was left behind in the south? None, said Sam. Or if there is they'll not come out alive. Then we'll best go up, said Zacky bitterly. There's naught more to do down here.