The Loving Cup (28 page)

particularly in the French ship, was exhausted; but they were afraid of being boarded by the excise men. One official vessel approached them as soon as it was light, but the word typhus was enough to scare it off for the time being. By the following morning they were gone.

So the landing at Gunwalloe. A gusty night but no sea. No moon either. (Stephen had planned to be back a month earlier during the previous lack of moon.) A few remote stars hiding themselves behind racks of cloud scarcely disturbed the shadows. The unloading went without a hitch. Although sdll very weak, Stephen insisted on superintending it all and in going ashore to see Nancarrow and
to arrange the settlement.

He was back just before daylight, when Andrew was anxiously waiting to put out to a safe distance. The
Lady Clowance
had already gone. Stephen grinned, his teeth looking ghastly in his drawn, bearded face.

'All
is well. Weigh anchor. If this breeze holds we shall be in Falmouth today.'

II

One of the lieutenants under Major Geoffrey Charles Poldark was a young man called Christopher Havergal, who had a reputation for wildness and eccentricity - a reputation which took some earning in an army where singularities ran high. He had only recently been transferred into the
43
rd, and he arrived on a black charger, in a blue frock coat and green silk waistcoat, with two servants, a Portuguese mistress on a donkey and his own silve
r eating utensils. He was just 21, rich and related to titl
es, though none was his, nor, he said, ever likely to become his.

Newly in command of a company, Geoffrey Charles's first instinct was to distrust him. He wanted officers who lived happily and high-spiritedly together but he did not want insubordination or stupid pranks. However, he perceived that under his somewhat pretentious mannerisms Havergal had a cool and astute brain and was not afraid to use it. Indeed he was not afraid of anything, either bullets or reprimands. And it seemed as if, working in the back of his mind, was an awareness that the war would soon be over and that he wished to savour every moment of danger while it lasted. If in the process he could in some way distinguish himself, so much the better.

The battle for Toulouse was undertaken by Wellington after the rest of the war had ended. He knew that Paris had surrendered, but not what had happened to the Emperor, and he feared that if he left Soult in possession of Toulouse Napoleon might join him there and, together with Suchet, form a large enough army to counter-attack and perhaps regain his capital. So while the news was spreading throughout England that Napoleon had at last been forced to abdicate and that the Senate had decreed his deposition and the return of the Bourbon king, the Peninsular Army set about one of its most daunting tasks. Protected on three sides by flood water and dominated by a ridge to the east from which Soult outgunned the British by two to one, Toulouse and its defences withstood and repelled three fierce attacks. In the second of these the Monmouthshires were deeply involved, for the two Spanish divisions, having proudly demanded that they should be given a share in the glory of the occasion, as proudly disobeyed orders and attacked too soon, whereupon they suffered a devastating repulse and the British light division was thrown into the battle to plug the gaping hole their retreat left. Geoffrey Charles had his horse killed under him and two bullet scratches that he did not notice until afterwards. Six of his company were killed and sixteen wounded.

It was after the cannonade had finished and while they we/e re-grouping and awaiting fresh orders that a horseman was seen galloping wildly across the flank of the hill immediately under the enemy guns. It did not take exceptional eyesight to see that he was wearing the uniform of an officer of the
43
rd, nor more than a moment or two longer to recognize the long blond hair of Lieutenant Havergal. He was riding at full speed, but twisting and turning and bending in his saddle as if unable to control his movements.

'Poor devil's half mad wi' pain!' a man grunted near Geoffrey Charles.

This wild riding went on for a full two minutes. The French did not fire, assuming him to be in his death throes. And so indeed it seemed; for at last the black horse came to a sudden stop, so sharply that the rider was flung out of the saddle and on to the ground, where he twitched once or twice and then lay still.

Too many had been killed for this to be an exceptional event, and eyes were straying off towards the horse and wondering if he could be safely caught and brought in; when the figure on the groun
d came sharply to its feet and
leapt into the saddle again. Then with his back to the enemy -and paying no regard for them at all, he trotted amiably back to his own lines. As he came nearer they saw he was holding a dead hare by its long ears.

'Caught him, by God,' he said as he came up.
I
thought he was going to get away.'

Nothing could be said then, because an order for a resumed barrage and slow advance came through, to coincide with and cover Cole's
4th
Division on their left; but in the evening when, after a series of bloody battles the British captured the whole ridge an
d had Toulouse at their mercy
and were settling down to tend their wounded and bury their dead, a message came through from the Commander-in-Chief.

'Major Poldark. You led your men well, but in the middle of a battle it is the French who are our prey. Your officers should not chase the wrong hare.'

As usual, nothing had escaped his eye. Geoffrey Charles sent for Lieutenant Havergal.

'Sir?' He came in casually, with an affected stroll, but straightened up well enough to salute.

'Havergal, your behaviour this afternoon did not please me, nor my superior officers who witnessed it.'

'Have they said so, sir?'

'Yes, they have.
He
has.'

'Oh
...'
He was a grey-eyed, good looking blond young man with something of the narrowness of countenance of
Valentine. In age it might become vulpine, but at present it was in the full glow of youth.

'Sir?'

'Yes?'

'Might I make a suggestion?' ‘
Wha
t is it?' 'With respect, sir.'
Well, go on.'

'That we send him over some of the soup?'

Geoffrey Charles did not allow any alteration of his own expression. 'On practical gr
ounds I would discourage the idea. The so
up would get cold.'

Lieutenant Havergal stifled a little smile.

'Might J make a suggestion ?' Geoffrey Charles said.

'Sir? But of course.' .
I
believe our casualties are about six hundred dead today. And about three thousand wounded. The war is
almost
over. Perhaps this battle need never have been fought. If tomorrow there is more fighting let your heroics be on behalf of some better cause.'

Havergal flushed. 'Sir.'

'Courage, Havergal, comes in a variety of forms, but should not be confused with bravado.' 'No, sir.'

'You understand?' 'Yes, sir.' 'Very well, then.'

As he was turning to leave Geoffrey Charles said: 'Oh, and Lieutenant Havergal.' 'Yes, sir?'

‘I
will have some of the soup.'

III

England was
en
fete.
The 'dreadful scourge' of Napoleon 'was at last removed'. No more war — except some trouble
3,000
miles away which did not really count. Church bells rang. Bonfires blazed. Crowds danced in the streets. Twenty years of menace had finally gone. Peace would soon be formally signed. Louis XVIII restored to his Throne, the Prince of Orange, after nearly two generations in exile, established in his new capital of Brussels, the conquering forces of Russia, Prussia and the rest concerned only with the end of all hostilities. Brotherhood would reign.

Cornwall rejoiced with the rest. Truro, Falmouth, St Austell, Penzance, each vied with the other in their jubilations. The weather just after Easter had finally relented, and spring came with a sudden rush, more like some subtropical country than the graduations of England.

Ross gave a celebration dinner out of doors, o
n the wasteland on which the attl
e from Wheal Grace had encroached; jus
t above Demelza's garden. The 2 p.m.-10
p.m. and the
10
p.m
.-6
a.m. cores were excused attendance at the two mines. Flushed with the success of Wheal Leisure, he ordered no expense to be spared, at least so far as food was concerned. (Nothing stronger than ale lest the party ran into trouble.)
The afternoon was fine with nothing worse than a stiff south-easterly breez
e, from which this land was partl
y sheltered by the rising ground beyond Mellin, and the party - over a hundred and twenty people turned up — was at its height when a young man rode down the valley. He was in semi-naval uniform which had obviously had much hard wear, his hair was bushy under his flat peaked cap and of a reddish tinge. Mostly screened by the hawthorn and the nut trees, which were only just showing traces of green, he had almost reached Nampara, before Ena Daniel on her way back to the feast with jugs in hand, smiled and bobbed at him; and when she had reached the feast told her mistress.

By the time Demelza arrived at the house he had dismounted.

'Andrew!' she said, smiling her pleasure and being kissed on the cheek. 'But that's some lovely! I didn't know you were
home
!
Look, we are giving a feast to celebrate the end of the war; why do you not join us? Everyone is here! Everyone, that is, except Jeremy, whom I heard from yesterday and is safe and well, thank God. When did you return?'

'Last Wednesday,' said Andrew. There was an awkwardness in his manner, which Demelza took to be uncertainty on his part as to the reception he would receive, having upset his father and mother so much in October.

'Are you well? You look well.
Thinner,
but some brown!'

'Yes, thank you, aunt, I
am. I came just to see you and
...'
He trailed off, gazing at the crowd on the common.

'Are you at Flushing?
...
I mean, are you staying with your father and mother?'

'Yes
..."

I
hope all is well between you again.'

Andrew half smiled.'My father has not spoken to me yet, but my mother has welcomed me in her usual warm, loving way. I am living at home at the moment, for - a particular reason.'

Demelza glanced at his clothes. 'And - has it been a success, what you went out to do?'

'The shipments of pilcha
rds? Oh, yes. I have made far
more money, we have all made money. So far as money is concerned
...'

He still seemed ill at ease, fumbled a finger round his neckband.

'Then do come and join us. Everyone will be so delighted to see you. Oh, here is -'

Clowance came running across the lawn, sleeves rolled up, hat clinging to the back of her neck by a ribbon.

'Andrew!'

There were the usual kisses and exchange of greetings. Clowance's questions ran on identical lines with those of her mother's, and they half led him across the lawn towards the feast. But then he stopped.

Red-faced he said:
I
have to tell you about Stephen.'

There was a brief silence. 'What is it?' said Clowance.

'Make no mistake,'Andrew said,'the venture has been a grand success. I can hardly believe it could have been so profitable. But on the way out two of the crew of the
Chasse Marie
were sick with spotted typhus. On the return four others took it. One of them was Stephen. One of them, Cyrus Pagen, died. The others recovered. But soon after we berthed in Penryn
,
Stephen was taken poorly again. I believe he caught a chill being up all night the day before we dropped anchor. He is ill in Penryn now. The apothecary says it is the putrid peripneumonia. I felt I had to tell you.'

Why,
said Demelza in her heart, but did not speak.

'How
ill ?' asked Clowance.

‘
The apothecary does not think he will live. Both lungs are choked, he says. It is a matter of a day or so.'

In the field they, were laughing at something. The women were laughing, coarse, hearty, likeable shrieks.

Andrew said: 'Believe me, I didn't know what to do. He keeps asking for Clowance. I was - pulled both ways. I know well enough that you have broken up. It is none of my business to ask why. It is none of my business to try to bring you together again. But when a shipmate of yours, who you've been on terms with for all of five months, seems about to
die
and says all the ti
me,
Clowance,
where
is Clowance
?
I
want
to
see
her
before
it
is
too
late
...
what do you say, what do you do ? If I have done wrong, forgive me -both of you
...'