The Loving Cup (40 page)

'Do you have more purchases in mind?'

'Purchases?'

'Of vessels. French prizes will soon dry up how.'

'Aye. That's true. But
...
there's a fine American brig, called
Adolphus,
lying in Falmouth at the moment. She was captured by a British frigate, the
Lyre,
condemned as a prize and brought in. She's been lying in the Roads two weeks now while her cargo's sold:
70
odd bales of deerskins,
50
of bear,
30
bales of cotton,
100
odd barrels of potash, a deal of logwood. The stuffs been going cheap; I would have bought more if I'd had the money, like.'

'Does the brig appeal to you?'

'Oh, she's handsome! Built in Baltimore. They're always fine boats from there. Seventy-two feet long, they say, by twenty-three in breadth. I suppose she'd displace about
150
tons. Very good rake to her; she'll travel fast through the water.'

'But you are not going to bid for her?'
I
shall go to the auc
tion; but she'll be way above m
y means.'

'What would she be likely to fetch?' 'Oh
...
tis difficult to say. But she's in prime condition -less than two years old.' 'A thousand pounds?'

'More than that. She's been well advertised.'

'Ah,' said George, and got up from his desk. He noticed that Stephen did not get up as well. He noticed that Stephen did not call him, sir. He strolled over to the further window, not because he wanted to move but because he wanted to think. Fortunately Cary was in bed today: he had left off his winter vests and caught a chill.

'Have you tried to raise accommodation money from Game's?'

'What for?'

'To enable you to bid for this ship?' Stephen was genuinely startled. 'No. It is not likely they'd aid me, for I have no security to offer.' 'You own the other vessels?' 'Yes.'

'Would they not be security?'

'I suppose. I'm not well used to the ways of finance.'

'Commerce and enterprise build on credit. Without it much of industry would shut down.'

'Aye.' Stephen got up now, for George was talking behind him. 'I've Andrew
Blamey
as me second man, but I'm taking no nonsense from him: he's got to toe
my
line. Then there's Bert Blount, who's a first-class seaman: learned his trade the hard way, would navigate anywhere; two or three others you could give a bit of authority to. Course you have to see what they make of it; but I reckon it is a - what do they call it? - nucleus'.' He was pleased with the word; it sounded important, learned, and he repeated it. 'Nucleus. Three vessels or four wouldn't be beyond me capacity to manage.'

'Including the
Adolphus?
'

'Oh, she'd be the
queen’

'King perhaps with such a name.'

Stephen laughed heartily. After a hesitant beginning this meeting was now going better than he had dared to hope. But he was still not sure of himself. Sir George had a fearsome reputation.

I
'm obliged to ye, Sir George, for giving me so much of your time. Can I take it, then -'

'Have you books?'

'Books?'

'Ledgers. Showing the profitability of your trade.'

'No. Till now I've been well content to keep all such details in me head.'

'Good enough to begin, but a mistake to continue. Could you produce them?'

'Well, there's little to produce so far. The outlay, the profits, the sharing of the profits. I could keep books if twas considered necessary to - to -'

‘
if my bank advanced you two thousand pounds to buy the
Adolphus,
it would be essential that ledgers be kept and that we should have access to them from time to time.'

Stephen took a deep breath. 'For that, Sir George, I'd be more'n willing to do whatever you say!'

Rain was trickling down the windows now. It was a humid day, with a sky as heavy as a soup tureen. The office was quieter and cooler with the windows and doors right shut.

George said: 'When is to be the auction?' 'Monday week.'

'We have a little time to draw up an agreement. The conditions will simply be the normal banking conditions on which such a loan can be made. You should have time to study them, and you should be free to accept or reject them as you think best for your own interests. Perhaps you could call in tomorrow and see Mr Lander. He will have the details.'

'Thank you, Sir George,' said Stephen, shaking hands. 'Thank you, Sir George.' And went out walking on air.

After he had left George went back to his desk and made some notes on the interview. Not that he needed them, but it was a matter of principle. Then he left the room and went into the private part of the house, where once so much had gone on and now so little went on. Elizabeth had lived here almost all the time and only paid the occasional visit to Trenwith — to see her parents - or to Cardew — to see his. With no parental complications, Harriet spent nine-tenths of her time at Cardew, and only came reluctantly to Truro where, unlike Elizabeth, she had few friends. So often the only person in residence was himself, for about three days of the week, and old Cary, who hardly used more than two rooms in all. The full staff was of course kept on for the occasions when George entertained business friends, and the house would be a little more frequently used in September when Ursula began school. Valentine of course would never be allowed to darken its doors again.

Very silent now, and the odour musty and stale. Smells wafted up from the river; there had
not been sufficient wind recentl
y to c
arry them away. Oh for the days
of Elizabeth
...

Sometimes he fancied he saw her still, heard her; she had a particular step, like no one else's. Doors creaked, floorboards as if some weight had passed over them. It was a long time now; she was long since bones and dust; like his father and mother and hers
...
as he would be soon
...
Morbid thoughts for a heavy afternoon. Must ignore them - brush them away. Cobwebs in the mind
...

Valentine's extraordinary marriage and the bitter quarrel following had deeply seared George. Ever since, he had been of raw and uncertain temper. To the frustration and anger of knowing of the failure of all his plans for Valentine's future was added the knowledge that he had lost his son. For a time his anger had di
s
guised the fact, but in the night he knew it to be true. He had, of course, never really loved Valentine in the way he loved Ursula — not at least since Aunt Agatha had poured her poisonous lies into his ears -but since Elizabeth's death he had fully accepted Valentine as his true son. He had lavished, if not great affection, then many material benefits upon him. But possibly even by the age of six
,
damage had been done from which their relationship had not recovered. As Valentine grew up he seemed to grow into another Geoffrey Charles - deeply attached to his mother's memory, and, in thought or by implication, resenting his father. So that once or twice the old worms of doubt had stirred in George.

Now he allowed them a freer reign; though he found himself doubly uncomfortable in doing so, knowing that he was breaking the vow he had made when Elizabeth, having given birth to a second premature child, had unexpectedly died. He had sworn he would never doubt again, and whatever the provocation he must try to keep that oath.

He thought of the young man he had just shown out of his office, and wondered if he could explain to anybody his motives for helping Carrington. They were so contrary, so complex, even running counter to each other, like pleas of not guilty in a court of law. (I wasn't present at the scene of the crime, but if I
was
present I didn't do it.) How list his motives; how explain them without sophistry even to himself?

Firstly, Valentine's defection had left a larger void than he could have foreseen. That reluctantly one had to admit. The loss of his only son — the only person left to carry on the Warleggan name - lost not in war, not from accident or disease, but by
marriage
- was a near mortal blow. Of course at some far future date the rift might be partly healed. But not for a very long
time
. Too many things had been said which could never be unsaid. And George's anger did not diminish, it grew every time he thought of it. The deliberate duplicity, the cold hostility infuriated him. And it had humiliated him in front of other people. Harriet had not laughed but he had thought he detected amusement in her eyes. Humiliation was something he could never endure.

Well, what had this to do with Stephen? Superficially nothing. But injured pride can sometimes find strange objects to assuage it. Stephen for Valentine? Of course not. But a sort of gap was there and could be filled. Nor was it impossible that Valentine, observing things from afar, would be irritated to see Stephen receiving favours that might have been his.

Secondly, Stephen had married a Poldark, and it might also anger the Nampara Poldarks to see their son-in-law working with and for their old enemy.

Thirdly, Stephen's wife was Clowance Poldark. George had never touched her, except three times to shake hands, and never expected to do more; but in the event of something coming of this, he would certainly see more of her; might even see more of her than her own family.

Fourthly, if Stephen became difficult, egotistic, tried to push in ways George opposed, or attempted to interfere in matters that did not concern him, it would be not unagreeable to be able to bankrupt him at will.

Fifthly, George's other great disappointment of the summer—Mr Rose's death - had left him no less determined to keep the coach robbery in mind; and perversely, because nothing could be proved, he felt an increased conviction that Stephen Carrington had been a part of it. There was something swaggering and blustering about the sailor which fitted well with such an audacious robbery.
And
there had been a naval lieutenant taking part in it. Was it not typical of him to play such a role? Perhaps there never
could
be proof now. But a closer association, particularly where it involved money, might still provide evidence, for or against.

On the whole George did not regret his generosity to the young man.

III

And the young man, when he
returned home, was full of his
success. He told it all to Clowance over hot scones which she had baked for his return.

He ended: 'So you see I was
right,
wasn't I, him inviting us that night
was
a sign that he wished to be a friend! I'm glad I went to see him now, Clowance, I'm glad I went and didn't just write; twould not've been the same. By God, it really means I shall be a shipowner! Tis hard to credit. In just the twelvemonth. Three vessels, if not more! We'll call it the Carrington Line!'

Clowance said: 'Watch tomorrow, won't you Stephen?

Read very carefully whatever agreement he puts before you. Don't think I'm not excited for you — for us -; but you see, though I have never disliked him personally, he has this reputation in Cornwall, always for getting his pound of flesh.'

Stephen stared at her. 'Maybe it's a sort of reputation to be proud of! Pound of flesh has a nasty meaning but it may cover no more than being a good business man and expecting others to be the same. There's too much laziness and slovenliness in the world. Maybe it's just that George Warleggan has no time for neither; and if that's so I could scarce blame him. Oh, I know your mother and father think harshly of him — and Jeremy too I believe - but the most of that was no business matter at all. Twas to do with your father and Elizabeth, George's wife, and your mother and many little quarrels over the years. That is not business, that is - well, jealousy and dislike and personal feuds which have naught to do either with you or with me. Why, if I had to choose
...'
He broke off.

‘
if you had to choose?'

He had been about to say that he would rather be a wealthy merchant and banker like George Warleggan than a small landowner and mine owner like Ross Poldark; but he had the good sense to stop in time.

if I had to choose I'd rather be thought a hard man in business sooner than a soft.'

'But
fair.
Looking at other people as human beings not as cogs. My father says that is George's wrong way.'

Stephen spread a large pat of butter on his scone, then watched it begin to melt before he took a bite.

I
don't think you'd get far in the sailing world if you did that. I know it is only human beings banding together as crews that can make it work
...
But you got to be hard, because that's the way the world is and that's the way the sea is
...
All the same - all the Same, if you have a rich banker as a friend you don't have to do everything the way he does. So long as you turn in the profit, that's all that counts.'