The Black Moon (15 page)

Will Nanfan was a big man with fair
hair greying and thinning, who
kept some sheep, on his smallholding and eked out a living by this and other means. He was an uncle of Jinny Carter and the husband of the tall blonde Char, whom Jud Paynter had once lusted after. He called to see Ross one evening
with news of a, contact he had made in Roscoff, one Jacques Clisson, a merchant who travelled the peninsula buying rip lace and silk gloves to bring to the port for sale to the English traders. He knew as much about affairs, said Nanfan, as anyone you could find who would be prepared to open his, mouth for money. According to Clisson there were six or seven hundred English in prison in Brest, and a few at Pontivy and La Force, but by far the largest number were at a place called Camp-air -though in the queer French lingo it was spelt Q-u-i-m-p-e-r. There there were three or four thousand English, of all sorts and conditions, women and children, merchant seamen, matelots, officers, the sick and the well, in one enormous convent, which had been turned into a prison. According to Trencrom's map, which Nanfan had brought along, Quimper was only a few miles, front the Bay of Audierne where the Travail had foundered, so the chances were that if there were any survivors they would have been taken there.

Nanfan had asked Clisson what information he could get about names of ships, prisoners, and officers in particular, and had offered fifty guineas for a full list of the names of officers saved from the Travail
-
if any. Clisson had said he would do what he could, but that it was dangerous work and might take time.

Ross straightened up from the map. `Did this man give any idea of how the prisoners were being treated?'

Not well. Bad, i' fact. Jacques says tedn the ordinary folk, tes the rabble that's got the upper hand. Among that sort there's little decency left.'

`How do you meet Clisson if you have no date fixed for your next run?'

`He belong to be in Roscoff every mid-week. Thursday to
Monday he's
on
his travels. Comes, home Monday night wi' 'is horse and his pack'orse and the
stuff he's bought. for England.’

'Does he speak English?'

'Oh, yes. Else I wouldn't understand'n.'

`I picked up a smattering of French when I was a boy, Will, going over with my father; but I would hardly think I know a word now. Do you remember my father?'

Nanfan smiled. `Oh, yes, sur, I mind him well. I mind seeing your mother once too, though that were long ago, when I was no more'n a tacker. She were riding a horse alongside of your father. She were tall. And thin, like
-
or thin then - wi' long dark hair.'

`Yes,' said Ross. `Yes. She had long dark hair ...' For a moment `he was a child of nine again and
a part of her sickness and her
pain. It was terrible the darkness then, and the crying woman, and the unguents and the balm and the scurrying feet. Illness and sad smells and an old nurse and the parchment colour of his father's face. Smoke casting a shadow, and the shadow was disease and death. He blinked and shook the image away. Now it was twenty-five years later and his wife and child bloomed and the corroding worm had gone from the house.

He said: `In those early days when I went across with my father as a boy, ours as you know was not organized as a business: we sailed to Guernsey only to stock up our own cellars with brandy and rum and tea . . . Even then the British government was trying to put a, stop to the trade at Guernsey. Roscoff is much the same run, I suppose?'

'No different. But Roscoff is rare and prosperous. Two new hostelries they're building; and there is English, Dutch, French merchants there, all doing a fine trade.'

`Not interfered with even by the Revolutionaries?'

`Not even by the Revolutionaries. Ye can stroll around in the town wi'out let or hindrance; but I reckon if ye was to stray far beyond its boundaries, then you'd be picked up soon 'nough.'

Will began to roll up the map. It made a crackling sound in the silent room. `Mind, tis a bit edgy in Roscoff. Everyone be there for the trade, but everyone d'watch everyone else. It is spy on spy, as ye might say. Men d'look over their shoulder at other men. Even women is on the squitch. We will need to go careful wi' Clisson, for if someone let it be known as he was having truck wi' the English gentry twould
be simple to denounce him -
that's what they call
it - denounce
him, and he'd be took to Brest and axed.'

Ross nodded. `So if I went over it would be better if I had some good plain business there, trading or the like, and then meet Clisson by accident?'

`It would be well advised. And clothed like one of us. Ye'd not be amiss then if you've the mind to come.'

`I'll see Mr Trencrom,' Ross said.

In 1760 when the meeting house at 'Grambler had been projected, after one of the great, Wesleyan revival meetings near, Charles Poldark, then a' stout, active, cautiously prosperous man of forty-one, had been approached to give a piece of land on which the little house could be built. Although disliking Methodism as he disliked any deviation
from the norm, and distrusting it as in a sense a rival to the authority of the squire, he was prevailed upon by his new wife, then only just twenty and already' the mother of his two children, to allow them a corner of land abutting on the straggling village of Sawle. Young Mrs Charles, although never admitting it to her husband, had as a girl heard Wesley preach, and had come near conversion herself.

Charles, always cautious, would not give the land but leased it on a three lives basis. However, on the bottom of the lease he wrote that `A new lease on a further three lives shall be granted free at the discretion of my successors'.

By the time the last of the three men died on whom the original lease had been based, it was 1790, and Methodism in Grambler had fallen as low as Bodmin church spire; but Will Nanfan's father, then still alive and one of the original founder-members of the Society, had remembered enough to take two other elders and call on Francis and ask for a renewal of the lease. Francis, preoccupied and unbusinesslike, had simply waved a hand at them and said: `Forget it: the property is yours.' After due thanks, old Nanfan had mumbled something about a deed and Francis had said, `Of course. I'll see to it.' He never had, but as he was so young there had seemed no need to press it.

Tankard, George Warleggan's solicitor, had been out from
Truro weekly since he took up residence, .establishing just where the boundarie
s of the Poldark property began
and ended, looking through old mining leases and generally tidying up the neglect of years. When any questions of rights came up, George had instructed that wherever there was doubt this should be firmly resolved but that Tankard was to err on the side of generosity. George had no desire to establish himself in the neighbourhood as a severe landlord, and indeed no need. He always paid his servants and his employees well; much above the average for the day: it cost so little extra, and for it he demanded and received good service with no nonsense and no sentiment involved. But he did dislike vague agreements, loose ends, untidy clauses, things understood rather than written down. He had a formidable, tidy and efficient mind and it did not appreciate inefficiency in others.

Often the cases were simple enough to decide without reference back, but one afternoon before he left to return to Truro Tankard said: `That Meeting House, Mr Warleggan, just on the edge of the village. Last week I saw they was rep
airing the roof, so I looked up
the documents that you have here and I found they was operating on an expired lease. This forenoon I called round to see them. There was the three of them there and I pointed out the situation anent the lease, whereupon the eldest of them, a man called Nanfan, said that when the lease expired four years ago the land had been gifted to them by Mr Francis Poldark. I asked them for the relevant deed, but Nanfan said this had been a verbal gift. Mr
Francis Poldark had simply said
: "You may have the land," and left it at that. Of the three men present on that occasion, two of them, including this Nanfan's father, have since died, so there be on
ly one witness to the event. I
said as I would refer the matter back to you.'

George looked at the map on the wall of his study which showed the boundaries and details of the estate. `That it? Yes. They even call it Meeting House Lane, I see. Well, it has been sanctified by time, I suppose. Draw tip a formal deed of gi
ft. Find someone responsible on
the other side to sign it. Let it be done properly.'

`Very, good. I'll attend to that next week.'

`Put a moment ... These are the dissenters who have been annoying us in church, aren't they? Odgers, this grub of a parson we have here, has been doing battle with them. He has forbidden them the church, and now he says they attend
service at Marasanvos
e and hold meetings in Grambler
while
the church service is on. Our church was three parts empty last Sunday.'

Tankard waited obediently halfway to the door.

George tapped the map. `Leave it. Let it lie in abeyance until next week. In the meantime I will see Odgers and get his views.'

Two weeks later George; went to Truro, partly on business, partly to see that their town house would be in all, ways
ready to receive them. Elizabeth stayed behind, attending to
all the minor businesses which require thought when one is moving for several months. In the evening about six a deputation of three men called to see her.

It was not a convenient time: she had, been busy all day and had had words with her mother, who was at her most tiresome. The elderly gentlefolk who had been engaged to look after the Chynoweths had left in July, and had not been replaced. So exacting was Mr Chynoweth,, that only the most needy would stay in such a situation
and so far she had turned down three new pairs of
applicants. It meant more work for the ordinary servants and more responsibility for Elizabeth. Also-today little Valentine had been sickly and fretful and she hoped he was not sickening for something. Yet she had lived in the district ten years, knew everyone in the village, and could not bring herself to turn them away without seeing her.

In fact, only two came
into the parlour; Tom Harry, who escorted them, thought three was a crowd, so the youngest member of the party, Drake Carne, had been told to wait in the kitchen. Of the two who came Elizabeth knew only one, the big middle-aged, highly -respected
Will
Nanfan, whose smallholding
ran
beside a corner of the estate; the other was a younger man, tall, tow-headed with a thin lined face that belied his youth.

They stood awkwardly before her
- it was difficult dealing with a woman but it seemed
their
only chance
-
they did
not know what to do with their
feet
or their hands until Elizabeth, smiling, told them to sit down. Then with some hand
-
twisting and thro
at-clearing they told her their
tale. When it was done and, she had all the information they could give her, she, said:

`You must appreciate that it is very difficult for me to interfere. I leave all
the management of the property
to my
husband; Mr Warleggan, whom you, should have seen instead. It would have been far; better, bec
ause he; could have given you a
considered answer.'

`We did ask for him last week, but Mr Tankard d'say he is too busy to see us.'

`Well, he is a busy man. I'll tell him you've called; but if this is his decision and not just the lawyer's then I cannot promise to alter it.'

'We thought,' said Nanfan, `as Mr Francis had give the land to us. Perhaps you could put it to Mr Warleggan that
-
well, it's fair and proper for we to keep it. If Mr Francis Poldark; hadn't said as we could have it-'

`Are' you sure he said that? Could there have been some misunderstanding?'

`Oh, no,
- ma'am, my father were quite sartin. And old Jope Ishbel d'say the same. Besides, in the first lease Mr Joshua Poldark say it is to be renewed.'

'At the discretion of his heirs
-
is that it?'

... Well, yes, ma'am.'

`Yes, ma'am,' put in Sam Carne quietly. `And the heir is Mr Geoffrey Charles Poldark, ma'am. And he be under age...
’

Elizabeth looked at the stranger. 'Are you an attorney?' Knowing well he was not.

`Oh, no, ma'am. A simple sinner seeking divine, grace.' `Well, you are rig
ht. My son is only ten. I and m
y husband
are his legal guardians. Whatever we decide we decide on
his behalf.'

`Yes, ma'am. And we ask your kind help. For in the saving of our house you will be doing God's handiwork and saving what were put up to the glory of King Jesus.'

Elizabeth half smiled. `I think there are some who would dispute that.'

`There are always folk as malign us, ma'am. Each day we joyfully ask God for His forgivene
ss of them.'

`I trust,' said Elizabeth, `that you will not have to ask His forgiveness of us.'

`I trust not
ma'am, for would be a sore blow to our connexion to lose this house when we have done no hurt nor harm to any man. Thirty-five years agone divine Jehovah put it int
o the minds of His faithful and
penitent servants to build Him this house, and this they did with their own hands. Ever since then it have been used for naught but the cleansing of the spirit and the holy worship of Christ.'

`Is not
the
church the proper place for such worship?'

"Indeed, yes, ma'am, but we must all
lovingly witness to God in our
daily lives, and a meeting place, where folk who has found salvation may mingle with they as is seeking it, is also a proper place to worship, saving your pardon. We go to church regular - all our society d'go to church reg'lar. Many, many of them go to church who'd never be seen in one else. We're all humble, rejoicing servants of the Lord.'

Elizabeth closed her book, and her fingers played with the fringe on the marker. She was tired and wanted to end the interview. Will Nanfan she liked and respected, though she knew he had had one or two brushes with George's servants in parish, matters. The young man she was not so sure of. The respectfulness of his tones did not hide a certain combativeness in his nature. She felt he would argue till sunrise if need be, and that is conviction was so burning that id argument he might forget the difference in their stations. This was one of the great problems of Methodists: the converted felt themselves above earthly class distinctions. Christ was their master, and their only one. At the throne of the Heavenly Grace all men were equal; and all women too Elizabeth Warleggan and Char Nanfan and whatever little miner's daughter this thin blond man was married to. In principle no doubt it was what one accepted in one's Christian faith; in practice it did not work out.

Yet she was not an ill-natured woman and she saw the justice of their appeal. She said: `Well, as I have told you, it is my husband who makes those decisions, but I will undertake to see him when he returns next week and to put your case before him. I will explain to him that you see this as a firm promise made to you by my late husband, Mr Francis Poldark, and ask him to reconsider his decision in that light. I can do no more, but I will see that it is attended to as soon as Mr Warleggan comes home.'

`Thank ee, ma'am,' said Will Nanfan.

`Thank ee, ma'am,' said Sam Carne. `And may our divine Saviour go with you.'

It was rather as if, Elizabeth thought, he was a priest and she a member of his congregation.

In the kitchen Drake hung about under the glowering eye of Harry Harry, the elder of the two brothers.

It was a
fine big room this kitchen, down three steps fro
m the rest of the house, with a
stone-flagged uneven floor and
heavy b
eam's across the ceiling, from
whlch hung
down on hooks a sheaf of fine
smoked hams, that made Dr
ake's mouth water. For so big a
room it was il
l-lit, with a single window set high
in one wall; but the top of the split door beside
it leading to the yard was open
and admitted more light. A fireplace almost filled one wall, and an enormous black kettle was suspended from an iron hook above the fire. In the other corner by the door was a hand pump with a wooden bucket under it.

Presently Harry decided that the young man could exist without: his surveillance and went off, so Drake wandered to the door and watched another man outside filling a bucket with fine coal. Behind him a young voice said:
`Why, Drake! Is it not Drake! What are you doing here?'

Geoffrey Charles was smiling all over his face, which was shiny and polished as if just washed.

`Mr Geoffrey.' Drake put his finger to his lips. In a lowered voice: `I'm here wi' Brother and Will Nanfan, calling upon Mrs Warleggan, your good mother, on a matter of business.'

Geoffrey Charles laughed but lowered his own voice. `What is secret? Are you not supposed to be here?'

'Oh, yes. Oh, yes.
But tis our other meetings
- that's secret. So tis best not to know each other, else you might be forbid to see me again.

`I meet whom I like,' said Geoffrey Charles. But he kept his voice lowered. `We have not seen you since the day in the caves. The weather has been so bad that we have scarce been out riding. And then most days you are at work.'

`True 'nough. How is Miss Morwenna?'

`Brave. She is washing just now, so I have been turned out. Look, lily mother and Uncle George are going to spend the autumn in Truro. It should be easier to meet when they are gone. Can I send a message? Excuse me, can you read?'

`Read 'nough,' said Drake. `But maybe they will not want you meet me.'

`If they don't know they can't say, can they?' Geoffrey Charles took Drake's 'hand. `Let me show you the house. This time of day there is no one about.'

`No, thank ee. Twould not do. Another time maybe.'

`You promised sometime we could go hunting for tadpoles, Drake. Remember that? When we were coming back across, the beach you said so. When could we go?'

`Tis the wrong time of year. You d'know that.'

Geoffrey Charles stood on one leg and then on the other: `Yes', I suppose I do. But that i
s the trouble - before, before
when Papa was alive, the big pond at the other side, of the house had lovely toads. And not ordinary
toads, Aunt Agatha
says. She says my great-grandfather brought them specially from Hampshire, years and years and years and years ago, and they've been here ever since. They had yellow lines down their back, and they didn't hop, they ran. It was such, fun to see them. And they would make such a noise croaking in the evening. Croak! Croak! Like that. Aunt Agatha's very cross that they've gone. And in the spring there were
tadpoles
and minnows and water-beetles, and the cows would go splashing in. But since Mama married Uncle George it has all been cleaned out, and the toads have been killed, and the cows are not allowed in any more. It is ornamental, they say. They have p
ut
flowers round it and water-lilies at one end, and they have put stones in the bottom to stop the mud.'

`So what would ye do if you had tadpoles and toads, Mr Geoffrey? How could you keep'n?'

'Oh, in jars in the stables. There's jars and jars all empty in there. And maybe,' Geoffrey giggled, `maybe when they grew 'into' toads I'd put them back in the pond just to hear them croak.'

`Look ee,' said Drake quietly. `I reckon twould be best if we was not seed talking now. You run
'long and keep quiet 'bout we
have met before. Then
sometime in a week or so when I get a day off I
can leave ee know and, if Miss Morwenna will allow, we could maybe
go over all together to the poo
ls behind Marasanvose and I can show ee where the frogs and toads d'live.'

When my mother and uncle have go
ne, Drake, if I ask you to come
to the house, will you come?'

`I don't b'lieve twould do. Who is here?'

'Wenna, of course. And then my grandfather and grandmother. And Aunt Agatha, who is really my great-great
-
aunt and nearly a hundred years old. That is all. Will you come?'

`I'll think on it, boy. You're a good friend but we must not hurt other folk. Now go now, else there may be trouble.'