The Black Moon (9 page)

They talked
f
or a few minutes, and then Ross
took the other man to a nearby tent and they drank Geneva and sat on a bench. Mixed feelings for Ross. Barth
olomew Tregirls came of a world
he had forgotten, or at least of a world which rarely came to mind. The days of his youth seemed to belong to some other person. The dividing line was his time in America. They had been the formative years. He had gone out a wild youth and came back a mature man. Although he no more conformed when he carne
back than before he went out, hi
s youthful scrapes now seemed ridiculous, frivolous, childish, without good cause except the waywardness of a spoilt boy. In those early days Bartholomew Tregirls, in age
halfway between
himself. and
his fath
er had been the high priest of
mischief, off with old Joshua on wild jaunts in which Ross was allowed no part or playing ringleader to the boy when they came home: After his wife died Joshua had been bereft for two years, then he had broken out int
o all his worst habits, and no woman
who lifted an eye to him had been safe. Tregirls, a big handsome young man then, already asthmatic but with all the nervous vita
lity of the kind, had been his
partner. It was an outraged father in St Michael who had attacked him with a meat knife and nearly put his eye out. But his spoiled looks hadn't affected his appeal for women, and he had gone on until, involved in a robbery which, if he had been caught, would have carried the death penalty, he had slipped away one night, leaving his wife and two young children destitute.

An age had passed. Ross, had some affection for this big p
owerful man sitting. beside him
, but an ambiguous feeling of distaste at being reminded of his existence. And the years had changed Tholly-. changed him in fact and. also in the eye of the beholder. He looked seedy, battered, and reduced in size and importance.

`You're wed, my son, I s'pose? Wed long since, I s'pose, with a growing family? How's the old place? D
’
ye still go line fishing? D'ye still wrestle? D'ye still run over to Guernsey for a drop of spirit? How's the rest of 'em? Be Jud still alive? Jud and that great cow Prudie?'

`Yes, they're still alive, though they've left me, live now
in Grambler. Yes, I'm married,
with one son. No, I wrestle no longer, have not done for, ten years - except now and then in anger.'

Tholly laughed loudly and then caught his breath. `God damn my chest, tis playing me up this morn. Oh, I wrestled regular till last year when I lost me arm ...
Got me bones still with me.' He
rattled a linen bag dangling from his waist and looked at Ross smiling. `I hear that Agnes be dead. D'you hear aught of Lobb or Emma?'

His children. `They're both near by. Lobb is a tin streamer in Sawle Combe. Emma is a kitchen maid at the Choakes'. Agnes lived but three years after you left.'

`Poor soul.' She was ever a patient patched little wranny, and by God, young Cap'n, she had to be patient with me! '

Even the phrases were out of a long-dead life. Long, before Ross had ever fought with the 62nd Foot he had been known as `Young Cap'n' to a select few, to distinguish him from
`Old Cap'n', his father. Joshua's
title had not been
earned; by
any military service but, by his having opened Wheal Grace; thus he had become a mining captain, something of more importance than
a military title
to the Cornish mind.

'Some day I'll go see them,' said. Tholly. 'Do
they
take for me or for she, d'ye reckon?'

'Lobb is like his mother. Emma. I'd say more like you. A tall good-looking girl. Twenty she'll be now? Or twenty
-
one?'

`Nineteen. Lobb'll be twenty-five. Either of them wed?'

'Lobb is. I do not know his wife bu
t they have five children. Em
is not yet, so far as I know.'

In the silence that fell again between them the two bells of St Mary's church began to ring. The cadence floated over the little town, over the murmuring muttering fields of the fair-ground, not wholly chiming but coming of a more leisurely, more gracious and more melodic world. The shrill cries o
f urchins, the lowing of a cow,
the distant shout of a showman, were overborne by the drifting sound of the church bells.

`Some day I'll come and see you, my son,' Tregirls said. He smiled through a shambles of decayed teeth. `If so be as I be welcome. Since I left the sea I've not had the luck of all the world. I buy and sell and make do. Can I not sell ye something now? Something to take home to the little wife?'

'Is that your stall? What do you have?'

'Everything you've the mind to conjure of. I'll sell ye anything ye want save maybe this.' He lifted his hook. 'That I use on the women now. I put it round their little necks so's they cannot wriggle away.'

`The same old Tholly. Well, I want no bull-pups. It is not a sport I enjoy. I had an eye open for a likely horse, but I am in no hurry about it-'

Tholly Tregirls thumped down. his mug. `I have the very thing for ye, my boy.' He moved his hook to pat Ross's arm with it and then refrained. `There's two splendid mares behind the stall, and o
ne could be yours at the right
price. The better-most be a fine young skewbald no more'n three year old and scarce broke. Judith is her name. Let me show you. Let me show you. Though you'll pardon me if we
keep
our voices lowered, as I h
old no licence for the trade.'

Judith was thin and ill-kempt, though an attempt had been made by some nefarious means to give a gloss to her coat.
Skewbald, was
an exaggeration,
for she was brown, with only three insignificant White patches. She had bruises on her knees and a rolling eye. However, she suffered Ross to examin
e her teeth without a protest.

`This is not a horse, it's a pony,' said Ross.

`Ah, she'll grow yet awhile. She's of fine stock, I can tell ye that, young Cap'n.'

She had a gentle mouth, that was one thing, and her rolling eye might be nerves rather than ill-temper.

Ross released her mouth. `Women you can deceive me on, Tholly, but not horses. She is six or seven years ol
d if she's a day. Look at those
central incisors. You should know better than to cheat an old friend.'

Tregirls hunched his shoulders and coughed loudly into the air. `You was ever one with an eye, my boy, whether for women or horses. I'd be glad to welcome ye in partnership

But thirty-five guineas
and you can have her. I'll make nothing on that
-
indeed will lose on it
-
but I'm short of cash, and will make the sacrifice for old times' sake.'

'Increase the sacrifice a small matter and I might be interested.' '

As they wrangled it occurred to Ross that by buying from this man he was likely getting a bad bargain. Many things might be wrong, all sorts of tricks being played. But undermining his good sense was the comfortable feeling that this amount of money no longer mattered to him. He was helping .an-old friend: if the worst happened it could not be a total loss; the mare could be used as a mine pony.

So the, bargaining was only half-hearted on his side, and presently twenty-six guineas changed hands. Bartholomew Tregirls appeared impervious to any change that had occurred in the younger man in thirteen years: he was ready to resume precisely the same
old
relationship, avuncular, the dominant character of the two. Ross did not undeceive him. Tregirls was no fool and would learn or be, taught if the occasion came. But th
is was a chance encounter that m
ight never be repeated, a brush between two people
-
sometime friends who had long since gone their own way. Ross did not think Tregirls would return to his old haunts. He had not been popular in the villages, particularly among the married men.

Although she had never lived farther than twelve miles from the sea, Morwenna Chynoweth had seldom visited it and had certainly not been aware of its presence as she was at Trenwith. Her father, a
serious man
of a Puritan turn of mind, with a consequent leaning towards the lower church, had not taken his religion lightly and he
did not consider jaunts to the
seaside appropriate for even his youngest children. As for the eldest daughter, she was too busy helping her mother about the h
ouse, with the other children
or with social, and charitable works, to have time for riding for pleasure or visiting friends. Four times in her early teens she had gone with her father when he had preached at sea-coast parishes, but on these occasions she had had little chance to enjoy or admire the coast.

Here it was different. A girl as serious in some ways as her father, with religious ideals and a strong sense of duty, she had come to this appointment sorrowing as much at the parting as her sorrowing family but resolved to be everything a worthy governess should. However, in spite of the loss of prestige in her new position, she found she was beginning to enjoy herself much more than in her old life. Geoffrey Charles was wayward and intelligent, but it was no harder controlling or teaching him than it had been her own sisters; Mr Warleggan, if a little frightening, was gracious enough in his impersonal way; Cousin Elizabeth had been kindness itself and went out of her way to alleviate any feelings of
a discomfort or shame she might
feel in her new position; and there were servants all the time to do the really menial work. Furthermore, not for pleasure but in the interests of her duty, she could take Geoffrey Charles
any number of fascinating trips
into the countryside, on the cliffs, along the beaches. And she had a pony always available.

They were li
ttle more than a mile from the
sea at Trenwith, but where Trenwith land abutted on the sea it was all sharp raw cliffs with one or two seaweedy coves only accessible by narrow and dangerous paths. A mile to the left (if you, were looking out to sea) the land dropped towards
Trevaunance Cove with the
Village of St Ann's beyond, A mile or a little more to the right was Sawle village with its shingly inlet which rose again in a short sharp cliff before reaching the property of Captain Ross Poldark. There was fine sand at Trevaunance and at Sawle when the tide went out; there were tantalizing glimpses of untouched golden sand in mainly inaccessible points; but by far the best sand and the best beach anywhere was Hendrawna, just beyond Captain Ross Poldark's land and almost into Treneglos property; four miles odd if you went direct, five or six if you skirted round.

Morwenna had not yet learned the causes of the estrangement between the two houses but she knew of its existence. That is to say, the Ross Poldarks were seldom mentioned; and on the one
occasion when Geoffrey Charles
had brought up the name in company he was effectively squashed. She could not tell quite where the point of enmity existed, what, injury, real or fancied, had been committed and on whom and how. When the subject was approached, George was suddenly dangerous, touchy, given to sarcasm; but it w
as not directed, at all against
Elizabeth. She was equall
y touchy, cold; they saw eye to
eye in their dislike. It was a strange situation to Morwenna Who, whatever the shortcomings of her home life, had always been on terms of immediate and loving friendship with every cousin she ever met. Clearly the Ross Poldarks had done something unforgivable: It was difficult to imagine what. Naturally she was curious; but she shied away from asking the one person likely to tell her. She felt no repugnance for Aunt Agatha; too often she had been in the company of very
old and dying people; but she
could not bring herself to shout the
questions into
the whiskery ear; it was a confidence to be sought in a murmur; not shouted like a naval broadside.

No actual prohibition from Elizabeth that their walks were not to come near Nampara land, but Morwenna felt she would be erring in the spirit of her instructions if she took Geoffrey Charles there; so whe
never they went on Hendrawna it
was by making a detour, leaving their ponies tethered to a granite post in the sandhills and coming on the beach where the undulant sandhills gave way to a buttress of low cliff on which the mine, Wheal Leisure, was working. Where they came out they could just see the chimneys of Nampara House about a mile and a half away.

Late June set fair, wit
h easterly airs, so light that
they
were only just perceptible. Morwenna and Geoffrey Charles went quite often to this
beach with, of course, a
groom; but him they left with the pon
ies. Geoffrey Charles had dis
covered the joys of paddling, and they would both walk along, thrushing their feet through the water as it licked its slow way in. They would occasionally meet people, who would give them good afternoon as they passed; scavengers looking for anything of possible value that the tide might bring in: women bent double in premature age, ragged ex-miners with ominous coughs, underfed waifs, mothers with a straggle of children at their heels; now and then a working miner down from the mine taking a quiet stroll or, emptying refuse for the tide to eat. But the numbers of such were few, especially on calmer days when the sea was too quiet to bring anything in. The groom did not like letting them go off alone, but, as Geoffrey Charles rightly said, the horses wer
e a far more valuable property
to steal than they were, and anyway from where Keigwin stood he could usually keep them in sight. Once to begin with they had galloped on the beach, but getting the ponies on the beach and off again at this point was a hazardous process with a steep little drop to negotiate.

On a Wednesday at the beginning of July they saw a man coming towards them and Geoffrey Charles recognized him as one of the youths they had surprised carrying the ship's timber across their land. As they came nearer he too recognized them and came trotting across the damp sand towards them and touched his hand to his head.

`Why, Master Geoffrey. And Miss Chynoweth. This is a rare surprise! Day to ee both. Proper weather this, eh?' They exchanged a few words, then he said: `Going for a stroll? Might I walk along with ee for a few paces?'

He fell in
without waiting for their consent. He was bareheaded and barefoot, drill trousers rolled up above the knee and tied there with hemp. Morwenna knew she should not tolerate his free and easy manner, but there seemed no actual lack of respect, and with Geoffrey Charles so clearly welcoming it was difficult for her.

`Oft times I d'come on this beach for a stroll just so soon as I may get an hour off. The finest beach ever I been on. I've not seen you before. Ride over or walk,
did you? Maybe you know it all
far better'n me.'

Geoffrey Charles wanted to know about the building of the cottage, whether the beam had fitted and how they had
secured it. Construction
of any, sort fascinated,, him.
Drake tried to explain the
problems they had had to face.
Mr Geoffrey must come and see it some time. It was back over the hill only a mile or so from here. If Miss Chynoweth would not mind. Geoffrey Cha
rles said of course he would com
e and of course Miss Chynoweth would not mind.

Drake said then : `Have ye seen the Holy Well? But then you will've. I'm the stranger on the scene ...'

Geoffrey Charles had heard of a holy well but had not been to it,

`Well, tis better part of a half-mile along here over along towards the Dark Cliffs. Ten minutes and you'll be there. See that there buttress of cliff standing out?' He moved nearer to Morwenna and pointed it out to her.

`Yes, I see. But it is too far for today.'

'Oh, no,' said Geoffrey Charles. `We've only been on the beach ten minutes, Wenna! We haven't even paddled yet. We can do it easily. Keigwin will not mind. I'll run and tell him what we are going to do.'

`I don't think your mother would wish us to wander so far from hum-'

`I'll see ee come to no harm, Miss Chynoweth,' said Drake, looking at her in respectful admiration, `Twill take little or no time if Master Geoffrey would like it, and, tis hard to find the well without someone to guide you the way.'

Geoffrey Charles went rushing off to tell the groom and the two young adults began walking slowly towards the cliffs.

`I hear tell you've not been in, this here parts much longer than brother and me, Miss Chynoweth.'

`About four months.'

`Tis almost the very same. My name'
s Drake Carne, Miss Chynoweth. I
hope you'll excuse the liberty of me
suggesting to walk with you.’

Morwenna inclined her head.

`You've not, I s'pose, met my sister yet, Mrs Ross Poldark?'

`N
o ...'

'You don't b'lieve she's my siste
r?' 'Oh, yes’

`She's a rare swe
et soul. Brave and clever. I'd
like for you to meet her.'

`I don't often come this way, except riding with Geoffrey Charles.'

`Well, he's her nephew, like. By marriage. And she's not
seen him
for
over
three years:'

She said:' `I do not think
the feeling between the two houses is of the best.
As a newcomer it is
not my place to,
ask why. But until it improves, I cannot bring Geoffrey Charles to Nampara. Indeed, I am not sure whether his mother would approve of his walking on this beach.'

`Don't' tell her, please.'

`Why not?'

`Then I should never
-
we shouldn't
-
it is the best beach around.'

Morwenna looked at him
with her dark serious eyes. It was a pity that in a man of her own class all he had said could be considered gracious and polite, whereas from such as him, it could only be an impertinence. It was a pity that he was the most beautiful
young man she had ever seen.
'If you wilt show us this well, Mr Carne; that I'm sure will be a kindness.'

Geoffrey Charles caught them up, panting, and ran right past them. Then he stood, hands on
hips as they caught him up. `I
wish I was dressed like you, Drake. That's your name, isn't it. I wish I was dressed like you. These clothes, I'm always afraid, of soiling them, They are suitable for a party, not for a country tramp.'

`They're suitable for your station, Mr Geoffrey,' Drake said. `But if you d'take care you'll not hurt them. Tid'n
more'n a short climb.'

'A climb?' said Morwenna. `You did not say that.'

`Well, tis scarce above thirty feet, and that some easy.'

Cliffs and sandhills faced the sea at intervals towards the end of Hendrawna Beach, and they passed two bluffs of rock before Drake stopped. `I'd best lead the way,' he said. `Then if Miss Chynoweth could follow me I'd be at hand to give her, a help up; wh
ile Mr Geoffrey, you
will be behind her to help her too if need be.'

They went up. It was, as Drake had said, an easy climb, and Morwenna
could have been up like a cat,
if she had not been impeded by her skirt and her determination not to lift it. So she had to take Drake's hand twice, and on co
nsideration this was perhaps a
worse choice, His hand was warm and hers cold. There was some frightening transmission between them.

At the top
he took them across a small green platform to a cliff of overhanging rock. Raised a foot from the ground by its rocky sides was a pool of water about four feet across.

`This is
it,'
said Drake. `Tis fresh water taste though so near the
sea, and
they
d'say twas consecrated by St Sawle more'n a thousand year gone and, twas used by all the early Christian pilgrims walking 'long the coast from one monaste
ry to the next. Taste, tis pure
water.'

`You know all this
-
so soon,' said Morwenna.

`Old Jope Ishbel told me
-
he, as works at Wheal Leisure. He d'know all there is to know. But, mind, I had to come and find 'n for myself.'

`It's lovely water,' said Geoffrey Charles. `Taste it, Wenna.' She tasted. `Um.'

'It is a wishing well-too, or so they d'say. What you must do, Jope Ishbel says, is put the first finger of your right hand deep in the water and make three crosses with it, saying "Father, Son, Holy Spirit" and then you get your wishes granted.'

`It's sacrilegious,' said Morwenna.

`Oh, no. Oh no tis not, begging your pardon, Miss Chynoweth. It's a holy place just so much as a church. Don't we ask for things in church? I do. You do, Master Geoffrey.'

`Yes, yes, surely, I shall wish. Show me. Do you say it aloud?'

'Only, the prayer, not the wish. See, this way.' Drake rolled up his sleeve, dipped his finger and hand into the well, glanced quickly at. Morwenna. Then he made his three crosses, saying `Father, Son, Holy Spirit', hastily withdrew his hand but did 'not shake the drops off it. `You must let it dry,' he said.

Geoffrey Charles, much intrigued, soon followed, and then pestered Morwenna to do the same. At first she refused but presently gave way. With the
boy and the young man watching,
she took off a small garnet ring and put it on a stone, then slid the sleeve of her riding jacket up till her wrist and slender forearm were bare to the elbow. She put in her hand, finger, extended, thought a moment, then made the three crosses and muttered the prayer, As she leaned over, her hair fell about her face, showing through it gleams of cheek and curve of ear.

'No,
not yet
' said Geoffrey Charles, as s
he straightened up and moved to
pull her sleeve. `You must let it dry!'

They all stood in silence. The sea was quiet too, and the onl
y sound was the breeze stirring
the grasses on the cliff edge and a lark trilling in the high sky.

`How foolish we must all look,' said Morwenna quietly,

slipping her ring
back. `I am
sure
the old monks would not consider us suitable pilgrims, making our flippant wishes at
this well.
’

`Mine was not flippant,' said Drake.

'Nor
mine!' said Geoffrey Charles.
`It is hardly flippant to ask
for-' He stopped just in time, and they all laughed.

As they came to the descen
t Drake said : `Half a mile on
near the Dark Cliffs, there is some handsome great caves. One's called the Abbey. Tis just like a great church inside: arches, pillars, naves. One day I'd dearly like to show them to ee, if so be as you'd be interested.'

`Oh, yes!' said Geoffrey Charles. `We would, wouldn't we, Morwenna. When could we go? When?'

`It is not the sort of thing you could do with
out your mother's permission.'

`Tis a lot easier than this here,' Drake said. 'No climbing, You just walk in off the sand. But if you could name a day I'd bring candles, for with candles you can see the more.'

`Oh, Wenna!' said Geoffrey Charles. `We must!'

`Perhaps you can persuade your mother,' Morwenna said obliquely. `You know how much she will do for you.'

'They began the descent, which was not quite so easy for a woman shod for riding.

`D'you know why they are called the Dark Cliffs?' Drake\\ said, stopping halfway. `A simple answer: because they, are always dark. See, even now with the sun full on
'em. they're black as night. 'Y
ou ever been that far, Mr Geoffrey?'

`No. We've never been this far before,'

`I've never been that far neither. Not yet. Come, Miss Chynoweth, you must leave me help you, '

`No, thank you.'

`You must. Tisn't safe else.'

`I can manage.'

`Please ,' He took her arm and hand like a precious treasure newly gained.