The Miller's Dance (33 page)

When Ben Carter hesitantly opened the door into the parlour his eyes lighted at the sight of its only occupant. He came slowly in.

'Oh, beg pardon, Clowance. I was looking
...
is anyone else at home?'

I
think that could have been more elegantly said, Ben.'

She seldom teased him, for he had no defences against her, but this time she could not resist.

He flushed, and then smiled. 'Well, you d'know what I mean.'

'No,' she said,
I
don't. Except that it is not me you are looking for.'

'Well,' he said again, and narrowed his brows. 'No one is ever more
welcome
than you are
...
I mean, to find 'ere. It's just
...'

'Just someone else you seek.'

'Twas Cap'n Poldark I wished t'ave word with if he should be about. But they tell me -' 'Papa is in Truro. And will not be back tonight, because he has to attend an election dinner. He will be home tomorrow complaining of the quality of the food he has been served and asking for one or my mother's special pies.'

Ben nervously fingered his jacket, which he was aware was not suitable for a social visit.

'Jeremy not back yet; is he?'

'No. I thought he was with you.'

'And
-
and Mrs Poldark?'

'Is out to dinner. There is only me, Ben. And Isabella-Rose. Which would you prefer?'

There was a pause while he glanced at her sewing and she put it down.

'Then I must wait till tomorrer, eh?'

'For what?'

'For what I have to tell.'

‘I
f you wish to. I don't know what you have to tell.'

'Tisn't that I
wish
to
...
Clowance, I have made a discovery at Leisure,
- and I thought twas only right and proper to come over to Cap'n Poldark and see him about 'n.'

She sat up. 'What
sort
of a discovery?
Coppe
r?’

'Can't rightl
y say yet. I thought I'd best tell Jeremy or
y
our father so's we could l
ook at this new thing together l
ike. I see no special signs of nothing as yet, but I have broke into old workings which I don't b'lieve have been opened for a 'undred years or more. Know for sure, do ee, whether or no your father opened Wheal Leisure as a
new
mine back in 1787?'

'There was something there before. Surely has not everybody from time to time spoken of the old Trevorgie workings? Jeremy said they have tried to link up with them at Wheal Grace.'

'Well, it seems to me then that I have come 'pon them -
that or something of that sort. Tis a kind of small cavern; I climbed up into 'n, and there was a broken spade handle lying 'pon the ground and when I picked him up he fell abroad just as if twas made of sand.'

Clowance looked at him. They looked at each other. Clowance said: is it a shallow level?'

"Bout twenty-five, I should reckon.'

She got up. 'All right. I'll come with you.' 'What? No!
’

'What d'you mean,
no
!
I
am
the only Poldark here and it is my duty-'

I
- I don't rightly know as tis all that
safe!
Anyhow, I could scarce permit
...'

'What could you scarce permit? Wait here; I'll be no more than two minutes.'

'Clowance!'

But sh
e was out of the door like a gust of wind, wafting a faint perfume in his face. He bit his dirty fingernail and waited.

In less than four minutes she was down, in a blue seaman's jersey, barragan trousers, heavy shoes, her hair caught in at the nape of the neck by a yellow ribbon.

Protesting, he was led back across the beach to the mine, but his protests grew less as he saw they were having no effect and as the pleasure of her company overcame his doubt. When they stood in the engine house preparing to go down he thought he had ne
ver seen anyone so heartbreakin
gly beautiful as she was just then, wearing a drab miner's jacket rather too big for her, her skin looking fresher in contrast, her brilliant fair hair flowering under the dirty miner's hat.

They climbed down to the 30 level, stepped off the ladder and splashed through the trickle of water escaping from the mouth of the tunnel, began to grope their way along in the direction of the east lode. Several times he held out a hand to help her over piles of attle, across supporting timbers, through narrowed channels where pillars of granite had been left to strengthen the pit props and the
roof, but each time she waved him
on with a smile. They reached the sloping rubble stretching up below the exhausted lode, and here, some of the ground still being loose, she accepted his hand to be helped up. When he came to the ladder he went first and she quickly followed.

They stood and looked around, holding their heads still so that their candles should not flicker. Ben lit two more candles he had brought and watched their flickering flames before he stuck them in convenient crevices. Clowance stooped to pick up the remnants of the spade. 'Does this continue?'

'Oh yes. Over there. I intended to've went in but thought I should first acquaint Cap'n Poldark of it all.' 'Let us go. Lead the way.'

'Nay, Clowance, I think this be as far as you should go. Tomorrer
...'
'Tomorrow they will all be here. Lead on.' 'But-'

'If you do not go, then I will go alone.'

With a sigh, Ben went ahead down the tunnel. They sometimes had to stoop almost double to avoid projections in the irregular roof. There were numerous cross-cuts and winzes, but it was not hard to distinguish them from the main tunnel, which was falling by perhaps an inch a yard all the while. They came to another larger cavern.

'See here!' said Ben. 'They've used fire-setting, I reckon! That'd be afore gunpowder.'

'What's that? What d'you mean?'

On one side of the cavern there was a pile of rock debris at the foot of the face: it looked like granular stuff, finely powdered quartz, as fine almost as sand.

'In the old days,' Ben said, 'they'd belong to start a fire of brushwood and logs against the rock face; then when the face was heated proper, they'd quench it wi' water, and the expansion caused by the h
eating followed wi' the contrac
tion of the cooling would make cracks where the face were weakest, so the rock could be picked out by pick and wedge later on. Twas hard work, and
the
fire and smoke below ground must've made some awful smeech, but twas the only way they 'ad. You can see the ashes here and the way the cracks was made.'

'But this was
before
gunpowder?' said Clowance. 'How long has gunpowder been invented?'

'Gracious knows. Hundreds of years, -I reckon.'

'But is there any
copper
here, Ben? Or other metals? Can
you see any real signs?' '

'Oh, aye, they've worked here proper. Though it look more like tin to me. See these holes, they be what is called a working big.'
I
don't follow you.'

'A space two feet and a half wide be the room a man must 'ave to wield his pick in a lode without breaking any of what they d'call the non-orey strata. So they call it a working-big, meani
ng the lode was at least two and
a half feet wide. Here and here and here. See.'

'But is any left?'

'Not so's I can see. You'd have to break up this face to be sure. We've a whole new lot o' workings to explore, that's for certain.'

'Let's go on a bit further.'

'The air's none too good. The further we d'go
...'

‘I
t's not
bad.
No worse than in the 50 level you're just opening.'

Ben hesitated and then obeyed. In fact he was just as excited as Clowance. The next piece of tunnel was more broken, with shafts
and winzes running and climbing
in different directions. It was becoming a honeycomb. Ben chipped now and then with his hand pick so that the glint of new-cut stone should be there to guide them back the way they had come. The temperature was high and humid; but the ground looked more promising, the walls having greenish tinges, which Ben said was probably iron sulphate. He stopped again and they bent together.

Thur's still some better stuff here. I reckon we may yet find where they've finished working the lodes.' He looked up at the lowering, uneven roof, from which came the occasional drip of reddish water. 'We gone far 'nough now, Clowance. These here props is rotten.'

‘I
f they've stayed up for centuries they're not likely to fall just this moment. See round this corner.'

But round the corner an underhand stope had been worked, and the ground fell away sharply, some of the steps looking slippery and damp.

'Tis far 'nough, Clowance. Without a rope I'd not go no farther myself, that I wouldn't.'

She stopped, peering down. She was in her element

'Sure? You're not telling me
–‘

'No.
Sure.
There's water down thur.'

Her candle lurched as she sto
oped to pick a stone from among
the rubble. She threw it down the stope. The stone rattled a couple of times and then there was
a
plop.

'All the way we've come,' said Ben, 'it has been draining this way.'

'Yes
...'
Clowance still peered down towards the unseen water, then she looked'at the rubble she had disturbed. She knelt and ran her fingers over it.

'What's to do?
’
said Ben.

She stood up.
'This. This is not a stone, Ben.'

He stared at a circular brown thing she had in her hand. It was about the size of a ha'penny. He picked it out of her palm, stared at it.

'Some sort of a coin, I reckon.'

'Some sort of a coin,' said Clowance.

Heads together, they examined it by the light of two candlepower.

'Ha'penny? Penny? Tis not quite neither. You can see the head thur. But what head, that's what's a puzzle.' 'What's the metal?
’

'Copper or bronze.' He scratched it with his nail. 'Tis more like bronze to me.'

'What is bronze, Ben? I never quite know.'

'Mixture of copper and tin, I s'pose, mainly.'

'Has there ever been bronze coinage in England?'For many years, I mean? I doubt it. Look. You can see the letters round the head.' She rubbed the coin. 'A-N-T-O-N. Can you not see that?'

‘
Yes.'

'Perhaps it'
s foreign. French or Spanish.' ‘
Maybe.
’

'Was there ever any king of England called Anton?'

The lettering d'go on. Round the corner, see. But it don't do to get too excited, Clowance. You know how the tin comp'nies used oft-times to make their own coins. Most possibly tis one of they.'

'What is on the back? I can't make it out.'

‘I
t d'look like a vase to me. Or a jug. And there are some letters. P.O.T., is it? But that would be a shortening of something. Be they sucks?'

'Or ears of wheat? Ben, have you seen coins that the tin companies struck?'

'A few.' Ben was cautious.

'Any ever like this?'

I
don't mind that they were.'

'Or of bronze?' She reversed the coin again, rubbed it with a corner of her jacket. 'Round the corner by the head it says - seems to say - INNS. Isn't that a religious abbreviation, put over the cross? Early Christian surely.'

‘
I
dunno nothing 'bout that.'

'No, I'm
wrong.
That's INRI. Damn, I thought it might prove
...'

'Seems me it be more like IUNS.'

‘
Or IUUS. Or INUS.' She clutched his arm. 'INUS. It could be INUS!'

I
don't see what
that
d'mean.'

She continued to hold his arm. 'Look, dear Ben. Look
carefully.
Hold
still,
dear Bent Your head down a little more. Now see! Spell it out. Running up round the coin, you get what?
’

'A-N-T-O-N. What we've said afore.
’

'And going further round, down the other side? If that is I-N-U-S? What do we get
then?
Run them together, dear Ben, run them
together.'