let it go to pieces about him. I can see so much that can be done with it.’
`You always can. I suppose I’m gambling that he is sufficiently like you.’
So two days later Ross and Drake rode over to the King’s Arms Inn at Chacewater and stood among twenty other people and presently Ross nodded for the last time and Pally’s Shop. was knocked down to him for Ł232., And seven weeks later Drake Carne left Reath Cottage for the last time, giving his brother a hug and a kiss, and mounted the pit pony lent him for the occasion, and with another pony following behind carrying panniers stuffed with all the food, utensils and spare furniture and curtain material Demelza had been able to gather together, he rode off to take possession of his property. It was going to be a lonely life to begin, but they had arranged for a widow from the nearest cottage to go in once in, a while to prepare a, meal, and two of her grandchildren would work for him in the fields when work got out of hand. He would never need to be idle himself while the light lasted; but at this time of year dark fell early and lasted late; and Demelza wondered sometimes if it had all been wisely timed:: Ross said : `It’s no different from what I went through thirteen years ago. I don’t envy him. It’s an ugly way to be when so young. But he must work it out for himself now.’
`I wish Sam had gone with him.’
`I expect Sam will go over often enough.’
Sam went over often enough throughout those early months, and sometimes when the, weather, was bad spent the night there; but his own flock made many claims on him. And those outside his flock too. It was necessary in Sam’s view, always to practise what you preached. One must follow Christ by ministering to the sick of body as well as of soul. And although this winter was benign compared to last, conditions in some ways were worse. The price of wheat was 110 shillings a quarter and still rising. Half naked children with tumid bellies sat crouching in fireless dripping windy hovels. Hunger and disease were everywhere.
One morning, a brilliant clear cold morning of late February, Sam, having slept at Pally’s Shop, left with an hour to spare to reach Wheal Grace in time, for his core, so he stopped in Grambler at an isolated and run-down cottage where he knew almost all the family was ill. The man, Verney, had worked first at Grambler Mine, then when that closed at Wheal Leisure, on the cliffs. Since that too closed he had been on parish relief, but Jim Verney had refused to go in which meant separating from his wife, or to allow any of his boys to be apprenticed as paupers, knowing that that could mean semi-slavery.
But this morning Sam found that the fever had separated them where man could not. Jim Verney had died in the night, and he found Lottie Verney trying to get her man ready for burying. But there was only the one room and the one bed, and in the bed beside the corpse-of his father the youngest boy lay tossing and turning, sick with the same fever; while at the foot the eldest boy was, lying weak and pale but on the way to recovery. In a washing; tray beside the bed was the middle boy, also dead. They had no food, nor fire, nor help; so although the stench was unbearable, Sam stayed with them a half-hour doing what he could for the young widow. Then he went across the rutted track to the last cottage in the village to, tell Jud Paynter there were two more for the paupers’ grave..
Jud Paynter grunted and blew through his teeth; and said there were nine in this one already. One more and he’d fill it in whether or no. Leave it too long and the gulls’d get in, spite of the lime and spite of the boards he put down across she hole. Or dogs. There was a dirty hound been on the gammut these last weeks. Always sniffing and ranting around. He’d get him yet. Sam backed out of the cottage and went to leave a message with the doctor.
Dr Thomas Choake’s house, Fernmore, was back on his tracks
`You always can. I suppose I’m gambling that he is sufficiently like you.’
So two days later Ross and Drake rode over to the King’s Arms Inn at Chacewater and stood among twenty other people and presently Ross nodded for the last time and Pally’s Shop. was knocked down to him for Ł232., And seven weeks later Drake Carne left Reath Cottage for the last time, giving his brother a hug and a kiss, and mounted the pit pony lent him for the occasion, and with another pony following behind carrying panniers stuffed with all the food, utensils and spare furniture and curtain material Demelza had been able to gather together, he rode off to take possession of his property. It was going to be a lonely life to begin, but they had arranged for a widow from the nearest cottage to go in once in, a while to prepare a, meal, and two of her grandchildren would work for him in the fields when work got out of hand. He would never need to be idle himself while the light lasted; but at this time of year dark fell early and lasted late; and Demelza wondered sometimes if it had all been wisely timed:: Ross said : `It’s no different from what I went through thirteen years ago. I don’t envy him. It’s an ugly way to be when so young. But he must work it out for himself now.’
`I wish Sam had gone with him.’
`I expect Sam will go over often enough.’
Sam went over often enough throughout those early months, and sometimes when the, weather, was bad spent the night there; but his own flock made many claims on him. And those outside his flock too. It was necessary in Sam’s view, always to practise what you preached. One must follow Christ by ministering to the sick of body as well as of soul. And although this winter was benign compared to last, conditions in some ways were worse. The price of wheat was 110 shillings a quarter and still rising. Half naked children with tumid bellies sat crouching in fireless dripping windy hovels. Hunger and disease were everywhere.
One morning, a brilliant clear cold morning of late February, Sam, having slept at Pally’s Shop, left with an hour to spare to reach Wheal Grace in time, for his core, so he stopped in Grambler at an isolated and run-down cottage where he knew almost all the family was ill. The man, Verney, had worked first at Grambler Mine, then when that closed at Wheal Leisure, on the cliffs. Since that too closed he had been on parish relief, but Jim Verney had refused to go in which meant separating from his wife, or to allow any of his boys to be apprenticed as paupers, knowing that that could mean semi-slavery.
But this morning Sam found that the fever had separated them where man could not. Jim Verney had died in the night, and he found Lottie Verney trying to get her man ready for burying. But there was only the one room and the one bed, and in the bed beside the corpse-of his father the youngest boy lay tossing and turning, sick with the same fever; while at the foot the eldest boy was, lying weak and pale but on the way to recovery. In a washing; tray beside the bed was the middle boy, also dead. They had no food, nor fire, nor help; so although the stench was unbearable, Sam stayed with them a half-hour doing what he could for the young widow. Then he went across the rutted track to the last cottage in the village to, tell Jud Paynter there were two more for the paupers’ grave..
Jud Paynter grunted and blew through his teeth; and said there were nine in this one already. One more and he’d fill it in whether or no. Leave it too long and the gulls’d get in, spite of the lime and spite of the boards he put down across she hole. Or dogs. There was a dirty hound been on the gammut these last weeks. Always sniffing and ranting around. He’d get him yet. Sam backed out of the cottage and went to leave a message with the doctor.
Dr Thomas Choake’s house, Fernmore, was back on his tracks
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