Читать книгу In the Wake of fortune - Ivan Dexter - Страница 9

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The first to meet Edward and Inez was Mrs. Trenoweth and she read trouble on their faces.

The news of the catastrophe had been carefully kept from her, but she had an inkling that something was wrong. A messenger had come to the house, but he saw Inez, who went back with him to the mine.

"What has happened, Edward?" his mother queried.

"There has been an accident at the mine, mother. A portion of the workings has been flooded," he answered, not wishing to unduly alarm her.

"May God grant there are no lives lost," Mrs. Trenoweth said, with alarm shining out of her eyes.

"I am afraid there are some; but it may not be so bad as we think. The rescue party are at work."

"The rescue party at work and you not with them, Edward," his mother replied looking severely at him. "Whoever are below must be past hope when you are not there to help in saving their lives, my son," she concluded, more tenderly.

"Yes, mother, they are beyond hope. In fact, a great disaster has befallen us, but we must not give way under it. Now is the time to show what the Trenoweths are made of," Edward answered, trying to put a courageous tone into his voice.

As he concluded he led the way to an inner room, where he narrated to his mother the full extent of the disaster.

"It means this, mother," he went on, "when we have provided for the widows and orphans, and complied with the government regulations in finding the bodies of those below we will have little left. There will be enough for you and Inez, but I must seek my fortune elsewhere. You know that Cornwall will be no place for me to do that, and though I have not yet made up my mind, I am thinking of that great mineral land of Australia. My training fits me for that pursuit, and I feel that my fortune lies in that direction."

His mother and Inez listened in amazement to the words that fell from Edward's lips, and for some moments neither spoke. They had been long used to understand that Edward always meant what he said, and once his mind was made up it was not an easy matter to alter it.

Nevertheless, the idea of the only son and sweetheart leaving them and going to the other side of the earth gave them both a violent shock.

The elder woman seemed the most disconcerted of the two, but she had a resolute spirit, and her only ambition was to see her son advanced in the world.

"Do not let us say anything further on so painful a subject just now, my son. There will be plenty of time to decide on our future course. At present our hands and hearts are full of sorrow without adding another pang. Whatever may happen in the future I am sure we will all bravely face it," Mrs. Trenoweth said.

"That is spoken just like you, mother, and, as you say, other matters claim our attention at present. I have asked Pengelly to bring the people here at four o'clock. I am then going to tell them that so far as our means will allow we will make provision for those left helpless by the death of their bread-winners. I am sure you agree with me in that course, mother."

"I do, my son. It is only our duty to do that, and we will do it as far as we can."

During this conversation Inez had remained silent, but with a deeply anxious look on her face. She was, of course, vitally affected by the tragic occurrence, for during the coming year she was to be the wife of Edward.

If he carried out his resolve of leaving St. Columb's Cove into execution her whole life might be altered. At least, the prospect seemed to point in that direction.

She waited for a few minutes until Mrs. Trenoweth left the room to countermand some orders relating to the Christmas feast, and then she said——

"Do you forget your promise to me a few weeks ago, Edward, for if you do I certainly do not?"

"God forbid that I should ever do that, my loved one. It is because it is burnt into my heart that I am going to act as I have said. Would you marry a pauper and live a life of drudgery, Inez? If not, the only way I can give you a home worthy of you is to seek a land where fortunes are made more quickly than in worked out Cornwall. I have spoken to Australians and did I not know they were truthful men I should have thought they were telling me fables regarding the mineral wealth of that land. Indeed, Inez, if it had not been for striking that fatal western lode three years ago I think I would have taken you and mother to that Southern land and made our home there."

"And could you not do so now?" she broke in eagerly, "why leave us behind?"

"Because there will now be enough left to keep you and mother in comfort while I am away, and without you I will be able to travel better in the rough country, and, I hope, make my fortune more quickly," he replied.

"I am not so sure of you making your fortune so rapidly as you think. I have read of Bendigo, Ballarat, and Forest Creek as places where gold was found in buckets-full, but those days are long since passed and you may not find the wealth you seek where now there are so many other seekers," Inez wisely answered.

"It is not gold I will go to seek at all, but tin, silver, or copper. These are the metals I know most about and from what I have heard Australia teems with such metals. In the thirst for gold the baser metals have not been sought, but believe me there is as great a wealth in tin or silver as in gold," answered Edward.

The girl said no more at the time, for there was something so emphatic in the manner of the young man's answer that it quite silenced her. Just at the moment a message came to the room that Edward was required, but before he left the room he took Inez in his arms and kissed her again and again passionately, and then without a word strode out of the room.

The young girl threw herself into a chair and for a minute or two sat with closed eyes. Then she muttered as if in deep communion with herself:—"I don't know that Edward is not right after all. A pauper's love, in spite of what sentimentalists may say, is really not worth having. At least I feel that love and poverty do not agree and I could not reconcile myself to it. Edward is brave and clever and in two or three years might do well in the strange land of Australia. Two or three years! It seems a long time to wait, but time flies, so it is said, and—well, yes I think Edward is right."

Her reverie was interrupted by Mrs. Trenoweth, who asked her to assist in getting the large hall ready for the villagers who would shortly arrive.

This was soon done, and the viands which were to form that evening's feast were ranged around. There were many who had lost dear relatives who would that day look upon food as a mockery, but others again had not tasted food since early morning and would be glad of nourishment. At four o'clock the hall was filled with the stricken people, and Edward Trenoweth addressed a few manly and kindly words to them.

He told them that his family had decided no one should suffer pecuniarily for the loss of their bread-winners. As far as the small fortune of the Trenoweth's would go, provision would be made for the widows and orphans of the deceased. Only a small allowance would be made for Mrs. Trenoweth and Inez. As for himself he feared he would have to seek his fortune in other lands, though he hoped not.

This was the gist of his address, and it brought fresh tears into eyes already dimmed with weeping. For generations the Trenoweths, as already said, were the chiefs of the little isolated community, and none of them were more beloved by their dependants than Edward and Mrs. Trenoweth.

Their generosity in thus making provision for the bereaved they could understand but to think that the last of the line should think of leaving St. Columb's was almost more than they could comprehend.

The Trenoweths were as much an institution of the place as the Cove itself, and as Edward spoke the last few words they stared stupidly at him as if they did not quite understand the full import of his words.

He saw their doubts, and hastily said, "Do not think of anything now, my dear friends, but our present position. You know we must do our best for the lost ones. Our Christmas must be spent in repairing the best shaft. I need scarcely tell you that I am afraid our task will be hopeless, but still we will be compelled to do it. In the meantime there is food and drink here. What you cannot eat take home with you. I thought this morning we would have had a happy gathering here, but—God's will be done."

"Yes; God's will be done!" fervently echoed several in the rooms, whilst above all, could be heard the suppressed sobs of those who had lost dear ones.

For nearly a month after that day the most strenuous efforts were made to recover the bodies of those lost in the Wheal Merlin. The government insisted on such being done, and no expense was spared. Divers were employed, but they could do little or nothing in such a depth of water.

A new shaft was sunk two hundred feet in a vain attempt to reach the top drive, but it could not be done as it was found that at high tide the top drive was covered.

In the course of the pumping operations two bodies came to the surface of the water in the main shaft, and they were the only two ever recovered. The Wheal Merlin was the tomb of the other fourteen, and there they will remain until the Last Trump sounds.

At last the work of recovering the bodies was given up, though not before Edward Trenoweth had been put to great expense. He immediately sold the machinery and plant, for the district was now thoroughly worked out. His next step was to make legal provision as he had promised for the helpless women and children, and he did not forget the other villagers who had to some extent been deprived of their means of living by the closing of the mine.

There was still sufficient for a small competency for Mrs. Trenoweth and Inez, and when this was secured Edward felt himself a free man and ready to face the world.

After the first shock of the catastrophe had passed, the young man soon decided on his course of action. He was naturally of a restless disposition and could not settle down to the humdrum life he would have to lead if he remained at St. Columb's.

The stories he had heard of far-off Australia made a deep impression on him, and he longed to be away to that El Dorado.

His love for Inez had not abated one jot, but he felt he must be able to offer her more in the way of wealth than he could in his now reduced position. Something in the girl's character—he could not define it—told him that she would not be completely happy unless she had wealth at her command, and he was determined that she should. This opinion strengthened him in his resolve to leave St. Columb's. His mother, when she knew his views, ceased her opposition to his resolution.

It was a fearful wrench to her tender heart to part from her only child, but Edward managed to persuade her it would be for all their benefit and especially for the happiness of himself and Inez.

She could not withstand this appeal, and it was soon decided that he should sail for Melbourne.

It was on the 12th of March, 1870, that he left his native village on his long journey. There is no need to tell the reader of the scenes which marked his departure.

Though the world was convulsed with the great Franco-German war such an event was scarcely heard of in St. Columb's Cove.

At any rate, if straggling, fitful gleams of news of the great struggle did break on the isolation of the place it was regarded as an event very trifling in its consequences to the departure of Edward Trenoweth.

The villagers gathered round him in tears after he had bidden a last farewell to his mother and to his affianced bride, and as he rode away they stood in a sorrowful group regarding him.

As he reached the top of the last eminence which would shut out his native village from sight, he stopped his horse, and, turning round, regarded the little place with tear-dimmed eyes.

"Ah, well—it must be," he muttered; and then, after the horse had made a few steps forward, St. Columb's and those he loved were shut out from his eager vision.

A week later he stood on the deck of the Celtic King, bound for Australia, and watching the fast receding shores of England.