Читать книгу Light - Margaret Elphinstone - Страница 12

CHAPTER 6

‘A MOMENT, SIR, IF YOU PLEASE.’

It was Mr Kneen again. Archie turned back impatiently. ‘Yes?’

‘A message for you, sir. From Mr Quirk.’

‘Mr Quirk? I was just stepping round to the Castle to see him now.’

‘That’s it, sir. He won’t be at the Castle this morning. He’ll meet you here at the George, in the usual parlour, at eleven o’clock. He sent a message.’

‘Eleven!’ Archie pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket and looked at it, as if that would somehow help. ‘Doesn’t he know we have to leave for Port St Mary this morning?’

‘Ay well, sir, you won’t be sailing today anyway, and it’s less than six miles to Port St Mary. You’re not needing to be away from here till this afternoon, I’m thinking.’

So they all knew his business, damn them, even down to the innkeeper. But that was only to be expected in a place like this. Archie tapped his watch impatiently. ‘No doubt,’ he said coldly.

He’d no sooner stepped out of the inn than he met Ben Groat in the Square. What with the cries of the fish-sellers, and the housewives hurrying to the bakery in their pattens, baskets on their arms, it was impossible to talk sensibly.

‘Come round to the stables,’ said Archie.

The stables were at the back of the inn, reached by a narrow lane full of dung. A solitary cow, newly milked, lumbered out from a stone-flagged passage leading into the nearest house, and picked her way towards the green at the end of the street. Ben explained why it would make more sense to look for another chainman in Port St Mary, and, to his relief, Young Archibald absentmindedly agreed. He seemed to have something else on his mind, which was all to the good. In the stableyard a boy was rubbing down a sweating hack, but there was no sign of the head groom. In the coachhouse their gear was still safely in the gig, untouched.

‘Good,’ said Archie, when he’d inspected everything. ‘Ben, the devil of it is I willna be able to see this fellow afore eleven. I doubt we’ll be away until well after noon.’

‘Well, the horse’ll no mind,’ said Ben philosophically. ‘In fact I could put the poor beast out to grass. There’s a hobble in the gig. Then we could have a bite of dinner if we’re still here at midday.’ Ben followed Archie into the yard. ‘I speired about getting to Port St Mary too. The road’s no as good as the turnpike from Douglas, but it’s dry enough in this weather, and flat all the way, the old fellow said.’

Archie was looking at the sky, biting his lip. Not a cloud in sight, and not a breath of wind. The drought seemed set to continue. There was no chance at all of setting sail today, and that meant that in all honesty there was no hurry. Five and a half miles in a gig along an indifferent road – say an hour and a half at the worst. It was – he glanced at his watch again – nearly eight now. Low water was at eighteen minutes past eleven. They had to sail to Ellan Bride on the ebb to have the current with them. If only they hadn’t been held up by this business, they could have gone out on the ebb this morning. But they were missing this tide, damn it … and as for the next one, it was unlikely they’d persuade the boatman to leave this evening, as he’d then have to come home after dark, with no wind to help him either way. If they aimed at a dawn start tomorrow, he could send Ben to buy provisions now, while he saw this Mr Quirk … and now Ben was coming out of the stable, leading a depressed-looking roan, and was speaking to him again. ‘What did you say, Ben?’

‘About Drew, Mr Buchanan. What’ll we do about Drew?’

‘Nothing,’ said Archie emphatically. ‘Scott must fend for himself.’

‘But Mr Buchanan …’ Archie strode off down the street. Since the horse was in no hurry, Ben had to call after him. ‘Sir!’

Archie turned round. He had to look up six inches to meet Ben’s eyes; he always found that a disadvantage, but he said firmly, ‘No, Ben. It was insane, what Drew did. Doesn’t he realise we’ve got to keep these people on our side? He could have done us no end of damage. He must take what comes to him.’

Ben knew this mood of Young Archibald’s. There was never any point pleading with him. They’d worked together since Ben had started out as apprentice chainman on the Sutherland survey – so long, in fact, that Archie very seldom gave Ben direct orders. They respected each other, and Ben hardly ever got the Young Archibald treatment which so infuriated Drew. Usually he deflected any signs of it, but in this case he’d promised Drew. ‘But Mr Buchanan …’

‘Well?’

‘I saw Drew this morning, sir. Yon dungeon he’s in is the filthiest hellhole … it makes the Tollbooth look like a palace! And he’s no even been charged yet – they couldna find the constable – they may no even ken he’s in there! If ye’d seen him, sir. We kinna leave Drew to rot!’

This time Archie did give him a civil answer, but all the same he shook his head. ‘What would you have me do, Ben? If he’s broken the law of the land, what can I do?’

‘I’m sure you could, when you speak to this Bailiff today. A bailiff would be the right man, surely? Otherwise … what’ll they do to him? D’you ken what the law is here? Because I don’t. But seemingly they transported a fellow in like case.’

‘They won’t transport Scott! Doubtless they’ll have him up before their magistrate, and let him cool his heels for a couple of weeks in jail. He brought it on himself; he’ll have to thole it.’

‘Then, sir …’

‘What?’

‘We might well gang hame afore that! What if he’s in jail still?’

‘Then he’ll serve his sentence.’

‘But if we don’t take him back with us, Mr Stevenson’s going to ken about it. And Drew willna have the money for the steam packet, I’m sure of that.’

‘Is there any good reason why Mr Stevenson shouldn’t ken about it?’

‘It’s Drew’s job, Mr Archie,’ said Ben firmly. ‘I doubt he’d get another.’

‘For good reason, it seems. Enough of this, Ben! We’re a man short now, and there’s work to do!’

‘Ay well,’ said Ben reluctantly, ‘I think we could maybe hire one of the people at the lighthouse. At least they’d be getting some good out of us then.’

‘There isn’t anyone to hire at the lighthouse. Only women and bairns, Mr Stevenson said.’

‘Ay well, a woman or a bairn can hold the end of a chain. One of them must be strong enough to carry the oil up the tower.’

‘It wouldn’t do,’ said Archie decidedly. ‘We’ll have to ask Mr Watterson.’

‘That’ll be the boatman, will it?’

‘Ay, he supplies the Ellan Bride light. They use him for the Calf as well sometimes.’ Archie stared out past a row of thatched hovels to the empty sea. ‘Five mouths to feed on eighteen pounds a year,’ he added unexpectedly. ‘Our lightkeepers get forty-five pounds a year. Did you know the Duke cut their wages by nine pounds when the proper lightkeeper drowned?’

‘I’m no as surprised as I might be,’ said Ben.

‘No, and they don’t love the Duke much hereabouts.’

‘That was what did for poor Drew, sir. The Duke of Atholl being Scots. Once they found out we were Scots they started saying things in their own language. You could tell it wasna compliments exactly. They dinna love the Scots, for sure. The Duke wasna Drew’s fault, and that’s a fact.’

‘Enough, Mr Groat! I don’t want to hear another word about Scott!’ When Young Archibald put on his Edinburgh English voice it was useless to say another word. Ben sighed to himself. ‘No more about Scott! Is that understood?’

‘Understood, sir.’ Ben hesitated for a moment, as they strolled past the last cottages and on to the green above an open shingle beach. Ben bent to fasten the hobble. ‘There you go, boy. Make the most of it while you can.’ He straightened up, patted the horse on the rump as it hobbled away, and said casually, as he draped the leading rope over his arm, ‘Seems it’s a bit complicated, about this light on Ellan Bride? No just a matter of the Commissioners taking over from the private owner and building a new light, like I thought?’

‘I wonder if this is the Port St Mary Road?’ Archie sighed. ‘No, Ben, it’s not that simple. I wish we could just get on with the job and be done with it. It’s like this, so far as Mr Stevenson explained it to me. Up until three years ago the whole Island – the whole of the Isle of Man, that is – belonged to the Duke of Atholl –’

‘I thought he was just the Governor?’

‘Before he was Governor he owned the whole place. The Crown bought him out, and made him Governor – a sort of Prince Regent if you like, but no so fat. But they’re still arguing about what was sold to the Crown and what wasn’t. The Duke kept the Ellan Bride light, anyway. It was a private light, and when the Duke sold all his lands on the Isle of Man, he didn’t sell the light on Ellan Bride. The lawyers are still arguing about whether he sold the island the lighthouse stands on, along with all the other lands in his manor.’

‘But what about the Calf lights? He sold the ground for those all right.’

‘And a hell of a bargain he drove, too! Mr Stevenson showed me the letters. Sir William Rae kept writing from the Commissioners – half the time the Duke didn’t even bother to answer.’ Archie was getting really indignant now. ‘And then he wanted to charge a ridiculous rent for the ground: fifty pounds a year for ten acres of gravel! Well, he didna get it, and the lights got built in spite of him. And this with wrecks off this coast awmaist every year! He couldna have done it under Scots law, Ben.’

‘No a very public-spirited gentleman, seemingly. No wonder they don’t like the Scots much around here.’

‘It gets worse, Ben. For a hundred years the Atholls were favouring Scots here – everything from gentlemen’s appointments down to the very house servants. And the auld Duke put a Scots family on Ellan Bride when he first built the light there.’

‘Ay well. But at least he built a light. That was something.’

‘For profit, Ben, profit! I’m telling ye, these private gentlemen – so-called – are just in it for what they can make! They dinna care about the lights, or the shipping, or the wrecks, or the good o the country. The Atholls have probably made half a million out of this damn light, over the fifty years it’s been there. We only got the light on Ellan Bride at last when the old Duke died. And d’ye ken what we paid for it – just last year this was – £130,000! What’s more, the Commissioners dinna tak ony extra dues from the Manx lights at all. No a penny. If a ship’s paid its dues for the Scottish lights, that covers the Manx lights too.’

‘Ay well, even if the old Duke had got the price he wanted he couldna have taken it with him. And the light itself isna much good, I’m thinking, if we’re about to build a new one.’

‘Och, to be fair, the light was good in its time. But it’s been there fifty year. It’s obsolete.’

Ben strolled along, deep in thought, adapting his stride to Archie’s, then asked presently, ‘So why have you got to see this other fellow this morning? That’s nothing to do with the new Duke, surely? He doesna come into it any more?’

‘Och, there’s politics on this damn Island as well. The new Lieutenant Governor – that’s Colonel Smelt – wrote to the Commissioners to say that the harbour dues ought to be coming back to the Isle of Man. They feel sore here because their taxes all get spent in London, and nothing comes back to the Island. That seems to be the gist of it.’

‘There’s others who could say the same as that.’

Archie wasn’t listening. ‘Anyway, no one’s taking extra harbour dues from Ellan Bride now it comes under the Commissioners. Don’t ask me, Ben. Mr Stevenson said I was to steer clear o all that. My job – and I’m no relishing it overmuch – is to meet this Water Bailiff and just keep repeating that I don’t know, I’m just the surveyor. But I’m to keep him informed, and tell him my conclusions when we’ve done the work. I just have to keep the waters smooth, Ben, and no say anything.’

Then I’m surprised Mr Stevenson picked you for the job. Naturally Ben didn’t speak that thought aloud, but merely said, ‘So who’s the Water Bailiff, sir? Is it no the Governor you should be talking to?’

‘No, thank God. I’ve been told to liaise with the Water Bailiff, and keep him fully informed of all developments. They have their own sort of Parliament here, Mr Stevenson said – and the Water Bailiff is part of that.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Ben equably. He had to admit, hard though it was for Drew, that it was going to be much easier without him. Drew and Young Archibald brought out the very worst in each other. When it was just himself and Archie, Archie seemed to relax. Their backgrounds were not so very different after all. When Archie forgot that he had become an Edinburgh surveyor, Ben noticed that he lapsed into the accents of his early years. Today Young Archibald had been harder to handle. It was always the case when he was nervous. Probably he’d been worrying about today’s interview ever since they left Edinburgh. That was why he’d been so prickly. Drew would never understand that, any more than Archie would understand how Drew had got into that fight. And what Drew could never see was that Archie was good at his job. When he was roused you could see that he cared about it passionately. Too much, perhaps. He wanted more than Mr Stevenson was prepared to give. Maybe Robert Stevenson knew that, and maybe he didn’t. It was no business of Ben’s, and it was quite certain that no one would ever ask Ben what he thought about it.