Page 33 of By Marsh and By Moor
Jed enjoyed a sudden, pleasant vision of the two of them waking together, as they had at the pithead… But it wouldn’t be fair to Solomon.His head was not in the right place, and he had already taken his temper out on Solomon more than once.Better to be alone.
He realised Solomon was still waiting for an answer.
“Nah, I reckon I’m all right.I’ve a bed at a boarding house.”
“All right,” Solomon said easily, after only a moment’s pause.“Come on, let’s get back before Bill wakes up.”
After they had unloaded the cart at the mill, Solomon and Bill took the packhorses on up into the hills, while Jed drove the cart, laden with reams of broadcloth, back to Barnstaple.The spring sunshine was warm on his shoulders, and he hummed under his breath as he drove.
At Mrs Drake’s yard, the weekly carrier’s cart from Exeter had just come in.Jed drew up alongside, but did not immediately climb down from the driver’s seat.He watched the people gathered around the Exeter carrier, clamouring for the goods and messages they were expecting.
When Jed used to return to Ledcombe with Bess and his cart, half the village would turn out to greet him, eager to collect a parcel or just hear the latest news from the outside world.That evening, Jed always dropped into the village alehouse to share the news he’d picked up along his route.
That happy-go-lucky young man hadn’t had a care in the world.He’d never been started, never been flogged.Never felt a ship’s deck list as the hull filled with water.Never heard the great guns roar, never seen cannonball crash into wooden decking and send splinters flying, raining down death.
Every man must do his duty.
He’d already given five years of his life.Five years of blood and sweat.
He chewed his lip, turning things over in his head.He wanted to dream of Penwick apologising, saying Carrie had convinced him not to have Jed pressed.But he couldn’t even begin to imagine it: the idea that the Squire would kowtow to a man from the village.
Everything seemed rather hopeless.He was counting on the press gang leaving Minehead someday soon, but even after that happened, his troubles would not be over.Penwick might still find a way to set the law on him, or simply prevent him from finding his horse and cart.And other carriers had probably expanded into some or all of the routes he used to drive.
A voice intruded into these bitter thoughts.“Here, you, what’s-your-name!Trevithick!”It was the head yardman.“Don’t just sit there.Get that cart unloaded.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Jed muttered under his breath.He climbed down from the seat and trudged around to the horses’ heads.
The first thing to do was visit this Mr Morgan and discover what had become of his horse and cart.
The following day he had a stroke of good luck.
“Trevithick, you’re going to Heasley Mill,” the head yardman said as soon as Jed arrived at the yard, and raised his voice to call to the man who had just emerged from the stables leading a sturdy piebald packhorse.“Norris, here’s Trevithick to go along o’ you.”
The road to Heasley would take Jed very close to the village where Mr Morgan, Penwick’s man of business, lived.That had to be a good omen, surely.
He and Norris—a taciturn but not unfriendly fellow—set off with a long string of packhorses.After they’d made their delivery, it wasn’t difficult to persuade Norris to stop in High Bray for a drink.
“I have some business to see to,” Jed said.“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He left Norris sitting on the grass outside the alehouse with his mug of porter, the packhorses grazing peacefully beside him.
A village boy gave Jed directions to a smart brick house on the green, where a housemaid showed Jed into a room filled to overflowing with books and papers.Behind a desk piled high with ledgers, a middle-aged man sat writing.The young clerk at the corner desk was also scribbling away at something.
“A Mr Trevithick to see you, Mr Morgan,” the housemaid said.
The middle-aged man glanced at Jed.“Take a seat, my good man,” he invited, his pen still moving over the page.
Jed dropped into the chair, settled his hat on his knee, and looked squarely at Mr Morgan.
“I’m here to enquire about certain goods sold when you had Mrs Henry Penwick’s cottage cleared out on the occasion of her marriage.”
Mr Morgan laid down his pen and looked Jed up and down.“Who are you again?”
“My name is Trevithick, sir.I’m Mr Penwick’s brother in-law.”
Mr Morgan raised an eyebrow.“I see.”
Was that a hint of disbelief in his voice?Jed pressed on.
