The Dividing Tide

If the militia found them, Thomas didn’t know what would happen to Ahyoka . . .

GARREN made his way through the narrow streets of Bidreath and turned on to the steep track leading to the cliff. Soon the little cluster of cottages was far below.

Pausing at the top to catch his breath, he noticed Old Joe shuffling along towards him, puffs of smoke from his clay pipe streaming behind him in the breeze. “Joe!” he called. “Well, if it ain’t young Quick. I knew you wouldn’t stay away for long.” He paused to take another puff of his pipe. “You found that girl o’ yours, then?”

Garren’s gaze dropped to the waves below splashing against the rocky shore.

“Yes, I found her, Joe, but I’ve not brought her with me. Seems she’s found a better life.”

“A better life ’n this?” Joe gestured towards the sparkling sea and the fishing boats bobbing upon it. “Don’t you worrit, lad. She’ll be back, you’ll see.” He lifted his hand in farewell and continued on.

Garren turned in the direction of Merrick Cove. It

had been desperately hard leaving Jenna, but seeing Old Joe made him realise it was good to be home.

The leaden feeling inside his chest, however, remained. Jenna was the only girl he’d ever loved. He’d thought they’d be together for ever.

Why did those Nankerrises have to come along and spoil everything? St Austell might only be a day’s journey away, but she was as far out of reach as if she’d gone to America with her father!

He thrust aside an overhanging branch of blackthorn. Old Joe was wrong. Jenna wouldn’t come back. Why would she, when she’d found such comfort and luxury? She’d chosen a new life, and he had to accept it.

Memories crowded in on him as he walked. How beautiful she’d looked the day she’d come to the clay mine, dressed in all her finery. She’d looked every bit the lady with her fancy blue slippers and her golden ringlets peeping out at the side of her bonnet.

Where was the girl he loved, who used to work at the fish palace, whose hair was swept by the wind and whose hands were red-raw from the cold salt water?

She’d turned her back on her old life. And as her old life included him, it meant that she had turned her back on him, too.

He had to pull himself together. He wasn’t the first man to lose the woman he loved, and he doubted he’d be the last.

When he reached Merrick Cove he turned up the ravine to the cottage, noting the new chimney stack and bright patch of replacement thatch.

Doryty was standing in the shelter of the wind-bent hawthorn, gazing inland. He followed the line of her sight and was just in time to see a figure on horseback disappearing into the hills.

Doryty was so absorbed that she didn’t notice him approaching behind her, and she jumped when he touched her on the shoulder.

“Lawks, boy, what a start you gave me!” she remonstrated, clapping her hand to her chest. “Your mother never said anything about you coming home when I saw her yesterday morn. I thought you was still in St Austell.”

He shook his head. “Mother didn’t know. I just woke up one morning and decided.”

She peered at him. “Did you see our Jenna?” “No. Well, I did,” he corrected himself, “but I didn’t get to speak to her.”

He looked away to avoid the old lady’s sharp gaze but Doryty wasn’t easily put off.

“You’d better come in and tell me about it.”

“Have you had company?” he asked as he followed her indoors.

On the table stood two of Doryty’s best cups and saucers, a teapot and her precious caddy.

“Indeed I have.” She collected the cups together and put them in a pail on the floor. “One of Jenna’s uncles came to visit.” He stared at her. “Why would one of her uncles come here?” His heart raced. “Is Jenna ill?”

“Don’t fuss, boy. It’s nothing like that.”

She raked the fire with the poker and the scent of wood smoke filled the air. Then she swung the kettle across the flames.

“Soon as it’s boiled again I’ll make some fresh tea. I’ll fetch out some of my hevva cakes, too. I know how much you likes ’em. Baked this morning, they were, so they’re nice and fresh.”

But Garren’s thoughts were not upon hevva cakes, nor upon celebrating his homecoming. He was burning to know what had brought one of his bosses here to Doryty’s cottage. “Which uncle was it?” “Arthek, he said his name was. He brought a message from our girl. Very civil of him, and so I told him. ’Twere a pity he didn’t bring her in person, mind. I told him that an’ all.

“Now, sit yourself down,” she continued as he stood by the table. “You don’t have to stand on ceremony here, you know that.”

Obediently, he drew a stool beside the fireside and sat down. His mind spun. What was the message? Was it about him? Before he could ask, Doryty spoke again.

“How was it you didn’t get to speak to her when you was up in St Austell, then? Thought that was why you’d taken yourself there.”

She drew two flat raisin cakes from the bread crock and put them on a plate. The confections were baked to perfection, golden-brown with a criss-cross pattern to resemble the nets of the fishermen as was the local custom. But for once Garren wasn’t hungry.

“I did see her, but only from a distance. She came to the clay mine where I was working, to have a look around.” He bent his head to his hands. “She looked so grand, Doryty, you should have seen her.”

“But why didn’t you go and speak to her?”

He traced the red-andblack pattern on the rug with the toe of his boot. “I was working.” “You wasn’t even able to give her the time of day?”

“Mine employees are forbidden to talk to visiting gentry,” he told her defensively. “Besides, she didn’t seem our Jenna any more. She’s a lady now.”

Doryty rattled the cups into their saucers.

“Putting on airs, was she? No good ever comes of folk getting above theirselves.

“We each has our place, and must stick to it if we’re to get on.” She paused, frowning. “It don’t sound like our Jenna, though. I’m surprised at her.”

“She wasn’t putting on airs, exactly,” he explained hurriedly. “It was more that, well, that she belonged with them and not with us any more.

“Which I s’pose she does, when I think on it. I mean, the Nankerris family are as much her kin as you are. That’s the truth of the matter.” Doryty’s lips thinned. “I’m not denying the fact o’ that. But the gentleman who came here said she was returning to us at Michaelmas as planned.

“He wouldn’t have said that if it weren’t the truth! I think you must have it wrong, my boy.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear it if she left us for ever.”

As Garren looked at her, he couldn’t help noticing how rounded her thin shoulders had become, and he was sure the wrinkles on her weathered face had grown deeper since he’d been away.

Why had Jenna’s uncle come to call? What news did he bring?

Was it fair to tell her these things? But what was the point of avoiding the issue? Surely it was better to face up to the truth? He took a deep breath. “The last thing I want to do is upset you, Doryty,” he said gently, “but I think you should prepare yourself.”

“Prepare myself? What for, boy?”

“Our Jenna. I reckon she’s gone for good.”

“It is so wonderful to take the air again,” Morwenna said, leaning heavily on her husband’s arm as he led her slowly and carefully down the steps of the terrace to the garden below. “Four months is a long time to spend in bed.” Jago smiled down at her. “Indeed it is, my dear, but what a good reason we have for you doing so.”

She returned his smile, happy just to be in his company as they wandered slowly along the gravel path to the orchard.

The apple trees were in blossom and bees buzzed around the pink and white flowers.

I will never take any of this for granted again, she thought, looking up at the deep blue sky above.

Before her enforced rest, her life had been full with committees and charitable works, tête-à-têtes and soirées, assemblies

and balls. She’d had no time to stop and think at all. How sweet everyday things seemed now.

Sunlight freckled the path as they made their way towards a wooden seat.

“You have borne your indisposition admirably,” Jago praised her, pressing her hand which lay upon his arm, “but you will think of it as naught when you hold our son in your arms.”

“What makes you so sure it will be a boy? What if it’s another girl like Lamorna?”

“Then I shall love her just as dearly.” He smiled. “We must take what the good Lord sends us and be grateful.

“But now, I think we should sit for a while. The doctor said you are not to exert yourself.”

“Wandering in the garden is hardly exerting myself, Jago,” she retorted, bending her head to breathe in the fragrant scent of an early rose that grew in the sheltered bed beside the bench.

“Nevertheless, I must insist that we stop our perambulations for a while.”

He hovered solicitously as she sat down.

“Did I tell you about Pasco Buller?” he asked, seating himself beside her. She turned to him. “Pasco? No, you did not. What has he done?”

“He is engaged to be married. There was an announcement in the newspapers. His fiancée is a lady of some standing. I hope you are not distressed by the news, my dear?” She thought about it. “No, I am not,” she replied, and was surprised by the truth of her words.

Instead of the frustration and annoyance she might once have felt, there was only a feeling of relief.

“Between you and me,” she confessed, “I am pleased to hear it. I have come to the realisation that our daughter is not made for a life of parlours and balls. It was quite wrong of me to have pressed the suit with Pasco. Lamorna would not have been happy married to him.”

“You were simply doing your best for her,” he reassured her. “No mother can do more than that.”

“But I was so caught up with securing a good match for her that I overlooked the importance of her happiness, and that was wrong of me.”

She paused.

“All I wish for her is the same contentment that we have known. So many arranged marriages are empty of warmth. We have been fortunate, have we not, dearest?”

“Fortunate indeed,” he agreed, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss upon it.

When they had rested they continued their walk, the gentle baa-ing of the sheep in the field beside them lifting lazily into the spring air.

“I almost forgot,” he announced, as they reached the ha-ha at the boundary of the property. “I have another piece of news.”

She looked up at him expectantly.

“More news? Do tell, dearest. You know how simply starved of gossip I am.”

“We have new neighbours. A farming family from Devonshire have taken Tregothen Farm.”

“Indeed? Are there sons?” “I might have known that would be your first concern!” He laughed. “Three, and of marriageable age, too. I understand that the eldest boy is being groomed to take over the estate. The family will reside here for a year to help him settle in and learn the ropes before he takes full charge.”

Morwenna was thoughtful for a moment.

“A farming life would suit our daughter well, don’t you think, dearest?” she asked. “After the baby is born, we must invite them to dinner.”

He laughed again. “I thought you were not going to meddle any more?”

“We are her parents,” she said, reaching up to dab the beads of perspiration that had gathered on her forehead. “We must consider her happiness, of course. But it is also our duty to see her settled.”

Thomas stared at the Savannah shipping clerk in astonishment.

“No ships leaving the port at all? Are you sure?”

“There are some, but none going to the Cornish ports. You’ve just arrived?” “This afternoon, yes.” “It’s been this way for several weeks. It’s absolute chaos.”

“We heard news of a dispute on the road here, but I had no idea it was as bad as this.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “What about Bristol, or London? Any berths to be had there?”

“Every one of them taken for weeks to come. We have been ordered not to accept any more bookings for the time being. Every ship with permission to leave is packed full to the rigging with passengers. There’s not a berth to spare. I’m sorry, sir.”

Thomas took a deep breath. What was he to do now? He thought of all the people cleared from the hills to make way for the gold prospectors, of the families he’d seen with his own eyes being forced from their homes and fields.

If they’d do that, he thought grimly, what was to stop them searching for stragglers? The authorities in Georgia may already have sent word to the ports asking them to be on the lookout for Native Americans trying to escape.

One thing was certain. He had to get Ahyoka away.

“I assure you there is not a berth to be had anywhere at the present time, sir,” the clerk said, looking across Thomas’s shoulder at the queue that was gathering behind him. “If I were you, I’d find a bed until it’s all sorted out.

“Come back when the ban is lifted, and I promise you I will find you the first passage I can.”

There was nothing for it but to leave, and reluctantly Thomas made his way out of the office. The midday sun struck upon his head and shoulders as he closed the door behind him and he was soon mopping his brow as he made his way back along the Savannah River to the harbour’s edge.

The clerk was right about the chaos, he thought, as he made his way between the piles of goods. There was merchandise stacked everywhere: sacks of cotton from the plantations, barrels and lumber, deerskins and hides, all filling the air with strange odours.

The river itself was full to bursting with ships. Timbers creaked, pennants flapped, voices called and gulls screeched. Normally, he would have viewed the busy scene with interest, but today he felt weighed down with care.

He found Ahyoka sitting where he had left her on an upturned crate, clutching the rolled-up blanket one of her tribeswomen had given her, his carpet bag at her feet.

She looked at him expectantly as he stooped down beside her, but before he could speak, there came the sound of tramping boots.

He spun round. A cluster of blue uniforms was making its way towards them. Quickly he stood up, picked up his bag and helped Ahyoka to her feet.

“Militia!” he whispered urgently. “Come. We must get away.”

He hurried her through the throng of people, not slowing until they had reached the edge of the crowd. Only then did he allow himself a glance over his shoulder, and what he saw made him sigh with relief.

It seemed the soldiers were not interested in them at all. They were making their way towards a ship where an argument was taking place over the loading of goods.

Nevertheless, the incident felt like a warning and he decided the best thing to do would be to continue into town. As they walked, he told Ahyoka about the shipping dispute and the scarcity of berths.

Instead of being upset

as he had thought she must be, she was philosophical.

“We must do what the clerk suggests, Thomas, and find somewhere to stay.”

He slipped an arm about her waist and drew her to him, grateful for her fortitude.

“Then let us go and do the impossible.” He smiled.

For the next three hours they paced the busy streets of Savannah, knocking on doors and stopping people to ask them if they knew of a room to be had.

But with each disappointment, Thomas’s heart grew more heavy and his brow more creased.

“No,” they heard time and time again. “Sorry.”

It seemed that there was nothing to be had anywhere.

Just as hope was turning to despair, he saw a young couple coming out of an inn carrying a trunk between them.

“Come on,’ he said, “we might just be in luck.”

He hurried Ahyoka towards the inn, quickly mounted the short flight of steps, and pushed open the door.

The harbour sounds dimmed as he entered, and he found himself inside a gloomy tap room. A row of large barrels stood against the far wall and several tables and settles filled the room.

The air smelt of stale tobacco smoke and spilled ale, odours that he had become used to over the years, but he heard Ahyoka’s sharp intake of breath.

The landlord, a large portly man with tight iron-grey curls, turned round from the table he had been clearing.

“It’s a room you’re after, I take it?” he called across to them in a deep voice, glancing at the leather clutch bag Thomas carried.

Thomas nodded, holding his breath and hardly daring to hope.

“You’re in luck, my friend.” The landlord’s big, round face broke into a grin. “One has just become vacant.”

Two minutes later they were following him up a narrow, rickety staircase to a tiny room beneath the eaves that still contained the musty impression of the previous occupants.

A brass bedstead was pushed against the wall, its patchwork quilt still crumpled. The shutters were closed, and the washstand had not yet been emptied of dirty suds.

“You’re lucky to get anything at all,” the landlord said, as they stood gazing at it. “Beds are as rare as ships in Savannah at the moment.”

He gave a hearty, booming laugh as he squeezed past them.

“I’ll get my wife to tidy up and put fresh bed linen on just as soon as she can.”

Thomas nodded and soon they had agreed a price. It was expensive, as he had known it would be, but he was just pleased they had found a roof over their heads.

Ahyoka could sleep soundly away from inquisitive soldiers while they waited for a ship.

She was looking tired, he thought, glancing at her, and he knew from the way her limp had grown worse that her foot hurt her.

As soon as the landlord had left the room, he stepped across to the window and pushed open the shutters. The muffled sounds of the harbour burst into the room in a crescendo. He looked down at the bustling scene below, feeling his anxieties lessen.

They could see the whole harbour from their little eyrie. It would help to while away the hours while they waited. Perhaps their luck had turned?

But each day, after visiting the shipping offices in search of a berth to England, he returned to the inn with disappointing news. Almost four weeks passed in this way, and he began to worry about their dwindling resources.

Then, early one morning, he heard a knock at their door.

“I’ve just had news of berths to be had on the

Clementine,” the landlord told him. “She’s a paddle- steamer heading for New York. It’ll mean a longer journey for you, but it’ll get you on your way. You’ll have to make haste, mind. News travels fast in a place like this.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Thomas reached out to clasp his hand. “We’ll have a much better chance of a passage from a big port like that.” Quickly, he dressed and made his way to the ticket office.

He was in luck. With great excitement, he bought the last two passages remaining.

“At least we’ll be on our way,” he told Ahyoka as they packed their meagre belongings, “and with a bit of luck we’ll get lost in the crowds and won’t be asked any questions.”

As he slipped the clasp of his bag into place, he looked across the bed at her.

“I don’t think having to wait around here is doing you any good,” he said with a frown. “You haven’t been looking very well recently.”

It was true. Somehow she seemed depleted. It was all this waiting and worrying, he thought. It hadn’t been good for her. It would be better when they were moving again.

Jenna adapted her quick light steps to Morwenna’s ponderous ones as they strolled through the copse at the back of the house.

The doctor was pleased with her aunt’s progress and had encouraged her to continue her perambulations, and it had fallen to Jenna to accompany her on a gentle walk each day before luncheon.

Usually her aunt would talk to her as they walked, instructing her in her duties and responsibilities. But for the last ten minutes she had fallen silent and Jenna’s thoughts had turned, as they so often did, to Garren.

She didn’t understand why he hadn’t come to see her when he had been working so close by.

Why hadn’t he delivered his message himself? And what had made him decide to leave? It was cruel, and that wasn’t like him.

Her thoughts went round and round as they searched for answers, but to no avail. The truth was, she didn’t know what to think.

Suddenly, she felt her stomach churn. What if he’d met somebody else? The girls at home were always making eyes at him, it was true. Yes, that must be it. He was so handsome, after all.

As they emerged from the trees into the warm May sunshine, Morwenna’s voice cut in on her reverie.

“Put my parasol up for me and give me your arm.”

Jenna looked at her aunt in consternation. There was something about the tone of her voice that wasn’t quite right. She watched Morwenna’s cheeks as they paled.

“Are you feeling quite well?” she asked, opening her parasol for her and holding it aloft. “It is rather warm today. Perhaps we should return to the house?”

She felt the heavy weight of her aunt’s arm as she slipped it into hers.

“We should not have come so far,” she murmured as she looked down the length of the gravel path. It seemed to stretch interminably line to the rear of the house. “Oh, dear, it’s my fault. Why did I suggest the woods?”

“There’s no point going into that now,” Morwenna snapped. “Take my arm and match your step to mine. There, that’s better.”

Slowly, very slowly, they made their way towards the house. But halfway down the path Morwenna stopped again. “What is it, Aunt?”

If only she understood a little more about the intricacies of the maternal state. The only things she knew about childbearing was what she had heard from the women in the fish palace. And not all of that was reassuring.

But Morwenna had simply paused to speak.

“I have been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yes, Aunt? What is it?”

“Your uncle and I are hoping you will consider staying on at Nankerris with us when your allotted year is up.”

Jenna stared at her. “Stay on? Forgive me, but I had not thought you liked me being here. My understanding was that you were only tolerating my presence because it fulfilled the requirement of the late Lord Nankerris’s will.”

Morwenna gave a slight moan.

“That was true at the beginning,” she admitted, rubbing the small of her back, “but I have changed my mind of late.” She moaned again, leaning first a little backwards then forwards. “Come, let us continue.”

“Indeed, I think we should,” Jenna replied, eyeing her with alarm.

Neither of them spoke again until they reached the dairy abutting the rear courtyard. A chair had been placed beside the door of the tiny building to prop it open and on instinct, she led Morwenna towards it.

Through the open doorway she could hear the soft thud-thud-thud of the butter churn.

“Well, what do you say about staying?” Morwenna persisted, reaching out to grip the back of the chair.

“I’m very grateful to you, Aunt,” she replied, wishing to be honest, “and I thank both you and Uncle for your offer, but the truth is that I miss my home. My grandmother needs me,” she added as she helped her to sit down.

“Do we not need you, too?” Morwenna stiffened, reaching out to clutch Jenna’s hand. “Oh!” She gasped. “I think my pains have begun.”

She took several deep breaths, her contorted face slowly softening.

“You must say you’ll stay, Jenna,” she said, her voice growing urgent, “you must.” Her voice rose as another contraction gripped her. “I cannot do without you!”

“Of course I will, Aunt,” she soothed, stooping down beside the chair and staring into eyes dark with pain. Could she say otherwise in such a situation?

“Nancy!” she called out. The thud of the butter churn stopped, and a dark head appeared.

“What is it, miss? Oh, Lady Nankerris, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she added, bobbing a curtsey. Jenna stood up again. “Nancy, please stay with her Ladyship while I go for help,” she said, keeping her voice calm. She turned to Morwenna. “I’ll be gone a few minutes. I’ll come straight back with help and we can get you indoors.”

A movement caught her eye and she looked up, to see Lamorna on her horse trotting across the meadow towards the stables.

“I’ll ask Lamorna to ride over to the mine and fetch Uncle, too,” she added. “Don’t worry, Aunt, everything will be all right.”

As Jenna raced from the dairy into the house, the full implication of her hasty promise hit her. She’d said she would stay, so now she would have to.

A person’s word was their bond, after all. Her father had always taught her that.

But for the time being there were other things to think of. She reached the kitchen and rushed in. “Mrs Mundey!”

The cook was breaking eggs into a bowl. She stopped in her task, half a shell in each hand dripping raw egg on to the table.

“What’s the matter, miss? You look white as a sheet.”

“It’s Lady Nankerris. Her pains have started. I’ve come for help.”

The cook gasped. “Mrs Simpson’s in the parlour,” she said. “Go and get her. Where have you left her Ladyship?”

“Up at the dairy. Nancy’s with her.”

Cook gave a loud snort. “That girl won’t be any use. I’ll get up there.” She wiped her hands. “Hurry now,” she urged. “We need to get her Ladyship indoors. With all the problems she’s had, we can’t afford to take any chances.”

To be concluded.