The Indigo Pheasant: Volume Two of Longing for Yount: 2

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The Indigo Pheasant: Volume Two of Longing for Yount: 2 Page 9

by Daniel A. Rabuzzi


  Since we cannot disclose the ultimate nature of the venture, we have had to offer a guarantee of 12% profit as a sort of blind trust—Sedgewick has arranged the legalities and confirms (we must be completely secure in this legal structure) that we are fulfilling our fiduciary responsibilities in this manner. How we are—as a business matter—to make good on that guarantee depends greatly on the outcome of your inquiries in Edinburgh and that of the Landesmanns among our northern connections.

  In the meantime, our cash outlays as we embark on the Project are not small. The shipyard has agreed to extend us some credit, but not nearly enough to avoid sizeable payments to the mechanics and machinists, not to speak of the architects and draftsmen.

  Not wanting to alarm you, but only to be sure you are in full possession of the relevant facts, I wish you Godspeed old friend.

  —S

  P.S. Something seems to work against us in this matter, more than just the normal vagaries of the market. I hear many reasons and excuses, e.g., the financial panics in the United States distract some, and the strife between the Greeks and Turks affect others, but there is more to it than that. We are not welcomed in places where formerly we were given freedom at least to propose our ventures; we receive odd and even stony glances from others, among whom we once numbered as friends. I will save more for your return, but think that our designs are being countered by those who sought to thwart us on our recent prolonged journey. More I will not put to paper.

  [Letter from Mr. Sedgewick to Sir John Barrow, Second Secretary of the Admiralty, hand-delivered by Lt. Thracemorton, on the feast day of The Lady Gilthoniel, the Prayer-Incarnate]

  Sir,

  I beg leave to redouble my concerns for the nature and outcome of the matters to which you have entrusted me—my causes for alarm are well beyond my (and quite possibly any one man’s) control, as I believe you shall see from what I recount below.

  Kidlington has done what you asked and re-attached himself to the McDoons, most particularly to the girl, in whom he clearly has a romantic interest (I assume my lord was aware of this when formulating your plan at the outset?). Not to tell you your business, but it is my considered opinion that an amatory thread in this tapestry may mar the whole pattern.

  I do not know what Kidlington has reported to you, for he speaks nothing to me about whatever he is charged to discover. I will, of course, relay to you all that I might learn from him.

  However, I do know—and I understand the excellent Lt. Thracemorton knows—that Kidlington has been approached again by those others of whom we earlier spoke, namely, his old creditors, though they no longer have any legal claim upon him. Or it may be that Kidlington has approached them, which would be more suspect still. Fallaces sunt rerum species, in the words of Seneca.

  Pro tanto, I have not yet been able to connect with certainty these persons with the firm Coppelius, Prinn & Goethals (Widow) but I believe strongly that some such connection exists, and—more important—I believe C, P & G has aims at odds with those of the Admiralty. I recommend that I meet directly with you soon to discuss further, as I will not have all that I suspect captured on paper.

  This firm is now negotiating with the McDoons for a share in the Project. Even if the McDoons shared my apprehensions, they are in no position to refuse the possible involvement of Coppelius, Prinn & Goethals (Widow), since—as I know you are aware—the Project is not yet fully underwritten and the McDoons are beginning to feel financial pressures.

  One final item that may—or may not—be relevant to these affairs: the McDoons have acquired a new member, in the most astonishing and circuitous of ways, and in the form of a most extraordinary person. A long-sundered heir has appeared whose claim I have myself probed and found valid; the McDoons have taken her in and accepted her as one of their own. Her given name is Margaret Collins. Be aware, sir, that this Miss Collins is of African origin and that she is something of a mathematical savant (which I have myself witnessed and can attest to). I feel compelled to mention this, as her fame or notoriety has begun to spread, at least here in the City, though perhaps not yet in Westminster, St. James, or Belgravia.

  Awaiting your further instructions,

  and as always your most humble servant,

  —Sedgewick, Esq.

  P.S. I debated whether or not to include a final item but do so, in the interest of full disclosure and for the sake of good order. The Miss Collins, now acknowledged as a cousin of the McDoons and living with them, was most recently employed as a servant in my very own household. The coincidences that created this situation being too vast and concatenated to compass here, I beg your indulgence to discuss them with you when we meet in person, should such a discussion interest you.

  [From Sir John Barrow to Lord Melville, First Secretary of the Admiralty, sent in strictest confidence, on the Day of the Most Sacred Mundation]

  My lord:

  The Project outlined in Special File 16, in which the Admiralty now has an interest totalling ten thousand Pounds Sterling, continues to be a source of some concern.

  The commercial under-takers have not yet been able to raise the remaining capital, at the same time as the costs of the Project continue to increase. I labour under no illusions that the Exchequer is unaware of or indifferent to this matter; I will have financial statements prepared for your review within the fortnight.

  Our agents work strenuously to effect and assure the Project’s success, but detect counter-impulses from (to the best of our knowledge) those Others about whom you and I have had occasion to discuss.

  More salubrious is the news that the Project is impelling the creation of and deployment of novel technologies and sapientia, which will benefit the realm immeasurably in years to come.

  Ex mea sententia, my lord: you may wish to discuss the Project—and potentially certain other matters covered within Special File 16, at your discretion—with the Master-General of the Ordnance, and the President of the Board of Control. Their support of Admiralty’s position would be most welcome, particularly in the face of certain opposition from the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Gather your junto of all the talents now, my lord.

  Your most obedient servant,

  —Sir John Barrow

  [Excerpts from the contract between the engineering firm of Henry Maudslay, in the Westminster Road (Lambeth) and the ship’s venture led and managed by the firm of McDoon & Co., in Mincing Lane, The City of London]:

  Clause I., General Premises and Heads of Agreement as between the Parties hereto.

  [ . . . ] Furthermore, the firm of Maudslay agrees to work diligently, closely and amicably with any and all other firms and individual professionals that the firm of McDoon may name or direct them to collaborate with, the object being to make the Deliverables described in Clause III below essentially part and parcel of the total Project, namely, the ship The Indigo Pheasant being built for the McDoon-led consortium at the Blackwall Yards in Rotherhithe. As of the date of this Contract, said firms or individuals include (but may not in future be limited to) the clockmaking firm Gravell & Co. (continuing the firm of Eardley Norton), located at 49 St. John Street in Clerkenwell, and Mr. Joseph Michael Gandy, architect and draftsman, located at The Adelphi Buildings by the Strand, besides ipso facto the Blackwall Yards and all their affiliated workmen, mechanics and engineers.

  [ . . . ]

  Clause III., Goods & Services Deliverable by the firm of Maudslay, as hereby specified and enumerated.

  [Consideration for and compensation due the firm of Maudslay from the firm of McDoon is specified in Clause IV below]

  a. One propulsive engine, to be charged and driven by steam, to the dimensions, specifications, capacity and tolerances laid out in Exhibit I attached hereto, adhering to the design known generally as a double—and direct-acting, with the further specification that it entail oscillation of the piston rods, to generate the maximum force and thrust within the smallest space possible and with the lowest weight of machinery possible; thus, the rods mu
st connect directly to the crankshaft, using mobile cylinders secured by trunnions.

  b. A series of valves and connections for the engine, as specified in Exhibit II attached.

  c. Specified precision milling, lathing, threading and gearing, to the fineness of one-ten/thousandth of an inch, on materials to be described in an Addendum to be supplied no later than six months from the signing of this Contract.

  [Extract of internal correspondence, the firm Gravell & Co., continuing the firm of Eardley Norton, located at 49 St. John Street, Clerkenwell]

  On the Physick Moon,

  in the month . . . year . . .

  Dear brother:

  I rejoice to inform you that our firm has acquired a most interesting new client, the merchants McDoon & Co. (Mincing Lane), who wish us to provide the highest quality horological instrumentation for a vessel, The Indigo Pheasant, they are having built at Blackwalls. About the McDoons, I have ascertained this. . . .

  [… . . . .]

  Now, dear brother, I come to the most novel element of this project, namely, the nature of the requested instrumentation, which bids fair to surpass anything we—or any of our colleagues in The Clockmakers’ Company—have ever achieved in terms of precision and delicacy of operation. I eagerly anticipate reviewing with you, upon your return, the preliminary drawings rendered for the client by their draftsman, Mr. Gandy—“horological” only captures part of what is envisioned, if I understand this aright.

  Our challenges include the need to maintain as low a friction as possible in the escapement and a reliability never yet attained—we must innovate using the Tompion/Graham deadbeat escapement as our base, or so I will recommend. And, of course, the client demands the most stringent accuracy as a result.

  [Extract of a letter from Mary Fairfax Somerville, later translator of Laplace’s The Mechanism of the Heavens, to Sir Joseph Banks, President of the Royal Society]

  My dear Sir Joseph:

  Knowing that your health troubles you, especially in these winter months, and hoping my note finds you well in that and all other regards, I will not meander in my news.

  I write foremost to alert you to a possible new mathematical prodigy in our midst, and that of a most unusual origin and demeanour. Her name is Margaret Collins; through twists and turns too bizarre to elaborate here, she has recently reunited with her family—a respectable merchant named McDoon (a Scotsman like me!), resident in The City. I came to hear of her, and then met her in person, through the offices of my friend, Mrs. Shawdelia Sedgewick (whose sister married one of the ‘Admiralty’ Tarletons, whom I know are friendly with you).

  How should I describe her? Strange as it is to relate, she is an African (!) born in the United States but having been raised in London. She possesses a natural born hauteur that would befit a princess; she does not suffer fools gladly. A rare combination, given her lowly origins—already her neighbours refer to her as the ‘Hottentot Scholar’ and other similar designations, which can only be harmful to her dignity, or perhaps instead such taunts and unkindnesses serve merely to sharpen her already keen and acerbic nature.

  She is—and she must be—very self-assured in her skills and knowledge, which I am pleased to tell you are real and demonstrable, Sir Joseph. I quizzed her for almost two hours—which she did not take kindly to, I must confess, and perhaps I was heavy-handed, yet I feel I did no wrong, since I needed to know if she had substance before I could, in good conscience, bring her to your or any other’s learned attention—she shows a very clear and unfeigned understanding of Laplace’s work, and the most recent of Gauss, besides Monge and others. I am sure you will agree that such an understanding is rare enough among the educated classes; to find it so well developed in one of little formal training beyond a charity school is difficult to comprehend. My friend, Mrs. Sedgewick, who knows her well, says that Miss Collins is the most sedulous reader she has ever seen—the girl apparently has taught herself!

  I ask only that you be willing to meet with her, should I be able to arrange such a thing. It does no good for a talent as remarkable as hers to asphyxiate, which it will surely do unless brought closer to the felicitous atmospheres provided by the Royal Society. She has a real contribution to make in the area of the diophantine equations, Sir Joseph, and I modestly suggest that the Royal Society might want to assist the Miss Collins in her endeavours.

  With all best wishes,

  as always your affectionate friend,

  —Mrs. Somerville

  [Excerpt of a dispatch from special envoy Tang Guozhi, temporarily resident at Cape Town, South Africa, to the Imperial Second Chancellor in Peking; translation from the Chinese is general and may contain ambiguities]:

  In the 21st year of the reign of His Celestial Majesty, the Jiaquing Emperor, in the Year of the Rat, under the Sign of Fire:

  [… . . . .]

  Please also inform His Imperial Highness that our plan proceeds, albeit with some delay, primarily caused by the bad weather that has disrupted sailing times and the patterns of the winds, which we understand from the many merchants and ship-captains in this place afflicts the entire Indian Ocean and the Great Sea of China, and is now also turning against us the currents of the Atlantic Ocean as well (many here speculate that the terrible volcanic eruption last year in the Water Indies, at the place called Tamboro, might be the cause of the disturbed oceanic regime).

  Thus, we have not yet been able to continue on to London, but hope to very soon, as soon as the sailing season returns.

  My two charges are restless here. Xie Mei-Hua in particular suffers from [ideogram here can mean several things, including ‘distress,’ ‘melancholy visions,’ ‘poetic inspiration’; a literal translation might be ‘a wind-that-stirs-the-mind’].

  [… . . . .]

  I am more convinced than ever that our hosts are fully aware of the Place Beyond that our philosophers and astrologers have divined exists. Equally clear to me is that the English government [the character is multivalenced, could be translated as ‘believes but questions’ or ‘disputes with intent to prove’] in this same matter.

  If we are to counter the aggressive actions of the English—and other European powers, besides the upstart Americans—we must and will prosecute our plan with full strength.

  [… . . . .]

  Dear Reglum:

  I write from the inn at Slough, as I—accompanied by the redoubtable Mr. Harris, who exhibits great good cheer at the idea of visiting his native West Country—journey out to Devon for our first review of the china clay deposits there. As you know better than anyone, the use of china clay in compounds to glaze and coat certain joints and connections in the Project will enormously increase the efficacy of the Project’s performance—I am optimistic that our little westward expedition will be a success.

  Thank you for the evening out the day before I left. The lecture at the Society of Dilettanti was diverting, and how can one ever say no to the pastries at Mrs. Wolstaltham’s?

  I must end now or else I will miss getting this into the mailbag on the London-bound stage.

  My best to Dorentius, and Mr. Nax,

  and of course to all my family.

  —Your affectionate Sally

  [Fragment of a note scrawled in pencil that appears to be from Sally to James; it is beyond dispute that the handwriting is Sally’s]

  . . . James, dearest. I hesitate to say more at this time. [illegible] Mr. Harris suspects nothing, and I will not have him made a fool of, so [illegible] . . . the inn at Slough. We will have only two hours at most, but . . .

  Chapter 3: Many Perils, or,

  The Profoundest Dangers of Air and Time

  “Or where afar, the ship-lights faintly shine

  Like wandering fairy fires, that oft on land

  Mislead the pilgrim; such the dubious ray

  That wavering reason lends, in life’s

  Long darkling way.”

  —Charlotte Smith, “Sonnet” (1798)

  “The sleep of Re
ason produces monsters.”

  —Francisco de Goya (1799)

  “We were surrounded by an empty sky without wind or birds in flight, a forest of bare trees without sound or motion;—the only noise at all was the crunch of frozen grass under our feet. Ellenore said: ‘Everything is becalmed; Nature herself bows in resignation to the season. Our hearts must learn to be so resigned as well.’ She . . . fell to her knees and held her bowed head in her hands. I heard her whisper a prayer . . .”

  —Benjamin Constant, Adolphe (1816;

  translated from the French by William Copperthwaite, 1818)

  Summer passed in 1816, the “year without a summer,” inordinately cold, cloudy, and wet.

  Barnabas—the weather chafing his lungs—replenished his supply of Bateman’s pectoral drops and other pharmaceutical necessaries. Throat wrapped in a scarf, he puttered in his garden, but the chill and endless rain quashed all hopes of getting the smilax to take.

  “Quatsch,” he said with a cough on countless occasions. The only plant that appeared undaunted by the weather was the hardy little bixwort, the blue flower of repentance.

  Maggie moved into the house on Mincing Lane, taking Tom’s old room. At first she had trouble sleeping because the bed was so soft and the space so quiet. “I have a room of my own,” she thought. “Mama, you should see this: my very own door!”

  Sally did not sleep well either, partly because Maggie had moved in and partly because the temptation of James continued to haunt her even as she spent her days in the company of Reglum. “So the African girl found me before I could find her—and is believed to be our cousin—and is sleeping now under our very roof, in Tom’s room!” she said to Isaak.

  Tom—and Afsana—were on Sanford’s mind as well. He proposed staging a play—a revival of an Oldmixon piece perhaps, or a novelty like the recent translation of The Stranger by Kotzebue, maybe even Buskirk again—something to remind them of their kin and friends in Yount, but no one had the heart for it (despite the ceaseless rain keeping everyone indoors most of the time) so the idea died a quiet death.

 

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