Illusions Of Change (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 6)

by Andrew Wareham

  Mary explained, commenting that bronze and gun-metal were both in short supply due to the shortage of tin. The Cornish mines had supplied most of Western Europe for many years, since Roman days in fact, but they were becoming exhausted. They were wet mines and the tin ores were too deep for steam pumps to cope with the flow of water; almost all of the mines were shut or on the point of closing, their workers gone to South Wales or across the Ocean.

  “Gun-metal, yet the wars are over. Is it not possible that there are guns, I presume one means cannon, lying redundant in our arsenals, or possibly at wharfside, the merchantmen needing them no longer?”

  It seemed very probable, and extremely wasteful if it should be so. They could not themselves become scrap-metal merchants and go about the processes involved in laying hands upon these idle cannon, but they could certainly bring the matter to the attention of the menfolk.

  “A letter to Lord Andrews?”

  “Possibly, Mary, but he is not, perhaps, as young as he once was. He has enough to do these days without an extra burden of business upon him. What of your eldest brother, Mr Thomas Star?”

  “He could find the funds for a business enterprise, but he is an active man nowadays. The Private Act has been passed and he is the leading figure on the Board that was created, Chairman of the Watch Committee and of the Sewers and Potable Water Reticulation Committee and with oversight of the officials who are to collect a rate from the taxpayers. When he succeeds to the title he will certainly find himself pressured to take a part in national public life. His marriage, of course, has been the making of him, he is so proud of his wife and so much wishes to make her proud of him in turn, not realising that she dotes on him already! I will speak to Thomas and we will see if he can employ a manager, if he agrees that the enterprise would make sense.”

  “A pity that there is not another brother to hand to run a firm for him.”

  Captain John was enjoying a successful career in his business endeavours in India and its surrounding seas, or so it appeared to David Mostyn; his ship Murat had returned well inside its specified time, so much so that it could barely have spent a month in the waters of the islands north of the Barrier Reef..

  “Mostyns would be very glad to purchase your gold dust, Captain John, if you are not committed elsewhere.”

  Captain John had hoped that they might, he said. Better to trade with a reputable English bank than with Indian goldsmiths, who might be wholly honest, for all he knew…

  “The dust must be assayed, of course. That can be arranged, the Honourable Company will assist, I have no doubt.”

  The shortage of bullion was such that the Company could be absolutely guaranteed to aid them on a no questions asked basis.

  “Pearls are much less in our line, as you will understand, Captain John, while as for dried, ah, trepang, well, I do not believe I could offer any help at all.”

  “Sea-slugs, Mr Mostyn! A delicacy amongst the Chinese, of whom there are numbers to be found throughout the whole of the Orient. I have already received offers, indeed no fewer than three merchants are bidding at the moment. For the pearls, the court at Oudh is anxious to purchase and will offer a very good price, part in cash, partly in other considerations.”

  David Mostyn had no desire to discover just what ‘other considerations’ might be. A respectable banker was well-advised to know nothing of such matters, and David felt obliged to maintain a front of conventionality, for the sake of the future name of the bank. It was likely, he thought, that trading conditions in India might partake less of the frontier, lean more towards a civilised hypocrisy within a few years, and he should be able to take his place in the new order, when it arose.

  “Will you send Murat back to the waters off the Papues, Captain John?”

  “No, sir. I believe that once is sufficient for such an endeavour. I intend to use my profits to land her guns and rebuild the deck to make her more suitable for fast runs up to the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea.”

  Slaving, in fact, much more acceptable than piracy.

  The ships of the Bombay Marine and Royal Navy had no hesitation in sinking pirates and hanging their crews out of hand and would not be persuaded to turn a blind eye to any nationality of marauder. They slaughtered Chinese pirates just as enthusiastically as Arab or Malay, or American or English, and could be very offensive to any merchants discovered to be in cahoots with them.

  Slaving in Far Eastern waters appeared to arouse their ire far less than was the case in the Atlantic, and it was possible, so David had heard, to come to an arrangement, of a financial nature, with the Senior Naval Officer on station to allow named ships free passage.

  There was a political background to the problem, of course, that accounting for the duplicity of the authorities. It had been explained to David that Persia, not so many miles north of India, was a surprisingly powerful state, weak at sea but possessed of a large and relatively well-equipped army. Persia had, for centuries, wished to partake of the wealth of India, but had also had interests in the Ottoman Empire and the lands bordering on the Mediterranean, and was conscious as well that Russia was large and considering expansion, while China had cast a long shadow in previous years.

  “Persia, in fact, Mr Mostyn,” his informant had said, “falls between four stools. Was the Shah to commit himself to invading the princely states of the north of India, then the Ottomans might take advantage of him, or the Russians might move against the Moslem states to his north and east, and he is their Protector, in name at least. Realistically, one doubts that the Chinese would be any threat for the while, but there are so many of them, and their merchants are busy everywhere. So Persia is unlikely to attack India, but the Company feels it wise never to offend Persian interests, or not just at the moment, at least.”

  Persian interests included a voracious appetite for slaves, and a willingness to pay for them in gold bullion or bar silver. Trading facilities were readily available to those who ran slaves north, and were expensive to competitors whose hands were cleaner. Persian carpets, woven silks, lapis lazuli, the finest Astrakhan wools, all commanded a huge price in Europe, and in the nature of things were channelled through the hands of those who supplied the goods the Persians were short of.

  The Indian birth rate was high and famine was always lurking. Every river carried the tiny, smothered corpses of new-born babies who could not be fed. The slavers might well have argued that they provided a valuable service to the villagers, removing some of the excess mouths from their tables, but most of them did not care to make any case.

  Captain John saw no need to justify himself. He was in the trade to make a quick fortune and that was all the argument he needed.

  “Are you able to transfer monies to London, Mr Mostyn? Could the bank place my funds for me, to earn a profit in my absence?”

  A small fee and such a service could certainly be provided.

  The captain might have been a successful pirate but he had little knowledge of the workings of finance, seeming to believe that the bank would physically shift his gold from Bombay to London to place it secure in the vaults there. In fact the gold would remain in India, much of it lent out in coin or as paper, the rest acting as backing for the banknotes Mostyns was issuing. A letter to London would establish the account there and shares and Consols would be purchased against Mostyn’s Trade Bills, the certificates the only physical evidence of the captain’s growing wealth.

  “Will you wish to borrow again this season, Captain John?

  “Will it be possible to form a business, a partnership or its like, to hold my ships? If so, then the firm itself might wish to secure finance.”

  That was difficult. A partnership could certainly be formed, but it would require partners, each of them to accept responsibility for whole of the debts of the firm. There was no provision for the creation of joint-stock companies in India – any that traded there had been formed in London or Edinburgh. It would, in theory, be possible to create a joint-stock enterprise in L
ondon for Captain John, but it would take the better part of two years to send the instructions by letter, complete the legal processes and then send the documents back to Bombay, a tedious, inconvenient process.

  “Almost all of the country merchants are sole traders, Captain John – they are not firms as such, simply individuals doing business. When the Honourable East India Company’s monopoly is broken, then it will become possible to change the laws here in India to accommodate the needs of other traders, but for the while nothing can be done. John Company rules India for its own benefit, not for ours.”

  “So any loan you make is to me as a person, not to me as a businessman.”

  “Correct, Captain John. The law does not permit a distinction to be made, except you form a firm in England, or Scotland, of course.”

  The captain had no wish to bring himself to the attention of the English legal system.

  “I am somewhat unwilling to hazard all that I have already gained, Mr Mostyn. It is always the case, after all, that a ship might be lost to storm or other risks of the sea, taking with her much of my capital and leaving me with debts to pay and no income. Marine insurance exists, and my hulls and cargoes will be covered, but the syndicates involved are commonly based in London, at the Lloyds exchange, any claim needing an absolute minimum of two years to be resolved. With the ordinary delays it is more likely to be four or five, and the debtors will be clamouring at my heels at the end of the first trading season. When the Monsoon comes in and the ships lay up then the merchants look for all accounts to be paid as well.”

  It was a legitimate argument, one not capable of ready solution, not by conventional means certainly.

  “It is possible that one might find an answer, Captain John. Have you a relative or friend in London, one to whom you might wish to make a gift?”

  “I do not follow you, sir.”

  “If your funds are all gifted elsewhere, your savings, that is, then they may not be attached by any future creditor.”

  Captain John was no financier, perhaps, but he was a successful criminal, could sniff out a potential fraud with unerring accuracy.

  “Thus, speaking purely hypothetically, as it were, was I to open an account for a close relative in London, in that person’s sole name, then the monies would no longer be mine. The funds to be in a trust or something like so that the bank in London could invest and manage them, of course, reinvesting the income each year. Then, was the nominal account holder to walk into the bank in five or ten years from now, providing, say, a letter or other document to confirm his identity, then he might withdraw those funds, or transfer them into another name.”

  David Mostyn nodded – if he did not actually say the words then he could not be acting unlawfully, he believed.

  “Very good, Mr Mostyn! Will you be so kind as to make a transfer to your London office of the sums I shall identify, I think no more than six thousand sterling in the first instance, opening an account in the name of, say, John Starling as beneficiary.”

  The letter was written then and there and a clerk was called in to make copies and to write the draft into the Correspondence Ledger.

  “Original to go overland, Captain John. Three months to London, or never arriving at all, depending on luck, the mood of the various tribes and the speed of the messenger’s horse. The first copy to go on the next home-bound Indiaman, five to seven months in transit with a very small chance of shipwreck, of course. Second copy follows on a later ship, to make all doubly certain. The Correspondence Ledger is locked into the larger safe every night, secure and very nearly fireproof. I then issue you with a receipt for the funds and a written statement of the transaction, these also to be copied, the originals in your hands two days hence, our man will bring them to you. The records should be sufficient for your protection, sir, unless there is a state of war or insurrection, which, I am informed, is not currently expected.”

  “Might I enquire exactly what documentation might be necessary to establish the identity of Mr John Starling?”

  “A letter from the office of the Governor-General would suffice. Perhaps another from John Company to state that the bearer, a gentleman of some, say thirty, years of age, scarred as detailed, is known to them as Mr John Starling, a gentleman of the highest financial repute. A third letter from myself, sent separately to London to inform them that Mr Starling was expected to present himself, carrying documents as specified, possibly describing Mr Starling as well.”

  The reference to scars made it clear that Mostyn believed that Captain John and Mr John Starling might well be one and the same, but, whilst nothing was said or proved, then he could honestly deny all knowledge and discount the merest, most vulgar, speculation.

  “Very good, sir! Would it be possible to discuss the borrowing of a sum sufficient to purchase and crew a third vessel for my enterprise?”

  Not only was it possible but Mr Mostyn was able to offer a reduction in the interest rate to be charged, so anxious was he to secure the captain’s business. Fifty per cent per annum was, after all, a respectable rate of return whilst the previous sixty could well be seen as usurious.

  George Star was to pay his father no interest on the sums he had borrowed from him but he would, if he was successful, allocate a share in the business to his mother to secure her an additional income in her inevitable widowhood, long might it be delayed.

  Walk-Humbly-In-the-Lord Hollowell was, it appeared, a fine Christian gentleman born to devout parents, but he was far less acute a businessman than his father had been. The elder Hollowell had built a weaving mill utilising the earliest of Cartwright’s power looms and had made a respectable fortune, using much of it to fund a chapel and various missionaries, having little need to build up wealth on Earth to bequeath to his son. He had died less than five years before, comfortable in the knowledge that the mill would amply provide for his family, and that his relatively small holding of cash would dower his three daughters.

  The daughters had wed, very respectably, and Walk-Humbly-In-The-Lord had continued his father’s charitable donations, gaining himself a very good name in the chapel. Unfortunately, the young gentleman had paid more attention to the condition of his soul than to the well-being of his mill. He had been found insolvent a fortnight before and was now facing writs from the unpaid creditors. He had been confined to the sponging house pending a court hearing, had lost his liberty although not yet consigned to debtor’s prison. He was in despair, and his mother was facing eviction from the family house and was too ashamed even to attend chapel on Sunday.

  George Star had been watching Hollowells for more than a year, waiting its fall; he placed an offer in the hands of their attorney. The bid was carefully calculated, the whole of the debt outstanding plus another couple of thousands to tide mother and son over until he could find an occupation. George knew the precise figures, the attorney’s senior clerk having responded very favourably to fifty sovereigns in his hand and the promise of a clean, white-collar job for his eldest boy, about to leave his school and seeking a career.

  It was possible that young Mr Hollowell might have done better elsewhere, could have sold at a higher price, but he could not stand the disgrace of confinement and accepted immediately.

  When asked his personal intentions he said that he would put all of the cash left after payment of his debts in his mother’s hands. He would beg for a place as a missionary, working in the slums of one of the great English cities, and endeavour to rebuild his shattered life through service.

  George applauded his resolve and sent him on his way, hopefully rejoicing.

  “Daft young bugger, Papa! Have you ever heard the like?”

  Lord Star, secretly inclined to admire the young man’s strength in adversity, meekly replied that he had not. His own son’s prosperity was of far greater importance.

  “Have you yet entered the mill, George?”

  “Tomorrow, sir. My attorney assures me that the processes complete this afternoon and that I shall have full r
ights as owner from the morning. It is a pity that we could not keep the mill in production, but we could discover no way of obtaining an interim order suspending legal action entirely. My man has managed to speak to all of the creditors and persuade them that they should not seize the stocks and machines in the short term. He had to promise immediate payment of their debts, together with interest and lawyers’ fees, all of which is being performed today. It does mean that the mill-hands have all been dismissed, most left unpaid their last week’s wage. In the present boom it is likely that many will have found employment elsewhere. I shall have the word passed round locally that any who return will be paid for all hours due to them.”

  “And those who do not return to your employ, George?”

  “They may whistle, sir! They are Hollowell’s concern, not mine. His people, his debt!”

  The statement was quite true, in law, but it displayed a harshness that Joe found unpleasant – it was not how he had ever behaved in Star Spinners. He accepted, however, that he was getting old and times were changing; the way he had acted as a young man might not be best suited to modern conditions.

  “Have you any knowledge of the physical condition of the mill, George?”

  “Second-hand whispers only, sir. The machines are old and many will need to be rebuilt, quite probably replaced in the very near future. A number of his regular customers have been lost over the past twelvemonth due to issues of quality of his product. The normal story, sir. I shall be forced to sell on the open market for the first few months, I suspect, until I have started the process of rebuilding the mill’s name. On that issue, sir, what is your advice?”

  “The name? Publish in the press that the firm of Hollowell’s is no more and that the mill has been taken into wholly new hands and will trade as… What name do you suggest, George?”

  “I had thought that ‘Lodestar’ might be a statement of my intent to position the mill at the top end of quality weaving, sir. The mill is quite small, no more than eighty looms at present, so bulk orders are not for us, or not for a few years until I have expanded, and we must seek the highest-priced cloths, fancy-work, essentially.”