“Both, master, for I uses it, but it be the road betwixt Kingsley and Ipstone, for all it be worth.”
“I would not wish to stray onto private land, sir.”
“No worry if you did, master. The land be of no value except for sheep, and they come dirty in the fleece for the coal dust blowing and you cannot get a price on the wool. The high fields here are of no value to me, except for cutting the winter firing from the old seam. Old Josh here and me work the fields down by the old house, for our feeding and for the cackling hens and the hogs and that be all we do these days. Used to be we worked more, but the fever come through ten years and more since and we ain’t neither got none left excepting the two of us so there ain’t no point to working hard.”
“I am sorry to hear that, sir. I am surprised that none have come to you begging to purchase your field here for the coal.”
The pair managed to laugh.
“Some bugger did, master, ten years since. Started to talk to we and we told ‘im the fever was in the village and you never see a man ride off so fast in your life.”
This explained why Mr Richard Rowlands had never located this working, so close to Thornehills, just north of Cheadle as it was.
“Wouldn’t ‘ave sold to ‘im anyway, being as I did have a son then. Died a week following, so the boy did.”
“A tragedy, sir. I am sorry. That was the end of interest in your coal, I gather?”
The old man achieved another chuckle.
“Nay, not by any means. Leigh and Hurst do come a-knocking on my door every few months offering me pennies in rental – and then they’d likely forget to pay! Biggest men in the whole of Cheadle and tight, so they are, mean-spirited and careful with their money. Skin a turd for leather, so that pair would! I will have nowt to do with them! They don’t much like each other, neither, no trust in them. Willing I be to talk to you, master, to do they in the eye, as much as anything!”
Samuel tried to control his laughter – he could not approve of vulgarity, he found, and had no doubt that Messrs Leigh and Hurst were no more than keen businessmen.
“Would you sell now, sir? The fields themselves, that is, up on the top here?”
They were on a hillside, looking up to the moors on the east - plain, open land; thin soiled over the rock; stretches of stone face and boulders, mostly a dull grey, some of them brighter coloured, exposed in parts. There was a poor covering of grass, tufts in places, moss in others where the rainwater lay for much of the year. A beck ran off the higher land not a furlong distant to give a water supply. The track curved away downhill back towards Stoke giving a likely route for a wagonway. The seam itself was a good three feet thick, exposed over at least a hundred yards and probably extending back into the moorland a good distance. Once underground, the miner was at liberty to follow wherever the seams led – there could be years of mining here.
“What sort of money are you talking, master?”
Samuel twisted in his saddle, pulled out a leather purse and opened it to show gold coins.
“This sort, sir. And lots more where these came from. What price for this whole field? What are its boundaries?”
“Either side of this old road, master. To the top of the hillside on the east, from the cairn thee can see over yon, to the like up there.”
The old man pointed to two piles of freestanding stone, just visible to the north and south along the crest, a good half of a mile apart.
“From they, down to the road, you sees the marker back to the south?”
There was another cairn a hundred yards distant.
“To the north, you can’t see from ‘ere, for being down the hill a bit and over the shoulder of the moorland. Maybe a mile distant. T’other side of the road, on the west, goes down to the river thee sees in the bottoms. From my old house to the little bridge it do stretch. I got the papers down in the house what says the better part of nine hundred acres – and bloody useless, so it be, to a farmer. The lower ground, the other side of the river, what be no more than eighty acres, be good land.”
“Nine hundred acres of waste, farmer. From the hilltop to the river and more than a mile long. A coal outcropping its only value.”
“Better part of two mile long, being as it stretches down a bit where you can’t see from ‘ere. They potteries is buying coal down in Stoke, what ain’t so far distant. Can’t be bothered meself, but I reckons as ‘ow you could be. Ten shillin’ an acre, master, take it or leave it!”
Samuel whistled, it was far too much, he implied.
“Needing to build in a trackway to Stoke and paying for crossing other men’s land – costly that would be, farmer. You are talking four hundred and fifty pounds, which is a deal of money.”
“Could be, master, you could go t’other side and down the valley of the River Churnet. Big brass foundry on the river there, master. Good road so far. They got two great waterwheels what powers they, master. Uses the water for washing they old ores, so they do tell me.”
Samuel dismissed the possibility – they would have to pull the coal up and over the top of the hill behind them. It could not be done.
“Could be, should thee go northabout, master, down into the valley there, where I told thee it goes down a bit, on a line to Leek.”
Samuel was taken aback – he had made himself seem foolish, and that was intolerable. A pair of rural illiterates should be tugging their forelocks to him, not putting him right. He controlled his temper – they were talking money.
“Back along the road here to the stones that mark your boundary, then turn off, to the right it would be?”
“Best thing be I should show thee, master. Josh, do ‘ee unhitch the old mare. Look sharp now!”
The mare was taken out of the cart and the old man climbed aboard her, bareback and holding tight. They walked off north and somewhat east at his direction.
“Bit of a swale like, here, master. Reckon there were a beck, years and years agone, cut a bit of a way downhill. Follow her, down round the shoulder of the old moor, and we be out into the valley of the Churnet, and there be room alongside of ‘er to put in some sort of roadway, all the way down to Leek, and maybe closer to Stoke.”
“What are those exposed layers of stone here, Farmer?”
“Full of iron, they be, master. Damned nuisance. Lower down a bit and might get a crop wasn’t for they. No good for growing anything near them, master.”
Samuel had seen sufficient.
“You are right, sir. It will be possible to build in a trackway here. That being the case – well, I would prefer to spend less on the land, I must say…”
“Ah, well, master, I should like thee to spend more on it, but us can’t ‘ave everything us desires, can us? Four hundred and fifty quid, on the knocker, master and the freehold is thine. Nine hundred acres, except it likely be a bit more than that for never having been surveyed, as you might say.”
“Done, Farmer. Will you shake hands on the deal?”
“I will, young master. What be thy name?”
“Mr Samuel Heythorne.”
“Dead Sam’s boy, are thee? Well, I never had no argument with him. Clipstone’s my moniker, Mr Heythorne, like the village, almost. My dad allus said his great granfer owned the village, before old Cromwell’s time, so ‘e reckoned. Now then, just how do we go about selling land?”
“Simple, Mr Clipstone. You go to an attorney in town and tell him you want a contract of sale on your lands, showing him your deeds. I go to my attorney – a different man – and tell him I am to buy from you. The two attorneys meet and agree your deeds are good and that my money is to hand. Then they appoint a man to walk the bounds and place them on a map and that is it. The land is mine and the money yours and we have new deeds all right and tight.”
“Can’t us just ‘and over the cash and shake ‘ands on the deal wi’out paying no bloody lawyers?”
“We could, and what would happen if we argued on which side of the road the boundary lay or just how straight
was the line from the stones out of sight down the road to those we can see here? A lawyer’s map settles all argument – and Mr Clipstone, that is more to your advantage than mine, because I am richer than you, by a long way…”
“And the rich man wins any argument with a poor bugger! Right you be, Mr Heythorne. I will go to my attorney in the morning and all will be done as you say. Not that I think you’ll do me down, Mr Heythorne, but I shall be leaving the house and the good eighty acres to my sister’s boy Charlie when I go, and your son might argue with ‘im when we’re both dead and gone.”
“You can’t argue with a lawyer’s deed, Mr Clipstone.”
“No more you can, sir. A pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Mr Bragg, I have bought an expanse of land above the River Churnet, not so far from Cheadle. There is a three feet coal seam exposed and a slope down to the valley that probably gives a way down to Leek and thus to Stoke. There is rock that might be worthwhile ironstone to be seen on the way downhill. I might beg you to examine the land, Mr Bragg, and give me your opinions of how best it might be exploited. That will demand a man in your place here in Palethorpe, and yourself to have an extra responsibility overall. Another fifty pounds on your wages would not hurt I must imagine.”
Bragg lifted his hat and agreed it would be welcome.
“As for a man, sir, for Palethorpe, I would wish to be bold, sir, and beg that I might be permitted to set on my oldest boy, who has come to know a deal about mining the coals here. He has his letters and can keep a set of books as I have learned myself and taught him, sir.”
“Is he a strong man, like you, Bragg?”
“He is my son, sir, and I may see his virtues with a biased eye, but I think he is my match.”
“Give him the good news, Bragg. Set him on at the wages I paid you for overseeing all at Palethorpe. A cottage as well. Do the job thoroughly. I shall speak to him when next I am at Palethorpe. I trust you, Mr Bragg. I do not doubt I will be able to display an equal faith in Bragg junior.”
It was impossible to refuse the young man without offending the elder. The decision was effectively taken for him. Bragg had been a most reliable man – one must hope his son was his equal.
“I will bring you the deeds to the new land, Mr Bragg. They include a map. You may wish to consider whether a fence will be necessary and the location of the pithead itself. The decisions must be yours, Mr Bragg. I shall visit you there at the beginning of next week, perhaps?”
“I’ll have some ideas for you then, Mr Heythorne. Thank you, sir.”
Home to tell his mother of all he had done and to explain that he had hopes for iron as well.
“There are many possibilities, Mother. Were we to build a canal along the valley, then I doubt not the brass foundry would wish to make use of it, but it does not make sense to do that until the big canal from Birmingham to the north is in place – and that will be a few years yet. A trackway for now will make a profit.”
“There is a call for more iron, my son. A works will make good sense, if it is feasible. Will you be able to establish a right-of-way along the valley?”
“Undoubtedly, Mother. Money and Nick together will serve to achieve that end. There is no great estate to cross, no powerful local figure to sweeten, only a few of small yeoman farmers, all of whom will soon come to understand where their best interests lie.”
“Be sure to pay honestly, Samuel. You must not steal from these little men.”
Samuel was inclined to be offended at the implication that he might. He was no thief.
“Those who stand in the way of the march of progress might possibly be vigorously persuaded of the ways of righteousness, Mother – but all will be paid honestly and in full.”
She had to be content with that assurance.
“Will you come to Chester with us later in the week, Samuel? I am to take Josephine shopping there – she needs a more grown-up style of dress, I think, and will be pleased in any case to see a town and some new stores. There will be the chance to buy some music scores as well, which she will enjoy. We can stay in one of the greater inns for two nights – an expense but acceptable occasionally.”
Samuel agreed instantly – both of the females in his care should be indulged, he believed. He would hire a coach and four and they should drive in style.
Josephine was starting to grow up, he noticed, and must soon be a young lady. Another three or four years would see her of marriageable age and ready to make her bow to local society. That was a slightly disturbing prospect, the thought of her being courted by the sons of the potteries, young men attracted by her person and her place as heiress to an increasingly profitable set of kilns in town. He did not wish to think of her going away to set up with a husband in town; better far she should stay at Thornehills where she belonged.
He found them rooms in the largest of the little city’s inns, comfortable and in the habit of catering to the moneyed, and then walked out with the pair next morning. He left them at the door of a large store selling ladies’ apparel and went off to the gun shop – it was not proper that he should accompany them inside to discover the less obvious details of females’ clothing.
“A sporting gun, sir, suitable for rabbiting and such on the moors.”
Rabbits could be a nuisance, no more than vermin whose holes often broke horses’ legs and whose warrens could undermine an embankment on a trackway. They had twice had to rebuild stretches of the trackway at Thornehills because of the activities of the conies in the lower parts. If Samuel could not find time himself to go shooting, then he could hire on a keeper to do the job.
“Single barrel, sir, for the weight, rabbits scampering fast and a double too heavy to swing easily. Twelve bore with a number four shot will do the job. I have several that will meet the needs, ready-made and in the rack here, unless you wish me to build to your personal measurements.”
“The gun may be used more often by one of the staff than by myself, sir. I am commonly too busy to find the time required.”
The gunsmith said nothing to that – he had been certain his customer was not one of the gentry, but his money would be more than good enough.
“Gun, powder flask, shot pouch, cleaning rod, spare flints, screwdriver to the size necessary – all that you need for everyday use, sir, and put together in a leather gun bag to sling at your shoulder. Powder must be bought locally and easily – there is always a supplier in any town; shot as well. You will wish to try the piece to your shoulder, sir, and see that it is well-balanced as, I pride myself, are all the guns I make.”
They pottered together for an hour before they were satisfied and Samuel handed across the sum of seven guineas, which he thought was not a low price to pay. The gunsmith agreed as he placed the coins away in his cashbox in the back office; gentlemen had no hesitation in beating him down, but these new-money men made a show of paying over the odds. He was much in favour of them.
The afternoon was devoted to bookshops and to the single store that catered to the musical.
“Pieces by Handel and Herr Sterkel and Mr Avison, Samuel, and all of them new to me!”
Josephine waved her trophies, a delighted smile on her pretty little face. Samuel smiled back and took out his own purse, insisting on the gift.
“I see violin strings, my dear, and bows. Have you need for either? Would it be wise to keep a spare?”
It would, she agreed, was delighted in his kindness to her.
He enjoyed playing the great man before her, he found.
“I do not know the name of Mr Avison, I think?”
“A man of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, where he is very great in local music, or so one reads, Samuel. One who could not abide London and returned to his own home, content to be admired in a lesser sphere. He has published some very fine pieces which have violin parts and harpsichord pieces which can easily be turned to the pianoforte. A little old-fashioned perhaps. I read that the younger Mr Bach is installed in London and is playing exclusively on the
fortepiano, but I see none of his work published here.”
Samuel did not know there was such a thing as a fortepiano and had not heard of an older Mr Bach, still less a younger. He smiled gravely and said it was a pity if that was so – they must wish to have Mr Bach’s works available to them.
Josephine agreed – she had some of the older gentleman’s works for the violin already, would play them to him one day.
That would be a treat indeed, he agreed.
Chapter Fourteen
Killing’s Reward
Section Three - AD 1767
Bragg had no doubt they could make a profitable pit on the new land.
“Best call it Churnet, Mr Heythorne, so as to know which is which when talking it over. I have walked and driven over the locality, sir, and it is clear that there are a number of seams over a depth of two hundred feet, and possibly some lower still. Such being the case, a shaft makes sense, sir, and I have chosen where it should be dug, as an early exercise, I believe.”
Samuel noticed that Bragg’s speech was improving. As he became more senior so he spoke in a more precise fashion, to a great extent ridding himself of his original southern accent.
“Very good, Mr Bragg. I shall – as ever – defer to your knowledge and understanding of the coal. A trackway down the valley, I presume, next to the road by the river?”
Bragg was unsure of the feasibility of the project.
“Setting aside the question of her length, Mr Heythorne, it may be difficult to achieve the rights of way for the whole distance. It would need be doubled, I reckon, for the use of the brass foundry as well as ourselves. An agreement with the brass people would be easily come by, for they are fine men of business, from the little I have talked to them. But, the problem is, there be a patchwork of little holders along the side of the river, men with twenty or forty or sixty acres, rarely more, who plant every inch of their land and won’t let go of it nohow. Free men, they are, yeomen what values their place in the world as owning their own land. They begrudge the road going by them and won’t give up another thirty feet of their freehold for a trackway.”
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