The Buccaneer Farmer Part 1

The Buccaneer Farmer.

by Harold Bindloss.

PART I--AT ASHNESS

CHAPTER I

THE LEASE

The morning was bright after heavy rain, and when Osborn looked out of the library window a warm, south-west breeze shook the larches about Tarnside Hall. Now and then a shadow sped across the tarn, darkening the ripples that sparkled like silver when the cloud drove on. Osborn frowned, for he had meant to go fis.h.i.+ng and it was a morning when the big, shy trout would rise. His game-keeper was waiting at the boathouse, but the postman had brought some letters that made him put off his sport.

This was annoying, because Osborn hated to be balked and seldom allowed anything to interfere with his amus.e.m.e.nts. One letter, from a housemaster at a famous public school, covered a number of bills, which, the writer stated somewhat curtly, ought to have been paid. Another announced that Hayes, the agent for the estate, and a tenant would wait upon Osborn, who knew what they meant to talk about. He admitted that a landlord had duties, but his generally demanded attention at an inconvenient time.

Osborn was fifty years of age. He had a ruddy skin and well-proportioned figure, and was, physically, a rather fine example of the sporting country gentleman. For all that, there were lines on his forehead and wrinkles about his eyes; his mouth was loose and sensual, and something about him hinted at indulgence. His manner, as a rule, was abrupt and often overbearing.

The library was s.p.a.cious, the furniture in good taste but getting shabby.

In fact, a certain look of age and shabbiness was typical of the house.

Although the windows were open, the room had a damp smell, and the rows of books that Osborn never read were touched with mildew. Rain was plentiful in the north-country dale, coal was dear, and Mrs. Osborn was forced to study economy, partly because her husband would not.

By and by Osborn turned his glance from the window and fixed it on his son, who stood waiting across the big oak table. Gerald was a handsome lad, like his father, but marked by a certain refinement and a hint of delicacy. Although he felt anxious, his pose was free and graceful and his look undisturbed. Osborn threw the bills on the table.

"This kind of thing must stop," he said. "I haven't grumbled much, perhaps not as much as I ought, about your extravagance, but only a fool imagines he can spend more than he has got."

"We have had such fools in our family," the boy remarked, and stopped when he saw Osborn's color rise.

"It's a pity it's true," the latter agreed, with a patience he did not often use. "I'm paying for it now and you will pay a higher price, if you go on as you promise. You must pull up; I've done enough and am getting tired of self-denial."

Gerald's smile faded. He had inherited his extravagance from his father, but felt he must be cautious, although Osborn sometimes showed him a forbearance he used to n.o.body else.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "Perhaps I was extravagant, but if you don't want to be an outsider, you must do like the rest, and I understood you expected me to make friends among our own set. We can't be shabby."

He struck the right note, for Osborn was not clever and perhaps his strongest characteristic was his exaggerated family pride.

"You had enough and I paid your debts not long since," he said. "In fact, you have had more than your share, with the consequence that Grace gets less than hers." He knitted his brows as he indicated the house-master's curt letter. "Then, you have given a stranger an opportunity for writing to me like this."

Gerald, knowing his father's humor, saw he was getting on dangerous ground.

"Brown's a dry old prig, sir. Nothing sporting about him; he's hardly a gentleman."

Osborn was seldom logical and now his annoyance was rather concentrated on the master who had written to him with jarring frankness than on the extravagant lad.

"His letter implies it," he agreed and then pulled himself up. Gerald was clever and no doubt meant to divert his thoughts. "After all, this doesn't matter," he went on. "I'll pay these bills, but if you get into debt at Woolwich, you had better not come home. I have enough trouble about money, and your allowance is going to be a strain. There's another thing: Carter, who hasn't had your advantages, got in as a prize cadet."

Gerald smiled. "He hasn't got his commission. Old Harry means well, but he's not our sort, and these plodding, cramming fellows seldom make good officers."

"An officer must pay his mess bills, whether he's good or bad," Osborn rejoined. "If you go into the Horse Artillery, there won't be much money left when you have settled yours, so it might be prudent to begin some self-denial now. Anyhow, if you get into debt again, you know the consequences."

He raised his hand in dismissal and walked to the window when the lad went out. He had not taken the line he meant to take, but Gerald often, so to speak, eluded him. The lad had a way of hinting that they understood one another and Osborn vaguely suspected that he worked upon his prejudices; but he was a sportsman. He had pluck and knew what the Osborn traditions demanded. In fact, Gerald might go far, if he went straight.

Then Osborn thought he needed a drink, and after ringing a bell he sat down by the window with the tray and gla.s.s a servant brought. It was significant that he had given no order; the servants knew what the bell meant. When he had drained the gla.s.s he vacantly looked out. Boggy pasture and stony cornfields ran back from the tarn. Here and there a white farmstead, surrounded by stunted trees, stood at the hill foot; farther back a waterfall seamed the rocks and yellow gra.s.s with threads of foam; and then a lofty moor, red with heather, shut off the view.

The land was poor at the dale head, but there was better below, where the hills dropped down to the flat country, and, with the exception of Ashness farm, all was...o...b..rn's, from Force Crag, where the beck plunged from the moor, to the rich bottoms round Allerby mill. Unfortunately, the estate was enc.u.mbered when he inherited it, and he had paid off one mortgage by raising another. He might perhaps have used other means, letting his sporting rights and using economy, but this would have jarred. The only Osborn who bothered about money was his wife, and Alice was parsimonious enough for both. Money was certainly what his agent called tight; but as long as he could give his friends some shooting and a good dinner and live as an Osborn ought to live, he was satisfied.

Still, Gerald must have his chance at Woolwich and this needed thought.

Osborn felt he would like another drink, but glanced at his watch and saw that his visitors would arrive in a few minutes.

They were punctual and Osborn got up when his agent and another man came in. Hayes was tall, urbane, and dressed with rather fastidious neatness; Bell was round-shouldered and shabby. He had a weather-beaten skin, gray hair, and small, cunning eyes. Osborn indicated chairs and sat down at the top of the big table. He disliked business and knew the others meant to persuade him to do something he would sooner leave alone. This would have been impossible had he not needed money.

"Mr. Bell wishes to know if his tender for the Slate Company's haulage is approved," Hayes began. "His traction engine is suited for the work and he is prepared to buy a trailer lurry, which we would find useful in the dale. Mechanical transport would be a public advantage on our hilly roads."

"It needs a good horse to bring half a load from station," Bell interposed. "T'lurry would move as much in yan day as farmers'

carts in four."

Osborn agreed. He was not much of an economist, but it was obvious that time and labor were wasted when a farmer took a few sacks of potatoes to the railway and another a sack of wool. There was no difficulty about the tender, because Osborn was chairman of the small Slate Company; the trouble was that the contract would help Bell to carry out another plan.

The fellow was greedy, and was getting a rather dangerous control; he had already a lease of the limekilns and Allerby mill. But his rents were regularly paid, and it was an advantage to deal with one prosperous tenant instead of several who had not his punctuality and capital.

"The trailer would be useful if you decided to make the new terrace you thought about," Hayes suggested. "The cost of carting the gravel and the slabs for the wall would be heavy; but I have no doubt Mr. Bell would undertake the work with the trailer on very reasonable terms."

"I might forget to send in t' bill. Yan good turn deserves another,"

Bell remarked.

Hayes frowned. He had meant to imply something like this, but Bell was too blunt. For all that, Osborn was not very fastidious and had long meant to make the terrace when funds permitted. In fact, he hardly saw the thing as a bribe; it was rather a graceful recognition of his authority.

"Very well," he said, "I'll sign the contract."

"There is another matter," Hayes resumed. "Mr. Bell is willing to take up Harkness' tenancy of the coal yard and seed store at the station. He hopes you will grant him a long lease."

Osborn pondered. Harkness had been drunken, careless, and often behind with his rent. He had let his business fall away and it was understood that Bell, who managed the opposition coal yard, had lent him small sums and until recently kept him on his feet. This was not because Bell was charitable, but because if Harkness came down while he had any trade left, a capable rival might take his place. In the meantime, his customers gradually went to Bell, and now Harkness had failed there was no business to attract a newcomer.

"I don't know," said Osborn, "I had thought of advertising the yard and store."

"You'll get n.o.body to pay what I'm offering," Bell replied. "A stranger would want to see Harkness' books and there's nowt in them as would tempt him to pay a decent rent. Then, with trailer going back from station, I could beat him on the haulage up the dale. He'd niver get his money back if he bowt an engine like mine."

This was plausible, but Osborn hesitated. He saw that Bell wanted a monopoly and had a vague notion that he ought to protect his tenants.

"It's sometimes an advantage to have two traders in a place," he remarked. "A certain amount of compet.i.tion is healthy."

"I don't know if it would be an advantage to the estate, and imagine you would not get a tenant to pay what Bell offers," Hayes replied. "Besides, rival traders sometimes agree to keep up prices, and compet.i.tion does not always make things cheap."

"That's one of the ridiculous arguments people who want the Government to manage everything sometimes use," said Osborn with a scornful gesture.

Hayes smiled, "It is very well known that I am not an advocate of State owners.h.i.+p. All the same, unnecessary compet.i.tion would be wasteful in the dale. For example, if you have two tenants at the station, the farmers who deal with the new man must use their carts, each coming separately for the small load a horse can take up Redmire bank, while Bell's trailer, after bringing down the slate, would go back empty. Then I hear some talk about a fresh appeal to the council to make the loop road round the hill."

For a moment or two Osborn did not answer. Redmire bank was an obstacle to horse traffic, and the road surveyor had plans for easing the gradient that would necessitate cutting down a wood where Osborn's pheasants found shelter. He had refused permission, and the matter had been dropped; but, if the farmers insisted, the council might be forced to use their powers.

He was obstinate, and did not mean to let them have the wood unless he could get his price.

"You know my opinion about that?" he said.