

The Nonconformist and his Revolution

A Novel by

Phil Tamarr

# Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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## Contents

Foreword

Chapter 1: Power of the Almighty

Chapter 2: A Competitor

Chapter 3: Water, water everywhere

Chapter 4: It takes all Kinds

Chapter 5: The main Event

Chapter 6: Spreading the Word

Chapter 7: The Works of the Devil

Chapter 8: Cornwall is converted

Chapter 9: Disciples take over

Afterword

Foreword

In writing this novel about events which happened while Thomas Newcomen developed his fire-engine, later known as, a steam engine the writer is mindful of the obloquy directed at Dissenters and Non-Conformists by the religious establishment. According to the law of the land practitioners of any religion not sanctioned by Parliament and the Church of England were barred from public office, could not attend university, or preach in any established church.

Yet these prohibitions and many others actually strengthened the dissenter movement for they developed their own postal service, stayed at their own hostelries, preached in their own churches. In short their society within orthodox society became so efficient that it was asked (unofficially) to carry orthodox mail.

Yet, sadly, it may well also have constituted a handicap in the recognition of Thomas Newcomen as the inventor of the revolutionary steam engine because many of his worst detractors were C of E clergy who preferred to give the credit for Newcomen's engine to a gentleman, Thomas Savary, who also dabbled in engines.

Even in 2012, in the 300 year commemoration, in his home town of Dartmouth, a local editor was reported to have described the steam-engine on show as a pile of old junk. Still, an eminent professor at an exhibition in the Science Museum, London judged it differently. Professor Lovelock described Newcomen's demo of 1712 as the event that launched the onset of the modern age.

In 1709 England and Scotland were officially united as Great Britain and the War of the Spanish Succession still raged so Newcomen's demo at Dudley colliery in the West Midlands, England in the year of 1712 went unnoticed by the public though it was a significant event for an observer from Hungary: von Erlach bought a similar engine for around £5000 and within a decade fifty of the engines were in operation throughout the UK and Europe while, in three years, as a direct result of mining water-free collieries, coal production leapt 5-fold, from 2 million to 10 million tonnes.

The world would witness a revolution: The Industrial Revolution, a revolution that would change not only England, the UK as a whole - but the whole wide world. Thomas Newcomen started something from which we are still befitting more than three centuries later. Moreover his engine, updated to modern precision standards, is still in use today while the Watt improvements are museum pieces in the London Science Museum.

This book tries to commemorates his achievement.

### Chapter 1: Power of the Almighty!

From another part of the workshop John Calley heard a cry. Alerted he considered its source though surmised that it must be his partner; he called out:

"Tom!"

He followed it up by hurrying into his colleague's workshop and on hearing a subsequent metallic crash he looked around the gloomy interior lit only by a solitary window and a guttering candle. He heard a groan; it came from the wall on his right and he moved towards where he thought the sound had come from and nearly tripped. On the floor stretched out where he had fallen was Thomas Newcomen.

Calley bent over the recumbent form, all six feet of it, and called his name grasping him by the shoulder with his left while his right hand hovered in front of his face. Again he repeated his name and Newcomen's eyes opened whereupon Calley enquired again:

"Tom, are you hurt?"

Newcomen's eyes focussed on Calley; he said:

"That is the power of the Almighty, John. Give me your hand. I'm alright, I think; give me room to stand up."

Calley responded: "Just take it easy, old friend. What happened? I heard the crash from the next room."

Newcomen was matter-of-fact in response:

"Moisture was streaming down the cylinder, John and as I ran my hand down the soldered joint, I fancied the metal was paper thin when, wham-bamm, there was this tremendous crash; that was the last thing I remember. But, it's put an idea into my head, John. I think I have a solution to one problem, at least."

Calley smiled at his partner although in the poor light he was barely visible; he drew a flask from an inside pocket and handed it to Tom:

"Take a swig, Tom; for medicinal purposes!"

Tom took the proffered flask, grinning: "For medicinal purposes!" He took a draught and relaxed though did not stand up but looked at Calley all the while completely at ease.

(Later that day)

"What's the latest from the Smoke, Jack? When did you get back?"

Calley put his question to John Newcomen (nick-named Jack); he was the younger brother of Thomas. In his role of Secretary to the Merchant Seaman's Provident Society John Newcomen had spent a week in London whilst attending a meeting at the society's headquarters. His answer was brusque:

"War, John; yes, war the so-called War of the Spanish Succession. They spoke of little else so don't ask me for the sum of contributions into the society's coffers; or even when the next meeting is to take place."

Calley frowned: "But why! What's so special about this war? The English have been fighting the Dutch or the French for the past decade or so. What in heaven's name is so special 'bout this 'un?"

"Ever heard of the name, Hornblower, John?"

Calley shook his head as Jack sipped his porter; he wiped a fleck of foam from his jet-black beard emitting a sigh of satisfaction and smiling as he beheld the puzzled face of his drinking companion possibly at the abrupt change of subject; He resumed on the same theme:

"Hornblower fought alongside the Dutch in their resistance to the French invasion of their country. He was wounded and his comrades sent him to Walcheren to recuperate and while there he was mightily impressed by the Dutch reclamation of the so-called polders.

Calley listened intently to Newcomen though narrowed his eyes at the mention of 'polders' and his companion anticipating the question said:

"A polder is a stretch of low-lying land and much has been reclaimed from the sea in the past hundred years and more though Hornblower was more interested in the logistics of the work."

Again, Calley furrowed his brow to Newcomen's amusement but before he could explain Calley spoke in dialect: "Youm talking to a simple Devon man now Jack not one of your 'Lunnon' friends."

Jack chuckled in his reply: "Same here, John; I picked up the word from a colleague at the Society: another Thomas by the name of Savary. He's a bit long in the tooth now though in his time as a soldier in France, Bohemia, Hungary and Holland he also got to know about polders and probably mentioned logistics just to impress a simple Devon man, as you put it. But he was there at the Society because of his other interests in the welfare of former soldiers and sailors. It seems his family were gentle-folk so he also has connections with the great and the good."

John Newcomen grimaced as though he had suddenly bit into a lemon telling Calley about the Newcomen's own distant family lineage. It seems they originated in Norfolk but had to move out when the family fortunes reached a low ebb. To his mind came the memory of his elder brother's meeting with Savary who had recounted to Tom about his lodgings overlooking Torbay when the bay filled with ships. The occasion was the landing upon English soil of a Dutchman, Prince William of the Netherlands.

Savary had hurried to greet William and to offer accommodation to the Dutchman who, once ensconced as William IIIrd, was pleased to give royal patronage in respect of Savary's fire-engine which performed well pumping water to a fountain though not so well pumping water from coal mines. In describing William's patronage Savary stressed it was also down to the patronage of a king towards a gentleman, the implication being that Savary hasd developed a superior engine.

Newcomen, his thoughts on his brother, asked Calley: "When is Tom due to turn up?" "He may well be late," answered Calley, "though it will be in a good cause. His late accident was an Act of God or so he chooses to think of it. He speaks of the power of the vacuum. Are you any the wiser, Jack?"

"I think so," answered Jack, "as it's the same word Savary used. He spoke of miraculous powers once.." he paused to emphasise his last words, adding: "..the power is under control; that's his goal. When I think of the many stories of mines becoming unworkable because of flooding his engine will be a God-send."

"You never uttered a truer description, brother." The words were from Tom who had just entered the tavern and he joined his brother and colleague at their table. Another voice boomed from the bar: "Your cordial, Tom; my special brew and guaranteed non-alcoholic. My wife and I both very much enjoyed your last sermon."

"Your good health, landlord!" Rejoined Tom swallowing a draught and then turning to his brother said: "Any interesting news from London, Jack?"

"I was telling Calley, here, what the engineer, Hornblower has been up to although his anecdotes about the activities of our friend Savary in Holland turned the language somewhat blue. He is not exactly giving engineers and inventors a very good name judging by the stories of the Dutch problems with his engines."

Calley said: "Sadly, for him all Savary needed was a competent tin-smith but he would look down his nose at my efforts. He needs a gentleman tinsmith."

Jack said: "That's a contradiction in terms, it seems." He might have said more had not a sound of merriment interrupted his dialogue. All three friends turned towards the sound and a man rising from an adjacent table called over to the landlord:

"Serve these gentlemen whatever is their particular poison, landlord." Then turning to face the Newcomens and Calley, he said: "It's my son's apprenticeship, gentlemen. I hope you will join me in a celebration toast."

Their tumblers suitably charged the three men raised them in salutation. It seemed the toaster's son, Robert had that day completed the formalities attending the start of an apprenticeship. After the toast was drunk and they were once more on their own Jack addressed his brother:

"It seems, Tom that your recent accident brought about a new development. How soon before we can see the results?"

Before Tom could answer all three were interrupted by a commotion from the direction of the apprentice-revellers and Jack pulled a curtain around their cubicle to obscure the sight if not the noise. Tom whispered:

"It's an impressment gang of three matelots and an officer. It's the young 'un, they're after."

Jack whispered furtively leaning across so that his words were not drowned out: "I wonder if they know about an Act of Parliament just recently passed into law. It might be of direct concern for that young man."

"How so?" Queried both of his listeners as Jack bent even closer to them to explain his meaning; afterwards his listeners leaned back to digest the information and, with fingers to his lips, Tom drew the curtain aside and in a moment had arisen and left the cubicle asking the other two to stay seated.

At his approach the officer turned towards Tom saying sternly: "Stand aside, Sir! Do not interfere with a Queen's commission about their lawful duty."

Tom spoke: "No interference, Officer; I assure you though I must inform you that I, too, hold a Queen's commission being a local magistrate."

"Oh!" The word exploded from the officer's mouth; he added menacingly: "And what business can you possibly have with us?"

Tom smiled and said soothingly: "May I speak to you in confidence, Officer? It won't take a moment."

"Stand at ease, men! I'll hear what this gentleman has to say." Tom indicated an empty table inviting the officer to join him; he introduced himself:

"My name is Newcomen, Officer; whom have I the pleasure to address?" The officer barked his reply: "Midshipman Barker of her Majesty's sloop, Intrepid now anchored in the bay."

"As I said, Officer I am a local magistrate and before taking office I took an oath to the Crown before I was allowed to take office."

"Cut to the chase, Mister Newcomen! Why should I listen to you?"

"You have, I assume, just made landfall and none of you aboard including your captain will have heard of the latest Act of Parliament to the effect that apprentices below the age of 18 years are expressly excluded from impressments. The young man you were about to impress is just such an apprentice."

The officer listened stone-faced to Newcomen; he also looked pole-axed and Newcomen put a question to him:

"I'm not changing the subject, Sir; but, do you enjoy hot meals aboard ship?"

The midshipman seemed relieved though his eyes narrowed; he said somewhat suspiciously: "What have hot meals to do with this business?"

"Just this, Officer; your ship's galley needs coal for the stove and the captain may even decide to re-coal in Dartmouth. This young chap is signed up as apprentice aboard a coal ship which provides coal for the local warehouse. That is one reason for the new law: to prevent apprentices being taken away from their duties."

The midshipman showed no relief at Tom's words but stood up and addressed his matelots: "Take those leg-irons off, men."

He turned to the father: "I suggest the young man join his ship as soon as possible. In the meantime keep him at home."

As the impressment gang left the inn the father grasped both Tom's hands shaking them vigorously and thanking him profusely. Later both father and son took a careful look outside before proceeding on their way. Meanwhile the three friends had noticed they were the sole drinkers left in the inn as not only the apprentice and his father had left but also all their co-celebrants had slipped away.

\----------O----------O----------

Later that day having returned to their workshop Thomas Newcomen and John Calley discussed the arrangements for preparing a demonstration of the steam engine which had been brought to completion. Both men stood at the upstairs window; here the sloping roof caused Newcomen to stoop whereas Calley, all 5 and a half feet of him was able to stand upright. Both peered out towards the harbour which was now further away than when his father was alive because increasing trade had caused the city fathers to order the construction of additional wharves.

One perennial problem for their house and others on the harbour front was the sloping nature of the road below which gave window cleaners some problems in placing ladders to gain access to the top most windows. Yet it would prove useful to Newcomen because the slope increased the height from the window. Nonetheless he would still have to excavate some soil; his aim was a drop of 70 feet and he calculated that his prototype vacuum engine could be built to half size.

Calley made another telling point: "Even at 70 foot that depth will far exceed anything that Savary achieved which is a fact that will not be lost on mine owners who take the trouble to come to the demonstration. Newcomen agreed; he said: "Who owns the mine at St Austell, John?"

"Sir Thomas Morland, that's the same chap who delighted in showing off his gin almost as if he had developed it himself." Calley smiled mischievously: "I didn't know you went in for such things, Tom; how was it superior to other gins? Taste-wise, I mean?"

"Very droll, John!" was Newcomen's comment, adding, "as you well know his particular gin was a model of a capstan around which a chain connects to a windlass from which a long rope is attached and dropped into the shaft of the mine. However that's where the excellent gin loses its appeal because the whole apparatus is powered by a team of heavy Clydesdale horses."

Calley observed: "It seems like a lot of horses will go hungry when your engine replaces horse-power, Tom."

It was Newcomen's turn for an observation: "I may have a knack for engines, John but you certainly outdo me in drollery."

Calley took his gaze from the harbour to stare at Newcomen saying: "That's a rather cynical observation, John though I'm sure it's said with honest intent." He chuckled and his companion joined in his laughter.

\----------0----------0----------

## Chapter 2: A Competitor

Not only had the accident provided Thomas Newcomen with, in his brother's words, a break-through but he had also decided to start again from scratch. Previously he had adapted Savary's container as a cylinder but its inadequately soldered elements kept giving way under moderate steam pressure and ultimately had led to the accident which had felled him. So, in consultation with his partner John Calley, Newcomen embarked upon an entirely new set of drawings from which the various parts would be manufactured and even though the project would be a third of the size of a full-size engine it would nonetheless take years to bring it to completion.

One over-riding consideration was the need for secrecy as the new project was likely to cost several hundred pounds which he hoped to recover in eventual sales of the successful engine to mine owners. One item might threaten his need for secrecy as neither he nor his partner were skilled in woodworking: It was the rocking beam one end of which would be attached to a piston while at the opposite end was attached a rod operating a pump via a chain. Even the dimensions and fittings were likely to attract comment though he hoped that most of the work both of metal and other materials including wood might be built by members of the Anabaptist community which was large and growing; he had already made enquiries in travelling around the West Country in the service of his ministry.

Fortunately some of the smaller parts could be adapted from items already in his catalogue in his profession as an ironmonger, as, for example, some stop-cocks and valves already in widespread use on local and household water systems. Other items were pipes, rods, chains, windlasses which could be adapted into his new engine. Another constraint was the amount of time that he and his partner could give to the project for both were active members of the Non-Conformist community and many were the calls made upon their services in a religious and charitable capacity.

Initially much of the practical work was carried out in the months of the year when handling metal was not such an intemperate activity. So the years went by and gradually the project approached the time when practical tests were needed to be carried out. However the beam, hitherto spoken of, proved even more difficult to fashion than hitherto estimated for it had to be made of hardwood and capable of carrying the load of brass piston plus, even though temporarily, many gallons of water.

Whilst labouring one day in his workshop his wife called up to him that he had a visitor and he had expected another tradesman to climb the stairs and was fully engaged on his task when he heard a voice behind him:

"Wyatt, Mr Newcomen, James Wyatt, customs officer, at your service."

Newcomen lifted his head in surprise being only too pleased to stand straight easing unused muscles to hold out his hand saying:

"I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, officer, though you're in the wrong place for contraband. South of the Tamar is the happy hunting ground of the smuggler or so I've heard."

Looking at the uniform reminded him of that of the midshipman years ago though this man was, he guessed, a score of years older though his facial expression was just as serious; he said:

"You'll not need reminding Mr Newcomen that England is still at war with France and it is about that condition which brings me here."

Newcomen smiled as he responded: "Frenchmen delivering brandy under your nose, officer!"

The customs man suddenly looked at Newcomen in surprise:

"You are prescient, Sir, for thst was indeed an explanation of a certain man's actions on being apprehended. My colleagues considered it was such a tale concocted to conceal another more serious offence."

Newcomen was in turn taken aback; he said:

"More serious, officer; you intrigue me."

"That of spying, Sir, which you'll agree is a more serious crime and which indeed carries the ultimate penalty which might explain the excuse."

"But I'm at a loss to see how I can be of any help, officer."

While Newcomen was talking the officer had occasion to look around. He seemed intrigued by a wooden beam attached to which was a hawser disappearing through the floor at his feet; he looked up saying:

"I'm intrigued by this beam, Sir. What is its purpose, if you'll excuse my curiosity?"

As a man of the cloth Newcomen hated anything but the truth though nonetheless explained:

"It's a new sort of windlass to lift sacks of grain from the wharf outside, officer."

Wyatt still seemed mystified but reverted to his own concern:

"I understand, Sir, that as an itinerant preacher you are wont to trot along the coastal paths north and south of Dartmouth.

On a clear day you cannot help but spot marine craft about their business, fishing perhaps, for the most part."

"True enough, officer though it seems to me that this stretch of coast is hardly suitable for French agents. Or, am I missing something!"

The customs man was reflective and thought a while then making a decision drew a document from his jacket pocket, saying:

"By your leave, Sir; may I?"

He unfolded a map and spread it out on the table motioning Newcomen to examine where he was pointing his finger:

"That area of coastline from Dover to the Isle of Wight might seem the optimum areas for landing agents though our success in spotting both contraband and clandestine vessels has caused our enemies to try further west and on the basis of recent arrests."

At this point Newcomen interrupted him saying urgently:

"The latest arrests, officer; can you tell me more?"

"It was at Sandbanks, Sir."

"But that's on the coast of Dorset; far from here."

"That's just it, Sir, it's also miles from the Cinque ports opposite the French coast. The agents in their desperation are being driven further and further west. Look at the map Mr Newcomen. You'll notice the tip of the Cherbourg peninsula is closer to us than the mouth of the Seine."

Newcomen said: "You mentioned that the suspected agent claimed he had dumped his contraband. How could you negate his claim?"

The officer smiled in responding: "Simply this, Sir, the waters off Sandbanks are very shallow. Had we picked him up anywhere else his story might be tenable. So, its local knowledge allied to a custom-man's nous; you might call it instinct. Also he claimed he was from Jersey but was soon disproved by our youngest recruit who lived two years in St Malo. He assured me the suspect was a Breton."

Newcomen changed the subject with a rueful comment:

"What war will force upon normally peaceful citizens whether they be French or English.!"

"Aye. After our victory at Blenheim I for one thought it would soon be over. As officers in government service I can tell you the Whigs were cock-a-hoop,"

Newcomen chuckled: "Do you remember the bells after Blenheim. Our local churches rang the changes and there were even beacons lighting up the hills."

"I've also a droll tale to relate if you've a mind to listen; and the time."

Newcomen rose to cross the room where a rope emerged from a wall which he pulled. Turning around he said smiling:

"It's a bell, officer. It's my signal for refreshment. You'll join me in a bowl of coffee which I assure you is a normal event."

"Thankyou kindly, Mr Newcomen. After Blenheim I was the joyful winner of a lottery across the service as to who should represent the Customs and Excise at the celebratory banquet at the Guildhall in London."

"For you alone, Sir!" Said Newcomen.

"I'm glad you asked that for my Belle was also included and, of course, she insisted on wearing the latest fashion. I don't mind telling you it cost me a pretty penny on the wage of a government officer but we'll say no more of that. It was a great event for her majesty was present and, of course, some lords and ladies; and that's where it got interesting."

"How mean you!" Queried Newcomen striding to the wall where he had heard the dumb-waiter arrive. He proffered a bowl of steaming coffee to his visitor and both men sipped. Refreshed Wyatt answered:

"His Grace, the Duke of Norfolk and his lady were the last to arrive prior to the queen's appearance and there was an altercation which alerted us in a far-away table. It seems the duke refused the chairs to which the flunkey directed the couple protesting that, as the most senior peers, they should sit next to the queen. I don't mind telling you that some of us far away crept closer to hear the duke's remonstrations. But the flunkey stood his ground telling him, 'Your Grace! I am acting for her majesty who has declared those seats be for special guests. I pray you, Your Grace, abide by the instructions of her majesty'."

The Customs man grinned saying:

"The flunkey, all dressed up in his finery, would not give way. He stood his ground."

"And did his lordship accept it?" asked Newcomen.

"Well! There was suddenly a great blaring of trumpets to announce the arrival of the queen. So his grace and his lady sat down still protesting about the seats. At the trumpet, of course, everyone stood up including Norfolk and his lady as her majesty swept in. I say swept for she was enormous and her gown literally brushed some of the guests."

"Go on, Mr Wyatt; I suspect you're reaching a climax."

Wyatt took a longer draught of his coffee now somewhat cooler before he resumed his anecdote:

"And what a climax, Mr Newcomen; there were preliminaries which I was too far away to see but I do remember the announcement because there was a perceptible moment of expectation; an anti-climax you might say and, through far away from the scene, we heard the announcement and the gasp which ensued following the man's words; I'll spare you the introduction; it was:

"....their Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Mindleheim."

"I am agog," said Newcomen, "as to their significance."

"And we too were none the wiser until we overheard the whispers going round to the effect that the Norfolks had to give precedence to their inferiors, the Marlboroughs, he of Blenheim fame and she just a royal companion. It seems the Emperor of Austria conferred the title on the duke as a thankyou for preserving Vienna from French attack."

"We Non-conformists can sympathise with Norfolk and his lady especially who, it has been said, considered Lady Sarah as little better than a strumpet. We are excluded from so many offices but nonetheless I enjoyed your account. It was very decidedly worth the telling. Thanks!"

"And my thanks to you Mr Newcomen for a fine bowl of coffee. Please convey my thanks to your wife. As to the other matter, the war is five years old and becoming more unpopular by the day. Also it is political in that the Tories with the support of her majesty are seeking means to end the war and we think the traffic across the Channel is partly funded by the Tories."

"You mean to say, Mr Wyatt, that they are dealing with the enemy, the French. Why, surely that is treason." Newcomen looked aghast.

"Look at this way, Mr Newcomen. The Tory view is that they are acting for the queen. So 'your' treason is their 'duty'."

Newcomen said, soberly: "Where do you stand, I mean, as a Customs Officer?"

"Naturally, for the government which is our paymaster: he who pays the piper etc; but, to practical matters, Mr Newcomen; will you help us?"

"I've thought over the matter and can answer in the affirmative. How do I contact you?" was Newcomen's rejoinder.

"Over the past years we've devised drop-off points which you'll find on this leaflet. Remember them and destroy the paper. On no account mention these matters to anyone; I assure you the most unlikely and upstanding people may be agents, and unfriendly at that. An officer visits the points once a day. If in doubt about a drop, avoid it. As a last resort there's our Customs House atop the Point. I'll be on my way."

As Wyatt was on the stairs he turned:

"My colleague asks in view of your profession if you could supply us with a cooking pot; we've heard about a new type on sale."

"You're in luck, officer. I'm about to open a shop to offer the new cooking pot from Darby. Do you know of it?"

"From Derby, Bristol, Nottingham.. None of us will mind; as long as it does the job."

Newcomen smiled leaving him in ignorance of Abraham Darby's new cast iron pot telling him:

"You'll find our shop in Lower Street. My son Elias will be delighted to show you samples when you call."

But, Wyatt had one final parting shot before disappearing:

"Rest assured Mr Newcomen the Custom and Excise will use all its influence to further the interests of the non-conformist community."

Tom smiled: "Amen to that, Mr Wyatt; farewell!"

\----------O----------O----------

"Friends! That last hymn, in particular its second verse, has a very apt resonance in our communion."

He echoed the words: "O! Source of uncreated heat, the Fathers promised paraclete... Indeed your minister, your paraclete, in other words, advocate of a new method of raising steam has come to fruition. You'll recall a one-time place of worship was altered as my partner and I needed the extra space it afforded to carry out some experiments which are to come to fruition.

It was five years since that we started to develop the fire-engine following that Act of Providence which convinced me that it was worth pursuing the project that is about to reach fulfilment. Let me extend my welcome to you all in the coming week in witness of a demonstration of the engine that will by Gods Grace empty flooded mines of water which is at present hindering efforts to exploit richer seams of minerals such as in Cornwall of tin, and up-country of coal and copper.

So, dear friends, next Wednesday the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and ten, we hope to start the demonstration around two o'clock of the afternoon at our former place of worship in Upper Street. Thanking you and the blessing of the Lord be upon you."

Thomas Newcomen stepped down from the pulpit and proceeded to the exit where, as usual, he took up station at the door leading to the street shaking each of the congregation by the hand. He was about to follow them when a voice called: "Mr Newcomen!"

A man emerged from the street and the preacher turned to face him:

"Your face is known to me, Sir, though you are not of my usual flock."

The man responded: "It has come to my notice, Sir, that you're on the lookout for someone to assist you in a forthcoming demonstration."

For a moment Newcomen pondered though was helped by the sudden appearance of Calley who hovered nearby. He whispered to his partner:

"It be that vessel you're having made, Tom, but which hasn't yet arrived."

Newcomen slapped his face in mock reprimand saying:

"I've just recalled, Sir; you're the father of the boy spared by the Press Gang. How is he faring?"

"Famously, Sir; he's at home on leave and anxious to help you out."

Newcomen grinned: "Send him over. What's his name?"

"Potter; Ben Potter; He'll be with you tomorrow."At the appointed time on the Wednesday of the following week a number of people congregated around the harbour wall. Beyond the wall John Calley directed people's gaze to a rectangular pool of water before shouting in order to be heard by all:

"There! Over there are two hundred gallons of water in that reservoir. You good people observe that long arm which reaches down beneath the surface of the water and is connected to a simple pump which, once the engine is in motion, will deliver water from the reservoir to this empty ditch."

Calley pointed and the assembled men followed his finger towards a deep oblong ditch. He continued to explain:

"When the fire-engine is working you will see that arm moving up and down and, as a result, water will be transferred from the reservoir to the ditch. You'll move your head much watching the up-and-down movement of the rocking arm, I'm afraid. Incidentally I assure you, and for my benefit too, being in the open air removes you from the noise that the engine makes. It is so loud that Tom and his helpers communicate by signals, in other words, much arm-waving by all concerned."

Calley called to a young man standing at the window two stories above shouting:

"Alright, Bob; pass the word!"

"Very good, Mr Calley! Responded the lad disappearing inside as Calley himself turned to once again address the gathered men around him shouting to make himself heard for although there was much more noise inside the building there was still a frightful din just yards from where they stood. But any further words were lost as a hissing sound was succeeded by a noise akin to a clap of thunder and within a few moments the people saw the vertical arm pushed downwards violently and, moments later, water is seen gushing from the wide hose pipe into the empty ditch. Some of those present look over the wall to see the water level fall in the reservoir.

For several minutes the cycles continue until Calley noticing the empty reservoir shouts to the lad aloft to halt the demonstration. All at once the noise stops. Calley now speking in a lower tone says:

"Gentlemen, the test started at 2.24 by my watch; it is now 2.45. You can see that the reservoir has been emptied whereas the empty ditch is now full. In just over 20 minutes 180 gallons of water has been transferred. In an hour that's over 500 hundred gallons. Imagine how this will transform many waterlogged mines within a few years. And there's the man himself to whose genius posterity will be indebted."

Newcomen appeared looking uncomfortable by Calley's praise. He addressed the assembly:

"Gentlemen! It's the Almighty to whom we should give thanks. He has presented us human-kind with a wonderful invention. To us, to Non-conformists it is a demonstration of a mighty work of the Lord which will do our movement much good in the years to come. Once a full-scale version, three times the size of this fire-engine, has been installed in a working mine things will begin to change for the benefit of all mankind. Thank you for your patient attendance."

Author's note: The rocking arm, described above, will, in the late 19th C, be the model for another device used to extract a commodity with a hundred times the energy of steam, namely, oil. It will be renamed, 'rocking donkey', and be reproduced by the million, then by the billion.

\----------O----------O----------

On a sunny day in August two men stood upon a promontory called the Hoe looking out to sea following the progress of a schooner in full sail making its way out of Plymouth Sound.

"Where think you it's headed?" asked one man of his companion. They were the brothers Newcomen; it was Tom who gave answer:

"To rejoin his squadron taking fresh produce; it seems astonishing that the Frenchies have not intercepted one yet, according to my informant. Should they do so the admiral might quickly be compromised."

"When is our admiral set to join us, Tom?" said his brother adding:

"I mean Captain Savary!"

"You know the man better than me, Jack. What do you think?"

"It's for seaman's welfare that both of us have in common although by virtue of his connections his title is that more impressive. To be exact he is official treasurer for the Society of Sick and Wounded Seamen which is how I made his acquaintance."

"Ah, yes." confirmed his brother, "one of our church collections is dedicated to the society. So, that's how you met him!"

"Yet I had no idea of his fire-engine experience until you sent me to the patent office in London to register your patent. Ah, here he comes."

Both men heard rather than saw someone approaching turning as one to watch an elderly gentleman walking towards them over the sward of grass upon which both men stood. His hair was completely grey and Tom estimated his age at the late fifties or the early sixties."

"Hellooooo! He called as though addressing them from far off though in truth he was just yards away. It was the open nature of the promontory that possibly prompted his call as, in that wide expanse of the Hoe, there were no other people in the vicinity nor structures apart from the famous bowling green where Sir Francis

Drake made his even more famous utterance on being told the Spanish Armada had been sighted.

Tom uncharacteristically upbraided him:

"What means this, Sir? My brother tells me you have excluded any invention other than yours in the wording of your patent. That is uncharitable to say the least."

As Newcomen spoke the old gentleman just stood gazing, seemingly, in astonishment at the speaker which caused Tom to end his diatribe though could not stop himself from a parting shot:

"And you a man of God, Sir. In all conscience I would expect something else which explains my presence here, today."

Then, instantly regretting his outburst, he said in amelioration:

"I beg your pardon, Captain, I'm forgetting good manners though you'll perhaps understand as an inventor, yourself."

Savary smiled: "I do understand; Mr Newcomen, is it? May I make a suggestion?"

Tom indicated he should continue his discourse in raising his hands.

"Perhaps if we could repair to a local hostelry; the passage of alcoholic liquor down my throat has done, from past experience, a whole lot of good to my demeanour, and, undoubtedly, would to you and your companion."

Here, brother Jack intervened: "The Drake Inn is hard by. I'll take the first step in that direction, folk; this way."

So the trio made their way to the inn suggested which involved leaving the Hoe esplanade and making their way to Frobisher Terrace in which thoroughfare the inn stood. A cubicle was soon booked and occupied while the landlord brought them a tray bearing three pewter tankards each with the preferred brew of their choice. Savary emptied his before the landlord had returned to his bar calling for replenishment of his drink. And, after taking a long draught of his second tankard and wiping his mouth, Savary said:

"The workings of the Patent Office were a mystery to me, Mr Newcomen, so I employed a patent agent who drew up the application and it was completed following his advice, dear Sir, so I plead guilty to putting my name above the specification though its exact wording was created so as to...."

He fell silent immersing himself in another draught of ale before adding:

"..so as to exclude any misunderstanding, which I add, were the words of my agent himself. Had you got in first, I might well feel myself aggrieved, Mr Newcomen. I am sorry for it."

Tom grimaced and told Savary: "You see, Captain, the remains of one of your engines, installed in a Cornish mine, was brought to

me by my late father to whom it was given by the owner of Wheal

Mine. It had cost them upwards of fifty pounds and they had bought three in all which were supposed to work in tandem, but..."

He stopped speaking and his brother said: "Such engines, Mr Savary, reflect badly upon all inventors. And, now we discover, after much expense, that a working engine, like my brother's, is not patentable because.."

He stopped reluctant to put the accusation into words at which juncture Savary nodding his head in seeming sympathy addressed his elder brother:

"Mr Newcomen, all is not lost. May I put a proposition to you which takes account of the facts that you and your brother have spoken of. It is true that in England and elsewhere my name is mud not least in the West Country though in the course of my life I have travelled much and know, from personal experience, that mine owners in Hungary, Bohemia, France, Hessen and other lands are avid for such an engine; yours for example. Have you heard of the name Pepin in the course of your research?"

Newcomen shook his head slowly saying nothing and Savary continued:

"Auguste Pepin is a wealthy aristocrat and interested in things mechanical. He has put much effort and his own money into exploiting the power of the vacuum to drive a machine following the famous vacuum experiments of Otto von Guericke, of Magdeburg some fifty to sixty years ago."

Savary paused to refresh himself by taking another draught from his tankard and getting his breath back continued his tale:

"Such works, Sirs, stimulated my own interest though being a military man, some might say a mercenary, and involved in, let's aay, placing bridges across rivers, commandeering boats for soldiers to ..." He stopped noticing the Newcomens lean back and eye each other in apparent impatience, so changed tack:

"Through my extensive aristocratic not to say royal acquaintance, Sirs, I would ensure that not only would your demonstrations be well attended but, importantly, lucrative orders might well repay your investment much more speedily and hasten the development of your engines."

Tom Newcomen's eyes sparkled with interest and he exchanged looks with his brother; he said:

"And what recompense do you seek, Captain, should we come to an understanding?"

"Were I younger, Mr Newcomen, I should perhaps be more generous but at my age, I'm sixty years of age, and weary I don't mind telling you and it behoves me to think I have but few years remaining. So, my proposal is but a third of profits generated by the company, say, Newcomen and Savary Partners, though I shall put

up a third of monies invested in the company; how say you?"

Newcomen did not reply at first spending a few moments digesting Savary's words before turning back to him:

"If you'll allow us Captain to withdraw; my brother and I will discuss your proposition outside; are you game, Jack?"

Both men went outside whereupon Savary, taking his tankard to the bar called for a top-up. In the meantime the inn door closed upon the two brothers when Tom appearing somewhat agitated addressed Jack:

"What did you two speak of in London, brother; how came he by this proportion, this third?"

His brother looked decidedly uncomfortable and confessed:

"I spoke of things, Tom, that I had no business to; yet the man was almost apologetic and expressed a wish to make amends and, I, thinking Calley and yourself were equal partners which now I know was wrong of me. Well, that's how Savary gets the figure of a third. It's my fault and I'm truly sorry."

Tom put an arm around his brother saying:

"We shall need a deal of money to build a full-scale engine and transport it."

His brother's eyes lit up: "Transport, Tom; where?"

"Up country, Jack, to the Midlands, to Dudley where they have a serious problem with flood water; speed is of the essence."

"Have you worked out how to get there, Tom?"

"To the quay in Dartmouth thence to Exeter to the River Exe then via the Exeter Canal to Bridgewater there to await a high tide before taking our cargo the short sea route to Avonmouth; from there to the River Stour to Stourbridge. That's where the water comes to an end. We'll have ten miles of bad roads before we reach Dudley. The whole journey will take a week, perhaps longer."

"Shall we give the nod to Savary; he's likely fallen asleep by now."

Jack was nearly correct for the Captain was on his fourth ale when they rejoined him. Jack called the barman over:

"Brandies all round, landlord!"

\----------O----------O----------

## Chapter 3: Water, water everywhere..

Hannah Newcomen was standing by her kitchen range when her husband stepped into her world and she looked up with a smile well accustomed to his farewells, the farewells of an itinerant Non-conformist preacher setting off to renew his ministrations to a far-flung flock. She had been forewarned of this particular trip but was nonetheless sad to, once again, have to bid him farewell doing so with fond words:

"You'll not spend a day longer than you must, dear Thomas."

Newcomen bent over to kiss her adieu: "It'll be lonely until I reach Exeter. Hopefully Jem's got a good nag for me. Farewell my love!"

He walked downhill for his route took him to the Church stables where he hoped the ostler, Jem, would have a reasonable mount for him. Arriving at the yard he espied the ostler carrying a load of hay into one of the stables and waited until he re-emerged."

"Good morrow, Jem! I've a three day prospect in front of me if all goes to plan. I'm travelling to Dudley up-country; it's a small town in Staffordshire. What sort of mount do you recommend?"

"The sorrel, Sir; you've had him afore. He'll be three years old, come September. I'll get her!"

Having hoisted the two side panniers across the sorrel's back he contemplated things before taking to the saddle. The panniers held his belongings and refreshment for the journey ahead and he pondered deeply; as ever he was concerned about the weather but his decision made he hoisted himself into the saddle and wishing the ostler adieu and being greeted by his farewll, "God-speed", Newcomen cantered out of the stable yard onto the road outside. Ere long he was soon trotting along the road out of Dartmouth and taking out his fob-watch he murmured to himself, 'eight of the morning'.

Looking upward and noting the position of the sun in the sky and, at the same time, spotting a granite marker at the edge of the highway pointing to Exeter he decided to dismount guiding the sorrel to a place beneath some ash trees and dismounting slid to the ground. He undid a pannier and removed a small package before gently slapping the horse's rump at which the sorrel walked towards a luscious looking sward of grass and, nuzzling it, took a sizeable bite and lifting his head munched it.

Meanwhile Newomen settled himself beneath the shade of another tree and unwrapping the package of its paper took out a pie succeeded by a bottle of cold tea and after several bites and swigs settled back against the tree's trunk and closed his eyes basking in the midday warmth. How long he had dozed he was afforded no time on which to reflect for he was shaken awake roughly accompanied by a cultured voice shouting:

"Wake up, man; wake up!"

His eyes fully opened to the unfamiliar sight of legs in breeches blocking his view and more language even more peremptory and he might have tried to stand had not the same voice shouted:

"Slowly, now! Do as I say! Your money, Sirrah! And, quick about it; or, this pistol will speak."

At last recognition of the situation as he beheld the muzzle of a pistol held inches from his head and behind it the visage of a bearded man. His eyes seemed to flash in anger. He spoke again:

"D'you hear me! I haven't got all day. Quick!"

"Allow me to rise, Sir, if you please! I cannot reach my pockets in my cramped position."

So saying Newcomen struggled to get up while the man retreated a pace until Tom had stood up and, eyed suspiciously by the stranger, rummaged in a side pocket of his coat. Tom pulled out an etui and as it emerged he noticed the man had but one arm and commented:

"For a one arm man, you're mighty dexterous, Sir."

"Never fear stranger this one pistol will blast you to kingdom come. Hand it over!"

Tom was about to obey when, of a sudden, a gush of steaming piss hit both men. It came from the Sorrel. Instinctively Tom ducked and felt the 'whish' of a ball passing inches from his head. As the cascade stopped Tom, being the first to recover, called out:

"Give me the pistol, Sir!"

He grasped him by his pistol arm, saying:

"You're a veteran, Sir; I see so many and understand the plight of you former soldiers. Tell me about it! I'm a man of God; perhaps I can help."

His words found a receptive attention as the stranger stood dumbfounded by the course of events. Tom went on talking to him as he gently disarmed him. He asked him how he had got there and soon Tom persuaded the would-be assailant to accompany him, with the sorrel, to the place where the man had left his own horse. Tom learned from the stranger that a piece of a cannon-ball had disabled him. Not only had he lost an arm but also his profession as carpenter; that circumstance had led to his desperate plight.

Newcomen said to Richard, for that was his name:

"Our church has a meeting hall in Exeter and I'm sure your story will be heard with great sympathy for it needs to be brought to the attention of a wider public. This might help in bringing this dreadful war to an end. In the meantime I shall find somewhere for you to live."

"No need for that, Sir. My mother in Exeter will welcome me back, I'm sure, though I would appreciate funds to tide us over."

Newcomen left Richard in Exeter promising a reunion once his business in Dudley had been completed. He met up with Jack, his brother, who had hired a wherry to take them and their horses from Exeter via the Exeter Canal to Bridgewater. Both men were accustomed to long journeys; Tom regularly rode to various towns and villages in his parish such as Salcombe, Kingsbridge and Plymouth, and, even across the Tamar into Cornwall. His longest trip to date had been to St Just in Penwith, not far from Lands End.

In the course of that trip he had become acquainted with conditions in the tin mines around St Just and Camborne and the pressing need for an effective method of draining deep mines of water. The onset of the latest war had persuaded mine owners to reopen abandoned workings in order to meet an increasing demand for tin, copper and coal. Prices had risen ten-fold though men's wages had failed to match up with the appalling working conditions such as abysmal lighting and often having to wade through waist high

water just to reach richer seams of ore.

His brother's recent journey to London and back was made, part of the way, with a stage-coach company whose proprietor had started his service using coaches formerly in private service. The journey had cost the Newcomens dear though fares were likely to come down as competitors came into the market to provide services between towns. There was no service to Dudley all the way hence their decision to make their way independently.

Accomodation was to prove no problem owing to the great Non-conformist tradition of hospitality extended to their members. Reaching Bromsgrove he was welcomed by a fellow Baptist by the name of Humphrey Potter, deacon of the Bromsgrove Baptist chapel. Forewarned weeks earlier of the Newcomens' arrival Potter had drawn up a dossier of local metal-working shops.

Losing no time the Newcomens set off on the final leg of their journey to the actual mine, the Conygree Pit, a few miles south-west of Dudley Castle which they spotted from afar. It was late in the day when they arrived at their lodgings; nonetheless Tom hastened to the mine to let the foreman know of their arrival being delighted to make his acquaintance, one Martin Triewald, who informed Newcomen that the mine owner, his lordship, the Marquis of Dudley, would be due the following day.

Triewald directed Tom to an adit which is an opening into a mine built at an angle to the shafts against the insides of which ladders had been secured. Only one was illuminated by an oil lamp around which a glass bowl protected it from draughts which might otherwise extinguish the flickering flame. After inspecting the adit protected by a canopy atop a small brick structure, Newcomen commented to the foreman:

"Has anyone informed you, Mr Triewald, of the details of the structure required above the main shaft into the mine. This structure will be essential to carry the considerable loads which must be carried."

"Triewald shook his head in answering:

"It will be to his lordship that you will need to divulge these plans especially if they will involve any great expense so I would suggest saving your breath until his arrival, tomorrow."

Newcomen persisted, saying:

"Prior to my talking to him I will need someone to show me around below ground as I need to discover the exact layout of the mine and make notes."

Triewald smiled assent suggesting he would be glad himself to show him around inviting Newcomen to follow him. He led the way into the adit taking a lamp each for them both and advising him to watch his step on the uneven ground. Prior to entering Triewald told him of a guard rail built around the shaft advising him not to lean on it. At the top of the shaft he said:

"I shall go down first to the first level where I shall stop in order to show you its layout. Then, if you please, I'll proceed to the second ladder which will take us both to the bottom. Let's go!"

After reaching the first level Triewald spoke again:

"There is no guard rail here around the shaft so take care Mr Newcomen! If you are ready we shall continue."

So the two men proceeded from the second level to the third level. By now apart from their lanterns they were in Stygian darkness and Newcomen ducked as something fluttered past his head. Just then Triewald looked behind him spotting his companion's discomfiture, saying:

"Bats, Sir! It's a perfect roost for them. As their vision is better than ours as, so I'm told, they possess the ability to fly blind owing to some auditory means which, the experts tell me, is above human hearing. Now, Sir, be very careful. I'm going to descend the third ladder to the bottom of the mine which slopes away to your left and which hopefully is still dry."

Newcomen followed these instructions until both men stood on the floor of the mine. He glimpsed flashes of light and Triebald explained what they were:

"The flashes you see are discomfiting but there's a simple explanation. The smooth faces of the coal reflect the light of the lanterns quite amazingly. Watch when I wave my lantern; how the reflections change. Now, follow where I'm pointing."

Newcomen noticed this time the reflections were elongated and more widespread and horizontal; Triebald explained:

"That's water! As you see the water is but twenty paces distant and if you listen carefully you'll hear the sound of a spring which, if nothing is done, will in a year or less render this mine unworkable. If you look to your right and left you'll see passages which are usually a hive of activity."

As Triewald finished speaking Newcomen shone his lamp all around him and becoming more confident took small steps to inspect his surroundings. After a few moments, he spoke:

"Presumably there are hoists and winches in place, foreman?"

"Indeed, Sir, you'll see baskets used to hoist the coal when the mine is in operation. Have you an idea when you want to begin your work?"

"It's my brother who will install the container to hold the water once it has been manufactured. It will need an enclosure which will necessarily reduce the area where the coal is hewn from the rock though it will take the minimum possible."

A voice from above interrupted Newcomen; it was from the level above, booming into the void:

"His lordship is at the adit, foreman."

As Newcomen followed the foreman up the ladders to return to the adit entrance he reflected on the mysterious influence of rumour. Arriving at his destination he could not dampen his curiosity which had seen him leave his brother at their accommodation and though weary from the long ride, as must also his mount be, nonetheless within a few minutes he had made his way to Conygree hoping that someone in authority would be present. He was due to meet the marquis the following day. So his arrival was also unexpected. Was it chance or had the marquis been informed of his presence and impatient to meet him had made his way here, late in the day though it was.

Thomas emerged from the adit accompanied by the foreman who, espying the gentleman talking to an employee, hurried over to his presence and removing his hat said somewhat obsequiously:

"I beg pardon, my lord, for keeping you waiting."

Then, addressing Tom added: "His Lordship, the Marquis of Dudley." Next came his announcement of Tom's presence, "Mr Newcomen, my lord." The marquis having stepped down from his carriage turned from the employee to look at the engineer and Tom eagerly went towards him thrusting out his hand and making a slight bow whilst uttering the prescribed greeting. The marquis shook Tom's hand vigorously while dismissing Triewald with a wave of his hand who returned to the adit. The marquis said:

"You've brought some plans with you, Sir, I hope."

"Indeed, My Lord, though, since this visit is entirely unscheduled the plans are back at my accommodation. Our official meeting was due to take place tomorrow. Arriving earlier than I'd anticipated I could not wait until tomorrow to visit the mine. To be honest making your acquaintance today though a great pleasure is entirely unexpected."

The marquis smiled and admitted: "Some lackey from the mine galloped to the residence to announce your arrival so I too confess to this premature meeting. Though from the appearance of the moon it's somewhat late so until tomorrow, Mr Newcomen."

So they parted. Thomas returned to his horse deeply contemplative concerning the anxiety of the marquis who, as the owner, must entertain hopes that, at long last, some amelioration of the mine's problems was near. His visit to the mine though was opportune for his plans on paper would need to be amended on account of the additional information gleaned during his short visit. He lost no time doing so before he retired for the night.

Having agreed on time and place Newcomen carrying an large etui duly met the marquis and was surprised by the information that Lady Dudley had also decided to accompany her husband. She had also set up a small folding table between the seats in the carriage and Newcomen was invited to display his plans on it eagerly overlooked by both the Dudleys.

"That's the engine house, Your Ladyship," began Newcomen when all three had sat themselves down. Newcomen noticed with pleasant awe how the lady notwithstanding her wearing fashionable attire squeezed comfortably beside her husband as if their deliberations were quite commonplace for her. He continued to explain aspects of his drawing, "it will be the size of a small house with the roof initially not put on till later. Atop this wall you see the rocking beam which will pivot in the centre. From the outside end will dangle a rod connecting to a piston inside this cylinder."

Newcomen pointed his finger at the object depicted. Then he stopped taking to allow his guests to mull over his last words. The marquis pointed to the cylinder and looked at Newcomen keenly:

"How tall is the cylinder, Sir?"

"It will be around seven and a half feet being twenty one inches in diameter, give or take a quarter inch." Tom paused before

adding, "Beneath the cylinder will sit the boiler somewhat wider at five and half feet and over six feet in height."

Tom stopped aware of the fact of giving more information than had been asked for and was surprised by the lady's comment:

"Most interesting, Mr Newcomen; pray continue."

Tom said: "The boiler will hold about seven thousand gallons of water to be heated by a furnace beneath the boiler."

This time it was the marquis who interrupted Tom saying: "I'm astonished, truly astonished, Sir. There never was such a.. a.. what does one call it, this thing, these works."

Tom smiled somewhat pleased at the reaction he had invoked, saying:

"An engine, Sir; to be more exact a fire-engine though not the first of its kind for in some quarters I've heard it called an atmospheric engine though I would prefer the term vacuum-engine since it is that God-given force which causes the piston to ram downwards with such tremendous force. Indeed that same force knocked me senseless, years ago. It was my beard which took the brunt of the pressure else I should not be here to tell the tale."

Both looked at him with some amusement evinced by a smile on each of their faces. The marquis commented thoughtfully:

"Presumably that rod dropping into the shaft connects to the pump in the bottom of the mine."

Tom responded by accessing his etui and pulling another plan out and addressed the duo in more familiar fashion wondering how they would take it:

"If you'll allow me folk, I'll spread this plan out atop the other." To his surprise nobody noticed his address both of them eagerly helping hold down the corners of the paper while he stabbed his finger at the plan explaining that the down-stroke of the piston caused the other beam-end to rock upwards and in so doing would cause a powerful up-stroke of a large water filled ladle thereby forcing water up into this hose.

Newcomen pointed to the various components while offering his description of the action cycle adding that the hose reached to the surface. Meanwhile, he went on, in between strokes a valve closes preventing the return of any water. On the next upstroke the water would force this valve open. The cycle is repeated every five seconds so that in one minute over a hundred gallons of water will be ejected and brought to the surface.

The marquis narrowed his eyes at Newcomen's latest assertion saying:

"We must see, Sir; we must see!" Though Lady Dudley sounded more hopeful evidently not sharing her husband's scepticism; she said:

"Is there anything we can do to help, Mr Newcomen?"

Her question was unexpected though Tom had intended to broach one unpleasant part of the operation and would have waited for the optimum time. He decided to take the plunge:

"Indeed, ma'am, the fact is all this water, this dirty, stagnant, black water coming out of the depths of the mine poses a

problem as to where it should go. You both are more acquainted with the area than I and I'm hoping you will advise me where I may

direct workmen to excavate a trench into which this foul water may be directed."

At the close of this speech he watched as both man and woman looked at each other. Neither spoke. His eyes strayed to look out of the carriage window espying someone soundlessly waving an arm in his direction realising it was his brother. He excused himself to the evident relief of his hosts and bidding them a temporary leave-taking he left the carriage to make his presence known to his brother.

While talking to Jack a footman interrupted by thrusting his plans formerly in the carriage into his hands. He watched the footman rejoin the carriage which left the area of the mine. Tom reflected ruefully that the problem with the mine water though some distance into the future was nonetheless something that would need to be resolved. The brothers decided to return to their lodgings.

More relaxed now about the necessary work needed both men enjoyed a convivial breakfast on the morrow and were not too surprised by a gentle tapping on their door and the appearance of Mistress Potter carrying a tray and inviting them to partake of a bowl of coffee and enjoy it in the library which was bathed in sunlight. It also had a fine view of the Potters' garden. After accepting the easy chair offered him, Tom addressed his host:

"For my part, Mistress Potter, this coffee is very welcome for we've much to discuss. What think you, Jack!"

Jack agreed while also accepting his own bowl of steaming coffee giving thanks to their host who left them to their deliberations though they had scarcely enjoyed a second sip when there came another tap on the door followed by an evidently distraught Mistress Potter who approached Tom saying:

"Do forgive me, Mr Newcomen, it's his lordship, the Marquis of Dudley. He seems somewhat agitated almost pleading to see you; I am sorry."

Tom laid aside his bowl and arose at once assuring the minister's wife that it was perfectly in order inviting her to lead the way to her guest who was pacing the drawing room and spotting Tom immediately hurried towards him in evident distress and expostulated:

"How dare you upset, Lady Dudley, Sir. Your address yesterday was most inopportune, not to say, scandalous."

Tom heard a step behind him; it was brother, Jack. They both eyed each other before Tom turned to address the marquis to say in his most emollient tone:

"Pray, Sir, let me know in what manner I seem to have offended her."

"Seem, Sir, seem! She is most distressed. How dare you offend her ladyship with your dirty problems?"

At the mention of the word 'dirty' Tom recalled his address the previous day. Nonetheless it was only suspicion; he needed to be sure:

"Problems, My Lord, problems! Come, take a seat and explain to me and my brother. We shall be all ears for that be the reason that we're here."

"It's that duh duh dark water you spoke of; her ladyship was most upset. It is your problem, Sir; not ours and certainly not, her ladyship's."

Tom had confirmed his suspicion and for the while said nothing in reply exchanging looks with Jack. This silence also had afforded time for the marquis to simmer down and take the seat suggested. Tom said gently:

"I do beg your pardon, Sir, to have been the cause of the lady's distress. I spoke inopportunely on the matter. Perhaps I should have consulted you as to whether I might ask your estate manager, your land-agent."

The marquis grimaced saying: "I'm sorry that I started this thing. Why wasn't I told about the disposal of this water before? I seem to be surrounded by nincompoops."

"But your foreman, My Lord; surely he made some mention of it to you." asked Newcomen looking baffled.

"I don't listen to such jack-a-napes, Sir."

"Well, Sir, your land-agent, your estate manager. What did he say?"

The marquis looked perplexed: "D'you mean my solicitor?"

Tom said: "No, Sir, your solicitor looks after your legal interests but in matters to do with the mine...."

He left the sentence hanging then after a pause added, "you really do need such a man, My Lord, to deal with matters concerning the mine. My brother and I climbed down into the mine and both of us have the same conclusion."

"Which is?" demanded the marquis truculently.

"That the present flooding of working areas in the mine requires urgent action and we were planning to.."

The marquis interrupted: "So there is water; there's always been water. This is the reason you're here, Sir." This time it was Tom who broke in to say: "It is rising and if unchecked will cause the mine to become unworkable. Surely that's why we were called in."

Tom now became uncharacteristically impatient adding testily:

"But, if you do not wish us to remain, Sir, my brother and I bid you adieu. I have a list of mine owners appealing for my services. So, My Lord, I bid you good day and goodbye. Come on, Jack!"

The brothers had scarcely opened the door to the passage when a voice rather plaintive cried out: "I pray you, Gentlemen; be not so hasty. Perhaps I spoke somewhat too harshly. Please remain."

Tom thought, 'That's revenue talking; the sale of coal must be a lucrative source of income though he kept these thoughts to himself glancing at Jack before turning to face the marquis saying:

"If you are agreeable, Sir, I propose to draw up a contract as to my company's proceeding in respect of the Conygree mine. It will be ready in a few days. After perusing the contract you will

doubtless have questions and once resolved to mutual satisfaction I expect the contract to be signed by all parties in particular your good-self and myself in the presence of witnesses. How say you, Sir?"

"And the water, Mr Newcomen; what of the water?"

Tom smiled and meeting his brother's gaze said:

"It is your mine, Sir; therefore it is your water. You'll remember in the coach that Lady Dudley herself offered your help and I responded. That water, Sir, will not do the vegetation on your land any good whatsoever. So it will need to be disposed of. Once the fire-engine is working the subsequent water will be clear, spring water and good for crops. But, I don't want angry farmers coming to the mine railing that we've ruined their crops following the initial outflow. Do you understand, Sir?"

The marquis now looked contrite and intimated he would consult his land agent adding that his solicitor would be in touch regarding the contract. It was a more subdued gentleman who was shown out by Mistress Potter and after the Marquis had left Tom turned to speak a few unchristian words to his brother:

"Did you hear how he spoke of his foreman who seems as good a tradesman as ever I've had before today. He gave me all the help I needed and was most solicitous on my behalf."

Jack said: "Such lords as the marquis hark back to their Norman ancestors who never were reconciled to sharing their ill-gotten gains from the Conquest with the natives, us."

"So long as his money counts more than his words, I care not." answered Tom who, changing the subject to more practical matters, said:

"Have you drawn up a schedule, Jack, so as to sub-contract the work to local tradesmen?"

In answer Jack drew out a parchment from his capacious jacket pocket allowing his brother to run his eye over it. As he read Tom voiced what his eyes beheld. Thus: rod, iron, of 20 feet from Humphreys of Bromsgrove to be delivered to Conygree Mine Partners by end of June, 1711. Ladle, copper, ten inches diameter by two feet complete with copper handle two inches by four for attachment to rod aforementioned from Parker and Sons, Tipton.

He finished reading the schedule saying: "It's early days, I know but we shall need men or boys to operate one or two valves and the stop cock. Oh!.. and this joint here, which stops the water gushing out?"

Jack eyed the joint reflectively finally saying:

"There'll be a piece of leather to act as a seal. Some water will still escape but not much. Any water will drop via a run-off to the pit floor."

Jack stopped and turned to his brother: "I've been meaning to ask you, Tom, if you'll show me that list of mine-owners baying for our services."

Tom grinned: "A bit of bluff, dear Jack but it convinced our friend he's atop the pile. That pleased him!"

"You chose the wrong profession, brother. With that logic you would out-solicited any solicitor or perhaps an estate agent or indeed any profession needing a degree of bluff to oil the wheels of business."

Tom retorted smiling: "I don't think I could beat a certain relation close at hand. No, I'll stick to engineering thanks."

\----------0----------0----------

## Chapter 4: It takes all kinds..

In Exeter an erstwhile highwayman willingly paid over a penny for a letter from Thomas Newcomen writing from Dudlay explaining their return was somewhat delayed. It had been addressed to Richard Mabe who, over the time when the Newcomens had said farewell, had discovered a world completely unknown to him, the self-sufficient world of the Dissenter. Mabe, in the course of a few weeks, had discovered that the Non-conformist community had made itself totally self-reliant.

Thomas Newcomen had also suggested prior to leaving him that Mabe might compose a narrative describing his experiences which had brought him to his condition of desperation. To this end he discovered that the Non-conformist community had such a standing that his order for the printing of leaflets was accepted on credit. As a result of his postponement as he wanted the Newcomens also to be present even amendments to dates were accepted with surprising equanimity.

The Newcomen brothers had given few details of their business though he had gleaned that it had to do with the raising of water from mines and reflected upon another acquaintance of years back when he had witnessed the landing of William, the Dutch Stadtholder, who had been invited to England by a coterie of Parliamentarians unhappy with the measures of the Catholic King James. Mabe recalled that a certain gentleman of his acquaintance had greeted the Dutchman in his own language.

He wondered whether the Newcomens had any idea of this gentleman whom he had met soon after his unhappy return from the Continent. The man had stood him a drink followed by many more after each had learned of the other's military experiences. The sun had glinted on a button of the gentleman's jacket and Mabe learnt his acquaintance, Thomas Savary, had served with the Dutch military. He recalled him laughing in explanation:

"It's from Williams's country, the Netherlands. Years ago I served there as a soldier though not as a musketeer or similar calling. I was an engineer which involved, among other activities, digging ditches. Still it merited a uniform the tunic from which proved very hard-wearing. You'll notice the button is stamped with the insignia of my corps, 'IngCorp'".

As Mabe had recalled, the Dutchman, William, was astonished to be greeted in his own language. Thereafter he had lost sight of him as the two men, the future king, William and his acquaintance, Savary, together with a host of well-wishers, marched inland. Soon enough both men were mounted and he could no longer keep up. He returned home to relate the events to his mother, who, in her turn, related some events of years before when another Protestant had landed with the object of claiming the throne.

Sadly for him the Establishment of England, was obsessed with legitimacy, and Charles' bastard son, Monmouth, clashed with that notion. Had Monmouth landed two years later, after James continued provocations, preferring Catholics to Protestants, his reception might have been more welcoming. In the event Monmouth was hunted down as a rebel and traitor and having been defeated in battle paid the ultimate price.

To many cynics William had accepted the English throne simply to gain access to the extra revenues to fund his Dutch

military campaign against his old enemy, Louis XIVth. Mabe's acquaintance, Savary, had much to relate on Dutch affairs. He viewed both English and Dutch politics with equal cynicism citing the Dutch leaders, the De Witt brothers, who, in government built up the Dutch Navy neglecting army matters. Through mischance, Louis chose to invade Holland at this time and the desperate Dutch in defence were forced to open up sluices thereby ruining years of expensive land reclamation. Consequently the De Witt brothers took the full force of Dutch anger and both men were killed.

Savary viewed this Dutch misfortune as an opportunity to sell his idea of a steam-driven pump but his opportunism was hampered by the lack of available engineering materials particularly in the development of a robust alloy that proved able to resist high temperatures. Many of his pipework bends involved the sweating together of copper pipes and brass fittings in elbow joints. Today such work is part and parcel of ordinary plumbing but Savary lacked a suitable solder and in consequence he was forced to abandon his efforts to supply the Dutch.

Back in England Savary had had the good fortune to gain King William's royal seal of approval after his demonstrations to members of the Royal Society. His aim was to achieve some return on his investment and thereafter, having gained City of London backing attempt to sell his pump to mine owners in England. Despite calling his device the Miners' Friend his engines installed in mines in various parts of the West Country failed one by one and it was the example of one failure that Newcomen Senior had delivered as junk to his son, Thomas Newcomen.

However these reflections of Richard Mabe were in the background of his memory for what concerned him now was to put together a narrative of interest to people who were lacking a first-hand account of a soldier's experiences. His most recent message told him of the imminent arrival in Exeter of his new friends though still delayed providing that information to his printers. The Newcomens would be tired after their travelling so he waited upon their actual arrival.

Besides, the protracted delay was having a positive impact upon his memories particularly of the field of the Battle of Blenheim so he was surprised when Thomas Newcomen actually called upon him at his farm in Friernhay being disappointed that Mabe had no firm day when the address would take place. The erstwhile highwayman had not placed any weight on the energy of the Newcomens who were anxious to be away back to Dartmouth and urged Mabe to give his address that evening for the following day both Jack and Tom would resume their journey to return home.

His disappointment however was mellowed by the fact that the Newcomens would expect him to accompany them on their return journey to Dudley a fortnight hence for they had carpentry work for him where the absence of an arm was outweighed by his native skill in directing others; a rare gift.

\----------0---------0----------

Richard Mabe sddressed his audience: "Gentlemen!"

Then, spotting a single female alongside her husband he modified his address to include her and begged the assembly to excuse his get-up in the uniform of the Devonshire Dragoons in which unit of Her Majesty's Army he had fought on the field of Blenheim. He pointed with his one good arm to his shako, pelisse, tunic, sword-sling, trousers, Hessian boots and other items before completing his sartorial tour with a flourish:

"As we cantered uphill towards the village of Hochstadt I held this cutlass high above my head and my left hand gripped a pistol."

"Cantered, Sir; I thought cavalrymen charged." came a humourous voice sitting in the front chairs and Mabe, also smiling, confronted his interrogator saying triumphantly:

"The French cavalry, Sir, were still a thousand yards distant and occupied the high ground so our steeds would have been exhausted had we not left our actual charge until but one hundred paces away. Then it was all hell as we clashed. My brain ordered my pistol to fire. But a French Hussar had sliced off both hand and pistol. Soon enough, the Devons, alongside the rest, were chasing the Frenchies uphill. They disappeared over the crest of the hill ending up in the Danube, far below. The day was ours."

Silence greeted Mabe's last speech and, misreading the hush, he apologised to the audience but was quickly interrupted by a well-wisher who assured him they were stunned not shocked. He raised a query about Mabe's diagram that was stuck on an easel, saying:

"Yon group of squares on your poster, Sir." And Mabe answered:

"Those squares are meant to depict the village of Blindheim. It was the first objective to be attacked by Lord Orkney and his infantry. Sadly the major leading the frontal charge was killed because the village was heavily defended; we cavalrymen watched helplessly as many brave men and officers went down. Yet that bloody engagement was where His Grace, the Duke of Marlborough, took charge of the battle."

Mabe paused to take a drink from a tumbler of water and was not surprised when a question arose in the audience asking him to explain his last comment in more detail and refreshed Mabe took heart from the interest being shown by his audience and continued to explain:

"His Grace noticed that reinforcements continued to arrive at the village and he ordered that they should not be impeded. Meanwhile frontal assaults continued and the duke saw that his attacks frightened the enemy to such a degree that ever more reinforcements entered Blindheim. Then judging his moment he ordered Lord Orkney to surround the village and prevent any French troops from leaving. He acted on the assumptions that Marshall Tallard, the French commander, had weakened his centre to shore up his right flank."

A voice called out from the throng and Mabe held up his hand for some quiet as he digested the question which concerned the musketeers. The query came from an ex-musketeer and Mabe described the duke's tactics when faced with an infantry charge. The French hurled themselves against two lines of English musketeers the front rank of which fired and promptly withdrew to the rear when the serjeant ordered the new front rank to fire. The slaughter was frightful and the English line held."

"What happened to you, Sir. You'd lost an arm and must have been bleeding badly." Said the sole woman in the audience which allayed the former captain's fears that his words might have been too graphic; he responded:

"I fainted but recovered and managed to escape the throng and my horse made its way to a dressing station. I can just recall the major's words, 'your war is over, soldier' before I slipped into another faint. I woke up to find my arm bandaged and being offered a drink of water from a bloody orderly who told me that Marshall Tallard had offered his sword in surrender to the duke who looked for something to write on but could find only the bill from a tavern after his supper the previous day. On the back of that bill he wrote to the queen, no, he wrote to his wife, the duchess, begging her to pass his message on."

After further exchanges Thomas Newcomen stood up thanking Richard for his address and turning to the audience advised them at the rear of the hall there were refreshments inviting everyone to eat and drink their fill. Yet, another voice could be heard; it was a woman and everyone fell silent as she praised Mabe's address to them adding that although all had paid the entrance fee she in consultation with her husband would be pleased to contribute to a special collection in favour of 'our own local warrior'.

Clapping broke out when she had finished followed by people making their way to the rear of the room where the tables groaned with the prepared buffet feast.

\----------0----------0----------

(One week later..)

From some distance away Thomas Newcomen could see that his instructions had been carried out in that the structure surrounding the adit to the mine had been removed and replaced by a temporary fence. He shouted to his brother and Richard Mabe as they slowed their mounts to a gentle trot:

"Good man, Martin Triewald." Said he to Mabe explaining he was the foreman to which Mabe replied: "What's my first task, Tom?"

"Over to you, brother!" said Tom and Jack invited Richard to follow him and the two made their way towards a hitching rail before he led the way to the entrance to the mine. Although Richard had insisted he could manage with his one hand neither Tom nor Jack would allow it and they had tested a simple harness. A belt went round Mabe's waist attached to which was a rope and tied around Mabe's hook explaining it to him that it was extra security

should he slip. As Mabe went down the ladder he would pause, hug the ladder with his upper arm while transferring the hook to a

lower rung. Using the harness would slow Mabe's descent but it would be less perilous.

Mabe went along with Jack Newcomen's instructions and he was grateful for the trust placed in him. Having descended slowly using the harness and standing at the bottom with Jack he realised that his difficulties were as nothing compared to working with only an oil lamp to provide illumination but soon his eyes adjusted themselves to the gloom as he listened to Jack Newcomen explain what had to be done. Jack pointed to an area adjacent saying:

"Imagine a copper cylinder upended to receive a vertical arm fixed with a ladle moving up and down in the cylinder. You saw my plans aloft which included a wooden framework to support the cylinder holding hundreds of gallons of water. The bottom timbers of the frame need to be fastened to the floor which will need to be excavated and cemented to take the bolts fixing the frame to the floor. As the floor will sometimes be awash with water the wood needs to be treated with a mixture of tar to inhibit rot. Any thoughts?"

"Presumably there will be a hoist to lower things into the mine such as the timbers, the cement etcetera. Shall I be digging the holes in the floor?"

"I'd love to see you do it with one arm," smiled Jack saying that when the time came and nobody else was around, he would wield the pick. In the meantime he suggested returning to the surface where they could check on the materials arriving from various parts for temporary storage at the pit head.

Climbing back to the surface proved somewhat easier for Richard and he was soon busy checking on the enormous amount of the various building materials among which were stacks of bricks, small hillocks of sand and ballast and beneath a tarpaulin countless hessian sacks of dry cement as well as much iron-work already betraying a slight tinge of rust. Richard examined a smaller sack to find a motley collection heavy duty bolts and square nuts while another sack advertised its contents as poking through were nails by the hundred-weight.

He heard Jack ask his brother: "When shall we start on the engine house as according to my list most of the materials have been delivered?"

"I'm not too sure, Jack. Doubtless when we get delivery of our labour, I suppose, but have you spotted bodies amongst them supplies. It's significant by its absence so I guess it won't be today."

Jack chuckled joking to Richard: "You see Rich; we get the info we need in a roundabout sort of way."

\----------O----------O----------

Four weeks later not only had the protective fence been removed but the whole of the original adit area had been replaced

by the structure of a building not so different from a house except that it was minus a roof. The vertical brickwork had left gaps where windows might normally be fitted and access was provided to allow workmen to ascend to the eaves. This structure would be called the engine-house which was rectangular and with a double internal wall to carry the weight of the rocking pivot-beam.

Across the roof-space workmen had put in place a lattice of timbers and in particular two robust cross-timbers to which pulleys were fixed. To haul the heavy timbers into position there were window-like gaps in each wall for running through a hawser one end of which was attached to a pulley while the other end was fixed to a post in the ground. Almost hidden from view was the pivot-beam in the centre of which and at each end were fitted iron gudgeons, well greased.

Through the windows two hawsers were fixed between pulleys and posts in the ground. Tom Newcomen gave the order to 'heave' and the pivot-beam lifted off the ground while workmen behind each pulling team wrapped the cable-end around a post-hook in case either team lost their grip on the hawsers. More workmen were in position to direct the raised pivot-beam between two brackets while a third was ready with a heavy-duty dowel, also well-greased, to push it through the centre of the pivot beam.

A deal of fruity language laced with unheard-of terms accompanied the efforts of the workmen supplemented by the afore-mentioned workman with his heavy mallet to drive tallow-greased dowel through the pivot hole. Tom eyed their handiwork with satisfaction but the foreman, Martin Triewald, did not share his enthusiasm complaining:

"Your engine-house has robbed me of my way into the mine. I'll look forward to the day when all this 'scheiss' is cleared away and we can get on with what we've done for decades, hew coal."

He spat on the ground after his wordy explosion and Tom recalled the marquis' contemptuous words, weeks earlier and wondered whether his earlier judgement was at fault when Triewald mentioned Savary and his damnable works. Newcomen realised the foreman had a good case against Savary for his partner, he had come to realise, had little interest in improving the miners lot; his sole interest was in getting a return on his investment.

Newcomen decided to try to regain the foreman's confidence and pointed at the rod; it would allow Triewald to follow it where it entered the cylinder telling him that once in operation the mine would soon be clear of water allowing him and his miners to hew seams of coal impossible to get at on account of the deep and foul water, adding:

"It's true you'll need to use the other entrance closed to you because of the deep water but by evacuating that water this engine will allow you to bring the entrance back into use. As you know you've been forced towards the higher ground and new access shafts solely because of the rising water. I'll put a smile on those rosy cheeks of yours yet, Martin."

Triewald commented: "How will you keep the boiler fed with water; I see no reservoir and no pipework."

Tom agreed that the omissions were well spotted and assured him that the heavy rafters atop the engine house would carry a reservoir tank complete with pipework to the boiler. Triewald seized on this and told him of his brother's experience in another mine where the inlet water failed to reach the boiler which exploded.

Tom said: "Innovators are learning painful lessons as I have experienced myself but these bad experiences point to better solutions. In this engine I shall be fitting a special device to the inlet valve designed by a London man by the name of Mister Hooke. Water is held back by the spring valve but as soon as the pressure has dropped fresh water will enter the boiler. Before, it had to be gauged by ear which was not always reliable."

Triewald said encouragingly: "I understand the vacuum forces the piston down which is an innovation the Savary engine lacked. Yet, I hope your seals perform better than those of Savary. Those were his undoing, in the end." He stopped speaking and motioned Tom to look towards the mine. He saw Mabe approaching who said to him:

"That was a good idea to wrap leather strapping around my hook; it gave me a better grip on the iron rungs."

Tom said: "When the engine is in operation, Richard, we'll all have to use another shaft. Besides, the noise alone will blast your ear-drums. Speaking of noise is that rain or, more likely, a coach approaching."

Mabe squinted into the distance for the wind and rain obscured the middle-distance though sure enough he spotted the coach as it neared where they stood. He watched as the coachman brought the horses to a halt and the driver jump down going smartly to the carriage door to open it and set the steps ready on the ground. The marquis emerged and seeing Tom approached and offered his hand and as Tom greeted the marquis he heard Mabe behind him utter an 'Oh!' and soon enough saw his surprise for emerging from the coach was definitely not Lady Dudley but a much younger woman who addressed the marquis:

"Father! You must introduce me as well."

The marquis laughed and addressing both men said: "I told my daughter that I would show her some real, live engineers. So, step forward, young man."

Mabe complied willingly for he was introduced to a young woman of no more than 20 years of age and was immediately captivated by her smiling enthusiasm let alone her radiant beauty. She said:

"A real soldier too, Papa! I had a letter from a friend in Exeter who waxed lyrical about your presentation. Do agree to repeat it for my sake. Do persuade him, Father!"

The marquis was somewhat less sanguine: "Daughter, dear, Mr Mabe is so much occupied with the mine that he will have little enough spare time for presentations, eh Sir!"

It was Tom however who answered the marquis: "We would welcome another opportunity for Mr Mabe to repeat the exercise of Exeter. There's an excellent church hall in Dudley. We'll organise the event and let everyone know in good time. People need to know

what our soldiers are doing. In the meantime we shall be honoured to conduct you, Sir, and your daughter on a tour of the engine house and other developments. Please step this way!"

\----------O----------O----------

(In another part of England)

Thomas Savary looked down from the attic window of his humble habitation. The sky was flaked with white puffs of clouds moving across the blue heavens like ducklings following their mother; it was a huge cloud known today as a nimbus. He shifted his gaze towards the sea and the horizon as a small sailing ship scudded slowly towards the breakwater. He wondered whither it sailed reflecting that, at his age of sixty years, he was better off where he found himself on the top floor of his house in Frobisher Terrace, a row of Stuart era terraces bordering Plymouth Hoe in the year of 1710.

Days before a letter had arrived for which he had paid two shillings though it was worth it for it heralded the arrival of an old friend, Emmanuel Fischer von Erlach who, by his account, had been excited at the prospect of Savary's latest project, a fire-engine, for his friend, Emmy owned a mine producing copper ore which had steadily become unproductive on account of underground springs flooding the mine.

Hurriedly Savary hung up his dressing-gown and prepared to attire himself wondering which hostelry would sate his burgeoning appetite. He thought of Maria, his wife, and her breakfast habits but she was far away in Westminster, London, and, frankly he did not relish the prospect of a long and many days journey to reach her. And that by an uncomfortable coach.

Yet, his stomach rumblings soon brought him back to alimentary reflections and momentarily regretted the out-going of those two shillings for Emmy's letter because news, however satisfactory, did not sate an empty stomach. He must content himself to a breakfast within the single shilling remaining in his purse and descending to the street took a leftward turn towards the Citadel instead of his preferred route towards Abbey Avenue and a dish of steaming coffee.

And now a series of coincidences came into play which he would mull over subsequently but which, on this day, would lead him to calamity, or, from another viewpoint, to a deserved denouement. Having crossed the sward of grass leading towards the Citadel Savary eyed the towering edifice dispassionately. Being a royalist supporter he would have backed Charles and believed his son was fully justified in his vengeance towards the people of Plymouth. Yet, his mercenary side argued that vindictiveness hardly justified the huge expense needed which had moreover quickly emptied the royal purse and made Charles vulnerable to the crafty French King Louis XIVth who offered him millions of livres provided he did things for Louis, yet unknown.

He reached the foot of the Citadel and wondered which way to

the nearest tavern for this part of Plymouth adjacent the wharves was where the fishing boats docked early in the morning though now

mid-morning the buying and the selling of the catch was over for the day. Walking on he passed warehouses which he knew would be filled with bales of spices, barrels of wine, crates of flax, leatherware, silks and a myriad of other lucrative imports.

At one of these piers the Pilgrim Fathers had departed though it was difficult to be sure where exactly as the harbour, a century later, seemed to boast of more boats than water to sail on so congested was the press of moored craft. It was said in jest that you could reach the opposite side, Millbank, by stepping from boat to boat never seeing water. So Savary proceeded past the entrance to the Citadel called the Barbican which in time would lend its name to the whole harbour-side of Plymouth.

And, here another co-incidental occurrence the onset of rain: he had omitted to bring a weather-proof so a nearby tavern would become his refuge if only to keep him dry. And, a further co-incidence: A certain voyage had terminated this day at a nearby pier and stepping ashore were two seamen, one with a wooden leg, a cook aboard a homeward bound barque and both with a raging thirst. They chose The Ship, a hostelry being the same refuge of Thomas Savary in former times.

Today there are two aspects of an inn: the saloon where the smart set gathered and the public bar where the two mariners ensconced themselves calling for tankards of ale. And, it was no different in the 18th century for gentleman Savary opted for the saloon to sup his favourite tipple, brandy. Moreover neither drinker would concern himself with the other side of the inn.

Chance!

That idea; that event; that natural happening, which is the agent of change. Savary having drained his brandy decided to switch to the cheaper porter and looked for the bell to notify the bar but it was not there so he pulled aside the curtain. The saloon was empty though not too surprising as it was barely ten of the clock. He looked longingly towards the bar which was also empty and hearing voices occasionally raised to vehemence and catching a word that summoned an idea in his imagination, he moved towards the sound of voices.

There it was again, that word: 'log' but what followed made him alert; it also vexed him as he listened:

"That be as useless as a penny whistle, I tell ye."

"You mean the log, Daniel!"

"Aye, the log; 'twere fine in fair weather but ye knows a ship at sea. It do tack and veer not to mention rough seas and stormy weather."

"Where is the log, now?"

"With Cap'n Bennet."

Savary flushed for he recognised the name given him by the Navy Office. 'Could it be the same!' he thought and on impulse leant over the bar counter to better see the speaker and he called out: "I say there, Sir!"

But Savary ignored him looking eagerly to find one of the original speakers who came into his line of sight and not hesitating addressed him:

His words had an electrifying effect as all the faces turned towards Savary but then the barman addressed him, "Sir! I'll be with you right away."

"Can you describe the log, Sir!" Asked Savary.

The man answered: "It has a glass cover and it do show a number which changes."

Savary said: "And whom do I address?"

The landlord interrupted saying: "These two lads have just docked earlier this morning, Sir. It seems the Navy Office asked the captain of the Ghost, their ship, to try out this new ship's log. Does that answer your question, Sir?"

Before Savary could answer another seaman spoke to him; his address had a truculent tone: "And who might ye be, Sirrah?"

Savary was riled as he revealed himself as Captain Savary but instantly regretted it for the man lunged forward, this time demanding:

"So, where's my five hundred pound, Sirrah, promised me by the Navy Office who said they gave the sum to ye Treasurer for Sick and Wounded Seamen which is Captain Savary. You, Sir! So come now; where is my money?"

With movements belying his advanced years Savary was out of that tavern in quick time making for the Citadel and a quick return before either seaman or landlord could exit the Ship inn to pursue him. He thought a wooden leg would hamper one of the seamen but his mate looked healthy enough. Yet, he changed his mind about the Citadel on account of the hill. Miraculously the sun had appeared and chased away the rain though the route he followed twixt leaning houses and along narrow streets where even the bright sun scarce penetrated made it difficult for him to see where he was going.

The cobbled streets were slippery and ere long he was on his bottom and mockingly the object of two women in opposite houses gossiping. Scrambling to his feet he took note of a sign below the eaves on the end-house; it read Bretonside. He instantly regretted taking his eye off his surroundings for a man leapt from the shadows and faced him. He was well-acquainted with footpad's doggerel, 'your money or your life' and was ill-prepared for this ruffian's patter:

"Yer cash or ye're a gonner!"

Yet, in an instant, the ruffian's jerkin was yanked down so that his arms were trapped and another man called: "Drop it!"

His glance at the miscreant also took in his rescuer who shouted:

"Clear off! Scoot!"

Savary saw his would-be mugger scamper away while his rescuer turned to face him:

"Thank you stranger; would that I could reward you for that footpad would have had a poor return as my worldly wealth is but eleven pence. Still, I'm beholden to you and will stand you an ale, if you'll join me."

The stranger held out his hand to Savary: "Bret's my name;

around here it's Breton country. Come, let's quaff an ale together unless you're anxious to get away."

Savary momentarily forgot his haste to get clear of the area and accepted Bret's offer and both walked towards a tavern. He was to find that he had escaped the fat only to land in the fire. However soon enough they were sitting around a table in a tavern drinking each other's health. Savary said:

"I know your name Bret but..." His companion smiled telling him to his consternation not to bother; he addressed him as Captain adding that in his escape from the Ship Inn his turns to right and left had not taken him far away. Still, he should enjoy his ale and...

"There's time enough Captain to renew your acquaintance with the crew of the Ghost. There was many a home bereft on account of that five hundred pounds. We all stick together around here. Has anyone told you how this area got its name? It's your round, friend."

Savary could see that he had little choice so ordered two more tankards at the bar and listened to Bret's tale who told him:

"It happened about a hundred years ago. The English habitually raid the French coast so it was only fair that the seamen of St Malo should return the compliment. But, things did not go to plan. There was a stand-off. In brief the Plymouth harbour master agreed to release the Malovians apart from six of their number to be left behind."

"As hostages!" said Savary to which Bret agreed adding that when the Malovians returned with the restitution money for damage caused their chums did not want to leave. They preferred Plymouth to St Malo, their home port. As a result many of their comrades decided also to keep their comrades company and the compensation partly paid for their accommodation. Over the following weeks more Bretons arrived. So, the Sutton mayor arranged a celebration at which the Breton quarter was officially recognised."

"About this money, Bret; may I suggest something?" Savary said.

"You don't fancy the debtor's prison, eh captain. Go ahead; I'll listen though there be also our friends of the Sick and Wounded Seamen Society to take into account but go ahead. Let's hear what you have to say."

Savary explained his connection to Thomas Newcomen whereby he had agreed that Savary would take a third of profits from any sales and that he, Savary, would gradually pay off his debt. He omitted to mention that the third of the capital raised actually had belonged to the Society. Having said his piece he waited for Bret's response.

Bret said: "You will give me your Plymouth address and you will stay here in the care of the landlord until I check it out. If your terrace has sufficient value our solicitor will accept it as collateral to be released to you once the five hundred pounds has been paid off. Is that agreed?"

It was some hours before Savary was able to return home. His thoughts prior to his denouement with the Seaman's Society had

been of his misfortune in having to deal with a commoner by the name of Newcomen who was about to achieve the success he, a gentleman, had striven for so many years. Those complaints were replaced paradoxically now by an earnest desire for the Newcomen engine to succeed where he had failed because he was in danger of losing his actual home, were it to fail, as his had failed.

Fortunately he was a free man for he had dreaded a debtor's prison. Yet he was still in a bind for he lacked the cash to travel to London and was planning to visit Dartmouth and throw himself on the generosity of Madame Newcomen. As he walked away from the Barbican he was glad to leave the stink of fish in his wake and a thought struck him how stupid he had been to think he could live in Plymouth, near the harbour, and not meet one of the people whom he had robbed. True they had been at sea but ships do not stay at sea forever, as he had painfully discovered.

His felonious behaviour had not been justified by the use to which the stolen money had been put; in retrospect that fact was plain to him. He reflected upon the various devices that he had believed at the outset would make his fortune especially as, being a gentleman, he had gained access to noblemen, to members of parliament and even to royalty, in the person of King William. Yet success had eluded him as this latest episode in the Ship Inn had shown: his 'log' for ships had proved a failure.

Again he returned to the irksome truth that a despised member of the working class had successfully developed his pet project, the fire-engine. It gave him little pleasure that he had prevented Newcomen from patenting his great innovation but it was merely a consolation and not a genuine achievement.

His mind lighted on his first endeavour, a machine to grind and polish lenses which he had hoped to persuade the Navy Board to adopt but they were reluctant to abandon their tried and trusted existing optical suppliers. That had taught him a lesson: Before spending money on development of an idea first enquire of bodies willing to underwrite at least some of the development costs. Yet, even in this respect the Dutch proved unwilling to buy his fire-engine being insistent on extensive trials, at his own expense, before they would commit a single guilder.

Was it his fault the joints of the engine kept failing owing to the weakness of the solder? With such recriminations and self-pity Savary threw his outer clothes off prior to slumber. To his surprise he heard a jingle and ransacked his pockets to reveal more money than he thought he had. So, the next morning instead of walking he decided to hire a nag although he would have to forgo breakfast. Accordingly a parched and hungry Savary directed his Dobbin to follow the path to Ivybridge en route to his ultimate destination, Dartmouth.

Two days later including a night spent in a barn a bedraggled, tired and hungry man pulled at a chain outside Lower Street in Dartmouth and as he listened to the bell resounding inside the dwelling he patted his Dobbin telling the nag he would soon have hay and bedding when there was a voice behind him:

"'Tis Mister Savary, no less, if my brother-in-laws description is accurate."

"How do you do, Mistress Newcomen! As you see Dobbin here looks friskier than me on account of the good pasturage en route which of course comes entirely free of charge."

His host called out to someone: "Elias!" And her call was answered almost directly and she told him: "Elias be so good and take Mister Savary's horse to the stable." Then to Savary: "Come inside, Sir, and welcome to ye. I still have some coffee my brother-in-law brought from London. Would you partake of a dish with me."

So Savary found a welcome in the Newcomen household. She soon had laid a table with fresh bread and meats, cheese and fruit and as Savary eyed the viands he realised how long since he had sat to a table. Doubtless there would be a softer bed than the pallet he had scrounged for his place in Plymouth. After supping and drinking and feeling somewhat revived he put his problem to the lady without delay. She said:

"It is so unlike you, Sir, if my Thomas's account is accurate, to be short of funds and in Plymouth which surely is the place of your office as Treasurer of those Sick Seaman, if I may be so bold, Sir."

Savary almost blushed at the lady's words and said: "Indeed, Mistress, but I had urgent business to attend to and could not get to my office."

But, at the lady's next words he realised her power of irony for she looked him in the eye and declared:

"Could not, Mister Savary, or dare not. You see my brother-in-law is also involved in that Office and has told me something of their affairs though has said nothing to his brother nor will not until further evidence comes to light. Do you know anything of a missing five hundred pounds?"

Savary decided discretion was the better option for it was unlikely that news of recent events would reach Dartmouth just yet and said:

"I do appreciate your discretion, Mistress, but it does not alter the fact of my presence here today. As you are aware your husband is likely in the Midlands where I understand a Dudley mine owner has commissioned his fire-engine. I can tell you that a certain noble gentleman will also be there at my invitation. He needs an engine in his own country and will doubtless be willing to buy an engine from your husband. But I need to direct him from London where he tells me by letter he will arrive. I beg you to advance me funds to reach London, madam."

In explaining his predicament Savary withdrew a letter from his pocket and handed it to the lady and as she read he added:

"This illustrious nobleman from Europe is just the first of many to reach these shores once news of your husband's engine reaches them."

Madame Newcomen answered directly:

"I shall give you a letter to our treasurer at his office down by the harbour. I shall recommend that you be provided with the necessary funds, Mister Savary. Elias will take you."

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## 

## Chapter 5: The main event

"Come, Lotte!"

The marquis adopted his most condescending manner in inviting his daughter to accompany him to the engine-house having already been assured by Newcomen that he and Mabe would like nothing better than to conduct their esteemed guests around their operations. Unfortunately the area around the mine was severely rutted and Thomas offered the young woman her arm and she took advantage of Tom's distraction by her father to place her hand upon Richard's arm who was mightily pleased seeing that the young woman seemed not to notice his missing limb.

Now being more familiar with his surroundings the marquis sought to show off saying peremptorily to his coachman:

"Now, Whittaker, this will be an education for you too. See what our brave engineers have been busy with in my mine; come!"

And, the said coachman duly followed in the rear and hurried to catch up for the party had disappeared into the engine-house and he heard the elder Newcomen explaining: "There's the furnace, Ma'am. When alight, the fire I mean, intense heat will cause water in the boiler to heat up; steam will be generated which can only escape through this tube which, as you see, is connected to the copper cylinder.."

"Oh! Sir pray pardon me but what is that odour?"

Mabe answered the young woman who looked somewhat out of place being dressed in a fine muslin dress which barely hid her dainty red shoes. He pointed to the rafters explaining:

"It's the recently installed pivot beam, ma'am, which has been immersed in tar to preserve the wood though the smell gets weaker by the day; I'm sorry about it."

"Would you mind, dear Father, if I returned to the carriage. I shall soon be recovered."

She hoped that her father would allow Mabe to accompany her and the marquis complied with her request and it did not take long for Mabe to deliver his charge and return to the company. The marquis addressed his coachman who looked bored telling him to pay attention whereas in the light of events he might have been allowed to return to the carriage. It was quite warm inside and the coachman started undoing his buttons and Mabe saw something stuck into his waistband; it looked familiar.

He moved towards him pointing and whispering: "Man, what's that?"

"'Gainst highwaymen, Sir; you can't be too safe these days.

Whittaker was simply reflecting the general mood around the countryside whose highways and byways had become more prone to highway robbery in the past years of war. In the towns there were former soldiers minus an arm or a leg with some begging for a penny from passers-by. Mabe still keeping his voice low on seeing the marquis and Newcomen engaged in conversation spoke to the coachman:

"All very well carrying a pistol; does it fire, man?"

Whittaker looked insulted and removed the pistol to show its condition and just at that moment the marquis turned around. He moved closer and said derisively to Whittaker:

"Why, it's not even cocked; some help you'd be."

Stung by his master's contemptuous words the coachman cocked the pistol pointing it out of the left window opening. Whether he

intended to or not as he aimed at some trees in the middle distance there was a flash, a crack and a lot of smoke and, in a fraction of time, they heard a racket from where the coach stood. Mabe was first to the entrance and saw the horse leaping forward picking up speed and in the instant galloping towards him.

Instinctively he grabbed the harness on the team's left side and tried desperately to stop it shouting in vain, whoa, whoa, in vain and soon he was being dragged for his attempt at running soon came to an end as he lost his feet but his hook had caught in the harness and he was being dragged along and just managing to hang on. The team thundered past the mine which fortunately was clear of obstruction so it did not swerve.

Before he lost his balance he noticed a tree ahead and prayed the team would veer to its left for on the right side was a steep incline. Behind him came screams and he realised they were from the coach. As the team neared the tree he closed his eyes anticipating oblivion.

"Crack!"

The sound came from his right and the horses heard it too and veered left and slowed for the going was uphill. And, suddenly the team came to a halt for across the path was a fence and a notice saying PRIVATE PROPERTY KEEP OUT. He looked behind him. In the window of the coach appeared briefly a face, frightened but relieved. He waved and shouted:

"Are you hurt, Miss." He disentangled his hook from the harness uttering soothing words to the frightened nags and moving to the coach addressed her: "That must have been a frightening experience." Though he'd barely uttered these words when both of them heard shouts; it was Tom, out of breath, and approaching fast but before he reached them the young woman spoke to Richard Mabe:

"Thankyou, Sir; you saved my life. Are you alright?"

"My boots are scuffed but I'm still in one piece."

Then Tom was standing beside them; he spoke to the young woman:

"Are you alright, ma'am?" She answered: "Perfectly, Sir, thanks to this brave man; thankyou, thankyou, Sir. I am and shall be forever in your debt."

"Hulloa!"

It was the marquis to whom Tom attended while Mabe comforted the horses uttering strange phrases, 'Steel joch, steel joch!"

Tom remonstrated with Mabe telling him that he would get their men to free the beasts if necessary by removing the wooden posts which made up the fence. Still Mabe uttered his comforting words as any more movement on their part would make their plight worse. At last several workmen appeared on the scene and with their bare hands tried to rip the planks away from the posts with some difficulty until someone with a saw arrived.

As the men worked freeing the horse Mabe stayed with them uttering words which seemed to placate their restlessness while the marquis comforted his daughter who, however, showed some spirit by telling her father not to fuss and to give his thanks to Mister

Mabe to whom she owed her life for his prompt action though the marquis did not, to judge from his facial expression, entirely approve. Tom said jokingly to his colleague:

"Evidently in your time with the cavalry, Richard, you learned a bit of horse-speak; it seems to be quieting them down."

Richard responded: "It's only that my training as a cavalryman was done in Holland so what you hear is simply Dutch; to you Tom it sounds like double-dutch but, as you say, the horses seem to understand. I might have said the English version, 'Quiet boy!" But, to them it would be double-dutch." One of the men shouted across that the horses were free so Richard allowed the nags to be led back individually towards the mine.

Following after the workmen walked Tom and Richard who slowed their pace somewhat on account of his bruised body. Ahead walked the marquis and his daughter so Tom conversed with his partner in a low voice:

"That was fortuitous the team veering off like it did."

Richard said: "To the left of that tree, do you mean!"

Tom looked at him: "Did you not hear the pistol shot, the second?"

"Ah, yes; I remember; what was it? Whatever, it did the trick."

Newcomen agreed: "But it cost someone his life."

"Someone his life!" Mabe echoed, "Who?"

"The coachman, Richard; he blew his brains out."

"No! Oh, no! Whatever possessed him?"

Newcomen said: "As I see it." He put his hand on his friend's arm saying: "We all thought you were a gonner, old chum, along with the young lady. Nobody thought it would end as it did, as it has."

"Those pistols.." Began Richard but Tom interrupted: "No, Richard, no; It was the horses; he failed to secure them. That was down to him although the marquis should take his share of the blame but sotto voce on that."

They finished their walk back in silence until Richard saw both horses tied up at the hitching rail and went over saying softly to both nags:

"Stil joch! Stil joch!"

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1712;

This date, this year at first sight reads the same as many, as most other years. Yet, it was a special year because of a single event that took place on May 26th and, unlike a notable event in the 1830's when thousands of people watched George Stephenson demonstrate his Rocket steam engine, the event was witnessed by very few. And, Newcomen's big day was fraught with last minute and ongoing hiccups very largely to do with timings for within the workings of the engine there were many movements of water, of air and of steam not to mention mechanical items such as valves that needed to be opened or closed at specific moments in the cycle of operations.

Moreover the distances between various valves were such that communication between operators was non-existent as one valve fed into the cylinder at the bottom of the mine while another controlled water into the reservoir tank while atop the mine in the open air another valve ensured water exhausted did not fall back into the tank. Moreover within the engine-house valves controlled steam into the main cylinder from the boiler while another's exact opening determined the vacuum within the same cylinder and finally another allowed water to replenish the boiler so that it did not run dry.

Fortunately the vital valve allowing a spurt of cold water into the hot steam filled cylinder was designed to be automatic though it needed to be set correctly to ensure the maximum vacuum resulting in a massive downward thrust thereby causing the pivot-beam to rock and force water, with its upward stroke, from the mine tank up into the open air, 200 feet above; and, after some false starts and hours later than planned Newcomen's engine began to pump out gallons of black, stinking water into the trench taking it.

One of the false starts occurred when despite precautions which saw onlookers sitting down on a specially erected platform the first water gushing from the mine sprayed these guests. Several lengths of hose had been taped together but unforeseen was the force of the water which damaged the joints causing the foul water to be sprayed in all directions. However the discomfort of the assembled guests was soon dispelled by the sight of the waste water gushing out of the hose at the rate of 120 gallons every minute.

Von Erlach was delighted and Savary's back must have suffered from the back-slapping by the Hungarian nobleman assuring the Englishman that he would not return to his native land until he could take one of these engines with him. For his part Savary foresaw a way out of his financial difficulties especially as there were other guests present from Paris as well as the marquis who was delighted that from the following day coal would continue to be excavated from Conygree. He was not interested in the miners' welfare so much as assuring himself that many valuable seams under-water until today could be hewn out and brought to the surface.

After an hour a Swedish mining consultant estimated that over seven thousand gallons of water had been brought to the surface in an hour. He also estimated in a later article that two men driving a Newcomen engine would raise as much water in 24 hours as had previously needed 20 men with 50 horses working non-stop for three and a half days. Truly a staggering achievement!

In the year 1716 the London gazette announced:

'The invention for raising water by the repellent force of fire is lately brought to the greatest perfection and now all mines may be drained. It is sufficiently demonstrated by diverse engines of this invention being now at work in several counties, Stafford, Warwick, Cornwall and Flint.'

Returning to May 26th of the year 1712, Thomas Newcomen was in the engine-house at full stretch watching for weeping joints, the bane of his partner, Savary; in many cases it proved to be

condensation caused by the intense heat generated within the pipes meeting the open-air within the engine-house bringing droplets of condensed water to the boil. Even so he wiped the pipes and joints clear. Had any soldered joints sprung a leak John Calley was at hand; his genius the unfortunate Savary had lacked although most of the pipework had been installed by tradesmen who having performed their duties had now left.

Communication between Newcomen and his closest colleagues was hampered by the intense racket set up at every downward thrust of the piston and it was found more convenient to remove themselves from the engine-house in order to make themselves heard. And, on occasion, aforementioned guests would leave their vantage points in order to pass on their compliments to Newcomen. Soon the names of illustrious guests whose titles he had forgotten became more familiar as for instance the Count Guise from Paris, von Erlach from Hessen with mining interests in Hungary, Baron Eisenau from Rumania and even the Marquis of Dudley himself deigned to show his appreciation.

The latter was also the subject of some speculation in that the mine was included in the sale of real estate the proceeds of which was to finance a new venture which Newcomen would hear much of in the coming months, namely the so-called, East India Company. Still these rumours were over-shadowed by a piece of paper thrust into Savary's hand by von Erlach. It was a money order for £1000 sterling drawn upon von Erlach's bank and was only the first of such. Savary would lose little time in cashing it to prove its authenticity as well as to meet the demands of his creditors.

Von Erlach also confided to Savary that he would need an engineer to travel with him to erect the engine at his mine in Hungary and after some inquiries an enthusiastic young man versed in the fire-engine agreed to accompany the nobleman which would cost him extra though that was somewhat in the future when, after some inquiries, it was agreed that Master Isaac Potterbuck would make the journey.

Soon news of the success of the engine at Conygree had spread to many corners of the kingdom and soon Newcomen was reading letters from the Griff colliery in Warwickwhire, from Austhorpe, Leeds, and others in the Midlands but also from Cornwall, Northumberland and Scotland. These orders would provide work for months ahead though to his deep concern he discovered that his friend, John Calley, who had hid his health problems so as not to delay development suffered a catastrophic breakdown in health.

He had suffered for years from stomach cramps inhibiting a normal diet which in turn gave him a form of anaemia and weight-loss. In modern times these symptoms are the effects of lead poisoning caused by the absorption of fumes given off when lead is heated and moulded over joints. Today doctors recommend the immediate removal of the contamination, rest, diet and plenty of fresh air.

Apart from the loss of John Calley Tom also lost sleep over events concerning his new friend Richard Mabe who was not present

on the demonstration day. Although he had not seen him his absence did not signify as he was so taken up with the day's doings. It was later that evening when celebrations were afoot that he had enquired the whereabouts of Richard.

Yet it took him by surprise to pay two pennies for a letter from no less a person than Lady Dudley. Fortunately he was still in his lodgings in Bromsgrove staying with the Potters. Its receipt got Mistress Potter all of a tizz as she hurriedly alerted Tom who was enjoying his coffee in the lounge and hung around for Tom to open it. He assured her it was a business matter and reluctantly she withdrew.

He retreated to his bedroom to open the letter and it was as well he did for its contents might well have shown in his face for it concerned the lady's husband, the marquis, and his whereabouts. By the tone of the letter Lady Dudley was almost pleading with him to visit the Dudley mansion which he had not done heretofore as contractual business had been handled at the office of the marquis' solicitor, in Tipton.

On visiting the mansion moreover the lady had still not recovered her composure for in the space of days not only had her husband decamped to London but her daughter, according to her note, had eloped with his friend, Richard Mabe. And the lady was evidently disappointed as she had hoped Tom would put her troubled mind at rest.

But, following that visit and other items of news gathered from his brother, from landladies, from Mistress Potter, Newcomen was able to establish something approaching a true account. It seems the events of the runaway carriage and the subsequent death of the coachman pointed, in the Lady Lotte's mind, to a quasi-divine experience and she convinced his friend, Richard, that they were destined to be together.

On reflection Newcomen realised that he could not fault his friend who had regarded his own deliverance, through his meeting the Non-conformist, Newcomen, as providential. And that view coincided with the view of the Lady Lotte. Since their elopement nothing had been heard of the couple though a letter, sent by Mabe weeks later, assured Tom that he, Mabe, intended to assist him in future projects, and, man-of-the-world, Newcomen, realised the couple could not live on air so convinced himself that all would be well.

\----------0----------0----------

Barely eighteen months after his success at Dudley Newcomen responded to a plea from a mine owner at Bilston some ten miles to the north and having journeyed there and satisfied himself about the site's similarity with Conygree he met up with the proprietors in Bilston and in a very short time a contract was arranged. Newcomen soon began to benefit from its similarity with Conygree in that the tried and therefore trusted traders with whom he had done business around Dudley proved to be ideal for Bilston and he enjoyed economies which he put down to experience but which would

figure prominently in more modern times going under descriptions such as economies of scale and the traders referred to as sub-contractors.

Within that same time-span also he had begun to realise that the fire-engine having been standardized could be assembled on the trader's premises, multiple items produced in quantity and with precise build instructions the engine could be built by many more engineers after a short period of on-side experience. Thomas Savary, who had been singularly unsuccessful with his own engine, was content to retire to Plymouth where regular amount of dividend would arrive. He had quickly paid off his debt of £500 and cancelled the mortgage taken out against his house.

Bilston also stuck in his mind for another reason: He received a letter from the former seventeen year old Isaac who had accompanied von Erlach to Hungary and had been stranded. Isaac related how the mine only resembled the Conygree superficially. For example entry into the mine was via an adit but was much shallower and therefore should in theory be easier and might well have been for an experienced engineer, such as Newcomen himself.

Also von Erlangen had no plans of the interior and the language barrier between Isaac and the mining foremen proved to be insuperable. He tried himself to make sketches which also proved difficult as their lighting was inferior to that of Conygree. Also von Erlangen himself did not visit the mine very often and when he did had little time for Isaac who having managed to see him asked for a loan to make his way back to England which was refused.

Fortunately this was played out before Savary disappeared and Newcomen sought his advice as to how he could advance money to Isaac to enable him to leave Hungary and return to England. When he had installed himself at another mining town, Austhorpe, near Leeds a letter which had been transferred from other places arrived many weeks after its scribes had fashioned it; the letter harkened back to Conygree. It seems two noblemen were in the market for Newcomen's engine to help drain the marshy environs of Paris though, unlike von Erlach, they took no engineer with them back to Paris.

Who to send was not such a problem as it had been in 1712; now, there was Hornblower, Smeaton, Lascelles, Smith, Pearce and others but how to get hold of anyone. He gave the problem to his brother, Jack. Yet, five years was a long time for the Paris people to struggle getting the engine to work until finally in desperation to send their pleading letter back to England. He had been working almost non-stop installing engines across the country and could not but help reflect on his former friend, John Calley, who was fifty-three years of age while he was fifty four. That fact compelled him to ease up.

Though he did not make the decision in isolation for Hannah, his wife, and son Elias turned up at Austhorpe after having made the journey to Bromsgrove to be shown letters from mine-owners in various parts of Britain and to suggest the likelihood of Tom's present whereabouts, just a day distant. They also brought news of his partner, Thomas Savary, who was dead and although he was not a member of their church obsequies were performed on his behalf. He

had left his affairs in good order insofar as his partnership with Newcomen was concerned for the latter received news from his solicitors, Pengelly & Sons, as to where royalties were to be sent. Their joint agreement to share the patent would elapse in 1735 well after the death even of Newcomen.

In the winding up of Savary's business affairs correspondence between Savary and a company in Holland came to light for Savary, smarting for years from his rejection in that country, notified an agent to promote the Newcomen engine although the agent referred to it as the Savary engine. But, a Dutch entrepreneur from the Hoek, independent of Savary, visited several mines where Newcomen engines operated and bought several; he set up a London office to handle engine exports to Holland and over twenty were exported. Yet, there was something about the failed Savary engine which would resurface seventy years in the future and would concern James Watt. From diary gleanings a conversation took place between Tom and his brother Jack.

"You know Tom," opened Jack to his brother, "I've been looking at Savary's sketches as to how his engine operated. Incorporated in his engine is something called a receiver."

"I spotted that as well," agreed Tom, "but I could not work out its purpose. I'd intended to raise it with Savary but there were always other matters about patents, contracts and the like so I never got down to discussing the ins and outs of his engine. Make your point, Jack."

Jack spread out one of Savary's sketches on a table and pointing, said: "There's your boiler being heated by the fire and the steam passes not into the cylinder as in your engine but into a vessel called a receiver displacing the air. The receiver is charged with steam and at the right moment cold water is dashed upon it; the steam is condensed producing the vacuum and water from the mine is sucked into the receiver displacing the steam at which point the regulator is opened which causes fresh steam to drive the water in the receiver up the exit pipe at ground level."

"In theory," interrupted Tom, "but, is that what actually happens?"

"According to Savary," answered Jack, "the fault lay not with the working of the engine but the hot steam pressure upon soldered joints which all too often gave way. Had he a John Calley to solder the joints.."

Jack Newcomen left his words to hang; his brother said:

"So the receiver has three functions: First to fill with steam, second to act as a condenser and produce the vacuum and thirdly, to accommodate how many gallons of water?"

"Thirteen gallons! It fills four times in a minute and in an hour of continuous operation over three thousand gallons of water should be expelled."

"Whereas the Newcomen engine," said Tom, triumphantly, "expels over seven thousand gallons in the hour. So what must I learn from the Savary engine, brother?"

Jack Newcomen was unabashed and retorted:

"My point is that a separate vessel is used for heating and

cooling of water. If, in your engine, Tom, you added a separate vessel to act as a condenser and vacuum, your engine would be that more efficient because the cylinder would always be at a high temperature. And, you'd save a lot of coal."

Tom looked stunned and was silent. The two men stared at each other not saying a word. Tom finally spoke, sadly: "If you have thought of it, Jack then someone else will one day. It's come too late for me. You're younger than I brother. Time you did your bit. Put it into effect with my blessing."

"I'm not that much thy junior, brother; recall it took ten years to develop your fire-engine. It's for your son, Elias. Yet, there are men of the century around: innovators like yourself; many are called but few are chosen. You were chosen by the Almighty, Tom; it's in His hands to take up the holy burden."

Jack was reluctant to leave and his brother sensed something else troubled him and true enough he began:

"Our late friend, Savary, was a blackguard though he proved to be in the know about matters that you or I had no experience of and I would sorely like to take up a matter with him which has come to light."

"Concerning what, Jack?"

"The exports of our engines, Tom, to various parts of Europe; you must know that records are kept in Whitehall and a matter has come to my attention that Savary, with his influence in government circles, would have dealt with easily and effectively."

Tom looked puzzled, saying: "I'm still no wiser, Jack."

Jack scratched his head and reflected and said:

"Do you recall that business in Cornwall importing coal from Wales when the Customs Officer insisted Sir Stanley pay import duties on the coal because the Welsh collier had left home waters from Swansea to Bridgewater?"

"Yes, I do recall many years ago an Excise man actually asking me to look out for agents entering England in time of war. He narrated a strange tale of an official banquet in London. So, it's Customs or Excise or both?"

Jack nodded saying: "Every export needs a manifest, a bill of lading, and our engines are no different. This complaint is about the Customs House at Tilbury Docks in London. Copies of the manifests go to the Civil Service at Whitehall. All the manifests be they for foodstuffs, wine, spices and everything we import or export are administered so that at the end of the month totals are calculated and eventually by the end of the year Whitehall can calculate how much we import set against the value exported. The outcome yields a balance. A plus means a surplus so that England is a bit richer whereas a minus indicates more going out than coming in, so England is poorer."

Tom said somewhat smugly: "With all the fire-engines being exported England should be decidedly richer; wouldn't you agree?"

Jack agreed with his brother's statement though added: "The country is richer but the credit for that fact is not going to the engineers. The problem is that fire-engines are not within the ken of civil servants so that they are not being properly recorded."

He went to describe a situation which can best be understood by transporting readers in their imagination to Whitehall, London.

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## 

## Chapter 6: Spreading the word

Trade departments are, at this time, staffed by civil servants although the qualifications for this clerical activity are not, in the 18th century, very high. Generally the civil servants are not the scions of noble families but are the other sons with little to commend them having insufficient cash to buy an army career, inadequate intelligence to join the Church or even bright enough for the legal profession. In short the drop-outs of upper-class society have one asset, their parentage, which has seen them educated in the public schools of the day but thereafter at a loss as to a career.

And, after decades of mind-numbing figure work their noses pressed to the proverbial grindstone a few reach the apex of their particular greasy pole and are rewarded by a government of the day with a knighthood for services to the establishment. Such is the destiny of Sir Norman Pedant who will shortly be due for retirement. There is a knock on his glazed door though he does not look up after his soporific, 'enter' command; the incomer begins by saying:

"Sir! I've a number of manifests collected over the past month though prior to my entering the information implicit in their pages I would like to consult you as to their nomenclature."

Pedant looked at his chief clerk, somewhat tiredly: "Where have these manifests originated, eh?"

Robin Steadfast eyes his chief warily and replies:

"This one, the oldest, Sir, was from Tilbury though my staff are receiving them from Bristol, Manchester, Hull. Do you recall, Sir, we got a manifest from Herr von Erlangen, who passed on his compliments after handing me the documents when, by chance, I was in the Customs House at Tilbury?"

"Ah, yes!" responded Sir Norman, "I remember thinking that I did not know mein-Herr was in England, at all. Remind me of the reason for his visit."

"He had received a letter from his old friend, Thomas Savary, Sir, who had become acquainted with him on some military expedition abroad."

"Ah, yes, I recall our time together at the palace when Thomas demonstrated his fire-engine to King William. Why did you not say so, before? It's a great undertaking worthy of his nobility!"

Now Standish saw an opportunity to prick his chief's over-weening snobbery; he said: "Von Erlangen told me himself, Sir, that the engine he was taking with him was that of a commoner, Thomas Newcomen because Savary's engine had been a failure."

However Sir Norman sensed something in his clerk's attitude, saying:

"Hmm! You must watch it, Sir, your demeanour is unbecoming an officer of the civil service. When commoners get too clever and think to teach their superiours then our world will be the worse for it. Where had the noble von Erlach travelled from?"

"He had travelled from some place in the Midlands, Sir. Ah, yes, Dudley to be sure. If you recall he was taking a young man back with him to Hungary. He had a biblical name, now what was it, ah yes, Isaac."

Sir Norman's eyes narrowed as if in disbelief which the clerk, ever perceptive, realised and hastened to add, "The lad was to help assemble the engine, the fire-engine, so-called."

Sir Norman's face bore a puzzled look which his tongue articulated:

"You talk in strange words, Standish. Pray, what precisely is, what did you say, 'enjin'; is that the word?"

Steadfast agreed, adding: "It is spelt, Sir, E-N-G-I-N-E. To be exact it is a fire-engine." He looked uncomfortable as his chief's expression started to show signs of vexation; Steadfast repeated the Herr's name, saying:

"It is, according to Herr von Erlach, Sir, a device to raise water from the bottom of mines as existing pumps have proved inadequate. Von Erlach explained to me that excessive water prevents his men from getting at the richest lode-bearing seams, that is, the veins of copper ore."

Pedant was dismissive and said petulantly: "I wanted an explanation, Sir, not a treatise. And what has it to do with nomenclature."

Standish said: "They are new, Sir, so in compiling statistics for the period a new item of nomenclature is needed, machinery, perhaps"

"Machinery, fiddlesticks; what is it made from?"

"I understand there is brass, copper, lead, leather and so on."

"Then what's your problem, Sir? We have no need for these 'whatsits' in our nomenclature, in our statistics. Ministers will wonder if we have taken leave of our senses if we indulge in these strange names. Exports and imports are for the benefit of gentle-folk, Standish. These 'injins' sound too much of the lower orders. What have we to do with working men?"

Steadfast was unperturbed: "Von Erlach might disagree, Sir; in his view we are entering a new age, the machine age."

Pedant looked shocked: "Herr von Erlach, Sir; you are not permitted to take liberties with titles of noblemen. And, as for a new age, bah! You named base metals for base men. I'll have no truck with your 'whatsits'."

Standish gathered up the manifests and was about to leave but Pedant had more to say: After you have done as I commanded, Standish, you will destroy the manifests. Is that clear?"

Standish left Pedant's office and walked back down the corridor somewhat pensive reflecting that what his chief did not see, his chief would not worry over for he had decided to do both things: To carry out his original idea of creating the nomenclature of machinery though to preserve them until Sir Norman retired. However he was bound to analyse the manifests in respect of the material content and considered which of his clerks to give the task.

It is a fact that accurate statistics of engines exported were not compiled from manifests until the post-Napoleonic era when examinations were held for civil service posts. Thus other nations might justifiably claim by reference to their statistics to have exported many more than was the case in England. This was all down to misguided pedantry in the English civil service.

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One of the regrets Thomas Newcomen mulled over came to him upon opening an envelope one day. It contained one folded sheet which was a relief amidst his normally heavy postbag to his address in London which he had decided should be his office. It was in easy reach of solicitor Pengelly's office being also the registered office of his partnership with the late, Thomas Savary. He applied his much calloused thumb to the sheet unfolding it discovering to his delight it was a drawing of his first fire-engine.

He examined the name purporting to be the artist, Joseph Beighton and what increased his pleasure was the fact that the picture had been removed from the Strand magazine of London. This was fame indeed. Although some details were incorrect he glowed with pleasure at the title of the drawing: The First Engine Erected, 1712, though his pleasure was tinged with regret that John Calley, his deceased friend also from Dartmouth could not see it. Still, he reasoned the figure standing below the pivot-beam might well have been Calley, or so he would insist on showing it around.

Hearing of his pleasure derived from this drawing his friends went to considerable trouble and expense to snip articles and sketches from periodicals such as magazines, newspapers, weeklies and especially the contributions in regard to the Newcomen engine such as a letter to the Cumbria Express, 'There is nothing that will do our business well then this engine which is the best, cheapest and safest way to keep a mine dry'. Another extract was from London's Monthly Chronicle:

'Thanks to Thomas Newcomen, sole inventor of that machine for raising water by fire'."

Yet, what pleased him most of all were the names of young engineers brought to his attention and those who wrote to him seeking permission to become his agent, for instance, in the West Country. This from Joseph Hornblower, aged thirty-four years, who had learned the skill of working the engine at a mine in Workington, Lancashire. And, yet another from a John Smeaton of Bristol who had served a similar apprenticeship in Flint, one of Newcomen's early installations.

Another pleasing development was in the realm of finance which, prior to 1712, too often showed outgoings and after that year increasing revenue outpacing the debit side of the ledger. He was pleased on account of his wife who could look forward to old age with increasing confidence. He reflected that Savary's monopoly of patent rights had cost him in the short term but through his partnership with that gentleman he had benefitted the company in the long term, if only on account of Savary's connections in finding revenue providers, especially from Europe. Sadly a letter that might have delighted Savary had come from an engineer in the Netherlands requesting the optimum site to view the Newcomen-Savary engine in operation. And, that same letter had compelled Newcomen to eagerly await the arrival of Herrn van Schulsteen.

He had arrived on a post-chaise from Portsmouth and mentioned in the note was the fact that their stop in London would be at Hammersmith so he had taken a carriage to that junction. The junction was also the site of a hostelry well-equipped with stables so that horses could be changed for the onward journey. He had no difficulty at all in recognising the gentleman for who else in London could boast a similar top hat, made in Delft, so markedly different to those fabricated in London. After their initial greeting he reflected on their subsequent conversation which had opened with a quite amazing revelation.

"Strange was it not, Mr Newcomen", for the Dutchman's English was more than fluent as he continued, "meeting with that gentleman who had such a profound knowledge of you, I mean Mr Isaac whom you last saw in Dudley, the scene of your great experiment."

Newcomen looked somewhat surprised at first and then it came to him: "Ah, Isaac Donner.. his second name escapes me though, as I recall, he had accompanied a German nobleman back to Hungary where at his mine he would help erect the fire-engine."

"That is right!" replied Herr Schulsteen, "But the conditions at the mine were far from ideal and, although Isaac had stayed on, alas it was to no good purpose. He did manage to earn some money although the nobleman would not allow him to return home."

"So how did you meet up with him?" asked a puzzled Newcomen.

"In brief, he escaped keeping the news of his going from everyone and early one morning taking the first carriage out of Erlach although as it was heading for Frankfurt it was in the opposite direction to his required destination, the Channel ports. But, the young man was not without some initiative and so he took a boat along the River Main to Koblenz then proceeded north to Njimegen, where his money ran out."

A revelation hit Newcomen and he interrupted Schulsteen:

"That's where you met him!"

Schulsteen smiled at the memory: "That's the strange thing; a young man asked me something in rough German at that terminal in Njimegen. I was there at the coach station for a carriage to The Hoek when this young man blurted out his story of escape and I invited him to join me."

"What a co-incidence!" Newcomen was visibly astonished adding: "What was your reaction initially to his tale?"

"Surprise, is that the word! something stronger perhaps!"

"Incredulity!" Newcomen offered.

"Exactement!" confirmed the Dutchman.

"Where is Isaac, now?"

"We parted on arrival in Portsmouth, Herr Newcomen. I would very much appreciate travelling back with you, if that is your intention as my reason for coming to England is to view one of your fire-engines in action."

"So you said in your letter. We are not too far away from such an engine for one is being installed in London, not too far from here."

"You have mines also in London?"

"I don't know but this engine is intended to help in building a dry dock in that its water raising capability will shift thousands of gallons of water to another canal to form a dry dock. It's located near to Kew."

The Dutchman said: "Our coach cannot go fast enough for me because this is similar to my intended use for the engine in Holland. At present teams of horses perform the task of turning an enormous Archimedes screw. Your engine will I hope perform the task without animals."

Newcomen was fascinated by the Dutchman's description as were the rest of the carriage who leaned forward, both men and women, so as not to miss a word and several exchanged glances of awe and noting this he said:

"You see Herr Schulsteen I was focussed on the task of lifting water from the depths of mines hundreds of feet down. Now, it's clear to me that what my partner and I have done is to create a machine that offers men power, power to perform any task formerly done by brute strength. I had a letter from Cornwall where my engine is being used to crush stone formerly done by hand and the output of copper has increased by a factor of ten."

Newcomen paused for breath noting the eager faces turned towards him and from a pocket withdrew a letter, saying:

"Here's a letter from Coalbrookdale; in it Mr Darby tells me that whereas the local mine supplied him with a thousand hundredweight of coal a few years back which was barely enough to keep one furnace busy, now, he has been able to open another foundry because the output of coal, thanks to the Newcomen engine, has increased four-fold."

A voice, from the corner, focussed Newcomen's attention as it had a distinctive accent and on hearing it the other passengers eased back onto their seat-cushions as, although it was English, it sounded somewhat aggressive. The speaker said:

"Pardon me, Mr Newcomen, I beg to put you a question. My name is Williams, Hank Williams, and I'm a colonist from the County of Virginia across the water and I know for a fact that the mines.."

"Have water problems, Sir!" Schulsteen interrupted, ".. as have we all which is why I am here in London. We Dutch are planting crops on land that but decades back was under the sea; if you want to see our handiwork in your country visit New Amsterdam."

The colonist smiled saying somewhat arrogantly: "The poor Dutch in New Amsterdam were starving; we colonists rescued them so it's now New York."

There was embarrassment as the whole carriage fell silent and the only sound was the patter of heavy rain on the carriage roof. It was also a bother to passengers who left the carriage at Kensington; there remained just three and Schulsteen attempted to convince the colonist he was not put out by his remarks; he said:

"Herr Newcomen, Mr Williams, is rightly famed for developing the world's first practical steam engine which in my opinion is more accurate than fire-engine. I am hoping to see one in operation soon. Perhaps if you have time you might care to join us, if Herr Newcomen agrees."

Newcomen nodded as Williams said: "The folk back home will be mighty pleased especially at Fort Duquesne where our horses are frequently being stolen by the Indians."

Newcomen laughing said: "Its noise will frighten them away if nothing else."

All three joined in the merriment as the carriage proceeded towards its next destination.

Author's note: Fort Duquesne became Pittsburgh named after the 1757 conquest of Canada by the Pitt-inspired, Wolfe-led British expedition to wrest control of Canada from the French in the 7-years War.

It was narrated in an earlier chapter that the Marquis of Dudley had sold his interest in the Conygree mine where Newcomen had demonstrated his fire-engine. The marquis had moved to London where he had rented a house in order to pursue his interest in the so-called South Sea Company in which he had invested the proceeds of the Conygree sale. Prior to that sale both he and his wife were discomfited by the interest that their daughter, Lotte, was showing towards Richard Mabe who had rescued the young woman when the coach to which she had temporarily retired, had, on account of the horses running amok, crashed. Its headlong flight had been arrested by the, as Lotte saw it, heroic actions of that same Richard Mabe.

Both her mother and father after consideration believed their daughter's crush was of a temporary and fleeting nature so had not given the matter too much of their attention. Indeed the marquis had departed seemingly unconcerned for London leaving his wife, the Countess, alone to absorb the news of their elopement. This suited the couple as the 'hue and cry' was delayed because of the difficulty in notifying her husband in London.

So the couple had ample time to put distance between their honeymoon location and Dudley from which they had eloped. In fact Richard had taken his bride to Ottery St Mary, the home of his aged mother, in order to marry his bride in the quiet village church. After a brief honeymoon in Dartmouth he discovered there was a pressing need for an engineer at Passy near Paris, France which was ideal for them and also for Jack Newcomen to whom Tom had given the problem of finding a suitable engineer after receipt of Passy's plea for assistance.

Moreover Lotte was able to put her tutored French to the task of interpreting for her new husband as few of the workers around Passy spoke any English. A missing arm for an engineer did not prove the handicap as it had been for a carpenter and joiner and he found among the French much sympathy for his role at Blenheim; indeed his fellow workers agreed that Louis XIVth was overdue for a fall and their conditions subsequently improved.

However on their return the couple received a shock especially as it came from an article that Richard read in the Exeter Herald concerning the crash and scandal of the South Sea Company. At first neither of them thought that it concerned them in any way until Lotte found a small item tucked away on an inside page. It seems that extra funds were needed to wind up the company which could, by law, only be raised by reference to existing investors of which the Marquis of Dudley was one.

His share of the sum required was £20,000 which he did not have and so inevitably he became a lodger at Newgate until such time as his debt was paid. Another article alleged that as all his friends had also lost money there was little to spare to pay off his debt and that of many of his friends. The whole business cast a shadow over their married bliss and for days Lotte did not smile and Richard thought hard as to how he could lift his wife from her gloom. Then he had a brainwave and spoke to his wife at breakfast:

"Do you recall that gift of your parents on your eighteenth birthday, my darling Lotte?"

"Indeed I do, dear Richard, but what of it for you said yourself it was valueless needing his signature before it could be cashed. What has changed?"

"Only this," said Richard, "if your father is short of cash we could give it to him and, at the same time, bring about a rapprochement with your family. You'd like that wouldn't you, darling!"

Lotte could not contain herself and before Richard had finished she had leapt into the air and thrown her arms around Richard's neck crying:

"You wonderful man! What a wonderful idea!"

The realisation of their plan worked even more advantageously than they had anticipated. Richard lost no time in travelling to London and discovered the newspaper story had exaggerated the marquis' debt being just £5000 though that sum had caused Lady Dudley many sleepless nights because their Dudley residence had already been mortgaged to its maximum. Of course the greatest benefit proved to be the reconciliation between the four people.

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Samson Hornblower debated in his mind whether he should return home to change his clothes though realised that the thought was unrealistic. Here was a chance to learn something about an engine rumoured to be revolutionary; it might not happen again. So, when a man invited him to open a valve with his gloved hand and to repeat the action for a couple of hours he complied. The man pressed him to make a commitment for another workman at the same time had to disengage another valve in order for the engines innards to be derusted and regreased. This afforded the opportunity to Samson to examine his pristine going-out dress and wonder whether it would be quite so pristine on returning home to face his parents.

"So, young fellow, this is what you need to do."

The foreman spoke kindly although distracted by his concentration on the operation of the valve telling Samson that the automatic valve opened roughly a dozen times an hour so once it had been taken out of the system its function had to be performed manually:

"And this is where you come in. You have a pocket watch! Good! I'll tell you what to do the first time. Listen to the steam pumping into the cylinder from the boiler. It makes a racket, don't it? I have to shout to make myself heard. Now, when the steam pressure in the cylinder reaches the optimum; wait for it! Hear the noise abate a bit. Now! Turn the valve. No, the opposite way. That's it. Stop! Turn it back. Good. Next time you'll do it promptly. Turn momentarily then back again. That allows a spray of water into the cylinder condensing the steam causing a vacuum. Atmospheric pressure does the rest. You hear the crash as the cylinder is forced down. Now, listen to the cylinder filling up again with steam. Got it! Good."

Samson's heart was beating fast and he hardly noticed the foreman begin to dismantle the automatic valve so intent was he to get the process right. He glanced at his fob watch listening keenly to the steam filling the cylinder anxious to open and close the valve exactly right, next time. He did and the foreman gave him the thumbs-up reverting to his own task while a tense Samson awaited the next five minutes to elapse when he'd do it again.

His kid gloves were grimy though they were essential as the valve was hot as steam, he reflected, was produced at boiling point though contact with the outside air cooled it slightly. It looked to him that he'd be at it for at least another hour. He watched the foreman as he removed a spring then applied a brush to the inside. He noticed on a shelf a tub of thick, white grease ready for the foreman when he had cleaned off any rust. Samson watched the flakes of rust drop onto the ground although a light draught floated rust particles onto his trousers.

He was alert as the foreman addressed him: "Now young Sir comes the tricky bit. I've to fit the valve back into the system otherwise you'll be here for keeps and we mustn't have that, eh!" The foreman flashed him a grin then told him what needed to be done:

"I want to fit this valve back into the system once the piston's at the bottom of its stroke so when I tell you let go hand over to my mate here."

Samson did as commanded and watched as both foreman and his assistant proceeded to return the system to its automatic operation. It was over in one cycle of the piston's operation. The foreman's assistant turned to him and thanked him for his help whilst he was called to the mine on an urgent matter and the foreman echoed his thanks ruefully observing:

"Has it given you a taste for engineering, lad? If so you could not have a nobler calling." He eyed his trousers and gloves, adding: "Clothes can be bought but experience, never. Once again, thanks."

As he returned home clutching the package which had been his original mission he reflected on the foreman's words though he admitted to himself that neither his mother nor his father would give much time for his experience. As he remounted his horse and set course for home he tried to put away such thoughts and not to dwell on the storms ahead.

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Sir Simon Cowell sat in his library reading an old copy of the monthly magazine, the Miner's Friend, distributed by the Coal Federation which was based in London and was published on a subscription basis. It was a favourite of Thomas Savary the inventor because the magazine not only included pieces concerning his engines but also allowed him to publicise his works to a wide readership.

To a knock on Sir Simon's door he murmured: "Enter, it's not locked." It was the maid; she said: "Madame thought you might like this, Sir."

Cowell looked up, mystified, "Why especially.." He was not allowed to finish for Lady Cowell entered the room behind her maid saying: "That's your lot, Sir Simon; I do not know when we shall get another supply. Our credit is so bad now among the local tradesmen so make the most of it."

"That will be all, Violet." The maid was dismissed and now Sir Simon expected, once the maid had gone, a tirade of complaint from the mistress of the house which, he thought, was not entirely unjustified for although their recent move to this modest mansion had to be yet his financial position was still in a parlous state for which he accepted full responsibility though at this moment it was tea that concerned his wife; he said

"Surely Twinings would send us a supply on credit, Ma'am." At which the lady harrumphed saying somewhat acerbicly: "You have a short memory, Sir; you owe them from two years ago as well you know. I'm afraid our entertaining days are over for the foreseeable future unless you know something to the contrary."

Cowell glanced at his pamphlet and a thought occurred to him that might distract the lady's attention to a more promising matter; he said:

"I read in the Miners Friend that the owner of a mine upcountry is charging people to inspect his new fire-engine while the mine's former owner is sitting in a debtors prison having sold the mine to raise money for the South Seas Company. At least we kept out of that, Ma'am."

But the lady reminded her husband of a pertinent event: "I seem to remember your complaining of not being able to raise the cash otherwise you might have ended up like the poor marquis. It's been bad enough having to sell our estate and dismiss the servants and we must be thankful that our dear daughter had already made such a good connection."

"So good her new family don't want to know us," came Sir Simon's bitter answer, adding, "but they'll rue the day they cut themselves off especially when Geevor is a showcase for Cornwall like Dudley in the Midlands."

"But unlike the Midlands Cornwall has no industry, Father."

"That sounds like Oliver; where did you spring from?"

"Yes, Father, it's me booted out from Rugby; shall I be going back?"

His mother and father exchanged glances and were silent. Oliver said: "I did not come straight home because some of the chaps were going on about this new engine-thing so I did a detour. We couldn't do the same here, Father, because there's no coppersmiths, no timber merchants, no coal mines. What's the point?"

Disgusted about not having been told of Oliver's plight Lady Cowell left them while Sir Simon wiped his brow nervously trying to think of something to cheer his son who added more woe saying:

"It's a pipe-dream, Sir. Such an engine would cost thousands you evidently don't have. I um need twenty guineas father having to hire a nag in Exeter. But there's no big hurry. Was that a gong I heard! We still have enough for a joint of beef, I hope; shall we go and see!"

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"Sad! Anne wants me to take her to the Palace. I love a good argy-bargy and I'm going to miss all the fun; toodle-oo, little brother."

From that comment by his older kin Samson Hornblower got an inkling of what was to come as he followed him downstairs watching him disappear through the front door while he, spotting his grimy gloves on the sideboard, entered the parlour. His father stood with his back to him looking out of the window supposedly watching his brother striding down the street. With some reluctance his father turned around but said nothing as he looked across the room at his son. Evidently repressing any ill-humour he said:

"Little did I think of the devil getting into you, lad, when I sent you out for Lucifers."

Anxious to postpone the obvious theme Samson said:

"I heard, Father, that when Thomas Newcomen developed his engine he spoke of doing God's work although having witnessed one in operation His works are not exactly silent. But, according to the foreman, it was ten years since that first installation and already hundreds have been installed around the country. It's the future, Father."

Daniel Hornblower did not answer and spent moments dabbing snuff onto the back of his hand, and, with a quick sniff inhaled it and said:

"Your future was ever in our minds, Samson. Is this really what you want to do? Is it your future?"

In answer Samson took a scrap of newsprint from his waistcoat pocket and read its contents to his father and added: "The great man is in Workington, Father, and I propose to write to him and offer my services but the foreman advises me it will cost something. May I mention it in my letter, Sir?"

His father smiled: "How much will take you off my hands?"

Samson avoided answering him directly saying:

"Eventually, Father, perhaps in two years time I'd like to own my own business like you but first need to learn everything about engines and as you've noticed it's dirty work. But, be sure, Sir, you will be making an investment in the future; and, it is not just my future but the future of England so the future of the fire-engine is therefore my future."

His father clapped his hands: "A pretty speech! How much!"

Samson said tentatively: "Five hundred p.. guineas, Sir.!

His father held out his hand to his son: "Done, Sir, now where did you put those Lucifers?"

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Oliver recalled his words of admonition to his father on the day of his return home from Rugby. Damn it, he thought, isn't that why his father sent him to that public school famed for producing empire-builders. Yet he knew he had uttered true if harsh reminders of the realities of life in this backward county of Cornwall and especially so where they lived not very far from Lands End. Sitting on the saddle of his horse those recriminations about coppersmiths and other tradesmen haunted him because although he perceived them as honest opinions it was not fair to tax his father. His father had not ventured to argue meaning that he knew only too well his limitations.

Could he, his son, do something practical to render Geevor tin mine an economic proposition? He thought back to his first visit to the mine and the kind solicitude of the foreman and concern that his descent into the mine had the permission of Sir Simon. He recalled his words, 'Mines are dangerous places, Mister Oliver', Yet, lying in his teeth, he had assured him that it was his father's wish that his son should find out things.

From his first descent into the gloomy depths he understood all too clearly both his father's and the foreman's concerns. Seemingly endless rungs of the ladder which were difficult to grip so waterlogged was the wood begrimed with rusty mud. Had he not worn a helmet attached to which was a solitary shielded candle his descent would have been a waste of time for without that minimum of illumination he would have been unable to see anything. And, he took comfort from the foreman's presence.

And, the spectacle of children gathering water in endless buckets touched him deeply as pails were passed hand to hand before being placed on a giant escalator that disappeared towards the distant daylight scarcely visible being so far above. Prior to his descent he had noticed more children without comprehension; now he saw the whole picture of life in the mine and he was suddenly glad that his parents though not rich were not that poor.

Although the children below worked hard yet atop the mine some of the children above had the extra arduous task of emptying the heavy buckets on a slag heap and returning the empties to another moving belt which returned them below the whole ramshackle apparatus being set into motion by teams of heavy shire horses trudging endlessly in a circle their harness connected to a central capstan which transmitted motion to several belted wheels. The foreman broke into Oliver's gloomy reverie:

"See yon rails, young Sir; we cannot see the end of them for they go miles under the sea. Were you here early in the morning the miners will ride on the wagons to get to the lode-bearing seams of ore."

Oliver said: "What ore, foreman?"

"Why copper, Sir. You sure you have your father's permission. It's unlike Sir Simon to omit telling you."

Oliver was pleased it was stygian black for he had blushed to his roots at that simple slip which exposed his fib. He said:

"Of course, my father told me, foreman. Think of my brain as addled as a schoolboy's."

No more was said though to Oliver came the inference that the less he said the better as the foreman was acting in the interests of his father and he decided to suggest returning to the surface and almost perceived the tension evaporating that nothing untoward had happened although he had scarcely ventured very far into the mine. Yet he put one salient question in his mind:

"I haven't seen much water, foreman, although Sir Simon said Geevor could operate more profitably with one of Mister Newcomen's engines."

The foreman knew he must be careful in responding finally deciding to get Sir Simon's son atop before he answered. Both were out of breath when they finally emerged from the mine and the foreman invited Oliver over to his office-hut offering him a cup of warm tea from a flask parked next to the stove. They toasted each other in tea and the foreman explained:

"You don't see water, Mister Oliver, because the floor slopes slightly and just yards from where we were there's water a bit beyond what we could see. And, it is quite deep in places."

"But, I heard nothing. Surely there are springs."

"Not always, young Sir, you see it seeps from the rocks above. If you taste it the water's brackish. Maybe it's sea-water filtered through hundreds of feet of hard rock. Whatever it's a problem. Let's look outside!"

Man and schoolboy stood outside the hut and the elder pointed to the clifftops visible from where they stood; the foreman said:

"If we build an engine-house atop those cliffs, Sir, as I understand it reading the Miner's Friend, your engine would siphon the water from the mine and spout it into the sea where the tide would do the rest"

The lad looked at the foreman keenly and said: "Have you discussed it with my father, foreman?"

"No, young Sir, that I haven't and I'd take it kindly if you did not mention it to him. I've let my enthusiasm carry me away."

"It's our secret, foreman, but hang it man I cannot keep calling you foreman. What is your name?"

"Michael Wainwright, at your service, young Sir, though I'm proud to be Sir Simon's foreman; 'Tis a far cry from mucking out cows. But I must leave you, Sir. It's time the horses were changed over. Good day!"

Oliver took out his notepad to write down some details of the foreman's suggestions as to where an engine-house should be sited. The notes sat alongside others dealing with horses employed, the cost of their feed and their maintenance in respect of hay, clean water, stable-lads and estimated costs of maintaining the machinery. He had enquired about coal to be told that St Ives regularly had a sea-borne trade with Bristol as coal was imported to fire braziers. In later years Oliver's deliberations would have its specific calling of estimating graduating to economics.

Later that evening however his father to his disappointment refused to discuss the topics pleading: "I understand your concerns, Oliver, but must we bore your mother with such prosaic matters." Though to Sir Simon's chagrin, Lady Cowley refused to allow her perceived antipathy as an excuse, saying:

"When you are not present, Oliver, your father uses other arguments to forestall any discussion. Perhaps he's averse to new ideas."

Oliver smiled at his father's discomfiture persisting: "Would it not be worth exploring the idea, pater, of installing one of Mr Newcomen's fire-engines in Geevor. I hear he has a scheme to pay back over several years."

His father played his trump card: "You'll discover, Oliver that adults have to make choices. Would you prefer to resume your schooling or put that money into Geevor?"

Lady Cowell also smiled evidently echoing her husband's view yet both parents listened in astonishment to their son's answer: "It's not just the mine, Sir, but the future of Cornwall. Just think, we could be the first to invest in this engine and once installed and working you will be the main factor in this part of the world. That's the education, I want."

"Bravo Oliver!" His father exclaimed, "You've lifted a worry from my mind, my son."

Oliver adopted a conspiratorial tone saying: "You know, father, the chaps don't consider you as a knight of the realm. You're the tradesman and, very sad, not a gentleman in their eyes. I'm just reverting to type."

Just then there was a knock at the outside door and a few moments later a manservant appeared:

"It's the postman, Sir; he wants six pennies." Oliver volunteered to pay and soon returned with the package addressed to Sir Simon Cowell who, with a glance at his son, broke the seal and said confidently:

"It's from the great man himself. Mr Newcomen is sending someone down to talk about the fire-engine. Ever heard of the name, Smeaton? It seems he's travelling from Bristol."

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## Chapter 7: The works of the Devil

Not far from that town of Bristol Samson Hornblower had also received a letter from Thomas Newcomen, which read:

"Dear Mr Hornblower, that your father has such confidence in me on the strength of hearsay is little short of astonishing. Yet, sadly I am not in a position to offer my time or indeed the time of my close associates for the reason that as engineers I and my colleagues are so busy in installing engines and our order-book grows ever longer. But, what I can offer you is to advise you to visit the following sites where engines have already been installed. I have written to advise them of your coming.

Not only to visit but to gain knowledge of their working. The sites are: Conygree Colliery, near Dudley; Griff Colliery Warwickshire; the Bilston and Woods mines, Howarden, Flintshire; Moore Hall, Austhorpe, Leeds; Stone Pitts, Whitehaven, Cumberland. You are at liberty to show this letter to the manager or foreman at any of these sites with a view to understanding their workings. Naturally this leave is given provided you do not interfere with the work at the site. I am, your humble servant, Thomas Newcomen, 12th April, 1725.

PS The promise of £500 was most gratifying. The services I offer above will be at no cost to yourself. I suggest you use the money upon setting up your own business in the fullness of time."

After perusing the list it became manifest that the collieries located in Flintshire, north Wales might be the optimum for his purpose as, according to his present knowledge, copper ore was mined in that part of the country. Whereas coal was hewn and brought to the surface for immediate consumption by braziers and furnaces copper along with tin was mined as an ore whereby the ore-bearing rocks were brought to the surface for crushing to enable the ore to be separated out by fire.

And, after months of hands-on research Hornblower had built up a lot of experience only by signing on as an assistant to the foreman or manager and despite Newcomen's good intentions his reserve of money was being whittled down so that his dreams of his own business soon disappeared. He contemplated going into business with a like-minded partner though two years after his optimistic speech to his father Hornblower was as far away as ever from that dream. Moreover wherever he travelled, in Wales, in the Midlands, in northern England he failed to meet with a like-minded gentleman. There was just one area he had not explored though, from repute, that part of the country had little industry so with a heavy heart he directed his nag towards the approach roads to, the county of Cornwall.

His first experience of that county however did not presage a happy experience as he crossed over the River Tamar, separating Devon from whence he came and followed the granite marker etched with the name of Launceston towards the mid-afternoon. Miles from that marker he approached an inn and read from the swinging sign the name, Travellers Inn, deciding to enquire of a room and dismounting and tying up his mount he was pleased to come face to face with a broad shouldered man inside the outer door, greeting him:

"Good day, landlord; have you a room for the night?"

"Good day, Sir; for you alone or is there a lady?"

"Just for myself; what is your charge?"

"For one night, Sir; that'll be five pounds!

"Five pounds! Why, in Tipton, that's the price for a week."

"But, Sir, you're not in Tipton. That's the price, here."

"I'll be on my way, thankyou. How far is the next town?"

"That'll be Bodmin, Sir. You might just make it in a gallop though the way is treacherous in places. Still, that's your business. If you change your mind, we retire early."

Samson wished him good day and was soon on his way though not at a gallop for the landlord was right in the difficulty of the going for it was strewn with large stones especially near bluffs from which he reasoned where the rocks had been dislodged. Going over the dialogue between himself and the landlord he was struck by its conviviality. Evidently, he thought, with so few visitors he deems it expedient to charge the more. Yet, for some time Hornblower had become niggardly in spending his cash because he did not want to resort to his father whose willingness to accommodate him years before had been edged with something akin to 'see where it gets you'.

No thought as to a name had occurred to him but picking his way expertly Hornblower now dreamed up an apt name, 'Pathfinder' and hoped, on spotting a roadside stone marker engraved, Bodmin, and noting the miles to ride and the position of the sun in the sky he wondered if Pathfinder could be persuaded to speed up somewhat for he did not relish a night on the moor which he would later learn was, Bodmin Moor. Now, at a trot he caught sight of a pile of rocks but it was soon lost on his right as the path veered to the left.

Apart from a curlew or was it a skylark it was absolutely still with the occasional low moan indicating a breeze which swept over the gorse covered moor. He knew from experience this light wind heralded the approach of evening though barely an hour had elapsed since he left the inn. And then distinct from the sound of birds or the wind he thought he heard another sound and stopped Pathfinder. He stood up in the saddle to listen and peer ahead. Indeed he had not misheard for there it was again, a cry and he gently spurred his horse forward and having trotted some little way stopped again to listen.

It was surely a cry, a human cry. Yes, it was a cry for help though apart from the sound emanating in front of him he could not determine its exact location. As the road now veered to the right he saw again the pile of rocks and bidding Pathfinder to stop he tied the reins to a gorse bush and made for the rocks mounting them and peering ahead scanned the moor. There was a fresh cry and saw ahead a figure and keeping it in view, remounted.

After a moment he spotted an arm and cantered towards it yet keeping to the path and now he could clearly hear plaintive cries, desperate cries and slipping from the saddle and forgetting any caution approached the prone figure of a man; a bush partly obscured his view. But, worse he himself began to sink. It was a bog. He shouted to him:

"Hey! I'll get a rope." He returned to Pathfinder for the rope and making a noose threw it towards the man and asked him to slip it over his shoulders. "Hang on to it!" he called, "We'll drag you out." He paid out the rope and attached his end to the pommel of his saddle. Returning to ensure the man had slipped the noose over his head, he yelled:

"Hang on to the rope. Got it! Good!"

Hornblower remounted, checked his rope-end was secure then urged Pathfinder forwards. The rope became taut and he urged the horse again. For a minute nothing happened and then there was a sudden squelching, sucking sound and the rope went slack. He reined in the horse and looked behind him to see the man free from the bog but still lying down. He dismounted and taking Pathfinder with him retraced their way. He re-tied the horse to the gorse bush and went over to the man. He lay there on the ground exhausted almost face down. He was sobbing.

He knelt beside the man and grasping his shoulder said to him:

"You're safe, Sir; safe, thank the Lord I came when I did. How do you feel? Are you hurt?"

The man looked up and Hornblower saw at once by his apparel that he was a traveller like himself. He said again: "Are you hurt?"

"It's my legs! They were in the bog and got chilled. I can scarcely feel them."

At Hornblower's suggestion the man nodded and he began to use his hands to pummel them. At the same he suggested they return to the inn unless the man knew that Bodmin was nearer. Being told that he had left Bodmin early that morning Hornblower guessed that the inn was the better option though it was easier said than accomplished as the victim could not walk and would have to be carried. It was undignified but the only solution as Hornblower regained his saddle and dragged him across the saddle where-after he urged Pathfinder forward though walking slowly. They reached the inn after six and nearly dark.

Arriving at the door of the inn he banged it and shouted and soon heard someone shout he was coming so Hornblower retreated to allow the door to open whereupon he explained the situation and the landlord saw instantly his plight and hastened to help the man to his feet and bodily carried him into the inn where he placed him against the stairs easing his head back onto the uncovered stairs.

By now, Hornblower was also inside the hall and told the landlord that he would pay for both of them whereupon taking the stranger by the shoulders he carried him upstairs into a bedroom and laid him down on a bed. He spoke to him but the stranger seemed oblivious to anything. This worried him but he returned downstairs to order a meal for himself and his companion and was pleasantly surprised to meet a woman who offered to prepare them a hot meal which was welcome.

Returning to the room he spoke to his companion:

"Can I do something for you?" And, to his surprise and delight the man lifted his head and replied: "Could you help me take my boots off!"

Hornblower undid the laces whereupon the man bent to ease off his boots and that done heaved a great sigh of relief:

"My father insisted on new boots for the journey and I, as you see, not long out of school, I complied to my great discomfort. Indeed the soreness persuaded me to cross the soft, yielding moorland. I was making for a rocky promontory when it happened."

"Your sinking in the bog!" Answered a smiling Hornblower at which his companion nodded tiredly but seeming to shake off his exhaustion with a physical effort, he said grimly: "That smell is more from the morass than a young person's feet though my school chums would contradict it."

He sat up and held out his hand: "My name is Oliver Cowell. I owe you my life. But, I am on a mission and would like to continue my journey and after a night's rest..." He paused, adding, "Would you have any objection?"

"Of course not, Mr Cowell, if you feel strong enough. I've ordered supper for us both. That should help pick you up. By the way let me return the compliment. I'm Samson Hornblower and not much older, I assure you and as my own father can testify to."

There was a knock at the door and Hornblower learned their meal was ready and he turned back to enquire: "Are you strong enough.." Though did not finish as his young companion got to his stockinged feet and signalled his desire to come below. After silently tucking in to a sizeable portion of their beef and kidney pie Hornblower was the first to talk:

"I'm on my way to Camborne which town I understand is the capital of the Cornish tin mining industry. I want to meet mine owners to persuade them of the benefits of Mr Newcomen's new steam engine to rid their mines of water. I know the name of one only however, Geevor. Do you know of it?"

"What a co-incidence, Mr Hornblower! My father is Sir Simon Cowell, owner of Geevor. Perhaps I need to postpone my trip north."

Hornblower chuckled: "For the previous two years I've been looking for a fellow entrepreneur. I little thought I'd find one in a Cornish bog."

Their laughter was so raucous that both landlord and his wife came from the kitchen to discover its import and Hornblower repeated the story and they too were enveloped in mirth. After normality had returned Hornblower sought to put his companion at his ease saying:

"There's nothing like a shared interest, is there, Mr Cowell? I confess in my eyes you're twice the man of but five minutes ago."

Cowell answered still chuckling: "How right you are, Sir. You've breathed new life into me. I feel like twice the man, I was."

More laughter followed this admission as Cowell observed: "Before today I had not even attained a majority but experience they say is a mighty leveller. Shall we do this wine full justice?"

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Lady Cowell had mellowed in the course of her life. At eighteen she was informed by a solicitor's letter of her father's death and at the same time what he had bequeathed her. He had been at sea all his life though to beget his daughter Harriet he had met and married just the one lady who sadly had died giving birth to Harriet so the sea-dog had even fewer reasons to reach port and settle down. In his fiftieth year though on such an occasion on a whimsy enjoying a visit ashore in the balmy air of Jamaica he had bought an estate with the object of a pleasant retirement while enjoying the profits that the estate generated. He sold his barque on retirement.

The balmy weather in Jamaica however he discovered did not last the whole year and although he had bought a house overlooking the beautiful Montego Bay it was still sweltery which did not suit a man used to a constantly changing weather aboard ship and he sickened and died though leaving his affairs in good order with the result that a month following his death his daughter had been apprised of the facts both of his death and his sole bequest. And, being of an adventurous nature she ordered her housekeeper to prepare for a sea voyage to view her estate in Jamaica which had only come into British possession within the last fifty years.

So, in less than a year Harriet and her housekeeper after a fair sea voyage were installed in the former sea-dog's house and like him enjoyed breakfast upon the verandah though unlike her habit in her house in Clifton, Bristol which overlooked the Avon Gorge her drinks tended to be cool on account of the sweltering heat even mid-morning. Also they were brought to the table by servants who were black and what shocked her more was that they belonged to her. It was this fact that persuaded her to sell the estate and return to Bristol for although she was well accustomed to being waited upon by servants in her employ she was unhappy with the thought that however well they worked they could not improve their situation.

Yet, the social life pleased her enormously for the British had lost little time in erecting splendid buildings. One was the governor's residence and she enjoyed attending receptions and soirees and at one such meeting she had unknowingly caught the eye of a baronet, Sir Simon Cowell though they were not formally introduced. One of her delights was to be taken by her gig into town although it had to be for a definite purpose as for instance to consult her solicitor about the matter of selling the estate. There was no lack of buyers although the solicitor was mystified as to her reasons. He tried to reassure her:

"Being such a fair-minded person the slaves would thrive in your employment."

"Don't you mean ownership, Sir?" Harriet did not mince her words, adding. "I would be happier if they were free like our servants, back home."

But the solicitor poo-poo-ed such an idea by declaring that it would wreck the whole Jamaican economy: "The English are competing with the Spanish and French who would definitely not free their slaves so our prices would go up making the estates uneconomic. Your investment would lose its value. No, slavery must be maintained."

Harriet was not convinced and the solicitor agreed to cast around for a possible buyer. In the meantime she decided to return to England only waiting for the optimum time to make the return voyage. The solicitor found a buyer almost immediately: It was Sir Simon Cowell. The co-incidence was of no great significance as the island had only two solicitors at the time though what may be of significance were his actions on discovering the seller's reasons for disposing of the estate. He thought if the lady of my desire finds out that she had rid herself of the estate only to discover it in the ownership of her paramour; that would not be favourable to my winning her hand for he had decided on Harriet Gilbert for his future wife.

Accordingly he let it be known at soirees and receptions and the occasional ball that his estate was for sale though it's coming onto the market so soon after it had been bought allowed potential buyers to believe there was something wrong with it. Sir Simon was not unduly worried as the estate was a fraction of his portfolio of interests his main stockholding being in the East India Company which was spread around the globe in the East Indies, in India, in New England and in the Caribbean islands of which Jamaica was one. He was also a founder member of a Lloyds Insurance Syndicate which paid more dividends on the proceeds of its shipping interests than all his other holdings.

Having learned that the lady, Harriet Gilbert had left Jamaica he called on his solicitors to ask them to notify him of any possible buyers by letter and was pleasantly surprised to learn from the solicitor of an interested party. But, that the party offered to exchange their ownership of property in England for the estate in Jamaica and as the two values were comparable the solicitor put it to Sir Simon. He agreed immediately only too pleased to be rid of the estate.

The solicitor said: "Such an exchange is unprecedented, Sir Simon. Are you sure you wish to proceed? Oh, and may I bring the details of the property in England to your attention."

But Sir Simon was not interested asking the solicitor to wrap the details in a portfolio and send it to him in England. Months later he unwrapped the bundle to discover he owned property in the County of Cornwall and that the property comprised mines, blast furnaces, horse and stables and he wondered what he had let himself in for. And this became of pertinent interest when having successfully wooed Miss Harriet Gilbert and won her hand and installed her on his estate of Buckleigh Hall, Somerset he was informed by his agent in Bristol that owing to a series of mis-chances Lloyds was looking to its founder members to bail it out.

Sir Simon was accustomed to these misadventures but it was a new phenomenon to his bride, Harriet who had moved from her modest house in Clifton, Bristol to Buckleigh Hall believing that such rises in the world naturally followed one's marrying a knight of the realm. Still she had enjoyed the kudos of Buckleigh Hall with its many servants for over a decade and being able to send her son to a prestigious public school. Yet, it was a wrench moving from her palace to a modest mansion in faraway Cornwall. Moreover their credit had suffered owing to Sir Simon having to forgo his Lloyd interests while the East India Company's ships suffered misfortune mainly due to war.

So, Sir Simon no longer had access to ready money from frequent and generous dividends and the household inevitably suffered. Still, Harriet consoled herself; the soirees, receptions, the balls of yesteryear were enjoyed in the full flush of youth. Now in her forties she consoled herself with pleasant games of whist and euchre with the locals such as the vicar's wife. And, she had more time on her hands, time to reflect upon the experiences of her younger years and one name seemed to emerge as the talisman of her destiny and that of her family; it was Jamaican rum.

Having learned that her son's meeting Samson Hornblower in such circumstances was connected with an inn known as the Travellers Inn she could not help but feel that the family fortune was, by the purest chance, by serendipity tied up with Jamaican rum sold at the inn as it was the island of Jamaica where unwittingly she had caught the eye of her future husband, Sir Simon Cowell and she listened avidly to the young people who arrived so unexpectedly at their place in St Just.

For their part both men, Samson Hornblower and Oliver Cowell decided after their sojourn in the Travellers Inn to make their way to Bodmin where Callow bought a new horse his mount having sustained an injury which was the reason Oliver was making his way to Launceston from Bodmin where he had failed to purchase a replacement. Callow also put it to Hornblower that their meeting obviated his journey north namely to find an engineer; Oliver used the term engine-wright the word 'engineer' being coined at a later date. So they made their way after Bodmin to Camborne, Redruth and St Ives where Samson saw the port facilities for ships to tie up and discharge their cargoes of coal.

Naturally Oliver lost little time in acquainting his parents of the circumstances of his meeting with Hornblower, of the fortuitous circumstances and Sir Simon took little to persuade him that his son had found the right man, the man indeed who knew the great inventor, Thomas Newcomen himself. Also Hornblower told Sir Simon of other developments in that the engine had enabled a foundry-man, Abraham Darby to generate increased bellows power leading to the manufacture of vastly improved iron castings produced at higher temperatures that had led to cheaper castings. Iron gates for instance costing a thousand pounds were now being cast for a fraction of their original cost.

Sir Simon listened to Hornblower's revelations reflecting:

"I am amazed, Sir by what you have told me. We seem to be moving into a new age; what do we call it, the machine age! By the way, how much is Newcomen's annual charge for the use of his patent?"

"Before I answer that, Sir you might be interested that Newcomen did not take out a patent, could not for the reason that he discovered a previous inventor had taken out a patent for an identical engine, an engine that did not in fact work too well."

Sir Simon stared at Hornblower and said: "That must have been galling to Newcomen. How did he protect himself?"

"By going into partnership with the patent's owner, one Thomas Savary and it proved beneficial for Savary, the son of an aristocrat, had connections both at home and abroad and at the palace. To answer your question an annual charge of three hundred pounds was agreed which is payable to the partnership. Because of his connections Savary was able to extend his patent, taken out in the last century, until the year 1735. Yet I believe this charge is good value for money as no extra charge is made for improvements and the latest development is much more efficient than the first."

"Well, Mr Hornblower, draw up a contract to include all charges both of principal and annual fee plus any additional costs for erecting the fire-engine at Geevor mine. Include a time-scale and most important render an estimate of the likely coal usage and consequent expenditure. Will you do this?"

"I shall, Sir Simon, though before doing so I'll need your accreditation to view the mine and make necessary alterations as I see fit."

A gong was heard and Sir Simon wryly observed: "Everything is on hold Mr Hornblower for dinner. Oliver, my boy, see that our guest has everything he needs. Then join us at table."

Later Oliver reproved his new friend, Samson: "Mater said nothing but she clearly did not view your unfinished meal with approval."

"Very diplomatic, Oliver," answered Hornblower, "but I'm so excited at the prospect of looking over the mine that my stomach just would not accept much food however delicious. I'll try and make amends on another occasion not quite so fraught with anticipation."

This exchange occurred as the two men astride their mounts were riding towards the location of Geevor mine. It was significant for Hornblower because for the first time he was to draw up a scheme of operations with a view to install one of Newcomen's engines at Geevor. For many miles the two rode without exchanging a single word but it was unsatisfactory for Oliver who recalled his earlier chat with the foreman at Geevor:

"Wainwright the foreman," shouted Oliver to his companion because there was noisy wind in their faces yet Oliver persisted, "has already formed an idea where your engine house should be located."

Hornblower did not respond immediately for he knew nothing of the man whom Oliver had named but in a friendly voice answered, "He obviously knows the area possibly better than any of us and we need to heed what he says."

Oliver described the operation he had already observed but was puzzled at Hornblower's next question: "How far away is the location of the blast-furnace? And how many trips are made every day to collect the ore?"

With a feeling of shame percolating his cheeks Oliver was silent for what he had taken to be a pile of spoil was in reality the actual ore removed ready for collection by carts taking the 'spoil' to a foundry for smelting and the extraction of ore. Now he understood his father's references to ingots of copper which at the time left him bewildered. Yet this man, his new friend, by some innocent but pertinent remarks brought his bits of knowledge together. He was silent for the remainder of their ride until they had sighted the mine when an emboldened Oliver shouted to Hornblower, who looked around:

"Beyond the mine you can see the coast. The miners are actually travelling under the sea to get at the richer ores but they encounter increasing problems with water. See the cliff-top, Samson! That's about where the foreman considers the engine-house be built."

Both horses were stationary as Hornblower surveyed the scene; he said: "Don't tell the foreman but it might be inadvisable to build atop the cliff. There is the danger of subsidence; cliffs falling away. We'll see."

Without a further word from either man the two horses were gently spurred to complete their journey to the mine.

Not long after Oliver and Samson led their horses onto the road leading from St Just; Sir Simon was following in their wake though in his case he deliberated as to the gig or the Brougham. In the end he asked his ostler to prepare the gig as many roads in Cornwall were tracks rather than roads though he knew that the mare would last the whole journey whereas the heavier Brougham with a team of two was restricted to major roads. His destination was Bristol there to raise finance to fund the proposed pumping engine at Geevor though he had a mind to follow the road to Launceston calling in at the Travellers Inn. He was intrigued by observations made by his son's friend, Samson Hornblower that many of the bottles purporting to be brandy and other liquors had French labels. It seemed to confirm a rumour about the place.

On the path leading to the inn the gig was forced to retreat a few yards to a passing place and was pleasantly surprised by the cab stopping to exchange a few words. Its driver greeted Sir Simon:

"I thank you, Sir; which way are you headed?"

"To the Travellers Inn, Reverend; I want to thank the landlord and his lady for their excellent treatment of my son and his companion recently. I take it you are the minister of God for this part of the world."

"Reverend Samuel Scott at your service, Sir; whom do I have the honour of addressing?"

"My name is Cowell, Sir Simon Cowell."

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Sir Simon; I would be honoured if you could find the time to call in. We're in Launceston. Here is my card."

So saying the reverend addressed his horse with familiar words: "Stay Jezebel!" Then jumped from his cab to hand the card over which Cowell examined and was told by the reverend, "Just mention my name to any passer-by." And, he rejoined his cab and with a slight swish of the whip he was gone. Cowell proceeded to the inn which was no problem as it was the only habitation in a sea of moorland.

And he was greeted by the landlord himself as Sir Simon said: "I had the pleasure of a word with your previous visitor, landlord, and shall not keep you long."

The landlord appeared to misunderstand for he replied: "That dog-collar certainly is a good disguise. Who would think we have much in common?"

The landlord's remark alerted Cowell to an alien idea that he had in no way sought to encourage. Perhaps another judicious comment might provoke more revelations; he replied: "Indeed landlord; I shall be visiting him soon enough but my diversion here is to thank you for your excellent reception to my son, Oliver Cowell, on the occasion of his misfortune a short while ago."

"I thank you, Sir; won't you step inside and enjoy any refreshment of your choice. Forswearing alcohol seems often a choice to gentleman of the cloth but we can indulge where he cannot."

Satisfied there was nobody around that might frighten his mare Sir Simon tied the reins to a hitching rail and duly followed the landlord inside. When his eyes had grown accustomed to the relative gloom he was amazed to see so many bottles in all shapes and sizes and with proprietary names that he had often seen on the Continent but not in English hostelries but made no comment though indirectly he implied:

"Your clientele certainly enjoy a good brandy, landlord, though like many things the knowledge should be shared by those of like mind. Unless you have another brand in mind I'd like to share a Dom Perignon with you."

Their conversation was desultory in exchanging comments on the loneliness of the moor, the moaning wind which seemed ever present and the beauty of the stars on a clear night unaffected by nearby houses. Cowell did also raise the dangers of choosing to walk across the moors and running the risk of bogs such as his son had unfortunately fallen into. But the landlord dismissed such fears saying that he would often walk across the moors and had never suffered any mishap. Mr Cowell's accident was a one-off.

So Sir Simon bid the landlord farewell though was slightly surprised to be handed a letter which the landlord asked to be given to the Reverend Scott. It had been handed to the landlord by someone who called and it had slipped his mind when the reverend was there an hour ago. Cowell agreed and slipped the letter into his jacket without looking at it and once again said farewell and proceeded on his way, to Launceston.

The road on the way to Launceston though hilly was one of the better roads he had travelled on in Cornwall and it was not long before he was holding on to the brake as, having surmounted the final hill, he proceeded on the downward slope and having reached the bottom wondered which of the forking ways he should go. He hailed a walker as to the address of the Reverend but whose directions were so long that he asked him to repeat them burrowing in his pockets for a piece of paper to write notes.

What he took out was the landlord's letter and he started putting it back before finding another piece of paper to write down the yokel's directions. A sudden blast took his speech away and Cowell had to listen hard to the yokel as the wind whipped at his words. So, having satisfied himself he understood by writing down the instructions he proceeded on his way although the address on that envelope in his pocket puzzled and intrigued him for it read, 'Monsieur le Chef'. Having travelled abroad in the low-countries and in France he was fluent in the latter's language and deliberated as to the meaning of the address on the envelope.

'Chef' meant 'Leader' but, he asked himself, the leader of what? He put his thoughts aside and concentrated on the directions. 'Cross the river via the stone bridge and come to Paternoster Road which goes about a mile and at the Tamar Road turn right and take the middle fork past three hayricks and you're at the gate leading to the Manse.' Quite an imposing residence for the parson of a modest district; his wife, the lady parson probably has problems matching the housekeeping with his entertaining the local gentry. Still, it was not his, Cowell's problem. And, as a yokel sprang to open the gate, where did he spring from, then he noticed a low thatched hovel inside the gate and called out his fulsome thanks upon which the yokel touched his forelock.

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(Meanwhile at the Geevor mine..)

Simon Cowell bubbled with enthusiasm as he showed Hornblower the hitching post to tie up the horses. Next he proceeded to the foreman's hut which was as still as the grave though he did not bother to go inside but stood as he recalled where the foreman had stood in showing him where the engine-house might stand. He pointed in the direction of the cliff edge in the middle distance hoping that his companion would enjoy the same perspective though Hornblower was keen to look over the mine pointing to the adze, a collection of low erections surrounding the shafts by which to descend into the mine itself.

Hornblower followed Oliver as he climbed down the various stages ending after the third short ladder on the bottom where both men were forced to pause to get their eyes accustomed to the gloom. Hornblower undid the buttons of his coat and Oliver did the same regretting that on the earlier occasion he had been there the foreman was reluctant to go further and he confessed as much to his companion. Hornblower observed nonchalantly:

"It's no problem, Simon, many of the mines are of a similar layout although there are a few variations? In coal mines certainly the seams tend to be nearer the shafts because the shafts tend to be above the black gold whereas in tin, copper and lead mines one tends to have to penetrate deeper and deeper into the mine to get at the richer seams of ore. I understand the tunnels go under the sea. A voice from someone that neither man expected said:

"You are correct there, Sir." It was the foreman and Simon greeted him, "It's Mr Hornblower, foreman, who has my father's permission to inspect the mine. When we did not find you above.."

The foreman laughed saying: "Mines are managed two hundred feet below, Mr Hornblower, there'd be no work done if I wasn't here."

Hornblower now that his eyes were fully adjusted gazed around:

"How many young people work here, foreman?"

"Too many, Mr Hornblower; would they were at their easels but needs must. I should say there are sixty who work below and about the same number above. And we switch them around each week. They'll soon be knocking off for breakfast. Would you care to join us?"

Simon interrupted abruptly: "Mr Hornblower is much too busy, foreman, but thanks.." He did not finish because Hornblower cut him, saying: "We'd be delighted to join you, Mister?"

"Wainwright, at your service, Sir; hold your lamps up high and follow me. We've made a home-from-home little corner where we can enjoy our pasties."

And, opening a door into a quite brightly lit area Wainwright swept his hand around the company which comprised young people astride boxes for the most part while a few were sat at a table. He called out:

"May I present Master Oliver and Mister Hornblower, children. He is going to install an engine so that none of you ever again have to work in water. Give him a hello!"

Hornblower was deeply moved by the welcome and looked around at the grimy faces of mostly boys but there were a few older girls dressed in grimy dungarees. He could not speak at first because he had to suppress a sob. He looked at Oliver who displayed complete insouciance and it crossed his mind that public school had bereft his young friend of any emotion. That thought hardened his temper as he spoke:

"Boys and girls! You do me a great honour in having me in your company with, I must add, the gracious permission of Mister Wainwright, and, I thank him. Must you go, Sir!"

But Wainwright had disappeared only for a moment for he was back with a couple of pasties laid on old newsprint and he offered one to Hornblower who accepted and Oliver who declined whereupon Hornblower broke his in two and whispered to Simon, "Eat it and smile. It won't poison you!"

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Sir Simon Cowell complimented Mistress Scott on her tea which he had favoured in preference to alcohol not because of his feelings towards the teetotal reverend but wanting to maintain a clear head in his talks with his host, the Reverend Scott who had earlier invited him to the parsonage that morning when they had met. The Reverend also had said in passing comment that he understood the British colony in India paid for their tea from the Chinese in gold being the only thing the Chinese wanted from Britain which led Cowell to the observation that perhaps it explained the high tariffs on alcohol from the Continent.

"It is iniquitous," observed the Reverend though, according to the newspapers he read, the high tariffs were to pay for the money borrowed by the Bank of England in fighting the last war with France. "Well, as long as the government doesn't touch our income," replied Cowell adding, "all may not be lost for if we choose to ignore the purchases which attract taxes and duties we can ignore the burden of taxation."

"Some enjoy the best of both worlds." Said the Reverend cryptically, "and our mutual acquaintance, the landlord of the Travellers Inn, may be enabling folk to do just that. All of us can benefit from lower costs of living. Don't you agree?"

"Presumably, Reverend, one must primarily invest before one can enjoy these benefits. What sum do we talk of?"

"A thousand pounds paid into church funds would guarantee a supply of anything taxable in England because the authorities seek also to protect home-grown industries such as lace. In the last century lace gloves imported from France were two thirds cheaper than in London but with the exodus of Huegenots to these shores prices dropped dramatically."

Cowell said: "A military man of my acquaintance told me that Louis XIVth by his persecution of these Huegenots unwittingly gave his worst enemy the means to defeat his army. I refer to the flint-lock musket which the Huegenots gave to the English army helping towards victory at Blenheim."

The pastor demurred: "These same Huegenots also robbed our own people of their livelihood though thankfully I speak not of the West Country where we appreciate the rural life."

Cowell was beginning to resent this man's self-satisfied complacency and decided to prick it somewhat: "My journey to Bristol, Reverend Scott, is to raise some finance towards building an engine which will help bring some industry to Cornwall. It surely needs it."

The pastor exploded with indignation: "I have heard of these works of the Devil, Sir. Now the Church has witness to the devilish works of these so-called Non-Conformists. If God wanted such engines.."

Cowell interrupted him: "Strange because Thomas Newcomen believes he is doing God's work in ridding mines of water to free miners.."

Here the pastor interrupted Cowell: "Miners! Fiddlesticks! It's to boost profits of the mine-owners. Now, Sir, tell truth!"

"I am such a mine-owner, Reverend Scott, and although it's late I'll be on my way. Thank your gracious lady for the tea."

Cowell lost no time in donning his coat and gloves and hurried outside where fortunately the ostler had not separated horse and cab. And satisfied that the mare had partaken of some oats he slipped the bag from her head, and, thanking the groom led the horse from the rear enclosure and was soon heading into town where it was not long before he espied a hostelry where he could lay his head for the night.

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(At the Geevor mine..)

"I must find some way of strapping the candle to my forehead." Simon listened to Hornblower talking almost to himself for when he tried to respond his friend seemed puzzled because his attention had shifted to another subject. Both men had ventured deep into the cavernous interior only glimpsed at on their first arrival down the ladder. They had reached the water and Hornblower saw why Wainwright the foreman had mooted the idea of building the engine-house on the cliff. He said to Simon:

"The pumps today do an excellent job provided you don't ask too much of them. You see the engine at Dudley sucks water from two hundred feet down in the mine. How deep would you say our mine is here, Simon?"

Simon, flattered to be consulted had the answer: "According to the foreman it's one hundred and eighty foot from ground level to the floor of the mine. What's the maximum that the new engine can cope with, Samson?"

"I don't know; that's the truth. I do know that at the Conygree mine Newcomen scooped water at a depth of two hundred. By now it's another fifty because the engines are improving all the time."

Hornblower turned to Simon: "Do you think you can lead us back to the ladders. I think I've seen enough. Let's get some fresh air. I don't know about you but it's getting very warm. If I stay longer I'll be stripping off."

Back in the fresh air and having refreshed themselves in the foreman's hut with a drink of warmed-up tea by virtue of the stove, Samson said: "Show me the site which the foreman recommended."

Hornblower went to the edge of the cliff and stood looking down at the beach below where the waves crashed against rocks worn smooth by centuries of wave action. He confided to Simon:

"Keep this to yourself even when asked but judging by the under-cutting of the cliff by the sea there is a danger of the cliff breaking away and any engine-house might well be in danger."

"So, where do you propose building it, Samson?" said the young man and got his friend's response that it would be directly above the current shaft and to Simon's astonished question as to how the men could get into the mine Hornblower answered:

"We'll need to excavate another shaft. But, keep it to yourself, Simon, until I have put it all in the proposal which Sir Simon will need to approve before any work can begin. Then it'll be down to finance, lad."

Simon was gratified to be the confidante of Hornblower and said:

"Can I be of help in this undertaking, Samson?"

Hornblower did not respond immediately and looked out of the window at the clouds scurrying across the sun's disc. Then, decision made, he said:

"Show me your hands, Simon!" He did so and Hornblower showed him his: "See the difference, lad; to be an engine-wright you'll need to get your hands dirty. They'll be so dirty that soap and water won't get them clean. Then there's experience. My father was a blacksmith, a prosperous blacksmith and now he's a foundry-man because he wants to better his condition. I've spent two years learning my trade but I want nothing more than to learn and to earn more. Does such a life attract you, Simon?"

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(Further north in Cornwall)

Having booked into the Happy Highwayman Inn in Launceston Sir Simon made some enquiries the following morning regarding the state of the roads between Launceston and Bristol and was advised that his best option would be to make his way to Exeter at which town he should take the wherry to Bridgewater via the Exeter Canal. However Cowell was urged to leave the cab behind at the inn as the wherry could only take horse and rider. It seems there was a daily coach to Minehead from where he could take ship to Bristol. Sir Simon considered these travel arrangements made good sense but were also good business for the landlord of the inn but he was happy to fall in with the proposed arrangements.

But the disadvantage was that the revised plans ate into his available funds so that he was compelled to hire a cab to take him to Clifton where his wife still owned the house which she had left to get married decades before. She had left the rental of the house with her solicitors and Cowell was forced to admit it was that monthly income which often put meat on the table. He asked the coach driver to wait until he was sure that the present incumbents were willing to accommodate him for a day or so while he completed his business in Bristol.

To his delight after showing and explaining his credentials he was made welcome and he could both pay his driver and send him on his way. Over their bowls of coffee it soon transpired that his host had a story to tell that he, Harold Langley, had exchanged his mining interests in England for an estate in Jamaica. Sir Simon, without revealing he knew anything about the business could not conceal his eagerness to discover which of the two men had done better on their deal. Langley explained:

"With each shipment of slaves from the west coast of Africa I made a thousand pounds of pure profit and I wasn't the only one. Had my health matched my profits I would still be living there. The climate is not conducive to health."

Sir Simon sympathised: "My wife's father did not live long after his retirement to some tropical island. But, isn't it a co-incidence that you chose this residence to let?"

"Or, perhaps, Sir Simon, there are so few solicitors dealing in real estate. Cowell nodded explaining that he was looking to sell some property with a view to raising capital for a new venture; have you heard of the Newcomen fire-engine?"

"Oh yes!" said Langley, "the Jamaican Herald reprinted an article in the London Times. That is your proposed investment?"

"I've engaged an engine-wright, name of Hornblower. His father's a foundry-man so he's accustomed to handling heavy machinery. While I speak he is drawing up a specification. I've returned to Bristol to raise the funds."

Langley was silent for a moment; he said: "I have thousands of pounds in crown funds which earn interest which is my income but I have more than enough as I can scarcely spend it my wants being so few but your project sounds interesting."

Cowell smiled with relief for his plans would have involved selling his wife's house which he had planned to discuss with their solicitor on the morrow. This new turn of events might well change his plans; he said:

"I have an appointment with Ponsonby & Ponsonby tomorrow. Perhaps you might care to accompany me and we can draw up an agreement."

"That sounds agreeable though you'll forgive me, Sir Simon, would you mind providing some more information."

"Naturally Langley; I shall be most gratified to provide any information in my power to provide. Go ahead!"

Langley said: "Since my arrival in Bristol after living abroad for so many years I haven't had the occasion to meet many people. I had set great store by the house-warming which my housekeepers advised me was the way forward but since then months ago I have not seen a single person that I met then although I was handed many visiting cards."

Sir Simon sounded emollient:

"It can take time in these provincial towns to build up an acquaintanceship. Give it more time and you'll be surprised. A host of responses will occur at one and the same time. Don't despair! By the way where did you live prior to Bristol if you don't mind me asking?"

"Jamaica, Sir; It might sound an ideal spot and for ten months of the year it is. It's their winter with its humidity and high temperatures when one feels decidedly queasy and it got worse for me as the years went by."

Sir Simon kept his knowledge of the subject to himself thinking of the healthy sea-captain who had succumbed to yellow-fever. He said:

"How many years did you stand it before deciding to move away?"

Langley pondered awhile for it was he reflected the same question people at the soiree had asked; he answered by putting a question:

"Is yellow-fever catching? Perhaps that is the reason nobody has seen fit to resume an acquaintanceship."

The query took Sir Simon by surprise for it was he who had first mentioned the disease; his response had a doubtful edge:

"No, no, Sir; I should put that thought away unless you raised the subject yourself as few people would know of it. Yet I had heard from someone years ago that the island had an unsavoury climate in the winter months."

He repeated his query: "How many years did you stand it?"

Langley was positive in response:

"Nearly eighteen years; in fact I owned the sugar plantation which was highly profitable as I explained earlier. But earning good profits is rewarding though one must give oneself the time to enjoy the fruits of one's labours rather than leaving the estate for someone else to enjoy. So, I sold out and took the first available ship home. Would you believe it; it's putting my capital to the best possible use that now vexes me. How weary I am of being bombarded with offers of government bonds. You spoke earlier of a worthwhile investment in a mine."

Sitting comfortably in the armchair Sir Simon found himself growing somewhat tense as he absorbed the words of his host though he hesitated to answer the question directly fearing a possibly perceived conflict between serving his own interest and imparting sound advice. Instead he asked where he might excuse himself as he badly needed to let water to which his host reacted apologetically though warmly:

"Here am I going on about my needs and my guest has needs of his own. Please step this way!"

Alone in the closet Cowell could hardly contain his excitement. His host might be prepared to fund the fire-engine which he proposed to install at the Geevor mine. Yet he must exercise caution. Should he play the innocent anxious only to provide good advice, or, come clean and admit his biased opinion? Perhaps there was another option.

Langley welcomed him back and indicated a piece of parchment on a side-table saying:

"I've taken the liberty, Sir Simon, of retrieving this eighteen-year old agreement between myself and the former owners, a certain lady. It strikes me as decidedly odd that I seem to be returning to my former area of investment, namely, a mine. What do you say to that?"

It seems any decision on disclosure had been decided by the Fates. Cowell replied:

"As a matter of fact Langley that certain lady turned out to be my wife. Now, what do you say?"

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## Chapter 8: Cornwall is converted

Thomas Newcomen was weary. He had spent all day from first light at a local colliery supervising the installation of another of his fire-engines although lately he had been persuaded that although fire-engine was the name of the engine described in Savary's patent it was better described as a steam-engine, and, he had to admit the latter name made more sense to the potential mine-owner and investor.

He had come to dread looking at his order book maintained assiduously by his brother, Jack, and on occasion he forgot where he was exactly for many mines looked alike though at the present time he knew he was in Wales. He only needed to recall the name of the foreman, Griffith, to recall to mind it was the Griff colliery at which he was working. And, the work had lightened significantly because of the plethora of innovations since the first installation and the employment of more advanced manufacturing methods the end result being a far more efficient engine.

His train of thought was interrupted by his host, the Reverend Benjamin Potter who thanked him for awaiting his arrival before starting supper and Newcomen took this opportunity to put his thoughts into words, saying:

"I was just thinking Ben of the many improvements made to the fire-, I mean, steam-engine since, when was it?"

The Reverend Potter answered at once: "I shall never forget that day Tom on account of your excitement at finally bringing your great work to completion."

"And, not forgetting your contribution Ben; that's important in my memory for you must have been working at it for some time."

"To tell truth Tom your reaction took me aback," cut in Potter eager to give his friend credit, adding "I expected a right telling-off for it. Instead you came over to shake my hand saying you would take out a patent on my behalf but, I thought, that wouldn't be fair. You who rescued me from the press-gang and did so much for the family. No, Tom, it is you who deserves the credit for without an engine what'd be the use of my work."

Newcomen listened with barely concealed delight for he replied:

"Nonetheless every engine since that time Ben has a metal plaque crediting you with the device. It was truly a great step forward for it meant fewer people were needed to operate the engine; it was automatic."

Ben joked: "Then we must be careful with this automatic thing Tom else you won't need anyone to operate it." At which Tom burst into laughter and both split their sides while the housekeeper rushed in to announce:

"Supper's on the table gentlemen; don't let it get cold!"

As she left Ben whispered to his friend pointing to his garb: "See here Tom the uniform of my calling which I put down entirely to you."

"Hmm!" Retorted Newcomen, "I can see my epitaph: he spent so much time raising steam that he raised fewer converts. Still, you're the exception, Ben that proves the rule."

"It'll not be true Tom, "expostulated Ben but Tom was less sanguine, saying, "Sad to say, Ben; 'tis partly true as just lately I have been neglecting my parish duties."

"Thank the Lord!" retorted Ben, adding, "You spoke yourself Tom that you were doing God's work. But, whatever Tom, my stomach tells me we should heed my housekeeper who is also doing God's work, providing his ministers with badly needed sustenance. Come, let's to the supper table!"

"Where has the Reverend disappeared to now?" It was the housekeeper sounding a little exasperated as she wheeled in a trolley of steaming dishes which she proceeded to transfer to the table and before Newcomen could give any response, the man appeared himself:

"Pardon me mistress. I had just this moment remembered the packet that arrived this morning for Mr Newcomen after he had left the house."

"Shall we put it aside reverend shall we until after supper? I'm sure your guest is famished."

Potter laid the envelope on the sideboard after showing it to his guest inviting him to resume his place at the table. There was silence thereafter as both men leaned back in their chairs waiting while the housekeeper served each of them slices of beef from a tureen saying:

"Well, gentlemen I shall leave you to serve yourselves the vegetables; so until later."

As she left the reverend said a short grace: "For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful." After a few minutes Potter noticed that Newcomen's plate was still laden with food and that his friend ate painfully slowly and remarked:

"Off your food, Tom!"

Newcomen looked up saying: "Somewhat, old friend; I think I might be getting the same illness that did for our mutual friend, John Calley. As you know he blamed his illness on fumes from soldering pipes with molten lead over the years. My symptoms seem similar."

Potter seemed reluctant not to resume eating but said: "But you're surely not doing the plumbing, Tom as well as everything else."

"Right enough! Oh by the way do take my beef, Ben. I can manage the potatos and beans."

Surreptitiously Tom pushed his plate towards Ben's who quickly forked the two slices of beef. Tom continued, "Like I was saying I don't do much of John Calley's work but, you know Ben, he is sorely missed since the number of times I've had to rectify poor lead-work; well!"

"You must appoint somebody Tom, some young apprentice to follow up. You must not do any more, old friend. To lose John was..." He left the sentence unfinished but added in ominous tones, "you are irreplaceable, Tom. Do take care."

Potter put his hand out to his friend and got emotional for he choked saying: "No, no, no Tom; we cannot lose you. Do promise me. No more lead work."

To cover up his tears he turned around to the sideboard and retrieved the packet: "We've both finished, Tom. I'm sure the mistress won't mind."

Tom looked closely at the postmark, saying: ""It's from Dartmouth Ben."

"Ready for your rice pudding, gentlemen?" Silence once more ensued as the housekeeper doled out rice pudding onto bowls and she had scarcely left the room when Potter exclaimed: "Your wife certainly has a lot of news Tom if the size of yon sheet is anything to go by."

"No," answered Tom, "that's a document from a dock in London. They want to use my machine to empty a basin to form a dry dock."

"Any problems of adaptation?" Asked Potter.

Newcomen smiled in response: "Normally my first concern is the depth of the mine. My first engine drew water nearly two hundred feet down whereas the latest development can draw water from three hundred feet, a fifty per cent increase. There is no such depth at Kew where the owner wishes to construct a dry dock. His depth estimate is around thirty feet so my problem is how to adapt the engine's drawing power. Fortunately someone did a similar job a year back where they employed three hoses and altered the pumping rate. My brother proposes to use a giant wheel to retain some of the momentum. It's an exciting future Ben though sadly it will not be me."

Potter listened politely to his friend's peroration not comprehending much but commented on Tom's speech taking him away from their main purpose at the supper table: "Your rice is getting cold, Tom. Eat up and build up your strength." Then added from genuine interest: "What have you planned, Tom, now that you're through at the colliery."

"My wife wants me home Ben but I also need to visit London."

"Do you have a choice, old friend?" Potter spooned up the last remnants of his rice pudding, adding: "By the way any news from Dartmouth you can share with me?"

Newcomen looked up: "I won't recount all the places up and down the country desirous of wanting an engine. 'Tis somewhat tedious; have you heard of someone by the name of Erasmus Darwin?"

"Philosopher, Tom; he writes on natural history. What about him?"

"Hannah writes," replied Tom, "that Darwin wrote in The Times that no commoner could have invented such a machine and as Savary is the only gentleman in view it stands to reason posterity must ascribe the fire-engine to him. What think you of that?"

"Just words Tom; ignore them. Posterity is witness to all the engines you're installing throughout the land. It's you who'll get the credit; Savary will be a footnote if not an outright villain."

Newcomen did not reply moved by his friend's supportive oratory. The only sound was the carriage clock's muted tick-tock on the mantelpiece. It was the housekeeper who broke the silence:

"Where shall I serve your coffee, gentlemen?"

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(In Bristol)

Sitting at ease in his wife's house now rented by the man sitting opposite him, Harold Langley, Sir Simon Cowell experienced a powerful sense of déjà vu. Langley had formerly owned the mines in Cornwall which Sir Simon had taken possession of though he was not allowed to reminisce further. Langley said:

"You know I had an idea we had met before or perhaps had been at the same soiree. You see the solicitor had told me of the original owner, a lady, who, for some unexplained reason was desirous of selling the estate left to her by her father, a sea-captain. Am I wide of the mark?"

"Indeed not, Sir, for I was the buyer." Answered Cowell though before he could say more Langley spoke:

"That is strange Sir Simon and what a co-incidence though something still mystifies me in the light of events: I mean relinquishing such a rich estate with scarcely a thought to what you got in exchange."

Cowell was somewhat enigmatic: "Shall I say there was a lady whose hand I was hoping to win. Shall we leave it at that?"

Langley smiled in comprehension: "So, how are my mines progressing. Have you found them profitable?"

Cowell's smile was somewhat rueful gathering his thoughts before finally admitting:

"It's the well-worn response of yes and no. You can perhaps recall that ores such as tin and copper are much in demand in time of war while in the piping times of peace demand is subject to the whims of industry who will import from abroad to get lower prices. But there has been a development: that we discussed earlier, the steam engine to rid mines of water?"

Langley grinned: "Water! It was one reason for my euphoria in getting rid of the loss-making mines but to answer your question: There was an article in the Jamaican Herald reprinted from the London Times. The fire-engine can rid mines of water no matter how deep; from at least two or three hundred feet down."

He might have said more if Cowley had not interrupted:

"You brought up the matter of investment earlier. Does such an investment attract you?"

"The wheel has turned full-circle," said Langley, "would it be possible to see one in operation and perhaps also revisit my former mine to see how such a machine could be of benefit."

"Would you mind doing those actions," replied Cowell, "in reverse order: namely to return to Geevor first and to inspect a successful engine in operation later?"

"That would be no problem Sir Simon. How do we reach the Geevor mine from Bristol?"

"In exactly the reverse order I used to arrive here. Do you own a horse," answered Cowley.

"Will a horse and carriage do?" asked Langley.

"If only," responded Cowell, "It's like this: we must take ship to Minehead followed by a short ride to Bridgewater to join the Exeter Canal where we take a wherry to Exeter."

"Spare me the details, Sir Simon. When shall we start?"

Sir Simon had to first make an appointment to see his solicitor. In modern times estate agents proliferate, commercial banks are on every high street whereas in Cowell's day these roles were handled by one's solicitor. His earlier intention had been to consult him about raising money on his wife's house though his shortage of funds to undertake the return journey could be met by a loan from Mr Ponsonby, his solicitor who would reimburse his advance by cashing a cheque upon Lloyds of London where Cowell still had an account. On his return to the house he said to Langley:

"Fortunately we're travelling in September so I don't expect the sea to be too rough especially in home waters. We'll board our ship at the dock and proceed via Avonmouth the fifty or so miles to Minehead on the coast of Somerset."

Langley was grim saying disconsolately: "It's one form of travel I detest, Sir Simon though not because of rough seas. No, it's the sheer boredom; for you can take aboard any number of distractions such as magazines, books, games even but I'll guarantee you'll soon be bored out of your mind, if my experiences are anything to go by."

"Ah, Langley!" Assured Cowley, "There's a big difference between the short hop from coast to coast as against the Atlantic crossing. I think your newspaper might divert you during a single day of travel for our ship will not be a lumbering transport. The Spirit of Bristol skims along at ten knots, so take heart."

In the event, the sea voyage did not disappoint for the next afternoon found the two men aboard a coach pulled by four horses which sped them towards Bridgewater where they would board a wherry taking them along the canal to Exeter. There they had no difficulty in the purchase of two hacks for their onward progress to Okehampton towards their eventual first major stop at Launceston though by this time Langley though younger than his companion was feeling somewhat jaded. Sir Simon observed:

"I can assure you Langley I used to feel exactly as you are feeling now and did not look forward to such long trips but needs must and soon I hardly noticed my weariness. It's mind over matter, my friend."

Langley replied with some acerbity: "Shall I live that long!"

Cowell smiled in sympathy: "I can assure you that our next inn: The Happy Highwayman will more than live up to its name; you'll be very comfortable, Langley."

The landlord of the inn greeted Cowell like an old friend, saying:

"I have a message Sir Simon from the Reverend Scott."

But Cowell said curtly: "Don't bother landlord; the less I have to do with the Reverend the better."

The landlord persisted however: "He was most apologetic, Sir. I'd take it kindly if you'd allow me to speak my message." Langley intervened at this point saying: "Surely Sir Simon it would do no harm to allow the landlord to unburden himself."

Cowell looked at Langley surprised then resignedly replied: "Alright landlord in the interests of your good-self, let us hear it."

"He offers his sincere apologies for his untoward remarks as in the meantime he has received good tidings concerning Mr Newcomen and wishes to retract his criticism."

Cowell listened then said somewhat sourly: "A holy man repents. Well, well, well!"

Without comment the landlord added: "He begs you to call at your convenience, Sir Simon; in his own words, in the name of Christian charity."

Sir Simon looked at Langley reflecting that with another person beside him he would feel decidedly more at ease and said to Langley: "Shall we have a bite and a rest, say for an hour. Are you up for it Langley?"

Supplied with fresh horses he duly called upon the reverend in his Manse and having disposed of the formalities from the unctuous Reverend, Cowley observed: "Thankyou for your offer of accommodation Reverend Scott but our requirements are being met."

"Whither are you bound gentlemen?" Responded Scott though it was Langley who answered his question: "I'm looking for an investment and Sir Simon believes I cannot do better than consider the new developments in mining particularly the draining of mines with these new engines that I hear much of. So, Sir Simon is taking me to his mine at Geevor in Cornwall."

Just then Cowell interrupted Langley and asked Scott: "May I use your closet Reverend!" Scott leapt up from his chair and accompanied Cowell to another room returning a few moments later inviting Langley to carry on saying:

"Sir Simon has the advantage of seeing you first Mr Langley though I may have a proposition that might excite you."

Langley observed: "I would not have thought Mammon and our Lord were easy bed-fellows, Reverend Scott."

"Well said!" responded Scott, "though would it be possible to acquaint you of my proposition tomorrow perhaps?"

At that moment Cowell returned and Langley sensing Scott had used his absence to broach the matter did not reply while Scott filled the vacuum by a vague observation: "At least the weather has been kind to you travellers the past few days."

But, Sir Simon used the comment to make an excuse: "Thankyou for your hospitality Reverend Scott. My companion and I have had a strenuous day. Would you mind if we retired to the inn!"

Sir Simon felt he had done all that common courtesy demanded in visiting Scott. Langley had been the perfect companion and Cowell did not wish to tax his friend's strength by staying longer than was strictly necessary. He had noticed the exhaustion of his companion and did not speak to him as they rode back to the inn. Once inside Cowley completed the usual formalities in advising the landlord to extend their stay by another day as he felt he must not over-tax Langley's strength unaccustomed as he was to protracted overland journeys.

So it was a surprise when on the following day at the breakfast table saying to the landlord that he would wait for his companion to be told:

"Mr Langley went out an hour ago Sir Simon."

The gentleman in question had indeed upon tip-toeing downstairs been directed to the stables where the ostler had provided him with a nag. Langley thought back to the previous evening trying to recall their exact route on their way to the Manse though he need not have worried for having made the correct turn his mount seemed to take him in the desired direction. As on the previous evening a man opened the gate leading up to the Manse and there the Reverend Scott stood outside as if he expected him.

Scott opened the conversation:

"Don't be too surprised Mr Langley. As a long-time minister it has been my habit to gauge my parishioners' mien on various matters mostly to do with local and religious matters of course. Nonetheless I took the view last evening that here was a man I would see again and soon; was I correct?"

"Who said a receptive mind is that much easier to influence? It is true I am receptive to a reasonable proposition."

By now Scott had led Langley into the Manse allowing an ostler to take his mount. Inside the minister pointed to his laden table:

"Won't you join me for breakfast!" Scott motioned his housekeeper to bring the hot drinks and set them on the table; she asked Langley whether he preferred tea or coffee and Langley thought back to the parsimony of his local vicar in Clifton which was an affluent area of Bristol though ate his buttered toast without reference to it; instead he observed:

"It has been my habit to take an early morning ride after which breakfast seemed that more appetising. Today I seem to be following a similar routine and feel all the better for it."

Then abruptly changing the subject said: "What sort of proposition could a country vicar make to a prospective investor? That is what draws me here. It's intriguing to say the least, Reverend Scott."

Scott looked at Langley directly carefully placing his cup back on the saucer; he said: "Would the sum of five thousand pounds take you by surprise, sir?"

Langley stopped eating turning to face the minister. He reflected awhile and then ventured: "Gaining it or losing it?"

Scott reflected awhile then smiled before his reply: "Both! But you deserve an explanation. That sum would be a bond to be held by me on pain of forfeiture should you, the bond-holder, be deemed to have broken our agreement. That is the losing part of the equation."

"And the winning part?" rejoined Langley.

The reverend smiled saying: "Pure profit and within three years."

"And how would I earn it?" asked Langley.

Scott resumed his breakfast without saying a word as the housekeeper approached who benignly said: "More toast, Sir; Reverend?"

Langley shook his head and the Reverend also demurred and she left the room and when Scott was satisfied she was back in the kitchen hearing the door close, he said:

"This county of Cornwall is bounded by sea on three coasts so there is ample opportunity to bring in luxury goods such as brandy, fine spirits, silks from the East, leatherwork from Italy in fact all things upon which the government therefore imposes a heavy duty. I save my clients that heavy duty."

Langley said: "I can understand you wanting me to pay for shipping and distribution costs but surely it would not cost that much!"

"You are correct, Sir. No, the amount of that bond is for a secret which will be not disclosed until the money is in my hands or my agent. So, when you leave here think it over and if you decide let my agent in Penzance or Camborne know. In fact hand the bond over to either and he will notify me. Then, when I meet you say in a month's time I will reveal the secret."

Langley said: "That is the deal?"

Scott said: "Yes, that's the deal. And, one more thing, Mr Langley, absolute secrecy must be maintained."

"You don't want Sir Simon to know of my involvement?" asked Langley and Scott replied: Preferably not; does he know you're here, now?"

"No," said Langley, "and I shall reveal nothing of my visit."

It was a contemplative man who rode back to The Happy Highwayman.

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Less than a week later both men, Langley and Cowell, were sitting in a solicitor's office in Camborne, Cornwall along with two others: Samson Hornblower and Oliver Cowell. They all were addressed by the solicitor himself:

"Gentleman! Allow me to introduce myself to you formally. My name is Ronald Trevelyan and I am here in my profession of solicitor to legalize a contract between Sir Simon Cowell, owner of the Geevor mine, in the district of Camborne, and Mr Samson Hornblower, contractor.

The contract has been drawn up to enable Mr Hornblower to start work installing a steam-engine into the mine for the purpose of draining said mine of water. The term of the contract is one year from tomorrow and at the conclusion Sir Simon will pay Mr Hornblower the remainder of the sum owing of the original amount of £5000 with the additional proviso that an annual commission of £300 will be paid by Sir Simon to Mr Hornblower starting one year from completion of contract for a period of six years.

First payment to be made four months after start of contract and the second payment four months later irrespective of the work done; the remainder to be paid only when both parties are agreed that the contract has been carried out.

Nota Bene: The two signatures of the contracted parties plus the solicitor and, in addition, a witness will be necessary before the contract becomes a legal document.

To conclude, gentlemen if you are happy with the arrangements and our business is concluded perhaps my housekeeper can offer you same refreshment. I understand it's the latest fad in London; so, coffee for all!"

Hornblower looked at the others before responding:

"Thankyou Mr Trevelyan for your kind solicitude but we, I mean the company, would rather fancy something stronger on such a momentous occasion. Could you recommend a hostelry which serves champagne?"

Trevelyan smiled not in the least put out: "Yes, indeed, the Bishop T is the latest to open its doors to our town's most fashionable clientele and it's not far from here."

Sir Simon raised an eyebrow at Trevelyan: "Tea and champagne, eh; I like it."

"Not quite so esoteric Sir Simon: "T stands for Trelawney one of the six bishops who defied King James IInd who had them arrested and brought to the Tower sparking a march from Cornwall to London demanding Trelawney's release. If I recall their lusty chant went, 'And will Trelawny die! Here's twenty thousand Cornishmen who'll know the reason why."

"What happened? Did Trelawney die?" asked an intrigued Sir Simon, prompting Trevelyan's ready answer: "Not just Cornishmen but the whole country rose in protest. It was one of James' last acts of folly as shortly after he abdicated. So, gentlemen, it sounds as though the Bishop T is right for your celebration. Sadly work prevents me from sharing your joy."

Just as the group reached the street via a passage leading from Trevelyan's office Langley asked them to wait for him and nipped back to knock up Trevelyan. He closed the door so nobody could overhear his words:

"Pardon me Mr Trevelyan would you know the name of the Reverend Scott of Launceston?"

"Indeed I do Sir; how may I help?" Langley: "He has asked me to place a bond with you. Are you any the wiser?"

"Indeed Sir; you've come to the right place. Can I expect to see you soon, in the next day or so perhaps?"

Having completed his business Langley returned to his friends and they proceeded towards the Bishop T. Yet though Langley joined heartily in the celebrations and toasts at the back of his mind lurked his forthcoming departure so he cried off more than two glasses of champagne pleading an upset stomach. Delighted as he was by his investment in the Geevor mine and fully sanguine that Hornblower was the right man to install the proposed steam engine nonetheless he was even more stimulated by his impending release of another five thousand pounds and the secret which that money represented.

He had loaned a similar sum to Sir Simon Cowell even promising the latter the money directly after his meeting with Samson Hornblower who struck him, not only as a true man of business, but also versed in the new mechanics of the age. After viewing the mine both inside and out and seeing the many difficulties to be surmounted not least the construction of the monstrous machine in all its complexities that would rid the mine of water to enable fresh seams of ore to be worked Langley concluded he had got the better bargain by obtaining the estates in Jamaica.

Yet, Hornblower spoke confidently to him of the measures he intended to take and to overcome every difficulty and Langley was pleased to have witnessed it at first hand. He had even mentioned to Hornblower that the foreman seemed on top of his job and was surprised he was not included in the celebration at the Bishop T for he had noticed the warmth shown towards the foreman by Hornblower.

After a thorough survey of the area Langley observed Hornblower drawing up a schedule of the work to be done in preparation of the site handing the foreman a copy of both schedule and drawings. Soon enough a gang of workmen were hard at it excavating the new shaft with pick-axes and shovels. Enjoyable as he found it observing Hornblower's handiwork nonetheless he felt increasingly uncomfortable about imposing himself on the Cowells' hospitality.

He began surreptitious preparations for his return to Bristol and the interruption of the journey to Launceston though that part of his planning was kept from the Cowells. Indeed he was so anxious not to be accompanied that he waited for a day when Sir Simon and his son had left to spend time at Geevor at Hornblower's request.

On informing Lady Cowell of his departure and to avoid pursuit by Oliver whom he had observed was always game for a journey he misled the Lady to the effect that his route would take him via Mevagissey. In the event it proved unnecessary as Oliver being too exhausted by his efforts at the mine and thereby lacking the energy in giving pursuit to the departed Langley.

The Reverend Scott greeted him like a long lost friend and soon enough he had ordered the ostler to take care of his horse while ushering Langley into his Manse conducting him to an inner sanctum. He pointed to a table upon which lay two scrolls of parchment. Scott invited Langley to break the seal of one while he did likewise to the other. Placing flat-bottomed stones at appropriate corners Langley saw the scrolls were two rolled-up maps at which Scott pointed asking him:

"Can you spot the difference between the two maps?"

Langley, after studying both for a moment said:

"The map nearest you shows an island Sir but on the map nearest me there is no sign of one."

"Precisely, Langley! Also the map nearest to me is an official map of the area as held in Whitehall, London whereas the other map is my own drawn up by me several years ago. As you have observed it has an island. That island Sir is used by me to import goods off ships from Europe and further afield. Goods incidentally which are not seen by customs officers and which are therefore duty free and which I can dispose of, that is sell, at any price I deign to charge."

Langley stood upright saying: "Aha! That is the secret for which I have paid five thousand pounds."

Scott reassured him: "We shall take a boat Sir at a convenient time and you can view our warehouse and meet some of your fellow shareholders. I'm sure you'd appreciate that. Well, my friend; what think you?"

"I am bowled over Sir by the sheer audacity, by the effrontery, by the machieavelian genius of the scheme. Indeed Sir I like it very much."

The Reverend beamed with a joyous smile evidently delighted at such fulsome praise; he said: "When you've recovered from your journey I'll get the hansom out and show you one of the places where we display many of our wares."

Soon enough Langley was comparing what he saw at the Travellers Inn with the descriptions of his new-found friends, the Callows and Hornblower who had also visited the inn. Scott left him alone to wander where he liked and soon Scott rejoined him and they left the inn to return to the Manse. On the way he turned to Langley:

"The landlord made an observation that sounded like good sense for its name, the Travellers Inn, seems a misnomer."

"A misnomer," queried Langley, "I don't quite understand."

The Reverend thought awhile prior to responding: "The inn is a convenient place to redistribute our merchandise though the fewer people who pass through the better especially those with inquisitive minds. In brief the landlord proposes that I change its name to something less inviting. I thought I would give you the opportunity to choose a name. What do you say?"

"I'm flattered," said Langley and thought for a few moments before suddenly saying, "I do have an idea. My previous place of residence was in the Caribean in the West Indies; it was the island of Jamaica; so, why not, Jamaica Inn?"

Scott beamed: "Jamaica Inn, it shall be Sir. Tomorrow I'll order the signboards in Launceston. Capital! I like it. Jamaica Inn, so fitting for much of our rum comes from that island, I'm sure. Capital, capital!"

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## Chapter 9: Disciples take over

Thomas Newcomen did return home to Dartmouth not that his friend Ben Potter had persuaded him because he knew that only the tender loving care of his helpmate and wife could restore him again to his former enthusiastic and healthy self. So much had happened in these last years since his first successful demonstration of 1712, at Dudley that he needed time to reflect while, at the same time, recover from his health problems. His exposure to the fumes of the lead-based solder and that of the greasy flux had brought about the symptoms experienced by his friend, the late John Calley, and, undoubtedly were the cause of his loss of appetite witnessed by his friend, Ben Potter.

Weeks at home at rest allowed these symptoms to lessen because Mrs Newcomen also ensured that their home had been cleared of mechanical apparatus. She had done this on her own volition but her husband reaped the benefit having at least one house which was free of noxious smells, mechanical noise and all injurious substances. Newcomen regained his health and strength while Mrs Newcomen took it upon herself to peruse all incoming correspondence before releasing it to its true recipient so that should a letter implore Newcomen's presence she was ready with an argument to persuade him that the regaining of his health was of paramount importance though she welcomed invitations for him to speak at local non-conformist gatherings.

He even took the pulpit in the Dartmouth chapel on which occasion every pew was full with extra chairs being provided for people who seemed to realise that the opportunity to listen to him might not recur. Yet, it did take Newcomen by surprise for he was seemingly robbed of speech as he beheld his congregation with heads turned towards the pulpit almost as if he was about to deliver another sermon from the Mount.

A fortuitous encounter occurred when a Samson Hornblower called in at Dartmouth. It was well off his normal route and he had already missed the great man on two former occasions. Hornblower told Newcomen of his trips into the West Country especially the occasion of bringing a Newcomen engine to life at Geevor where copper production had increased four-fold since the steam-engine had started to clear the mine of both sea and fresh water. The interior of the mine long suffused with rancorous smells was smelling sweeter. He regretted reporting to Newcomen that he was returning from a call-back through lack of an engineer as the owner, Sir Simon Cowell, was too advanced in years while his son, Oliver, although enthusiastic proved inadequate in practice.

"What's needed, Mr Newcomen," affirmed Hornblower, "is an apprenticeship scheme so as to provide maintenance engineers of the future."

"Your sentiments are shared by my brother, Jack, in London," affirmed Thomas adding, "though far away he has put this idea forward on a number of occasions. Yet I fear its translation into action will take time. Ideas like this require leadership. Were I a younger man!"

Newcomen looked towards Hornblower who was three decades younger and he accepted the challenge though regretting it was not an immediate priority, saying: "I've but one engine to my name, Mr Newcomen. When that number is somewhat more which translates into more experience and assets then will be the time for me to engage in that project. But, such an apprenticeship scheme will come about and will not be confined to mines."

Newcomen stared at Hornblower, saying: "What mean you Mr Hornblower?"

"I'm not a little surprised by your question, Mr Newcomen, for it was my father who told me of your correspondence with a Mr Darby; have I the name right?"

Newcomen slapped his forehead as he recalled: "To tell truth Mr Hornblower it was such a time ago, an age, certainly a decade, that it had utterly slipped from memory. Did Darby manage to harness a steam engine for his furnace? So many things have happened since."

Hornblower returned a broad grin: "According to my father who is also a foundryman, Mr Newcomen, it took a deal of experimenting to utilise the force of the vacuum process in adapting it to a new type of bellows. A bellows which is more than twice as large and hence more powerful than hitherto which translates into a more powerful air current within the furnace thereby raising the temperature even higher than achieved by using coke as a fuel. Higher temperatures mean better castings."

Newcomen listened intently then said: "Darby told me about wrought iron. How is a casting different?"

Hornblower grinned; "When hot iron has reached a certain temperature it can be moulded into all sort of shapes but it's time consuming and therefore wrought iron objects are expensive. Such objects have beautified our cathedrals and the entry gates to ducal palaces for centuries. But just think if an ironmaster could make a mould of a religious screen or a ducal gate and pour the hot metal into it giving it time to harden, what time could be saved. Just imagine the time saved wrangling the iron into shape. That is what Darby achieved first by using coke to achieve the high temperature needed and then your steam-engine to drive the bellows. That same screen, that same gate which had cost a thousand pounds a decade ago can now be cast for a quarter of that amount which multiplied the number of customers many-fold."

Newcomen was thoughtful but had no time to articulate his thoughts as his wife suddenly appeared hastening to the dumb-waiter. She gave the pulley some tugs and carried two steaming bowls, amongst other items, over to a table saying: "After that speech Mr Hornblower, I daresay liquid refreshment will ease that dry throat awhile. And to you, my love, help thyself to coffee etc."

Without further ado both men proceeded to the table and lifted the bowls turning to thanks their hostess but she was gone. Newcomen said:

"Mrs Newcomen's timing is perfect; what say you, Mr Hornblower!"

"You're welcome to drop the handle, Sir, if you've a mind."

"Think how much breath we'll save, Hornblower. But, returning to the Darby business; you honestly think there's a future for my engine in the foundry?"

"Certainly, Newcomen; one problem is to turn up and-down motion into rotary motion though I daresay some inventor has it already in mind."

Both men were silent for a while each enjoying his bowl and smacking their lips in audible pleasure. Newcomen broke the quietude: "It seems to me, Hornblower, that your new career while welcome to me nonetheless must upset your father; or, has he another son to take over one day?"

"It's true he set great store by Richard, his eldest, but for one reason or another that did not come to pass. But his apprentice although not family will prove an asset in the years to come though there is one problem which my joining the firm would have resolved and that is the question of know-how which might cost father dear were the apprentice to leave and set up for himself unless he was willing to enter into affidavits."

Newcomen pursed his lips: "What strange magic surrounds the foundry business: affidavits!"

"Undertakings," replied Hornblower continuing, "that he would not reveal secrets peculiar to the trade. Father is still paying Darby for his know-how backed by a legal agreement."

Newcomen said: "I wonder now what secrets of the engine to burden my son with. I'm only too happy when someone like yourself comes forward to take up the challenge. No affidavits for me, thankyou."

Hornblower was suddenly aware that the man he faced wanted only to pass on his engine to mankind. He had no interest in profiteering. Sadly such men were rare. He hoped posterity would appreciate his example. Nonetheless he sprang to Darby's defence:

"I have discovered that Mr Darby spent many weeks and hundreds of pounds experimenting with various agglomerates in his bid to find the optimum moulding material. So, to help recover that expenditure he issues licences. My father had to promise an annual sum."

Newcomen admitted the company's own arrangements: "I do tend to forget these arrangements. Perhaps it's the reason I'm the chief engineer and not a director of the Newcomen Company."

Days after Hornblower had left to rejoin his father Newcomen's wife Harriet said to her husband: "That young man would be of great benefit to our Church, husband, we need new blood."

Thomas was reluctant to voice his misgivings but considered that she deserved an honest opinion rather than empty rhetoric; he responded: "Samson may well find salvation one day though just at present he is sceptical of the whole idea of religion especially the notion that everything has a purpose, a divine purpose as I've been wont to advocate."

His wife put down her breakfast teacup somewhat startled: "Whatever do you mean, Thomas?"

Tom said: "He rescued a young man from almost certain death on Bodmin Moor and on reflection cannot see any purpose to it, divine or otherwise. The young man in question though extremely grateful, is as selfish and egoistic as ever; more so because in his view the Lord seems to appreciate his selfishness else why cause him to be rescued."

Harriet sighed as she folded her napkin: "Perhaps Mr Hornblower is an unbeliever at bottom; perhaps that the reason for his cynicism. As in your case, Thomas, perhaps life and time will be his salvation."

"Amen to that, my love!"

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The gentleman in question, Samson Hornlower, was on his way north out of Devonshire and on his way to be reunited with his father whose home and business was at Brierly Hill, Staffordshire. By now the route was familiar to him as he cantered along a former Roman road towards Exeter where after a night's sojourn in the town, he directed his mount towards the Exeter Canal where he paid his fare to Bridgewater, thence to Minehead where he impatiently hung around for the morning ferry to Bristol.

As he travelled his mind often turned to the long distances that Thomas Newcomen had to cover not only in his ministry but since the year 1712 to the many mines and collieries wanting his services and moreover a man advanced in years. Perhaps at some time in the near future a businessman with an eye to a profit might see his way to providing a service at a busy junction with horses and carriages to speed a traveller in comfort to his destination. As his nag nearly stumbled he realised that there would need to be a general amelioration in the state of the roads.

He meditated also upon his forthcoming reunion with his family and especially his father who, in giving him the five hundred pounds six years ago and more, possibly wondered whether he would ever see his son again. Yet, he had added to that sum by his profits installing the steam engine at Geevor plus a bonus from a generous, Sir Simon Cowell, who would contact him at some future date with regard to installing an engine in another of his mines. It would be good to see his father whose foundry must be that much larger after six years of the new process of casting, a skill bought from the Shropshire foundryman, Abraham Darby who, by now, enjoyed a world market in castings.

As he approached Brierly Hill from the south Hornblower realised he would not even glimpse Dudley Castle which had been the landmark years ago when he had left his father's blacksmith workshop to buy the Lucifers and had been distracted by the loud rushing noise that had drawn him to Dudley colliery. He spotted the Swan River meandering, like a watery snake across the countryside; it would guide him to his father's place but on nearing the place where he thought his father's foundry should be Hornblower was surprised by the absence of the steady beat of the steam engine driving the bellows.

Perhaps, he thought, the engine was halted for maintenance though arriving at the foundry nobody hailed him. Not only was there no sign of life but the foundry itself threw out no heat which normally had struck a passer-by many yards from the furnace which was dead. He dismounted and walked towards the large brick building which normally also accommodated the furnace which on peering in was full of clinker and ash but which was also lifeless its chimneys absent of the faintest wisp of smoke. Apart from the clip-clop of his nag's hooves he may as well be walking in a graveyard.

He kept asking himself what had happened and when and suddenly he was alarmed; had something happened to his father, to his health? Far away in Cornwall he had thought little of his family in faraway Staffordshire. Now, he brought himself to a state of near-panic. Yet, as his heart beat somewhat more wildly he reflected that soon he would cross the Swan River ford from where he would proceed towards his father's former blacksmith's forge.

Sure enough his spirits were lifted as he began to hear the old sound of hammer against iron and he had barely breasted a small rise in the landscape when he beheld a figure waving to him; it was Richard Hornblower his father who dropped everything with a clatter and began to walk forward to greet his son before turning to cup his hands shouting, "Mother! Look who's turned up. Kill the fatted calf and fetch the beer from t'cellar. For Sam my boy who was dead is alive!"

Slipping from the saddle Samson hurried towards his father and each threw their arms around each other in a long bear hug before the older man let go, stood back and shouted for joy:

"Let's look at you, Samson!"

"You see an engineer, Sir, with one engine to my name and your five hundred pounds multiplied by a factor of seven; thankyou, Sir, for your faith in me!"

At which the other man grimaced: "The faith of the pessimist, son, nothing more."

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Yet, the older Hornblower's problems were far from over. The arrival of his son after six years absence had cheered the Hornblower family enormously though the older Hornblower's optimism of an early resolution to his problems was misplaced because Samson, having rejected foundry-work as his profession, nonetheless had not forgotten his early experiences as a blacksmith's apprentice: think while the iron is cold! So, soon after his reunion Samson realised that he must find out what had led his father to reject blacksmithing in favour of the foundry and to this end planned a temporary departure in order to visit the works of Abraham Darby because one thing had mystified Samson on his arrival at Brierly Hill and that was the absence of coke mountains the fuel first developed by Darby in his quest for higher furnace temperatures.

It seemed Richard Hornblower had embarked upon his new foundry career by commissioning an adapted steam engine to operate specially adapted bellows though the technology was flawed. Darby himself was the first to commission Thomas Newcomen to adapt his engine to drive bellows while maintaining his use of coke reasoning that an engine-assisted bellows would give him even higher temperatures. However Darby kept to his use of coke as his basic fuel whereas Richard Hornblower's rejection of coke in order to save costs by employing the steam engine alone to achieve the higher temperatures proved to be a false dawn.

On his return from Darby's Shropshire works Samson put his proposals to his father. As a result Samson confirmed an order with Darby for a ton of coke which took some time to arrive owing to the state of roads and the difficulties of transportation. Within a month however the Hornblowers got the furnaces going again and started once more to produce castings. At first patterns and jigs for cooking pots were brought back into service soon followed by fire-screens and oven utensils. Fortunately the errant Richard Hornblower, the eldest son, returned home and was mightily pleased to be given the job of promoting his father's business travelling all over the country to drum up business which helped to regenerate his father's revenue.

Now, Samson turned his attention to the steam engine. Earlier weeks had not been wasted for his office-cum-bedroom in the Hornblower mansion was strewn with drawings of projects in which in the fullness of time he would try to interest his father. One of Samson's first practical tasks was to go in search of the steam-driven bellows which he found intact apart from a couple of brackets shaped to accept a rod. The beam of the engine for a mine was connected to a long shaft reaching into the depths though here this shaft was much shorter driving a turnpike whose downward motion caused a connected rod to turn which at right angles caused a cam to force down the bellows.

Samson worked this out for himself using the discarded various rods, shafts, brackets, bolts and nuts and the turnpike which lay rusting in the engine-house. The principle had been sound enough though the thickness and gauges of the materials had proved inadequate to the forces employed to drive the contraption at speed and under tremendous pressures. He decided to strengthen every moving part and to forge them with wrangled iron the torque strength of cast iron being too weak to withstand the forces involved. He also introduced a link between the turnpike and bellows which could be detached easily once the required temperature had been reached.

Yet although his father heaped praise upon him for his efforts which had revived the foundry he was nonetheless somewhat acrimonious towards Samson after patiently listening to his son explaining the reinstated linkage joining the engine with the bellows including all the refinements that he, Samson, had installed. The elder Hornblower praised his son for his patience in superintending the trial runs especially the turnpike device and the cut-off arrangement. What he did not appreciate was Samson's instructing his father's apprentice because it effectively allowed an outsider to run the forge.

Samson however was confident the apprentice, Roland Black, could take over the business in the event his father dropped out through sickness and impressed upon his father the importance of the apprentice with words that struck home: "When the forge stops working for any reason, Sir, it's your workers who feel the pain of lost wages."

It was not surprising to Samson that his father took a rather belligerent tone at the supper table on the eve of Samson's departure:

"So, Samson, what special stranger could command your loyalty in preference to your own kith and kin?"

Samson did not answer at once contemplatively looking towards his mother who lowered her eyes. He said eventually: "No loyalty, Sir, except my promise to carry out a contract freely entered into. It will extend my experience in my chosen career."

"Bah! Do you honestly believe these engines will endure. You saw with your own eyes how it broke down and put paid to my business."

Samson was astonished at his father's words and rued his earlier reticence He decided to voice some home truths: "When Abraham Darby adapted the new engine he did not neglect his use of coke which was the original cause of his success in smelting to much higher temperatures. It was a mistake, Sir, to smelt without coke depending solely upon the steam-driven bellows which worked at first but like all new mechanical contrivances you must expect teething problems which, you'll admit, Sir, brought your whole foundry to a halt when you could find nobody to fix the problem."

His father was silenced and it was his mother who spoke next with some vehemence: "How dare you criticise your father, Samson. Where would you be without his financial support, six years ago?"

A red glow suffused Samson's cheeks and his emotion prevented him responding. His father leant across the table and gently touched his shoulder, saying: "Point taken, Samson; No need for all this recrimination. We are where we are. Your mother and me.." Here he extended his other arm to caress his wife before adding, "We have greatly enjoyed these past few weeks but it's a sad day for the Hornblowers when their favourite son prefers the site of a stranger to his own home but that's the way of the world, it seems."

Thus fathers of past generations might echo Hornblower senior's sentiments: 'twas ever thus.

Author's Note: True rotary motion of Newcomen's steam engine would not be achieved until 1780 with the invention by James Pickard of a crank-arm to the down-pushing shaft. A year later James Watt introduced his sun and planet gear device that would power weaving machines that could be driven by the new Boulton and Watt steam engine that would produce textiles so cheaply that Lancashire was nicknamed, "Cotton County".

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Thomas Newcomen, although heartened by promises from various quarters that an apprenticeship scheme enabling young people to learn the new skill of steam engineering was the way forward he did not neglect opportunities to induct a new apprentice on his own account and on July 5th, 1729 it is recorded that William Biddeford was bound as an apprentice to Arthur Holdsworth and Thomas Newcomen for the sum of £61.10s.0d. Newcomen was immensely encouraged by reports from various parts of England and Scotland that his steam engines despite initial problems were finding employment in foundries and other businesses that were not primarily collieries. One of his final visits to one such foundry was made on January 28, 1728 when he toured the foundry of Harrison and Waylett of London.

Soon after this visit he was taken ill while staying at the house of Edward Wallin, a director of the Newcomen Engineering Company established after the death of his former partner, Thomas Savary. It may comes as a surprise that Thomas was not himself a director of the Company but its Chief Engineer, perhaps befitting his role as a practical hands-on man.

Visiting the offices of the Company (in today's Newcomen Road, SE1) Thomas was shown a register of engineers from every part of England, Scotland and Wales and marvelled at their names such as Adams, Baker, Baxter, Beighton, Butcher, Churchill, Collins and so on up to *Smeaton, Smith, Taylor, *Thompson, *Watt, Wilde, Wilson, Yates. Among many others those marked with an asterisk would make a name for themselves in steam and other engineering fields such as Smeaton and lighthouses, Beighton as draughtsman, Thompson of electrical energy and Watt whose modification of the Newcomen engine would enable him, alongside Mathew Boulton, to become the first millionaires of the industrial age.

Thomas Newcomen's final residence was at the home of Edward Wallin where he died intestate on August 8th, 1729. This writer can think of no better epitaph than that delivered by Professor Lovelock who declared that 1712 was the year the world entered the Age of Technology, Thomas Newcomen being its architect and first engineer.

THE END

Afterword

Newcomen's death, to his most ardent adherents, the engineers building and installing his steam engines into collieries throughout England, Scotland and Wales, occurred without comment except to his immediate family and friends, whether in Dudley or Dartmouth. However his legacy is another matter because in succeeding decades his engine would bring relief and prosperity to miners and mine-owners further afield than the land of his birth such as France, the Netherlands and Germanic states, Hessen, Saxony et al.

Moreover his engines were welcome to miners in modern-day Pittsburgh and throughout the English colonies of North America and it would not be until the 1780s that the pace of installations abated when the partnership of Boulton and Watt, making the improved Newcomen engine, started their own installations which would continue for another seven decades augmenting England's industrial revolution towards full-speed.

Both Newcomen's and Watt's steam engines would be superseded by the Parson's steam turbine revving at 50,000 cycles to generate electric power. But, it all began with a working-class Non-Conformist preacher shunned by the Establishment in the form of punitive laws and by the Church, smug in its own Divine Right.

But isn't that often the case as in the life of Steve Jobs and his Apple revolution: in that alone the American and Brit have something in common. Fewer than forty commoners in the UK brought more prosperity and power to its citizens than from a thousand years of the Church, the aristocracy and royalty not only enriching their own country but also the wider world.

We erect statues to military heroes such as to Admiral Nelson, Lord Wellington, to Bomber Command as well as to the Few, but, to my mind, the person who made the greatest impact upon all our lives was a humble Non-Conformist preacher and pioneering engineer, Thomas Newcomen whose vacuum engine sparked the Industrial Revolution which changed planet Earth - for good.

