Open Writing

The meeting with the other two members of the guiding committee was held in the dining hall around a luncheon of cold meats and cheeses, claret, brandy and cigars. Harry raised the question of repairs to the dam.

Obadiah Frost was a tall God-fearing man who took his importance seriously. He owned coal mines as well as mills and was frequently to be found on his knees in his office, praying for his workforce before an open bible. With him as their employer, they needed all the help they could get, divine or otherwise.

He spent the minimum on maintenance at his mines and less on wages and still employed children down his pits. As he was used to accidents underground, he was unlikely to be too worried about the possibility of a leaking reservoir above ground. In taking to task men, women or children in his employ, he had been known to climb from his knees, pick up the bible and smite them with the word of God.

James Barnstaple was a landowner of the old school who was known as Squire to his tenant farmers and preferred hunting, shooting and wenching - and not necessarily in that order - to affairs of business of any kind. He was overweight, had a red face of several chins and was renowned for eating, drinking and flatulence. He usually went to sleep for the latter part of any meeting he attended.

"Repairs?" said Obadiah Frost. "Don't need 'em."

"The surveyor's report says there is a danger," Harry said.

"Surveyor's report?"

"The report from '46."

"Oh, that thing. The surveyor was covering his qualifications. All these men of letters are the same. They fill their reports with negatives and positives in equal measure so you can choose what you want to believe. He also says it’s safe. Read it again."

"I’m not sure that he exactly states that it is safe."

"Of course he does. We went through it at the time. We only had it done for the Bill. Waste of money."

"But the weakness in the embankment wall is still there. It leaks."

"Safe as houses, Harry. It never gets full. We run it off. If the weather gets bad, we leave the sluices open. What’s this sudden concern?" He laughed. "The great unwashed down the valley could do with a bath, if a few gallons slopped over the top."

"If the dam was breached, the waters could cause a great deal of damage. I have property along the river. You have two mills there." He looked at Squire Barnstaple who owned farmland in the valley bottom but he was already nodding off. "The reservoir has been a success. Mills run 24 hours a day. We have all profited. But a breach would, at the least, disrupt production. At worse, it could destroy property."

Frost poured himself more brandy and shook his head.

"You overstate your case, Harry. The dam is safe, the sluices can cope and the wheels of industry can continue to turn 24 hours a day. Good God, man, if we were to repair it, production would definitely be disrupted. Besides, a proper job would cost too much."

Harry said, "Would you object if I were to suggest we try again for another Bill?"

"For what purpose?"

"As before. To clear debts and raise money for repairs."

"I don’t think you would have any greater success than previously."

"But you have no objections to my trying?"

Frost stared at him, for a moment, as if trying to understand Harry's persistence.

"You haven’t taken such interest before?" he said.

“I was unaware of the situation before." He offered a lazy smile that suggested Obadiah Frost should humour him.

"All right," Frost said. "But I don't expect you to get very far. The waters are too muddy." He chuckled at his joke and glanced at the slumbering Squire Barnstaple. "Passed unanimously."

Harry smiled his thanks.

**

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