Chapter 4

“Man, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay...”

Fleeth? Thought Jake, whatever kind of word was that? Of course he’d heard it before at his father’s funeral, but still ... It was just one of those things he supposed that vicars always took advantage of, a captive audience to tell everyone that they were on their way to hell, well it seemed like that, but he found himself once again contemplating the meaning of life. His uncle John had been forty two, which was no great age, but he had not been well when Jake returned from his trip to India, and over the ensuing eighteen months he seemed to gradually fade away, until he just wasn’t there one morning.

Jake was standing alongside the open grave with his wife and her sister, their mother, his aunt Lydia and his own mother, his deceased uncle’s sister. As the vicar droned on Jake’s thoughts returned to his recent adventures.

Jake had left Bombay on the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company’s paddle steamer ‘Ganges’ bound for Suez at the head of the Red Sea, with a stop for coaling at Aden. The first thing he had noticed about the ship was that despite a full ship rig it had an amazing independence from the prevailing wind, and was able to leave harbour without setting sails. This meant that the ship’s motion was similar to that that he had experienced when ‘Aurora’ was under tow. However, once they were clear of the land the crew went into the rigging to set the topsails, jibs and spanker, and the ship took up a rather easier motion, although her paddle wheels still seemed to be doing most of the work.

The journey to Aden was scheduled to take five days. There they would take on coal, spending three days doing so, and then another five days to Suez. Jake was amazed that the company could give a precise passage time, and it turned out that this was a little optimistic, the monsoon winds adding a day to their journey. Coaling was another matter altogether. A sailing ship was brought alongside and coal was transferred from her hold to the ‘Ganges’ bunkers. The Lascars, who had shovelled the coal into the boilers to get to Aden, now did the work of coaling, Working away, their sinewy brown bodies exposed to the blazing sun, naked except for a white loin cloths, pouring the coal in at the top of the bunkers ready for them to shovel it out at the bottom and into the boiler on the next leg of the journey. It was, Jake thought, a never ending circle. There was, fortunately, a good breeze blowing and most of the dust was blown away from them, although inevitably some did manage to get into every crevice. It was during this operation, overseen by the ships engineer, that that gentleman explained the engine to Jake. The problem, he said, was that these engines were very inefficient, but that the newer engines now being made were much better,

“They’ve three cylinders,” he told Jake, in a Scottish accent that Jake had some difficulty with, “and much higher boiler pressures. So the steam enters the first cylinder, which is the smallest, and then goes to the middle one, and then to the last which is the biggest, expanding each time. Triple expansion they call it, and they drive a screw propeller with it. Verra efficient, cheaper to run and they can go much further on full bunkers.”

The shipping lines would obviously be pleased with this and Jake felt sure the Lascars would probably be happy about it too. He was acquainted with the type of engine the Scotsman had outlined, having seen it employed in the SS Demerara, a steamship that had the misfortune to become stranded on the mud exposed by the falling tide when navigating the Avon gorge after leaving Bristol dock on her maiden voyage. She had to be broken up on the spot, never making it to the sea. By a quirk of fate Underwood’s Chandlers, Jake’s uncle’s business, were not owed any money by the owners, Pattersons who were bankrupted, but another chandler was made bankrupt due the wreck, to the eventual benefit of Underwoods.

He also had a long conversation with the Mate, a grizzled veteran who had sailed around the cape many times. Jake asked why this route had not been used by sailing ships.

“There’s a couple reasons,” said the Mate. “First, the winds in the Red Sea are opposite at each end according to season, so you’d have to tack for half the distance, and there isn’t a lot of room, one side is shoal. It’s alright for the native craft, they’re much smaller, though tacking one of them dhows isn’t easy, you’ve to get the entire crew, lower the sail and pass the yard to the lee side of the mast, takes a while, they’re close winded enough though. The other reason is that you’d have to unload the ship at Suez and then you’d have to take everything overland to the Nile and then ship it down to Alexandria, and all exposed to them thievin’ Arabs.” He pronounced it ‘A rabs’. “Wouldn’t be hardly anything left, and that which was would be broken. We’re only taking mail and passengers so we don’t have that problem. ‘Course they’re talkin’ about a canal between Suez and Alexandria, which’ll make all the difference, but no one seems to know whether the Med would drain into the Red sea or t’other way round. Tis the Froggies who’re going to build it so they’ll be the ones washed away,” he laughed.

After leaving Aden the ship turned north through the Bab el Mandeb and entered the Red Sea and then took the western leg into the Gulf of Suez. After five days they docked at Suez. It took a day or so for the caravan that would take them to Cairo to assemble. The shipping company had an agent there to facilitate things, fortunately there were not many passengers, but there was a considerable quantity of mail and guards to go with it. Jake had purchased an Adams revolver in Bombay and had been shown how to load and fire it. He had been offered a Colt but preferred the Adams which was double action, meaning you only had to pull the trigger, whereas the Colt had to be cocked by pulling the hammer back. This, he decided, was the time to load it, just in case there was any trouble, although the guards had done this route several times and doubted that there would be any problem.

“Mostly them Gypos is too bloody lazy to cause any bother, sir,” one of the guards told him. “Got a job to get them camels movin’ too.”

Not being a horse rider Jake was happy to take a seat in one of the carriages hauled by mules. The journey to Cairo should take three days and there was a good hotel in which they could rest for a day before boarding the small steamer that was to take them to Alexandria. Jake had fondly assumed that the Nile, running south to north did so in a straight line. The truth was anything but, and when they reached the delta the canal that they took twisted and turned like a rat with a terrier after it. It didn’t smell a lot better either.

At Alexandria the passengers had to wait two days for the steamer that would take them non-stop to Marseilles to arrive. In Marseilles they would entrain for Paris. From Paris a train would take them to Calais. At Calais there were steamers to take them to Dover. It had taken just two months to make the journey from Bombay and although it had been interesting, and at times enjoyable, and he had seen sights which would give him many memories in years to come, not to mention the stories he would be able to tell, he was delighted to set foot on his native soil once more. The journey to London was completed using the South East and Chatham Railway, their usual leisurely fashion, living up to the popular name for the railway of ‘So Easy and Comfortable’. They arrived at their London terminus in time for Jake to book in to a good hotel and enjoy a bath and a relaxed dinner. Tomorrow morning he would go to Paddington Station and take the train for Bristol.

But Jake had to attend to business the next morning, sorting out an agent to forward the purchases he had made in Bombay onward to Bristol when they arrived. Consequently it was after lunch when he finally caught the train from Paddington and late afternoon when he arrived back at Temple Meads station in rather more style than his previous arrival, and in considerably less haste than his departure. He took a cab down through the centre of Bristol and on up to Clifton to his aunt and uncle’s house where he expected to find his aunt and his mother, the girls he anticipated would be down at the chandlery since his aunt had told him they insisted on taking up the family business.

The cab left and he stood in front of the house for a moment, psyching himself up for the coming interview when the front door was thrown open and the two girls burst out and threw their arms round him.

“Jake, you’re home, oh...” and they both kissed him.

“Girls, girls, please, not out here, what will everyone think?”

Their mother, Jake’s Aunt Lydia together with his own mother had arrived to greet him in a more ladylike manner.

“Everyone cannot see us,” replied Victoria. “And I am greeting the man who will be my husband.”

“Me too,” said Caroline.

Their mother laughed. “You cannot both marry him. Now bring him inside so that we may all welcome him home.”

She shepherded them back into the house, past a broadly grinning Millie, and into the drawing room where the girls seemed to have a thousand questions that they bombarded Jake with without waiting for an answer to any of them.

“Girls, girls, you will have lots of time to talk to Jake, but I think your Aunt Florentina would like a few minutes with her son, she hasn’t seen him since he came here. Now, I know you have studies to do for Miss Evans, so go and do that and we will all meet again at dinner.”

“Yes, Mama,” said Caroline and Victoria in unison, with an indication of their unhappiness at this instruction, and left to do her bidding. Once through the door they commenced a ceaseless chatter which gradually quietened as they went up the stairs.

“The girls go to Miss Evan’s today to learn French and other things, their arithmetic needed some work too. I’m afraid there seems to be some resistance to them working at the chandlery. But they are determined and I’m sure you will be able to help. Now, I’ll leave you and your mother to talk.”

About half an hour later Aunt Lydia returned.

“You are still in your old room, Jake. Dinner will be in about an hour so perhaps you would like to freshen up. Evie has taken your bags up.”

Jake kissed his mother on the cheek and left.

“He seems much changed, Florentina,” Lydia said after Jake had left. “For the better, I may say. Not that there was anything wrong with him before,” she hastily added.

“He is very much changed from the boy who left me, what, four years ago?” his mother replied. “I think I like the change very much. But tell me, what do you think of his intentions towards his cousins? And how is he going to sort that out?”

“That I really don’t know,” replied Lydia. “It is they who are determined, whether he can escape one or other of them I have my doubts, although they seem to have some sort of relationship in mind that I think society might frown upon. We must hope for the best and the common sense of the three of them.”

When Jake came down for dinner his Uncle had arrived home. He shook hands with Jake welcoming him home warmly. He was not, Jake thought, looking well.

“Good to have you home my boy,” he told Jake. “What did you get up to in India, did you manage any business?”

“I did, Uncle John...”

Aunt Lydia interrupted. “No business at dinner John, you’ll have him to yourself later, and he’ll be back at work tomorrow,” she admonished.

Everyone was interested and wanted to know all about Jake’s adventures. To his great relief no one asked him why he had left, but on reflection he realised that this was deliberate.

“How did you meet Lady Harmsworth?”Caroline asked.

“I sort of fell into her carriage jumping on the train as it left. She very kindly didn’t kick me out, it was a private compartment,” Jake replied.

“And what about her French maid?” Caroline was looking a little sour, but Victoria was definitely enjoying herself.

“More companion, I think. Well, yes she was there too.”

“And then you spent the entire voyage with her.” Victoria giggled whilst Caroline looked daggers at her.

“How did you get on the ship, ‘Aurora’ wasn’t it?” Aunt Lydia broke in realising where Caroline was going with her questions.

“I overheard the Captain and Mate discussing the fact that the purser had been killed in a fight so I asked them if I could have the job. They were a bit desperate, so they said yes. It isn’t a difficult job, but there is a fair bit of diplomacy required, keeping everyone happy. They found a replacement in Bombay and Lady Harmsworth insisted that I stay with her parents.”

“And her French maid,” said Victoria with a giggle.

Jake addressed her directly. “Girls, Brigitte is an extremely attractive girl, but she is no more, and no less, than a sister to me. As indeed is Lady Bridget. You have no need to worry that there is anything other than that. They were both extremely helpful to me and enthusiastic about a new business venture that could prove very good for us.”

“There you are Caroline, Victoria, you’ve nothing to worry about,” said her mother. “‘Aurora’ was a new ship wasn’t she Jake?”

“Yes, a very fine ship too, but I think she’ll be the last of her type, steam ships are the future, the engines are getting better all the time and even if they are slower they just keep going.”

“Slower?”

“Yes, Aurora reached eighteen knots on the passage out, no steamer can match that, but a lot of the time did no more than four or five, and we spent a couple of days with no wind at all. None of the steam ships on the way home could do more than ten knots, but they did it all day every day. It’s the tortoise and the hare, the only problem is when they have to stop for coal, but the more efficient engines will cut down on that. Of course if they do build a canal through Suez that will change everything.”

“It will indeed,” agreed his uncle.

“What was Bombay like?” asked his mother

“Beyond description! The noise, the smells, the heat, colours and people, lots and lots of people. There were men with turbans and nothing else other than a ragged loin cloth, ladies and gentlemen in silks and satins in gay colours, embroidered and bejewelled, and everything in between. Quite bewildering. There are lots of different religions, there are very poor people and incredibly rich people. One Maharajah gets weighed every year in gold from his treasury.”

“Good heavens! Did you see that?”

“No, but Lady Bridget’s father has.”

“You said that Bridget helped you with a business venture?” Aunt Lydia asked, bringing business to the table despite her earlier restriction.

“Yes, she did. The idea is that we make and sell ladies dresses,” Jake wasn’t sure how this would go down, and indeed he was right to be concerned.

“Ladies dresses?” said Aunt Lydia. “Why would you do that? Are the dress makers we use not good enough?”

“Of course they are, excellent, and you always look magnificent Aunt Lydia. But they make dresses by hand to your exact requirements, and they are expensive, beyond the reach of most women.

“That is true,” his Aunt agreed, gently touching the neckline of her dress as she absorbed the compliment. “But how are you going to make this work, what will you do differently?”

“We will make the dresses in a factory by the dozen, with girls operating the new sewing machines, and we will sell them in a shop ready to wear, prêt à porter, Brigitte calls it. We would make a range of sizes and have someone in the back of the shop ready to make alterations to ensure a good fit.”

“Well, I won’t be wearing a ready made dress, and I don’t see any of my friends doing so. So who will you sell to if not to ladies like me?”

“To the butcher’s wife, the baker’s wife, obviously not the chandler’s wife,” he joked. “To ladies who are not so well off, perhaps servant girls, anyone who has some money, but not enough to go to a top dressmaker. Ladies like you will continue to do that, we will cater to a market that has no one to serve it as yet.”

“What about designs? And sizes? How will you know what size these women are?”

“Design is where Lady Bridget comes in. She and Brigitte will go to Paris and see all the latest fashions, sketch them, we’ll have them patterned, cut, sewn, and on sale before the bespoke dressmakers have even seen the trade papers with those fashions. As to sizes...”

“I don’t think that is a suitable subject for the dinner table,” said Jake’s mother.

“Quite right, Florentina,” rejoined Aunt Lydia. “Now Ladies, we’ll leave the gentlemen to their talk.”

After the ladies left Jake and his Uncle John discussed what had happened since he had left both in Bristol and Bombay. Uncle John could see the merit in Jake’s proposal, certainly with the dress bill for his own household being, as he put it, a ridiculously high expenditure, although he did admit that the result was always a treat for the eyes. It would, he averred, require some careful investigation. He felt on firmer ground suggesting that the business could expand into wholesale grocery, there were many new developments they could take advantage of.

There was also the problem of Caroline and Victoria. They were, he told Jake, determined to join the business, despite his and Aunt Lydia’s reservations, but they were causing some problems amongst the staff, many of the men, most reasonably he thought, didn’t want to take instructions from women, and his chief bookkeeper Prenderghast refused to have them in his office or to teach them anything about the business. The girls were being less than diplomatic and were prepared to take things head on. Jake agreed that he would see what he could do to sort out the problem.

It seemed that his uncle no longer had the grip on the business that he had had previously and Jake wondered what other problems he would have to sort. And with that thought he bid his uncle good night.

Jake’s thoughts were jarred back to the present by something the vicar had said, but since he couldn’t recall what it was he listened to him drone on for a few more minutes and then his mind went back to evening of his arrival home.

Jake had undressed and looked in his wardrobe, contemplating what he could wear to work the next morning. The problem was that whilst he had been away he had put on some weight. None, fortunately in places that would detract from his manly figure, no. all of it was in the form of muscle and whilst he had been, shall we say, well formed as a youth, as a young man he now possessed a figure that would make any sculptor delighted to carve its likeness in stone. Or indeed make any young lady anxious to clasp him in amorous embrace, provided of course that she did not swoon first as any well brought up young lady would be expected to do. The problem was that nothing in his wardrobe fitted him. The clothes he had worn home were suitable for warmer climes, and Bristol was not noted for the warmth of its weather. Have to make do until he could get to a tailor he supposed. He got into bed and laid back wondering how tomorrow would go.

He had contemplated very little when his bedroom door opened to admit...

“Millie! What are you doing here?”

In answer Millie lifted her nightdress over her head leaving her naked. She had a slim and lithe figure which would be described as gamine, and which certainly appealed to Jake’s not so little soldier which went to full erection in less time than it takes to tell. Millie moved onto the bed ready to impale herself.