Chapter 7
The Thomas house settled into a new routine. Isaac went to the foundry early and returned for dinner each evening. In the morning Eira fed her father. Then, washed and shaved him before a housemaid helped turn the old man on his side to relieve the bedsores on his elbows and heels. Delyth rarely appeared from her room before lunchtime and no longer made any pretence of helping to care for Mr. Thomas, even when her husband was in the house. On some afternoons Delyth went out, without saying where she was going and returned shortly before her husband. Delyth and Eira rarely spoke except when they passed on the landing or in the hallway.
The mood of the house was sombre, as if Mr. Thomas’ ill health had infected the fabric of the building. Eira would sit with her father. His eyes looked tired and vacant, like windows of an empty house, seeing nothing and revealing nothing of within. Occasionally a tear would run down Mr. Thomas’ cheek and Eira wept with him. Once she saw a twinkle in his eye and laughed as if to share a private joke. Her father would never walk or talk again but his mind was active, imprisoned in a crippled body. Eira was also trapped, in a silent house with no human contact except her father. She talked to him and, when a reply was needed, she answered for him. Some of the conversations were idle chatter about the weather or gossip from the town. She told her father how Isaac was expanding the foundry, about the new competitor at Castle Mill and of more personal matters, sharing her innermost secrets.
Nye Vaughn’s visit to Blacks Iron Merchants of Whitechapel, London went well and Nye was disappointed when Mr. Black didn’t place an order. During his business trip, other retailers had been more forthcoming. Mr. Black complimented Nye on his samples and agreed to study the catalogue and pricelist in more detail but declined to buy anything. Nye had hoped Mr. Black would buy some stock but the ironmonger would not be drawn.
Apart from the disappointment at Blacks, the sales tour had been a success and Nye was happy to be returning to Merthyr. He settled back in his seat as the coach slowly made its way across the Heads of the Valley. The blustery weather on the mountain rocked the stage and cold air whistled through the ill fitting windows. Nye thought of the unfortunate souls sat on the roof in the perishing wind. No one would be falling asleep and dropping off the coach today. The stage picked up speed and headed downhill, towards Merthyr, slowing to a trot over the cobbles on Dowlais High Street. Nye viewed the familiar scene. He’d been away for four weeks but it seemed as if he had been gone for months.
Nye flourished his order book triumphantly, when he got to the foundry. Will Jones flicked through the contracts and grinned. Then, he handed Nye an envelope. ‘What’s this?’ asked Nye.
‘It came yesterday from London. Have a look,’ said Will. Nye opened the letter. It was from Mr. Black of Whitechapel. Nye read the contents aloud;
‘Sirs,
Blacks Iron Merchants require delivery at your earliest convenience but for certain before the thirty first day of July the following items namely;
Quantity
200 barley twist newel posts - catalogue number CIW 602,
300 barley twist spindle balustrades - catalogue number CIW 614,
360 flower motif bowed balustrades - catalogue number CIW 217,
100 firebacks - catalogue number CIW 165.
Our terms of payment are 30 days following satisfactory delivery and completion of our order.’
‘It’s the biggest order we’ve ever had. Can we cast that many pieces in time?’ asked Nye.
‘I’ve already started but we are going to need an extra shift and more raw materials,’ replied Will.
‘There’s a footnote,’ said Nye, ‘Subject to our customers approval we anticipate placing similar orders on a regular basis.’ That evening Nye, Will and Meir celebrated.
When the coal merchant refused to deliver to Castle Iron Works unless he was paid in advance Nye wondered why. The merchant’s account had always been paid on time. Then, other suppliers demanded payment and stopped supplying. Without regular deliveries of materials the foundry was in trouble. Completing the order for Blacks was impossible.
‘We can’t pay suppliers in advance. We don’t have the money,’ said Will dejectedly.
‘Then we must borrow,’ replied Nye. The partners knew none of the banks in Merthyr would lend without collateral and were still discussing the problem when the landlord, Mr. Griffiths, came striding across the yard.
Mr. Griffiths came straight to the point. ‘I’ve been warned you can’t pay your rent. Is it true?’
‘Yes, it probably is,’ replied Nye and told Mr. Griffiths about the sudden reluctance of suppliers to give credit.
‘Apart from your current cash flow problem, is the business sound?’ asked the landlord. Nye confirmed it was and produced the order book to prove his point. ‘Without money we are in trouble,’ he admitted.
‘I’ll put money into Castle Iron Works, enough to pay your creditors but I want a share in the business,’ said Mr. Griffiths, ‘The way I see things, without my money you are finished. On the other hand, with my money and experience, which you do also need, we can all become wealthy men,’ said Griffiths. Mr. Griffiths was taking advantage but the partners knew he was right. Without his money they faced bankruptcy and making him a partner was a good idea. His knowledge of deal making and commerce would be invaluable to the business. Nye and Will had no choice and agreed to Benjamin Griffiths becoming a partner.
As Griffiths was leaving Nye asked, ‘Who told you we’re in trouble?’
‘The same man who’s been telling all your suppliers you’re insolvent, Isaac Thomas,’ replied Mr. Griffiths.
All the suppliers except one resumed their deliveries after being paid. Gurnos quarry, where Nye had once swung a sledgehammer, sent Castle Iron Work’s next purchase order for limestone back with the words , ‘We regret we are unable to meet your requirement on this occasion,’ written across the bottom. Thomas had threatened to withdraw his substantial custom from Gurnos quarry if it continued to supply Castle Iron Works. Without limestone, there was no way of removing impurities from the iron ore and the furnace was useless. Nothing could be made. Benjamin Griffiths and Nye went to see the quarry owner.
‘Why won’t you deliver? We’ve paid your account,’ demanded Nye.
‘I’m sorry but I’ve sold our entire output for the next six months. Try another supplier,’ replied the quarry owner.
‘I don’t believe you and we don’t have the time to find another supplier,’ said Nye.
‘Sir, I’m not accustomed to being called a liar,’ snapped the owner.
‘Gentlemen, I have an idea which might help us all. Castle Iron Works would like to buy your quarry. Let’s discuss a price shall we?’ said Benjamin Griffiths.
‘We can’t afford to buy a quarry. You should never have done the deal,’ said Nye.
‘Don’t worry my boy, I have collateral, we’ll borrow the money,’ replied Benjamin, adding, ‘Look at it this way. We’ve secured our limestone supply for the future and added the quarry’s profit margin to ours. It makes perfect business sense. You have to be prepared to think big if you want to make money.’ Nye was seeing Benjamin Griffiths in a different light. He wasn’t a genial old man with money, Griffiths was an astute businessman with a nose for profit.
‘So when do we buy our first coal mine?’ asked Nye.
‘You’re learning fast,’ replied the older man and grinned. Limestone deliveries to Castle Iron Works resumed the next day.
Mr. Thomas was woken by an argument in the early hours of the morning. It was a warm, dark night and the windows were open. He could hear Isaac and Delyth’s raised voices coming from their bedroom.
‘You lost another order to Vaughn. When will you learn? You were stupid to let them buy Gurnos quarry,’ shouted Delyth.
‘It’s only one customer. What would you have done different?’ snapped Isaac.
‘I would arrange an accident to destroy their foundry and put them out of business,??
? said Delyth.
‘You’re mad,’ replied Isaac.
‘And you’re spineless. Remember it was me who sorted Vaughn out last time. If I hadn’t done something he would be your brother in law by now,’ yelled Delyth.
‘I don’t understand what you’re saying. What did you do?’ replied Isaac.
‘Nothing,’ shouted Delyth.
‘Keep your voice down or father will hear,’ said Isaac.
‘Let him hear. He can’t talk. Your father’s a vegetable. He can’t do anything,’ screamed Delyth. The argument continued with lowered voices and Mr. Thomas struggled to hear what they were saying. When he woke in the morning he thought he had been dreaming.
That afternoon, as Eira talked to her father, his right hand moved slowly across the bed and touched her arm, as if to console her. The following day, Mr. Thomas could hold a pencil and scrawl short messages on a notepad. The writing was childlike and the effort quickly tired the old man but he could communicate. He wrote a note asking for his solicitor to be summoned. The solicitor, Mr. Jacobs, stayed alone with Mr. Thomas for more than an hour. Mr. Jacobs returned the next morning accompanied by his clerk. They arrived with them a last will and testament Mr. Thomas had asked to be drafted. Eira was asked to leave so the confidential document could be read to Mr. Thomas. After the solicitor had read the will to Mr. Thomas, he scrawled his name and the visitors signed as witnesses. Then, the solicitor left, taking the will with him for safe keeping. Eira showed the visitors out and returned to her father’s room. Mr. Thomas was holding a note. Eira read it, got up and closed the door. Her father wanted a private moment with her.
Three men stood in front of Isaac Thomas’ desk.
‘What sort of accident?’ asked one.
‘Furnaces can be dangerous things. They have been known to burst, especially if gunpowder is added to the mix,’ said Isaac.
‘How do we pour gunpowder into a hot furnace without blowing ourselves up?’ asked another.
‘You don’t. The furnace at Castle Iron Works is being relined on Saturday. It's been allowed to cool and the work will be completed by Saturday night. On Sunday afternoon, the furnace will be recharged with coal, iron ore and limestone ready for firing by the first shift on Monday morning. Your job is to place the gunpowder in the furnace on Sunday night,’ explained Isaac.
‘Someone might get hurt,’ said the third man.
‘An accident like that would put them out of business. Twenty guineas is a lot of money for an hour’s work,’ replied Isaac and spread the gold coins tantalisingly across the desk.
Eira Thomas looked up at the shabby sign. She had never been in a tavern. She took a deep breath and opened the door. The shift had just ended at Castle Iron Works and the smoke filled bar of the Star Tavern was crowded with foundry-men, washing the day’s grime from their throats. The tap room fell silent as she entered. Meir hurried from behind the bar, shuffled Eira into a side room and shut the door. She listened while Eira explained the reason for her visit. Then she sent a boy to the foundry to fetch Nye and Will.
‘You need to hear what Miss Thomas has to say,’ said Meir. Her story astonished them.
Nye Vaughn walked back across the town with Eira. ‘You’re brave, coming to warn us,’ said Nye.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Eira.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Nye. They stopped by the town hall.
‘Don’t come any further in case Isaac is about,’ said Eira. Nye took her arm and kissed her on the cheek. She drew away.
‘This doesn’t change anything between us,’ said Eira.
‘It doesn’t alter how I feel about you,’ replied Nye. Eira looked at him. She wanted to ask if Delyth's accusations were true, but she couldn't find the right words.
'Goodbye Mr. Vaughn,' said Eira and walked away.
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