They all knew that marsh-farms had their drawbacks, he said plainly. The land had belonged to the sea once. There was always a remote chance that the sea might claim it again. In this case he was prepared to say that it was very remote indeed. The farms were certainly not death-traps, as had been very largely suggested, and he was quite unable to see why the Lugg, after a trial of over fifteen years, should not be allowed to continue its existence. There was a big stretch of land behind it, which might one day be very valuable. It ought not to be sacrificed in a moment’s panic. His father had taken great pride in the sea-walls, particularly in the Lugg, and, as his son, he was naturally averse to hearing its reliability questioned; but if any real evidence could be brought against it he need not say he should be the first to listen. He did not consider, however, that it had been brought as yet. The increase of pressure also he took leave to doubt. In fact, he was ready to maintain that the danger referred to was practically non-existent, but he would be glad to hear what the older men had to say, men who had known his father, and the Lugg when it was first framed.
Holliday was still upset at being treated as a witness for the prosecution, and couldn’t be got to speak, and Bownass and Bradley started to rise at the same moment, and fell back, glowering at each other. Finally, Wolf stirred, taking his time about getting to his feet, and leaning heavily on his stick as he looked round the table. There was curious weight in his slow gaze, curious strength in his slow speech.
“There’s them as is born to do things,” he began deliberately, “an’ them as is born to find fault! I knew Mr. Lancaster’s father a sight o’ years, and he was always a-doing, and it was always the right things he did. He was a grand man, the grandest man I ever clapped eyes on! His word was his bond. If you’d his word, there was no call for inkhorn-stuff and such-like—nay, nor a postage-stamp ontilt, neither!” (He looked at Brack, and a smile went pleasantly round.) “He was a just man. He had fair treatment for everybody. There’s folks, likely, as think he favoured me, being over at our place a deal, seeing to the Lugg, but they can just put this in their pipes and smoke it. There was a year after I first took hold as Mr. Lancaster give me notice to quit—said I wasn’t doing well by the farm, and wouldn’t take telling. Ay, and he was right an’ all! I was young and a bit above myself, I reckon, but that fetched me up sharp. The missis begged us on again with a deal o’ trouble, and I never looked back after. I’d learned my lesson. Ay, he was a just man!
“And he was a good man. If a farmer got behind, he knew he could go to Mr. Lancaster for help; and if he meant fair an’ square, he’d be helped, right enough. And we all know he was a man wi’ brains. There’s proof on every mile of the estate. He could see twice as far ahead as most folk, and twice an’ a half farther round. Bluecaster knows best what it owes him, though there was always a-plenty folks in his road, same as there was with the Lugg. An’ now, just look ye here a minute! Would a just man favour one bit of land over another? Would a good man let traps to folk as trusted him? And would a clever man—a man o’ business”—this went home quickest, and he knew it—“risk good farms for a bit of a show-off? Mr. Lancaster give us his word the Lugg would do us no harm, and his word has a fifteen years’ stamp to it as never come out of no government office. There’s young Mr. Lancaster saying the same, an’ that’s all there is about it. I tell you what it is again—there’s them as does things, an’ them as finds fault. It’s easy choosing, I reckon, for folk as has eyes in their head and a bit o’ good hoss-sense!”
The funny little gruff salvos of applause that had punctuated this speech ended in a regular fusillade of commendation. Lanty said “Thanks, Wolf!” quite simply, and looked round for the next speaker. There were two or three ready by now, and they said much the same as Wolf, though they did not handle Brack quite so delicately. Brack had a rare lot of names pinned to his jacket before they were through, and had to sit passive while the conservative farmers followed the track like so many sheep. He was aching to be up again, and had difficulty in restraining himself when Denny, having anxiously awaited his turn, plunged into public speaking.
Denny thought it was time somebody cracked a bit about the present Mr. Lancaster. He himself was a younger man who hadn’t farmed under the former agent, but at least he could say he wasn’t wanting any better sort than he’d got! If the present Mr. Lancaster said the Lugg was all right, that was full stop and a lick for Thomas Cuthbert Dennison. As for the duke who was shaping to farm Thweng in a Trilby, he’d likely hit upon a thing or two he didn’t know if he lived long enough and looked hard. Even he, Denny, could happen learn him a bit about sowing corn an’ such-like, and there was more than one of them on the spot who could give him a leg-up over pigs. There was a roar at this, for Brack had a patent drill that sowed each seed separately—so separately that, when the grain came up, you could walk between the stems; and there was also a tale that he had given his pigs water used for boiling hams, with horrible results. Even Bluecaster’s presence could not restrain the general joy, and there was not much of Brack’s moderation left when he rose to his final effort.
“You’ve only one argument in your whole outfit!” he raged at them bitterly, “and that’s the old, threadbare wheeze that because your fathers did a thing you’re bound to follow their trail. It makes me tired to see the lot of you—narrow, ignorant stick-in-the-ditchers—sitting round with your mouths and ears open for any old thing a Lancaster may choose to pour in! You’ve got that durned Lugg fixed in your minds as a kind of monument to your late agent. Well, I guess you’re right in one way. It is a monument, sure—a monument to the biggest piece of swank, the rankest self-conceit I ever struck! Look at the Pride! You’ll say it’s as safe as Bytham Knott, and yet there’s nobody will live in it. They try, but they can’t stand it out—and why? Because they know the man that built it laughed in the Face of God! You say he was a good man, a just man, but I say he was a theatrical guy, with an eye on the gallery and swank fit to jump the earth! I tell you I’ve my own reasons for knowing what’s coming—coming on the hop—and there’s somebody sure going to get left. Right now’s the time to pull out, if you’d only listen! But you won’t. You’re too deep in your dusty old beliefs for that. But you’ll listen, you may bet your life, and remember, in the night when the sea comes knocking at your door!”
There had been silence through his speech, the silence of outrage, and there was still silence when he stopped. His strange eyes looked singularly bright and compelling. Lanty stared curiously at him during the pause, and followed his glance, the men round him doing the same. Brack was looking at Bluecaster.
To a very timid, sensitive nature there is, in the forcing of a decision, something of the inhuman terror of being hunted down. The young man was between two fires. If he stood by the Lugg, he carried the lives of men. If he stood by Brack, the Lancasters went to the wall. The first responsibility had been another’s; this was his. Brack was thrusting it upon him with keen eyes that held and coerced him and would not let him go.
“His lordship agrees with me!” the latter cried suddenly, so sharply that more than one man jumped. “His lordship is on my side—sure! Ask him if his conscience isn’t hustling him! Ask him what he thinks away down in his heart of Lancaster’s Lugg!”