The pool of St Branok

"Well," said Jonnie, "the people are all for war. People always are if the war is taking place elsewhere. They like to hear of the glory but they would certainly not want to suffer the discomforts. This war is far away. Therefore they are all for it. Palmerston is all for making England the greatest power in the world. If anyone utters the mildest word against us he sends out the gunboats to parade along their coasts, to show them our power. The people like it. They love Old Pam as they call him. He's colorful. Of course he's very old now, but in his youth he was a rake. I believe he may still be. Funnily enough the people like that. They don't want a good man; they want a colorful one. Poor old Aberdeen, with his pacific policies, is dull. The fact is the people are blaming the Queen and Prince Albert for our reluctance to go to war. It is quite unfair. They say the Russians are the Queen's relations and she cares more for them than for England. But they prefer to blame Albert, so they are calling him Traitor."

"And he is the A who is rumored to be in the Tower?" said Grace.

"That's so. But it is all nonsense. Albert is by no means a prisoner. But I daresay war will be declared on Russia sooner or later."

The next day an article appeared in The Morning Post written by Mr. Gladstone setting out the Prince's virtues and commenting on the folly of blaming him. John Russell and Benjamin Disraeli made speeches about him in the Houses of Parliament—the latter's was brilliant; and this with Mr. Gladstone's article made a deep impression on the people.

And still the threat of war hung in the air.

An ultimatum was sent to Russia to the effect that if they did not return the Danube principalities which they had annexed we should declare war.

When no answer was received, there was only one action the government could take.

We were at war with Russia.

It was amazing how quickly people's views could change. Matthew was now in full agreement with the declaration. This was probably due to Uncle Peter's influence. But Jonnie, too, had changed his mind. He was now for teaching the Russians a lesson, and saving little Turkey from the bully.

War fever swept over the country. It would all be over in a few weeks, they said. The Russians would soon see what happened to those who thought they could bully their neighbors.

They would find they had to face the wrath of powerful Britain.

That was April and in May we returned to Cornwall. Life settled down to normality. There was little talk down there about the tension between Turkey and Russia. It was all a matter of whether there would be a good harvest this year and whether the rain would keep off until Midsummer's Eve.

The rain did keep off for that important occasion and as if to make up for it it began to pour; and as often in Cornwall, as Mrs. Penlock said, once it started it did not know how to stop.

There was speculation as to whether the Tamar would overflow its banks; and the possibility of high tides was considered with some apprehension. Some of the fields were flooded and there was consternation among the farmers.

Then one day I heard disquietening news.

The Pencarrons were coming to dinner and my mother had asked me to go down to remind Mrs. Penlock that Mr. Pencarron could not take any dish with pilchards in it. Mrs. Penlock was very fond of starting a meal with a special dish of which she was very proud and even when my mother had not suggested it, she had a habit of slipping it in. The fish was served with oil and lemon and some ingredient which Mrs. Penlock would not divulge. "Fair Maids" was what she called it which, I had discovered, was her version of Fumadoe —which meant "Fit for a Spanish Don," and reminded us that there was a certain Spanish element in the Duchy after the defeat of the Spanish Armada when the galleons had been wrecked along our coast and many Spaniards found refuge here.

When I arrived in the kitchen a great deal of excited talk was going on.

Mrs. Penlock was saying: "Stands to reason. People don't invent such things. They'm handed down ... generation to generation. I reckon 'tis true then and some 'as heard them bells."

I felt that twinge of fear which I always had when people referred to the pool.

"Truth in what?" I demanded.

" 'Tis all this rain we'm 'aving. That there pool ... St Branok's you know. 'Tas overflowed. Well, stands to reason ... all this rain. 'Tas washed away the soil and they do say 'tis true. There be the remains of an old monastery ... bits of rock and things sticking out of the ground. They'm saying you can see it ... clear as daylight ... and it's a wall ... an old stone wall."

"You mean ... right there by the pool?"

"That's where I do mean. It be all this rain ... loosens the soil, it do. And there be this bit of a wall, they do say. 'Tis unmistakable."

I told her about the pilchards.