Last Monday in September 1790, links to S2E2-4

Jemima's father did come: many people did. One person she met on the way to Boskednan was George Warleggan, riding on his black charger beside his uncle, who declined not to ogle Jemima as Cary Warleggan's nephew slowed and curved beside the friends, calling a greeting to her.

"Mr. Warleggan, good morning!" Jemima called. "I guessed you would be here tomorrow."

He ran an eye over each of the six young men beside her and then looked back to Jemima, and she introduced them to him, noticing his eyebrow flicker when he mentioned Gregory Watt and Thomas Wedgwood."

"And Master Trevithick," George added, touching his hat. "Let me tell you, I plan to steal Miss Withering back to work at Leisure again!". There was a microsecond of awkward silence, Dick silent beside Jemima.

"The machine will be working tomorrow," Warleggan murmured, backtracking to the last time the conversation was moving. "Yes, of course, I would not wish to miss you demonstrate what I am assured to be a magnificent steam engine."

His horse's hooves clattered on the thin grass, and he continued, "Sir Francis has invited some of the mine owners to stay at Tehidy House with him, many of the miners here will be your miners."

"Why will they be your miners, Jemima?" asked Humphry. Jemima sighed inwardly - there was no keeping it hidden now.

"Because Mr Warleggan has offered me a place as his mine captain at Wheal Leisure, is that not right, sir?" George Warleggan nodded, and gave Jemima a small smile.

"Indeed. And should circumstances be favourable, mine captain. Why not?" He tipped his head towards Jemima and then to the six men, standing as they were close to the young woman, as if protecting her. Good. He liked a challenge.

"Good to meet you young people, goodday.". And with that, Warleggan rapped his horse's neck with the reins and he was off.

"Miss Witherin'," acknowledged George's uncle, and nodded, then followed.

"What an extraordinary man!" exclaimed Gregory Watt.

"Largest banker in Cornwall," Edward put in. "Sir Francis works hard to keep his own financial interests separate."

"He reminds me of Mr. Boulton," Thomas told Gregory. He laughed.

"A little perhaps."

Dick Trevithick said nothing, just watched in Warleggan's wake.

"You know, I do know him," Davies, "Or I think I do. He would come when his father came to my father's dinners…I was rather young at the time…he…" Davies shook his head.

"He wants you for his mine, Jemima?" Thomas Wedgwood looked amazed. "I thought you wanted a coal mine?"

"Yes," she told him. "I worked in that mine; Mr. Warleggan trusted in my work, and is endeavouring to win me back. It was owned by someone else once, who did not." Those who knew, Humphry, Davies, Edward and Dick, all nodded, knowing what she meant. "One day, I want to own a coal mine, or manage one, anyway."

"But you want to stay with us, won't you?" Edward asked her, as they trod the grass over the higher ground - ahead would be the north coast of Cornwall with the sun reflecting off it, and the Ting Tong mines decked out in whatever a wakes fair looked like in the Tehidy district. Jemima looked from the sea to her friend's face.

"We have made the engine now; I cannot see that Wild will want me much longer," Jemima told him.

"But no! We will need you, Jemima! We can make the engine even more efficient, more high pressure, we can pump more water and we'll do that quicker with you!".

Jemima sighed. It was what she hoped. But she also knew it was difficult to get a trusted place, a woman mine engineer. George Warleggan believed in her, for one.

"It will all depend on the Statute Fair," she told them as they walked on. "If you get orders, you simply have to make more of what you have. Your mines - Mr. Wild's mines - could not be improved by stratification.". Beside her, Thomas Wedgwood's eyes widened.

"Stratification?" he repeated. "Why, Jemima, you spoke to that man, Mr Smith about just that when you were with us! Do you know, he has written a book about it? He has submitted it to the Royal Institution."

"Ha!" exclaimed Humphry, looking across to Thomas. "I may be meeting him then!" And told them all about Thomas Young procuring him for the soft metal extraction demonstration, and Bristol, deferring to Davies Giddy every so often, until they caught sight of eight pit head winding gear, the chasm in which the Cornish engine that she, Edward and Dick had modelled and many, many people.

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The first thing Jemima noticed about the wakes was the smell of cooking goose. Every house thereabouts had brought their stubbly goose to Tehidy for dispatching and cooking, as was the custom, and the smell was indeed encompassing.

Other smells rose too, coal - but of course there was always the smell of that, horse and the particular smell of cooking. Already, pedlars and traders of nuts, oranges and spiced cake - foods from overseas, having landed at the first tide - were making their wares ready sell for the day, all close to Tehidy house where the quarterly rents were paid.

As they approached, a sign was written as to what would be on. They paused and read it aloud, but by bit, like children in school.

"Jack Ass Race for a Purse of Gold, to be rode in true Jockey Style – no crossing nor jostling allowed!" Thomas began. "There are donkeys over there." He pointed. By a food stand a group of about a dozen were tethered, eating from a straw bale.

"Listen," continued Humphry, ""A Foot Race of a mile carrying a tonne of tin ore, for a GOOD HAT" That's the prize?" He looked on. ""Lots of ribbons to be danced for by Old Maids and Young Men"".

"I want all six of my friends to be the young men!" declared Jemima.

"You are the old maid then?" asked Thomas, grinning. His face fell almost immediately when Gregory kicked his leg. "Out of order, Thomas," he told him.

"Sorry, Jemima," Thomas apologised, and did look sorry.

"Get me a cap and out of this dress and I'll be the seventh young man," Jemima quipped, and pulled aside her skirt to show her work clothes.

"Clever thing," Edward teased, then looked back to the sign, ""and other events included chasing a greased pig, grinning through a horse collar, thick porridge eating, and a race for "Wooden Legged Men"."

"That's nothing" grinned Gregory Watt, "At the Prestwich wakes, the competitions included 'an eating match of 3lb of treacle and bread' and a smoking match for ten old women!"

Another notice made Jemima's heart sink, and she made a mental note to find a way of keeping them all away.

"Notice", it said. "On Monday morning at eleven o'clock, the sports will commence with the most ancient, loyal, national, constitutional and lawful diversion, BULL BAITING, in all its primitive excellence for which this place has long been noted."

"The tithes are already being given," Edward pointed to a long line of men outside Tehidy house. "There'll be the goose after."

"For everyone?"

"Yes!" Agreed Davies and Humphry together. "I suggest," Davies went on, we look at the steam engine before it all gets started. Then we can take some goose and see what else is happening. My mother sent eighteen geese - that's more than enough contribution for us to have a bite!"

They walked across to Dolcoath, and Edward, Dick and Jemima enjoyed showing Thomas, Gregory, Davies and Humphry what they had made.

"Ingenious adaptation!" Gregory agreed. "My father will not be happy, though."

"Surely it doesn't matter what happens to the engines once the customer has it?" Davies asked, looking at the crossbeam, smaller than the ones he was used to seeing. "From what I understand legally, once you possess a thing, whatever you do, even if you use it to make money, this cannot be reclaimed by the seller."

"True," Gregory conceded. "But if a patent is taken out or any form of copyright, then the seller is within their rights to pursue it. Providing it is different enough.". He looked over it again. "I know my father, he is tenacious with the law. Let's not speak of it, but if he changes his mind, all will be better off for it."

"I for one can't wait to see it working," Humphry told Jemima.

"Nor I," agreed Davies.

"And if she tells you anything different, don't believe Miss Withering, for she suggested we remodel the condenser, she fixed the plate housing, and added no end of joint pieces."

"It's upside down, isn't it?" Gregory said aloud. He had been staring at it for some time. "I wondered what was different.". He shot a quick look over to Edward Bull. "Don't worry, I won't say a word to my father. It's up to him to spot, though he will."

"It would have helped if the engine had come to us as it should have been. Even with Murdoch's help, we couldn't get it to give more than twenty feet. We all tried."

The sun has risen higher now. More people were about and the refectory where the workers' meals were served had both doors open and the tables arranged. The tenants who had just paid their rents and their families had just sat down to their traditional morning goose feast and Dick nudged Edward and pointed as a group of miners joined the line.

"We can go in, all of us," Dick told them. "My father is mine captain here at Fortune."

Thinking that no-one would dare turn Dick Trevithick away, they added themselves to the line and had a hearty breakfast. Considering how much they ate between them Jemima wondered if all Mrs. Giddy's geese had been accounted for.

"No, thank you," Non-comformists Edward and Dick told one of the servants as alcohol was passed round.

"Hey, yes please!" Davies called as the servant made to go, and he, Gregory, Humphry and Thomas all had a watered down canary. "But that will be all, for a little while at least. We don't want to get fighting drunk and abandon Jemima."

More alcoholic beverages were being offered as prizes for strength and running competitions and cattle were being brought closer to the food and foods stalls, being perused by potential customers, promises being made to keep hold of a cow here or a pair of chickens there.

"Will you be wrestling this year?" Edward asked Dick. He turned to the rest of them. "Unbeaten champion is Master Trevithick."

Dick looked at the field where two men had each other in a death grip.

"Yes," he replied. "Later. When the competition thins out.".

They watched the wrestling for a while, as a man from Redruth defeated one from Hayle and Jemima watched Dick's face, which was wholly fixed on the winner.

"Miss Withering!" came a voice from behind them, before she could ask him anything. The man looked across and added, Master Trevithick! Mr. Bull!". It was Drake Carne, the blacksmith, and he smiled across to Jemima.

"You helped my sister with the cakes yesterday," he explained, looking behind. "She is that pleased, Miss Withering," he added, as the young men went with interest to where she was sitting and Jemima noticed all the baked goods were there. Including -

" - Oatcakes!". It was Thomas Wedgwood who shouted with excitement at finding a familiar delicacy at a country fair in Cornwall.

He bought three, and the others one each and shared out Portuguese spiced sausage that Davies had bought from one of the sea merchant traders.

"They really do go with everything," Gregory agreed. "Did you make them, Miss - "

"Mistress," Demelza corrected him. " No I did not. Nor the Eccles cakes and dully cake either. But I did the saffron cakes."

"It was Jemima!" Humphry told them.

"Thanks to your mother's cook," Jemima replied modestly, addressing Thomas.

"They are delicious, Jemima," Edward told her. "I've had them from Hanley, Burslem, Trentham, none as good as this."

Even Drake Carne had been encouraged to partake and took some sausage slices to eat within the oatcakes. Around them, other stalls were selling treats such as pies, plum-cakes, gingerbread, fresh fruits and nuts. They did look good.

A loud voice dissipated from a place just beyond the tables. Jemima looked. A man in black clothing and holding a bible aloft was addressing, very loudly, a small group who had gathered in front of him.

"That's my father," Drake told her, as Mr. Carne shouted the bible verses to his select audience. Jemima looked behind her or Demelza, who gave her a sorry look.

Was Cornwall unused to Methodism preached to the four winds? It was common, in the Midlands, especially near where the Wedgwoods lived. "Fire and damnation" was common enough, and "Sin and debauchery" and the insistence to turn from it.

Davies, an Anglican, saw the opportunity to tease the man and called, "Turn to it, did you say, preacher?"

They had gone before the man had worked out where the heckle had come from.

"I am sorry," Drake continued, who had gone with them. "It is how God calls him."

"It reminds me of the preachers in the Midlands, where were we, Thomas?" Thomas Wedgwood turned his head to Jemima. "Near home, I believe."

"We listened to them outside, the sky was the chapel roof, the wind it's walls."

"And if it might rain, shelters were built, like near the Marquis of Anglesey's mines," Jemima added.

"Do you have wakes up-country?" asked Drake.

"Well dressing, beating the bounds, cheese rolling, but it's all similar," Gregory Watt replied. "Do you Cornish not push sacrifices off the cliff?"

"Oh that was done at sunrise, Edward told them, caustically, "The druids got up and pulled a virgin from his bed, but you weren't there, Gregory!" The other man thumped him hard on the arm and they laughed.

Drake drifted away from them, tempted by a forging competition, and they saw more events about.

Now fed, people were interested in competitons and Jemima saw men's blindfolded wheelbarrow races, smock races for women, hot hasty-pudding eating contests, pigeon-flying, chasing a greased pig and cow milking. There were sack races and even a grinning competiton where the competitor had to grin through a horse collar, the grinner considered the funniest won.