Amos ignored that suggestion. He was not even tempted by prostitutes. He said: ‘I’ve got such a lot of ground to make up before I can start repaying my father’s debt.’
‘Will this war affect you? The French are winning everything – Savoy, Nice, the Rhineland, Belgium.’
‘A lot of west of England cloth is exported to the European continent, and the war will disrupt that. But there should be military contracts to compensate. The army will need a lot of new uniforms. I’m hoping to benefit from some of that business – if I can get the yarn.’
They reached the house. Amos’s mother had put out a supper of ham and pickled onions with bread and beer. She quickly set a place for Roger, then she went to bed, saying: ‘I’ll leave you boys to talk.’
Roger took a long draught of beer. ‘So there’s a shortage of yarn?’ he said.
‘Yes. Spade thinks it’s caused by the flying shuttle. Weavers are working faster, but spinners aren’t.’
‘I was in Combe not long ago and visited a cotton mill owned by the father of a university chum of mine.’
Amos nodded. Most cotton manufacture took place in the north of England and the Midlands, but there were a few mills in the south, mostly in port cities such as Combe and Bristol, where the raw cotton was landed.
Roger went on: ‘You know the cotton people have invented a spinning engine.’
‘I’ve heard that. It doesn’t work for wool.’
‘They call it the spinning jenny – it’s a marvellous device,’ Roger said enthusiastically. He loved any kind of machine – the more complicated, the better. ‘One person can spin eight bobbins at a time. And the thing is so easy to use that a woman can do it.’
‘I wish I had a machine that could work eight times as fast as the old spinning wheel,’ Amos said. ‘But cotton fibres are stronger than wool. Wool breaks too easily.’
Roger looked thoughtful. ‘That’s a problem,’ he said. ‘But I don’t see why it should be insuperable. The tension on the threads might be reduced, and maybe you could use it for thicker, coarser wool, and save the hand spinning for the finer material...I need to look at the machine again.’
Amos began to see a glimmer of hope. He knew how ingenious Roger was in his workshop at Badford. He said: ‘Why don’t we go to Combe together?’
Roger shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘There’s a stagecoach the day after tomorrow. We could be there by mid-afternoon.’
‘All right,’ said Roger. ‘I’ve nothing else to do, now that I’ve lost all my money.’
*
Amos placed an advertisement in theKingsbridge Gazetteand theCombe Heraldnewspapers:
FOR THE BENEFIT OF ESTEEMED CLOTH MERCHANTS
Mr Amos Barrowfield wishes to announce
that the long-established business of his father,
the late Mr Obadiah Barrowfield,
continues without interruption.
High-quality fabrics a specialty:
mohair, merino, fancy cassimeres,
pure and in blends with silk, cotton and linen.
ALL ENQUIRIES ANSWERED BY RETURN OF POST.
Amos Barrowfield, Esq.
High Street
