‘Any day now.’
‘How much would you ask for a second-hand spinning jenny?’
‘They cost me six pounds. And they don’t wear out. So I could sell you a used one for four pounds.’
And I’d get it in a few days, Amos thought. He could scrape up four pounds, though he would be left with nothing for emergencies.
But his mind kept coming back to the same question: Would it work for wool? And the answer never changed: The only way to find out was to try it.
Still he hesitated.
Mr Frankland said: ‘I’ve got a cotton master coming to look at the machines tomorrow.’
‘I’ll give you an answer by this evening,’ Amos said. ‘And thank you for this opportunity. I appreciate it.’
Mr Frankland smiled and nodded.
‘Meanwhile, I must have a serious discussion with my engineer.’
They all shook hands, and Amos and Roger went away.
They went to a tavern and ordered a light dinner. Roger was all enthusiasm, his pink face flushing with excitement. ‘I know how to reduce the incidence of broken threads,’ he said. ‘I can picture it.’
‘Good,’ said Amos. He knew he was at a crossroads. If he did this and it went wrong he would have to reconcile himself to spending even more years saving the money to pay his debt. But if it went right he could start to make real money.
‘It’s a risk,’ he said to Roger.
‘I like risks,’ said Roger.
‘I hate them,’ said Amos.
But he bought the machine.
*
Amos decided to be optimistic and bid for a military contract before the spinning jenny arrived.
The colonel of the Kingsbridge Militia was Henry, ViscountNorthwood, the son and heir of the earl of Shiring. The job was normally a figurehead role, but the Shiring tradition was that the earl’s son was a working colonel. Northwood was also member of Parliament for Kingsbridge: the nobility liked to keep the important jobs in the family, Spade said.
Northwood normally lived with his father at Earlscastle, but after the militia was called out he had rented Willard House, a large building on the market square with room for the colonel and several senior staff officers. Kingsbridge legend said the house had once belonged to Ned Willard, who had been something very important in the court of Queen Elizabeth, though no one knew quite what.
Northwood’s arrival had caused a social stir: he was single and twenty-three, and easily the most eligible bachelor in the county.
Amos had never met him, and he did not know anyone who could introduce him, so he decided to go to Willard House and try his luck.
In the spacious hall he was stopped by a fortyish man in sergeant’s uniform: white breeches and gaiters, a short red jacket and a tall shako hat. The red of the jacket was really a dusty rose colour, indicating a poor dye job. ‘What’s your business, young sir?’ the sergeant said abruptly.
‘I’m here to speak to Viscount Northwood, your colonel.’
‘Is he expecting you?’
‘No. Kindly tell him that Amos Barrowfield would like to speak to him about your uniform.’
‘My uniform?’ the man said indignantly.
‘Yes. It should be red, not pink.’ The sergeant looked at his sleeve, frowning. Amos went on: ‘I’d like to see the Shiring Militia well dressed, and I expect Viscount Northwood feels the same way.’
The sergeant hesitated for a long moment, then said: ‘Wait here. I’ll ask.’
