‘Good.’ Oliver waved his hand at the fug caused by the tallow-dipped rush candles. ‘You need more light in here. Jack and I rode over with two lanterns. I’ll fetch them and more candles from the miners. I’ll replace all that are used so they will have no fear of going without sufficient light down the mine or in their homes in the winter. My elderly servant, Beatrice, would have been of considerable help to you with her herbs and potions. I know you respect her skills, Dr Crebo, but unfortunately she’s more or less housebound. The Reverend Ivey will ride over at first daylight, he’s too old to risk the moors after dusk. He’s pleased you are here, Renfree, to comfort the bereaved.’

‘It was good of the Reverend to say that,’ Matthias said, ‘but we’re all doing our best.’

‘Yes, I’ll agree with that,’ Dr Crebo put in. ‘People have been good enough to rally round quickly. As soon as the Blakes got back to Marazion they organised a bundle of sheets and bandages for me to bring with me. Tomorrow they’re sending over food, extra to their monthly contribution for the miner’s children, and the medicines that I’ll recommend.’

‘Mistress Blake’s idea, no doubt,’ Oliver remarked, rubbing his chin. Clem grunted in agreement, he also not wanting Peter Blake to take the credit. Oliver looked directly at Clem, and said to Dr Crebo, who had risen to his feet and was wiping his bloodied hands on a piece of cloth, ‘Have you enough proper help in here, Doctor?’

‘We can manage, thank you, Sir Oliver,’ Charles Crebo said almost gaily, lifting his wig to scratch at a troublesome spot. ‘This young fellow, Trenchard here, stopped a miner from bleeding to death under my instructions while Renfree and I were vainly trying to resuscitate another. They have both kept their wits about them while others have gone to pieces.’

Clem became aware of the amount of blood on his shirt and breeches and was embarrassed at this unexpected praise. But he looked straight at the baronet to see his reaction and received a small shock. He could have sworn Oliver Pengarron almost smiled at him. But he did not want praise, however faint, from the man he despised more than any other and jerked his head away.

After collecting the bundles of candles the miners wore round their necks to light their way underground then riding the half mile to the cottages to obtain more, there was nothing more Jack could do to help. Knowing few of the Wheal Ember folk, he kept out of the way. The cries of a boy who was having his crushed fingers amputated upset him and he returned to Conomor and Meryn.