Sacred Hunger - Barry Unsworth [198]
The reply came in jovial shouts: ‘Sugar, sir! Sugar!’
‘So here is to sugar,’ the old man said, and drank a second glass amid cheers.
Kemp, sitting a little lower down the table, glanced at the lawyer, who had been placed opposite him. Moore had a sharp-boned, watchful face, flushed a little now with what he had drunk. He had listened with good-humoured impassivity to Sir James’s congratulations. Meeting Kemp’s eye, he nodded and raised his glass. ‘Your health, sir,’ he said.
‘And yours.’ Kemp rarely drank enough to disturb his judgement, but he was drinking more than usual tonight. He felt some tension about the meeting of the Trionfi planned for later; it was his inauguration as the new president of the club and his conduct would come under scrutiny … ‘Some of us may differ from Sir James as regards the East India trade,’ he said to Moore, ‘but we are unanimous in our admiration for the way you conducted our case.’ The fellow would have been just as eloquent on the other side, if his fee had come from that quarter, he thought with some disgust. Lawyers were mercenary creatures. This one was Irish, too – a nation of talkers.
‘I am glad of your good opinion,’ Moore said with a slight smile. ‘I take it you approve of the East India trade?’
Kemp hesitated a moment from habitual caution. But this was public knowledge. ‘My firm supports the Company of Elliot and Son,’ he said. ‘They are one of the main importers of China tea. Did you know that duty was paid on more than six million pounds of tea coming into this country last year? And the volume will increase. All reports indicate that our new Colony of India is capable of large-scale production. The East India Company is doing us a service. The more tea, the more sugar – it takes no prodigious wit to see that.’
‘I see you are far-sighted, sir,’ the other said. There was something slightly ironical in the tone of this. Kemp found himself being regarded by a pair of humorous blue eyes. ‘Tell me now,’ the lawyer said softly, ‘with all this tea coming in, do you not think the price will fall so that the common people can afford it?’
‘Why, yes, in time.’
‘In quite a short time, do you not think? And if they take to drinking tea, will they not require sugar in vast quantities?’
‘Of course.’ Kemp refilled his glass. He was nettled by the other’s manner – it was as if he were being rather teasingly cross-examined. He was aware that others nearby were listening. ‘And that will help our business,’ he said curtly. ‘Any fool can see that.’
‘Here is one who can’t,’ the lawyer said with unruffled good humour. ‘You are digging your own pit, sir, if you will pardon me. We are talking about a time when tea will be cheaper than beer. Once the true magnitude of the sugar market is grasped, do you think that control of the prices will be left in the hands of a few West Indian planters? People will look elsewhere for their sugar, sir – wherever it is cheapest. There is no divine right in commerce.’
Kemp was indignant. He could not imagine any government, of whatever complexion, exposing the nation to foreign competition. One country could only grow rich at the expense of another – it was an axiom and an article of faith with him. But he had no time to retort upon the lawyer. The remains of the beef were being cleared, they would be bringing in the sorbet, it was time for him, as Vice-President, to propose the health of their hosts, the Africa Merchants. He