Three Knaves 1860ish

'And you, of tender years

Can't know the fears your elders grew by'

Graham Nash - 'Teach Your Children'

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Oysters are wonderful things, cheap and nutritious. So versatile. You can eat them fresh or pickled. You can cook them with other things. Beef and Oyster Pie or Mutton and Oyster Stew. The poor people of London, Essex and Kent can't get enough of them. Obviously, the rich people of London, Essex and Kent wouldn't be seen dead eating them because the poor people eat them.

Lucky Howlett wasn't born Lucky. He was born Rolf but everybody called him Lucky because he was, well in a word, Lucky.

He was very competitive and would win at everything. Consequently, in time, he expected to win at everything. Not only winning but making a profit from winning. Not only making a profit from winning but making a profit from nearly everything he did.

About the only thing he didn't make a profit from was marrying Rose Handsome.

Rose wasn't born Handsome. She was born Rose Boggins. But right from her earliest days everyone agreed that she was lovely. Not just in looks but in grace and demeanour too. As a young girl she would turn heads. Even crabby old women who wouldn't agree with anyone on anything on principle all agreed that Rose was going to be a great beauty when she reached womanhood. They also agreed that she could marry any one of the most eligible men in Dorset

When Rose Boggins reached womanhood she became Handsome. She did this by marrying a young sailor called Bas Handsome.

Isn't love strange?

Bas had little to offer Rose. A small boat and a small rented cottage were all that Bas could bring to the marriage. All that Rose could bring to the marriage were her great beauty and her loving heart. Things that are easily worth as much as a small boat and a small rented cottage.

For twenty-five years of married life was hard for them both.

For Rose there was the constant worry that Bas wouldn't be able to get enough work to put food on the table or pay the rent. For Bas there was the constant worry that Rose would wake up one day and realise that she could have done better.

For twenty-five years Bas grafted long and hard and always got enough work to put food on the table and pay the rent.

For twenty-five years Rose kept her loving heart and never once doubted that she was right to give herself to him fully, body and soul.

Many men coveted her and many men tried to steal her away but all failed. Their promises of fortune meant nothing to this steadfast woman. Rose's virtue only added to her attractiveness because men always desire the unattainable.

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Lucky Howlett had no time for love.

Sex, now that was a different matter. Lucky never asked their names. He wasn't hanging around long enough for introductions. He just left his fluid calling card and a whole load of regret.

Lucky bought a small boat at the same time as Bas Handsome. But Lucky, being Lucky, on the very day that he first went aboard her at Bridport Harbour he was accosted by a rich merchant.

"If you can get me to Jersey quickly I will give you a Gold Sovereign. My father is dying and I must see him before he leaves this world," explained the merchant.

He was lucky, the winds were with him and the man got to see his dying parent in time.

Lucky stayed on Jersey overnight at an inn in the village of Gory. The next day he was astonished to see the scale of the Oyster Harvest. Vast quantities were extracted from the shallow waters between the island and Normany. What amazed him even more was the fact that those dredging the oysters from the sea weren't Jerseymen but workers shipped in mostly from Hampshire.

That evening in the inn Lucky fell into conversation with an 'og. "So, what happens to all these oysters," he asked.

"London! They can't get enough of them. The good ones goes straight to be eaten. The little buggers gets put into the Thames beds to be fattened up," explained the 'ampshireman.

"Get yourself a bigger boat and you could get in on the Thames transport game. There's money to be made," he went on.

"I have a better idea," said Lucky.

He spent a couple of days asking around and bending an ear or two and finding out who was who and what was what.

As luck would have it the merchant M. Huître, who he had brought over, wanted to go back. As he wasn't in so much of a hurry this time, he offered Lucky five bob to take him.

If Lucky had charged him nothing it would still have been one of the luckiest things that he'd ever do. Because of the funny way they do things on the Channel Islands, M. Huître's father had the ancient hereditary title of 'Grand Mollusc Wizard' or some such silly name. The merchant had inherited said title on the death of his father.

Lucky told him that he would like to take a boatload directly to Bridport Harbour once a week during the Oyster Season. He thought that they would go down well with the poor people of Dorset.

The 'Lord High What's His Face', or whatever he's called, said that Lucky was lucky as that was something he could arrange for him. In half a sparrow's fart they agreed how much of a backhander his Thinginess would get. Even with this cost, Lucky felt that he was lucky.

Lucky bought a bigger boat.

Having a bigger boat meant that when he wasn't bringing oysters from Jersey he could transport rope from the ropewalk in Bridport to shipyards all along the south coast. Bridport was famous for the quality of its hemp rope. Lucky was lucky, he greased the palms of the right people and got the best contracts.

Strange as it may seem, Bridport Harbour is not very close to Bridport. It is about two miles to the south. Tranters had to haul goods back and forth between the two places on their huge carts.

As soon as he could Lucky bought two huge carts.

Over the next twenty-five years the trade made him an absolute fortune.

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After twenty-five years of marriage Bas did what so many sailors had done before him, he drowned at sea.

The lovely Rose nearly died too. If you believe that a heart can break with grief, that is. Her world so steadfast and true just folded in on itself.

After a week, the wider realisation of her predicament dawned on her. She could starve to death. At first she wanted to die and if it had to be of starvation, so be it. She had no children to worry about.

As so often happens when you wish so badly to die, your well meaning friends step in to stop you.

Rose had a good friend, Cherry. She just happened to be the wife of the landlord of the Bridport Arms on Bridport Harbour.

Rose had known her since Cherry was a serving girl. The landlord of the Bridport Arms eventually married Cherry. She was of the opinion that he only did it because she was the one maid that wouldn't let him have his end away. Cherry knew that it had been a gamble but she thanked God that men are so predictable. Whereas, even God, being a man, didn't know what a woman would do next.

Nevertheless, after twenty years of marriage, and getting his end away exclusively with Cherry, the landlord now totally relied on her ability to run the Bridport Arms.

"You would be doing me a great favour if you came and worked at the pub. You are still the best looking woman in South Dorset. Men would fall over themselves to see you behind the bar," Cherry said.

Rose knew that Cherry was being very kind to her but she had her reservations. "I hear that a lot of serving girls are expected to show favours to the customers at some inns," she said.

"I have none of that sort of hanky panky at my pub." said Cherry, "Mainly because I know what goes on in those establishments.

"It starts off with the girls sucking cocks and then one night they get so busy that the landlord fears that he'll lose custom if his patrons are let down so he suggests that it wouldn't hurt if the landlady helped out, Next thing you know you're on your hands and knees with a sailor on your arse and your tits swinging in the wind."

"Cherry!" gasped Rose.

"What?" Cherry went on. "Anyway it doesn't happen at the Bridport. I only want you behind the bar. At fortyish, I expect to get groped occasionally but I don't want you to put up with it. Well, not until your right hook improves anyway. Please say you'll take the job."

Rose only pretended to be shocked. Really she loved it that Cherry said things that other people only thought. The landlady often had her in stitches with her tales of what whores and harlots got up to. She wouldn't like people to know but she had sometimes tried them out on Bas.

He would simply laugh and say, "Thank you very much. You've been talking to Cherry again."

She would never tell anybody, because it wasn't seemly for a respectable woman to have those sorts of feelings, but Rose had taken great joy from sex. Of course she pretended that she only indulged in the more bizarre things to please Bas but she enjoyed them as much as him. Oh God how she missed his cock.

Rose did go and work at the Bridport Arms. And Rose was grateful to her friend.

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That's when Lucky came into Rose's world.

Lucky liked to gamble and Lucky expected to win. He would gamble on anything but most of all he liked to play Three Card Brag. He liked it because he could afford to brag big and when the players vyed, poorer men often wouldn't be able to keep up with him.

Lucky being Lucky he invariably won.

The Bridport Arms was famous for the playing of Brag. Every Friday a group gathered, every fool believing that this week his luck would change.

The first time that he saw her Lucky told everyone that he was going to have Rose. The laughter was loud and long. Everybody knew that Lucky always won but nobody believed that he would win Rose. It was well known that she had been a good and virtuous wife for twenty-five years and that she would never be swayed by any of the values that Lucky held dear. They gladly placed wagers with him, believing for once that they had a chance to even the score.

From the first time that Rose saw Lucky she didn't like him. He was everything that she hated in a man. He was arrogant, overconfident, loud and boastful. He bullied, intimidated and embarrassed good men who were no threat to him at all.

From that day on Lucky Howlett would sit at the bar each evening.

He started by asking Rose to sleep with him. For Lucky, Rose was a trophy to be won. Having won the trophy it wouldn't matter to him if he kept it.

For months Lucky offered every type of inducement to get Rose to sleep with him. In truth, it made no difference to Lucky if they actually slept as long as he fucked her. Neither money or flattery would persuade Rose.

By Christmas, Lucky realised that the only way he was going to win was by adopting drastic tactics. So, he asked Rose to marry him.

Lucky couldn't believe it when she refused. He wasn't a modest man and he believed just being asked would be enough to win any woman.

He explained to Rose that he had lots of money. Believing that that must be the way to a woman's heart.

Rose was not impressed.

He pointed out to her that he had a fine house. Thinking that maybe that was the way to a woman's heart.

It meant nothing to Rose.

The regulars at the Bridport Arms all said, "Hard Luck!" It was the general opinion that Lucky should do the decent thing and pay up on the wagers. But Lucky never paid up because Lucky never lost.

Lucky refused to be beaten. He resorted to the lowest of game plays. He exploited a widow's fears.

Constantly, he reminded Rose that old age was waiting for her. For a widow with no family, old age meant poverty and a lonely death in the workhouse.

At first Rose laughed. She was only forty-seven, the workhouse was a far off prospect.

Lucky added a further worry. Any evil misfortune could befall a widow with no man to protect her. It was a cruel and dangerous world.

On a weekly basis, he added another fear, like illnesses or accident, to his list of woes that could befall a widow.

Since Bas had died the Lulworth Estate, who owned his little fisherman's cottage, had only charged Rose a peppercorn rent. Suddenly, the cottage had been bought by a mystery buyer. The rent had increased significantly.

None of these things had the slightest effect on Rose until one night, as a terrible storm battered Bridport Harbour, she had the most horrific nightmare that included an accident at sea, and an illness followed by a long and lonely death in the workhouse.

The next day she agreed to marry Lucky Howlett.

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For Lucky it wasn't a case of winning the hand of the most beautiful widow in Dorset; it was a case of winning.

He said he would win and he did win.

Rose did her best to be a good wife who deported herself with grace and dignity in all things. She gave her body freely but without enthusiasm. Rose fought with every fibre of her being not to enjoy sex with Lucky. He knew no difference, never having been aware of the sensuous Rose Handsome.

Lucky dressed Rose in the finest clothes. Not that he cared whether it made her happy or not. He simply wanted to show that she was still the most desirable of creatures. Not just for her looks but because she had been hard to come by.

He wanted everyone to know that he had won her because winning is what he did.

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By 1860, Lucky and Rose had been married for two years.

All over Europe the potato crops had been blighted for many years. Dorset was hit badly but fortunately they had other crops to fall back on. Some parts of Britain weren't so fortunate. Ireland was particularly badly hit.

Someone had discovered that potatoes grown downwind from copper smelting works suffered less from the blight. They started using "Bordeaux Mixture' (copper sulphate and quicklike) on the island of Jersey. This coupled with the mild climate meant that by 1858 'Jersey Earlies' were very much in demand.

The Jersey oyster trade had been declining slowly each year. Lucky was just a little concerned. Luckily, M. Huître had two friends in the potato trade. They may have had some fancy title, I don't know.

M. Dénaturer and M. Enfoiré would be happy to meet with M. Howlett when he made his next visit to Jersey, said M. Huître. Their only condition was that he bring his lovely wife. They had heard so much about her beauty and virtue.

Lucky suspected that the men were intrigued by the stories of how difficult it had been for him to win her. Nevertheless, having her there could only add to his kudos. At forty-nine Rose was still stunning.

They took a suite at the best hotel in St Helier. Lucky and Rose were to dine with the three businessmen in Lucky's rooms. M. Huître would act as an advisor to the differences in the way things were done in Dorset and Jersey.

Rose was charming and the Jerseymen were charmed by her.

Negotiations went smoothly. They soon agreed on the price per hundredweight. Lucky secretly thought that the price was much lower than he was willing to pay while the potato merchants felt that he was paying too much. So, it was a good deal for everyone concerned.

The meal was excellent and the wine was even better.

Lucky was delighted when the conversation turned to games of chance. The three merchants recited the names of card games that Lucky had never heard of: Canasta, Bezique, Belote. Finally, they mentioned Three Card Brag.

Rose raised her eyebrows slightly but said nothing when Lucky told them that he may have played it once or twice.

The four men agreed on a game and the local rules were clarified. As they were all affluent they set the ante at a sovereign with no limit. As he usually did, Lucky stipulated that promissory notes wouldn't be allowed.

Rose asked to be excused but M. Dénaturer and M. Enfoiré insisted that she stay. Dénaturer said gallantly, "The room will be so dull without you."

He was a gentleman in his mid sixties while Enfoiré, Huître and Lucky were of a similar age at about fifty.

With a large damask covered circular table in the centre of the room, that had a triple oil lamp suspended above it, conditions were perfect for an evening of card play. Rose played the dutiful hostess and ensured that the brandy glasses were kept full. Her work at the Bridport Arms meant that she was now adept at lighting gentlemen's cigars.

To start with, Lucky did what Lucky always did. He won a few hands, he lost a few hands. Thus giving the impression that he was only a mediocre player.

This evening he used the additional ruse of making it obvious when he had a good or bad hand. Early on he folded a few moderately good hands and played some bad hands to the death. He played the part of a good natured loser much to the other's amusement.

It didn't take many hands for Lucky to detect the other men's mode of betting. Enfoiré always made his first two bets blind. Luck was of the opinion that only a fool played blind. Huître was cautious and folded on nearly every hand. This made it obvious when he had the occasional good hand.

Dénaturer was different. Lucky couldn't tell exactly how his hand was. Sometimes he would bet big over and over but then just fold. Then he would chase a lost cause to the bitter end.

Halfway through the evening Lucky decided that it was time to get serious. He wanted to win and win big. And then it happened; he was dealt a prial of Jacks. The best hand he had had for a long while. He won most hands by bluffing on a high run or a high flush. But he wasn't playing with fishermen and wagon men tonight. These businessmen had real money. These fish had to be kept on the line.

He raised the stakes. Huître folded and put his unseen cards on the bottom of the deck. Enfoiré played blind. Dénaturer raised.

Lucky scratched his head, scratched his chin, looked uncertain and raised again. Enfoiré lost his nerve slightly, looked at his hand, matched the bet and raised. Dénaturer raised confidently. Lucky didn't want the other men slipping off the hook so he took his time and scratched his nose before raising the stakes.

Enfoiré matched the bet and raised by the same amount. No-one was surprised when Dénaturer's next bet was big. Lucky had used the same tactic so many times himself in an attempt to scare other players into folding. But this time he didn't want anyone to fold. He wanted the Jerseymen to think that they could win.

Three Jacks was a very good hand. His confidence was sky high. Lucky raised. So did Enfoiré.

Then disaster struck.

Dénaturer matched the bet and then increased the bet by a massive amount. Enfoiré folded immediately, muttering under his breath. Lucky was far from home. He easily had enough banknotes to cover it: but not here. He didn't have enough to see Dénaturer's cards. He should have folded.

It was ironic. Lucky had done the same thing to do many men before.

This was a whole new experience for him. He nearly threw his cards in but that would mean losing. Not only losing but losing with a great hand.

Lucky pushed forward his remaining pile of sovereigns. "Will you take my note for the balance?" he asked Dénaturer.

The older man replied, "Surely it was you who insisted that there were to be no promissory notes when we discussed the terms. Do you not have anything of value you could use? I am not an unreasonable man."

Lucky looked at the thick gold bracelet on his left wrist. "I have this but I fear that that won't cover it."

"What about your wife?" asked Dénaturer coolly.