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 FIFTH EDITION

THE
BIRTH
PARTNER
A COMPLETE GUIDE TO CHILDBIRTH FOR DADS,
DOULAS, AND OTHER LABOR COMPANIONS

PENNY SIMKIN, P.T.

WITH KATIE ROHS

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 Copyright © 2018 by Penny Simkin
Cover illustration © 2018 by Lola and Bek
This edition first published in 2018 by The Harvard Common Press,
an imprint of The Quarto Group,
100 Cummings Center, Suite 265-D, Beverly, MA 01915, USA.
T (978) 282-9590 F (978) 283-2742 QuartoKnows.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written per-
mission of the copyright owners. All images in this book have been reproduced with the
knowledge and prior consent of the artists concerned, and no responsibility is accepted by
producer, publisher, or printer for any infringement of copyright or otherwise, arising from the
contents of this publication. Every effort has been made to ensure that credits accurately
comply with information supplied. We apologize for any inaccuracies that may have occurred
and will resolve inaccurate or missing information in a subsequent reprinting of the book.

The Harvard Common Press titles are also available at discount for retail, wholesale, promo-
tional, and bulk purchase. For details, contact the Special Sales Manager by email at
[email protected] or by mail at The Quarto Group, Attn: Special Sales Manager, 401
Second Avenue North, Suite 310, Minneapolis, MN 55401, USA.

21 20 19 18 17 1 2 3 4 5

ISBN: 978-1-55832-910-2

Digital edition published in 2018

eISBN: 978-1-55832-911-9

Originally found under the following Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Simkin, Penny with Katie Rohs
The birth partner : a complete guide to childbirth for dads, doulas, and all other labor compan-
ions / Penny Simkin
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-55832-819-8 (pbk.)
1. Pregnancy. 2. Natural childbirth--Coaching. 3. Labor (Obstetrics)—Complications. 4. Child-
birth. I. Title.
RG525.S5829 2013
618.2—dc23
2013007371

Photographs by Shutterstock (pages 19 and 60) and Patti Ramos (pages 236 and 363)
Cover illustration by Susie So
Drawings by Gayle Isabelle Ford; except pages 115, 174 (top left), 176, 177 (middle), 194, 249
(left), 252, 259, 350, and 378 by Dolly Sundstrom
Cover and text design by Laura H. Couallier, Laura Herrmann Design
Page layout by Tabula Rasa

Printed in China

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 Dedication
. . . from penny
To the thousands of expectant parents who have taught me so much
while I have taught them;
To the hundreds of women and their loving partners whom I have
been privileged to assist as a doula during childbirth;
Especially to Peter, my husband, father of our children, and my
beloved partner for six decades;
To our four grown children, to whom we could not feel closer and of
whom we could not be prouder, and to their spouses, who enrich our lives;
To our eight grandchildren, whose births I have been privileged to
attend in the role of proud grandmother;
To our three grandchildren-in-law;
To our two great grandsons.

. . . from katie
To each family I have supported in birth, for teaching me as much about
myself as they did the importance of birth;
To my teachers and mentors in birth, especially Penny Simkin, for
inspiring me and challenging me to lean into this work and the rewards
it brings;
To my mother, Molly, who is a doula to so many in her life, and who
taught me the meaning of presence and empathy;
To my father, John, who understands my brain and how it works, and
who is steadfast in his love and support;
To my VBs, Kelli, Amy, Selena, and Beth, for loving me, supporting
me, holding me accountable, and reminding me to laugh;
To my husband, Todd, my partner, my champion, who encourages
and supports me every day;
To Tess and Sam, the children of my heart, for teaching me about
grief, resilience, and the importance of being cared for in birth;
And most importantly, to my children of this life, Hank and Lily, who
are my heart, my breath, and my greatest teachers.

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 Contents
P R E FAC E 8
AC K N OW L E D G M E N T S 13
H OW TO U S E T H I S B O O K 16
A N OT E TO D O U L A S 18

PART ONE Before the Birth 19

1. The Last Weeks of Pregnancy 20

What Kind of Birth Partner Will You Be 21
Getting Ready for Labor 23
Preparing for Life with the Baby 51
On to the Next Step . . . 59

PA R T T WO Labor and Birth 60

2. Getting into Labor 62

The Difference Between Prelabor and Labor 63
How Long Will Labor Last? 66
Signs of Labor 67
If the Bag of Waters Breaks Before Labor Begins 71
“False” Labor, or Prelabor 72
Labor Progresses in Six Ways 74
Timing Contractions 77

3. Moving Through the Stages of Labor 81

Compare Labor to Running a Marathon 82
Prelabor 85
The Dilation, First, Stage 90
Early Labor 92
Getting into Active Labor (3 to 5 Centimeters Dilation) 99
Active Labor 102
Transition 109

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 The Birthing, Second, Stage 116
The Resting Phase 117
The Descent Phase 121
The Crowning and Birth Phase 127
The Placental, Third, Stage 131
The Recovery and Bonding, Fourth, Stage 135
Normal Labor—in a Nutshell 138

4. Comfort Measures for Labor 143

Pain versus Suffering 144
The Three Rs: Relaxation, Rhythm, and Ritual 147
Self-Help Comfort Measures 153
Comfort Aids and Devices 176
Comforting Techniques 187
Taking Care of Yourself 197
Checklist of Comfort Measures for Labor 198

5. Strategies for Challenging Variations in Normal Labor 201

The Take-Charge Routine 202
On-the-Spot Coaching (When You Have Had No
Childbirth Classes) 206
The Very Rapid Labor 207
The Emergency Delivery 209
When Labor Must Start (Labor-Stimulating Measures) 212
The Slow-to-Start Labor 216
Slow Progress in Active Labor and the Birthing Stage—
with or without Back Pain 221
When the Birthing Person Must Labor in Bed 224
A Breech Baby 226
A Previous Disappointing or Traumatic Birth Experience 231
Incompatibility with the Nurse or Caregiver 233

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 PA R T T H R E E The Medical Side of Childbirth 236
Key Questions for Informed Decision-Making 237

6. Tests, Technologies, Interventions, and Procedures 239

Late-Pregnancy Tests 240
Essential Observations During Labor 243
Conditions Influencing the Use of Intervention
During Labor 245
Common Obstetric Interventions 246

7. Complications in Late Pregnancy, Labor, or Afterward 270

Complications for the Pregnant Person 272
Complications with Labor Progress 285
Complications with the Fetus 290
Complications in the Placental Stage 295
Complications with the Newborn 297
After It Is All Over 303

8. Medications for Pain During Labor 304

Management of Normal Labor without Pain Medications 305
What You Both Need to Know About Pain Medications 307
Know How the Birthing Person Feels About Using
Pain Medications 326

9. Cesarean Birth and Vaginal Birth After Cesarean 340

Know the Nonmedical Reasons for Cesarean Birth
and Factors to Consider 341
Know the Medical Reasons for Cesarean Birth 343
Know What to Expect During Cesarean Birth 346
Your Role During and After a Cesarean Birth 353
Vaginal Birth After Cesarean (VBAC) and
Trial of Labor after Cesarean (TOLAC) 356

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 PA R T F O U R After the Birth 363

10. The First Days Postpartum 364

The First Few Hours 364
The First Few Days for the Baby 376
The First Few Days for the Birthing Parent 382
Homecoming 387
After a Home Birth 388
Getting Help and Advice 389
Postpartum Emotions 390
What About Your Feelings 392
Practical Matters at Home 394

11. Getting Started with Feeding Your Baby 400

Reasons for Breast-Feeding/Chest-Feeding 401
Getting Off to a Good Start 403
How to Offer Support Related to Infant Feeding
Early Concerns 405
When to Give the Baby a Bottle 414
Once Breast-Feeding/Chest-Feeding Is Established 416

PA R T I N G WO R D S 417
R ECO M M E N D E D R E S O U RC E S 418
INDEX 428

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 Preface

I
’d like to explain what led me to write this book, now in
its fifth edition. The first edition was published in 1989, after I
learned some truths about what it means to give birth and what
it means to be a birth partner who deeply loves the person giving
birth. One of these truths is this: how one gives birth matters to one’s
self-confidence and self-esteem, to the baby’s long-term health, and to
one’s relationships with their partner, baby, and other loved ones.
This is as true today, with this fifth edition, as it was in 1989 and for
generations (even millennia) before.
Here’s another very important truth: how a person is cared for and
supported during birth is a major influence, not only in how they give
birth but also in how they feel about the birth for years to come. Yet,
medical care before and during childbirth focuses almost exclusively on
the physical safety of the baby and birthing person and places little
emphasis on their emotional well-being, relationship with the partner,
and readiness to parent. Such matters are given low priority in our very
expensive health care system, which is beset by nursing shortages, pres-
sure to increase the use of medical and surgical interventions while
increasing efficiency, reduction of psychosocial support services, threats
of malpractice lawsuits, and other factors that work against personal-
ized, flexible, family-centered care.
I learned the importance of emotional care during labor when, in
the late 1980s, I conducted a study of people’s long-term memories of
their experiences giving birth to their first child. These people had
attended childbirth classes I taught between 1968 and 1974. They had
sent me their birth stories shortly after giving birth. For my study, I con-
tacted some of those people fifteen to twenty years later and asked them
two things: to write their birth stories again as they remembered them
and to rate their satisfaction as they looked back on their childbirth
experiences.

8 |

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 In comparing the two stories from each person, I was astounded at
how clearly they remembered their birth experiences and how consis-
tent they were with their original stories, despite the intervening years!
As we did not have copy machines in those days and they had not written
their stories for themselves after the births, I possessed the only stories
(which I photocopied and returned to them at the end of the study!). I
then interviewed each person and discovered they had detailed memo-
ries of their doctors and nurses (there were no midwives practicing in
my area at that time). Everyone vividly remembered specific things done
and said to them. Many could quote the exact words! Some actually wept
as they recalled some of these things—either with joy over the kindness
and care they received or with sadness or anger over being treated dis-
respectfully or thoughtlessly.
Briefly, those who felt they had been well cared for by the profes-
sional staff reported the highest satisfaction, even if the labors had been
long or complicated. Those who felt they had been treated disrespect-
fully or ignored reported the least satisfaction. Also, those who reported
a great sense of accomplishment in giving birth were the most satisfied.
They felt they had been in control and that the birth experience had
been good for their self-esteem. The less satisfied women did not have
these positive feelings.
The presence of husbands or other loved ones was unusual because,
at the time, it was not customary for men, or even female relatives, to
attend childbirth classes or the births of their babies. In fact, my classes
were part of two emerging radical trends: unmedicated natural child-
birth and the presence of husbands (with the marriage certificate to
prove it!) to attend the births of their babies and assist their wives in
giving natural births. The classes encouraged men to take the role of
“coach” for the birthing person, and most played as active a role as they
were allowed, although they were often required to leave the labor or
delivery room for long periods.
The women’s memories of their husbands were also clear and
detailed. Here are quotations from some of the women:
“He was the only reason I got through it.”
“It was one of the finer moments in our life and relationship.”
“He was more patient and took it more seriously than I expected.”

| 9

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 “He’s a competitor. He was my coach. It was a very big deal for him.”
“It hurt him to see me in pain.”
“He could feel me tense immediately.”
“He was there 100 percent.”
“He was apprehensive, but wanted to be there.”
I learned from that study that birthing persons need and appreciate
loving, familiar people to stay with them, help them, and share the
birth—one of life’s most meaningful moments. The kind of professional
care and emotional support they receive during labor largely influences
how they look back on the birth experience—with satisfaction and ful-
fillment or with disappointment, sadness, and even anger. I realized, in
this age of high-tech, high-pressure obstetrics, it is unrealistic to expect
busy nurses, doctors, and even hospital-based midwives to provide con-
tinuous individualized emotional and physical comfort throughout
labor and birth, along with all their other clinical responsibilities and
other laboring patients.
The conclusions from my study (published in 1991 and 1992 in two
parts, titled Just Another Day in a Woman’s Life?) have been confirmed
time and again by other studies of long-term memories of one’s birthing
experience. During the hundreds of births I have attended as a doula
and with the thousands of expectant parents who have attended my
childbirth classes, I have always been guided by the question, “How will
they remember this?” That study prompted me to write the first edition
of this book. I wanted to help partners feel more knowledgeable and
confident in their support role, so their laboring loved ones would
always appreciate the help.
This study helped convince me that laboring people, as well as their
partners, need trained doulas to provide continuous emotional support,
reassurance, and comfort throughout childbirth. I developed a training
program for doulas in 1988, and with other doula advocates, founded
the Seattle-based Pacific Association for Labor Support (now called
PALS Doulas) and in 1992, with pediatrician/researchers, Marshall
Klaus and John Kennell, psychotherapist Phyllis Klaus, and health
administrator Annie Kennedy, founded the international organization
Doulas of North America, now DONA International. Our goal was to

10 | PREFACE

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 ensure childbearing women get the kind of care they need and their
partners the kind of practical guidance and tools they need during this
challenging and unforgettable time. Extensive published research (by
Klaus, Kennell, and many others) has demonstrated that the doula fills
a gap in maternity care and provides benefits in medical outcomes as
well as fulfillment and satisfaction as the mother or parents define it.
(See Recommended Resources, page 418, for more on the benefits of
doulas at birth.)
When it was time to publish the third edition of The Birth Partner, we
realized the book had become popular with birth doulas. I decided to
add extensive material for and about the doula’s role during and after
birth, to guide doulas and also inform parents on how doulas and part-
ners work together with hospital staff to provide excellent support to the
childbearing woman.

About the Fifth Edition

This fifth edition builds on the previous editions with updated informa-
tion, added comfort measures, and new illustrations. The two major
purposes in writing this book have not changed: to give readers—birth
partners, doulas, pregnant people, and others—clarity, confidence,
excitement, and joy about the upcoming birth of a very special child and
to ensure that laboring people are not left in the care of strangers, with
loved ones standing by, feeling anxious, uncomfortable, and uncertain
of ways to be helpful.
Typically today, childbearing people are cared for by maternity pro-
fessionals whom they hardly know or have never met. During the span
of one labor, with shifts and breaks and the staff’s need to look after
more than one patient at a time, the laboring person will meet and
adjust to numerous different professionals. This model, “care by strang-
ers,” has evolved from a need by hospitals to maintain efficiency and
contain runaway costs, but sadly often results in families feeling disap-
pointed, or even traumatized, after childbirth. While unexpected
complications and extra-challenging labors cannot always be prevented,
if a person is cared for with respect and kindness during such times,
they are less likely to have these negative feelings and their emotional

PREFACE | 11

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 recovery is smoother and faster. Being attended by known and trusted
caregivers and support people helps. Therefore, I hope to improve the
chances that each laboring person will receive continuous attention,
respect, and nurturing from those who accompany them in labor. I want
every birthing person to be able to look back on their birth experience
with the feeling of being well cared for, no matter how the labor and
birth proceeded.

Introducing Katie Rohs as

Coauthor for the Fifth Edition
I asked Katie Rohs to join me as coauthor in updating and adding new
content for this fifth edition. As an experienced childbirth educator, a
sought-after doula, an independent thinker, and an emerging leader in
our field, Katie provides the fresh perspective of one who is closer to the
action than I. As I age and step back from direct “in-the-trenches”
involvement as a doula, I rely on Katie and other colleagues to challenge
me and keep me up to date. Katie began working in my office in 2012
while parenting her busy twins and starting her career as a doula and
childbirth educator. That was serendipitous. Both of us, as active child-
birth educators, find our students—expectant parents—are also
valuable teachers. Their needs motivate, guide, and inform us.
Katie is the person who championed the use of inclusive gender-neutral
language to address the needs and interests of nontraditional families
not addressed in previous editions—our nonbinary families—the les-
bian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) communities. We
hope this book ignores no one taking part in childbearing—directly or
indirectly. As our society shifts toward acceptance and celebration of
multiple family configurations, our language falls short of the inclusive-
ness needed to address everyone’s needs. New words and new definitions
of old words reflect the fluid nature and meaning of “gender.” The lan-
guage of this edition reflects where we are in 2018. A future edition may
reflect more shifting as we are in the midst of rapid change.

—Penny Simkin

12 | PREFACE

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 Acknowledgments

W
e have had our share of support throughout the
process of revising this book. We want to thank the
following extraordinary people who have made it possible
for us to accomplish this in the midst of our busy lives:
Two people in Penny’s office have been extremely helpful: Kathy
Wilson has kept the office running smoothly, kept track of finances,
paid the bills, handled sales and shipping, and supported Penny’s birth
classes, all while continuing her own career as a childbirth and parent-
ing educator; Dolly Sundstrom, who has many talents, provided new
drawings for this edition, helped with updating our Recommended
Resources (page 418), and kept Penny’s library up to date, all while
attending university to become a clinical psychologist. Both brighten
the office with their competence and good cheer!
Penny’s colleagues and friends at the Simkin Center for Allied Birth
Vocations at Bastyr University have challenged her to provide more cul-
turally sensitive education. She is particularly grateful to Annie Kennedy,
Carrie Kenner, Sharon Muza, Teri Shilling, Kim James, and Laurie Levy.
The Pacific Association for Labor Support, DONA International,
and Great Starts Birth and Family Education, a program of Parent Trust
for Washington Children, share our values and play an important role
in our professional lives, as we follow our passion. Thanks especially to
Linda McDaniels, associate director of Parent Trust, for her continuing
support and inspiration.
We also want to acknowledge our dedicated and talented fellow
board members of PATTCh (Prevention and Treatment of Traumatic
Childbirth), who recognize the alarming incidence of traumatic birth
and join us in seeking ways to prevent it and to treat its potential nega-
tive emotional aftermath when it occurs. Our current board, Leslie
Butterfield, Annie Kennedy, Phyllis Klaus, Kathy McGrath, Suzanne
Swanson, Onion Medina Carillo, Mora Oommen, Sharon Storton, and
Kathleen Kendall-Tackett, have come together with us in this cause,
which is also one of the causes of this book.

| 13

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 Lisa Hanson, Ph.D., C.N.M., F.A.C.N.M., a wonderful new friend and
professor of Midwifery at Marquette University, and Ruth Ancheta, a
wonderful old friend, both coauthors with Penny on The Labor Progress
Handbook. Ruth also holds the copyright for many of the illustrations in
both The Labor Progress Handbook and The Birth Partner and donated them
for both books.
Phyllis Klaus, dear friend, mentor, and psychotherapist extraordi-
naire, and Penny’s coauthor of When Survivors Give Birth: Understanding
and Healing the Effects of Early Sexual Abuse on Childbearing Women.
Shanna Dela Cruz, the artist who drew most of the illustrations in
this and previous editions, has been fastidious and reliable. We admire
her simplicity, accuracy, and individuation of the people in the illustra-
tions. Dolly Sundstrom has contributed the fine illustrations that are
new to this edition.
Joy MacTavish, M.A., I.B.C.L.C., R.L.C., a lactation consultant,
updated chapter 11 and assisted with appropriate gender-neutral lan-
guage. We are very grateful.
Kim James, I.C.C.E., L.C.C.E., B.D.T. (DONA), birth and parenting
instructor at Parent Trust for Washington Children, Swedish Doula Pro-
gram, birth doula skills instructor at Simkin Center for Allied Birth
Vocations Bastyr University, for allowing us to use the language about
selecting a doula from her website: Doulamatch.net.
Childbirth Graphics, producers of teaching materials for expectant
and new parents, has allowed me to use some of their classic drawings.
Molly Kirkpatrick for being Penny’s Elder Doula and Katie’s Mother
Doula.
The birth partners, members of our childbirth classes, who gener-
ously shared their personal thoughts for the beginnings of each chapter,
have added poignancy and realism to the text.
Bess Simkin, Eva Caldera, Eduardo Caldera, Matt Connell, and Sky
Stewart, who read parts of the book and generously provided feedback
on readability and appropriateness of the gender-neutral language.
Their constructive feedback and encouragement of our attempts to make
this book accessible and meaningful to all are very meaningful to us.
Katie thanks Todd, her partner and husband of sixteen years for hold-
ing down the fort while she attends families in labor and teaches classes

14 | ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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 in the evenings and weekends, for being the best #DoulaHusband, and
for seeing Katie as an author, long before Katie believed she could do it.
Most importantly, Penny wants to thank Peter, who has been her
loving, patient, and accepting partner and husband for six decades,
patiently and attentively listening and giving feedback as she has strug-
gled with phrases and concepts throughout the labor and birth of this
book and others.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS | 15

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 How to Use This Book

T
he Birth Partner is intended to be both a useful guide to
prepare you for your role as birth partner and a quick refer-
ence during labor. It will be most helpful if you can read the
entire book before labor. Then, if there is time, you may
want to review parts of it during labor.
There may be times during labor when you need immediate help
and want to find something quickly in this book. Anticipating which
information you may need on the spot, we have printed such topics with
a dark orange background so they will stand out as you fan through the
pages. Fan the pages of the book and find those with dark edges. These
sections are as follows:

Chapter 1
Supplies to Take to the Hospital or Birth Center (page 33)
Supplies for a Home Birth (page 35)

Chapter 2
Signs of Labor (page 68)
If the Bag of Waters Breaks Before Labor Begins (page 71)
Timing Contractions (page 77)
Early Labor Record (page 79)

Chapter 3
When Do You Go to the Hospital or Settle in for a Home Birth? (page 95)
Normal Labor—in a Nutshell (page 138)

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 Chapter 4
Positions and Movements for Labor and Birth (page 169)
Checklist of Comfort Measures for Labor (page 198)

Chapter 5
The Take-Charge Routine (page 202)
On-the-Spot Coaching (page 206)
The Emergency Delivery (page 209)
Slow Progress in Active Labor and the Birthing Stage—
with or without Back Pain (page 221)
Incompatibility with the Nurse or Caregiver (page 233)

Chapter 7
Prolapsed Cord (page 290)

Chapter 8
When Are Pain Medications Used? (page 331)

Chapter 9
Know What to Expect During Cesarean Birth (page 346)

Please also refer to Recommended Resources (see page 418) to find other
recommended publications and online resources, including some videos.

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 A Note to Doulas
This book includes much information on the doula’s role before, during,
and after birth. Doulas use it as a reference and a guide regarding their
role during labor and also how they interact with the birth partner, the
laboring person, and the clinical care providers. Both Katie and Penny
are experienced doulas (Penny now retired) and strongly believe the
doula’s role is uniquely different from the roles of loved ones and part-
ners, nurses, midwives, and doctors, even though the roles overlap.
Doulas’ training is focused on physical comfort measures and ways to
enhance labor progress. Their training also includes extensive discus-
sion of the emotional shifts that laboring people experience throughout
their labors and how to attune themselves to the changing moods and
movements of the laboring person. It may be that doulas reduce stress
and fear in laboring people. Those emotions increase stress hormones,
which are known to impair labor progress through most of labor. Doulas
help people feel safe and less afraid or anxious. They also guide and
reassure partners. This nonclinical care can improve clinical outcomes
(such as lower cesarean rates, shorter labors, fewer requests for pain
medication, greater satisfaction with the birth, and fewer newborns who
need extra nursing care).
This book explains the birth process to birth partners and pregnant
people and explains the role of the doula throughout the process.

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 t
par

one

BEFORE THE BIRTH

Your role as birth partner begins before the pregnant person is in
labor. During the last weeks of pregnancy, you can learn about labor,
encourage the pregnant person to continue good health habits, help
with last-minute preparations for the baby and for labor itself, and figure
out the role you will play as birth partner.
This is also the time for you both to make many important decisions
about the birth and to discuss them with the caregiver. If you attend
childbirth classes and go to prenatal checkups, you will not only become
informed, but also meet the doctors or midwives and become more com-
fortable in your role. You can also get advice and reassurance about
anything causing anxiety or uncertainty for either of you.
During these last weeks, you can prepare for your role through intro-
spection, discussions with the pregnant person, gathering information,
and practicing comfort measures.

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 chapter

THE LAST WEEKS

OF PREGNANCY
As the third trimester went on, I had a growing sense of wonder. The big day
was coming when I would finally meet my daughter. I felt her kicks and saw
Janna’s belly bump around when we spoke or laughed. But, who was she?
What would she be like? I couldn’t wait to meet her. My spouse knew she
wanted to have the baby naturally. I was worried. I thought, “Why? We have
hospitals and medicines to provide comfort. Why turn it away?” She told me
she just wanted the right to try. This changed my thinking forever. I would not
be a roadblock because she should have the right to try to do what her body was
designed to do.
— scott, first-time father

E
arly in pregnancy, it seems that nine months are forever and
there is plenty of time to do everything that has to be done.
It is all too easy, especially for busy people, to postpone “getting
into” the pregnancy. Now, suddenly, the baby is almost due.
Time has flown by. As the pregnant person’s birth partner, you realize
you are being counted on you to help them through childbirth. Do you
feel ready? Can you help? What do you know about labor? Do you know
what to do when? What should you do now to get ready for the baby? The
last months of pregnancy are a perfect time to learn these things, but
you had better start right away—a month or two before the due date is
truly the “last minute,” especially as many babies arrive early. This first

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 chapter is basically a checklist of things to do before labor starts, to help
ensure the two of you will work well together during labor and birth.

What Kind of Birth Partner Will You Be?

Birth partners come in all shapes and sizes, and they help the laboring
person in any number of ways. Most often, the birth partner is the baby’s
father or co-parent and/or the pregnant person’s husband, wife, life
partner, or lover. The birth partner may also be the pregnant person’s
mother, sister, or friend.
A doula is another kind of birth partner, one becoming more popu-
lar in North America. The number of doulas is increasing rapidly,
especially in cities, although doulas are still in short supply in some
areas. Sometimes, the doula is the pregnant person’s only birth partner,
but more often, the doula helps both the laboring person and birth
partner. The doula is an experienced guide and support person to the
pregnant person or expectant couple. (See the description of the dou-
la’s role on pages 25 through 28.) In this book, you will learn how doulas
can help you and the pregnant person in the variety of labor situations
you may encounter.
The role played by the birth partner varies according to many per-
sonal factors and the nature of the partner’s relationship with the
pregnant person. What role will you play? What role does the pregnant
person want you to play? How much effort do the two of you want to put
into learning about childbirth and practicing comfort measures? How
actively does the pregnant person want to participate in decision-making,
in managing labor pain, in helping the labor progress well, and in deliv-
ering the baby? Does the pregnant person prefer a more natural birth or
a more medical birth?
If natural birth, both of you should acquire a basic understanding of
childbirth, learn the techniques for managing pain, and plan realisti-
cally for the challenges of labor. You should expect birth to be
challenging, demanding, and also fulfilling and also feel capable of
meeting the challenges with help, guidance, and encouragement from
the medical and support teams. The pregnant person should plan to
rely more on inner strength, coping skills, and the support team and less
on drugs and procedures to get through labor and give birth.

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 If the pregnant person prefers or needs (because of health concerns)
a more medical birth, they will need to rely more on the doctor or mid-
wife to make decisions, to use drugs and procedures to control the
progress and pain of labor, and to deliver the baby.

How Will You Feel?

For a realistic idea of the situations and feelings you may encounter as a
birth partner, ask yourself these questions. How will I feel if or when the
pregnant person:
Asks me to take time off to go to prenatal appointments together?
Tells me we are signed up for 12 to 18 hours of childbirth classes?
Asks me to read this book or others?
Wakes up moaning every 10 to 20 minutes during the night thinking
it’s labor, and I am very tired?
Has a gush of water from the vagina followed immediately by long,
painful contractions in the abdomen?
Does not accept my suggestions for relaxation or coping?
Needs my help with every contraction, but I am tired or hungry?
Asks me if we should go to the hospital?
Makes distressing sounds I have never heard?
Expresses discouragement (“This is so hard,” “I can’t keep on,” “How
much longer?” “Don’t make me do this”)?
Clings to me and says, “Help me!”?
Vomits or needs to vomit?
Is in pain and begins to cry, grimaces, and becomes very tense?
Criticizes me (“Not like that,” “Don’t touch me,” “Don’t breathe in my
face,” “Don’t leave me”)?
Needs me to press hard on their back with every contraction, until my
arms ache?
Tells me, “I want an epidural.”?

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 Has a labor that goes on for 12, 18, or 24 hours and still no baby, and I
am so tired I can’t keep my eyes open, but they need me?
Is told a cesarean will be necessary?
Hears the caregiver say, “Look here! The baby’s head is starting to
come . . . ?”
Feels and sees the baby slide out, wrinkled, soaking wet, streaked with
blood, and crying lustily?
Asks if I want to cut the cord?

Hands me the little, squirming, bundled baby to hold and cuddle?

Looks at me and says, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”?
Although no answer is right or wrong, your role as birth partner is
affected by the pregnant person’s preferred approach to labor and birth
and your comfort with those choices. Does the pregnant person have
thoughts about what they want and need from you? Do you feel able and
eager to meet those needs?
All these questions may be impossible to answer right now. But keep
them in mind as you read this book and start discussing them with the
pregnant person. Start imagining them in labor and the challenges you
may face as the birth partner.
Use the exercise “How Will You Feel?” as a reality check. This book
will help you prepare for such situations and plan good strategies to
handle them. By the time labor begins, you should have a much clearer
and more confident picture of yourself as birth partner.

Getting Ready for Labor

If you haven’t already done the things described in the following pages,
try to do so a few weeks before the due date or at least before labor starts.

Visit the Pregnant Person’s Caregiver

(Doctor or Midwife)
If you have not yet met the caregiver, this visit may be more important
than you think—for both you and the caregiver. Even a brief meeting

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 helps establish for the caregiver that you are an important person in the
pregnant person’s life. Although a substitute caregiver (another partner
in the group practice) may actually attend the birth, this meeting still
provides you the opportunity to ask questions, get a feel for what doctors
and midwives do, and play a more active role.

Visit the Hospital or Out-of-Hospital Birth Center

Take a tour of the hospital maternity area—triage (the room where
people go when they first arrive in labor) is usually where a nurse decides
whether to admit patients to the hospital, birthing rooms, waiting room,
nursery, kitchen, and postpartum rooms. You’ll see much of the equip-
ment used during labor. They do not usually visit operating rooms
(where cesareans are done) on the tour but may show slides and describe
them. You can find out when tours are available by calling the hospital.
Sometimes, a tour is included in childbirth classes, or you can attend a
regularly scheduled tour. Ask your caregiver how to make arrangements.
This is a good time to ask questions about the hospital’s usual way of
doing things and any choices they offer for labor management.
Birth centers are smaller and have fewer rooms than hospitals: labor,
birth, and the first hours afterward are spent in the same room. Birth
centers also have fewer protocols and less equipment, but it is still
important to visit and learn the usual practices in the birth center.
On the way to the tour, figure out your route to the hospital or birth
center and how long it takes to get there (during both rush hour and
slower traffic times). At the hospital, learn which entrances to use during
the day and at night (you may have to use the main entrance during the
day and the emergency entrance at night). Entrances to out-of-hospital
birth centers are seldom staffed around the clock and are usually locked
at night. You arrange to meet your midwife there when you call her to
announce labor.
If the pregnant person is planning to give birth at home or in a birth
center, be sure to tour the backup hospital so you won’t be confused if a
transfer becomes necessary during labor.

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 Preregister at the Hospital
If you’re having a hospital birth, you should preregister, which involves
obtaining, reading, and signing pre-admission forms and a medical con-
sent form. By registering in advance, you save time and avoid confusion
when you arrive with the pregnant person in labor.

Consider Having a Doula

Help You Both During Labor
Why consider a doula? Childbirth is intense, demanding, unpredictable,
and painful, and it can last for a few hours to 24, 36, or even more. Even if
you are well prepared, you and the pregnant person may find it difficult
to apply your classroom learning in the real situation. If you are not well
prepared, all the challenges of labor are baffling and anxiety producing.
Of course, you will have a nurse and a doctor or midwife who are
likely to be kind and caring, but they will probably be very busy with the
clinical aspects of the birth, which are their highest priority. Hospital
nurses and midwives rarely remain in the room throughout labor, as
they have duties outside the room and are often taking care of more
than one laboring patient at a time. They work in shifts, so over the
course of labor, several different professionals are likely to be involved
in each laboring person’s care. Doctors rely on the nurses to manage the
labor, with phone reports as necessary, and they may briefly visit from
time to time and will come if problems arise during labor. And, of
course, they are there for the birth.
One of the most positive developments in maternity care is the addi-
tion of the birth doula, who guides and supports women and their
partners continuously through labor and birth. The doula usually meets
with you in advance, is on call for you, arrives at your home or the hos-
pital when you need her, and remains with you continuously, with few
breaks, until after the baby is born. The doula is trained and experi-
enced in providing emotional support, physical comfort, and nonclinical
advice. They draw on their knowledge and experience as they reassure,
encourage, comfort, and empathize with the laboring person. The
doula also works with the partner, guiding and assisting you on how to
help, suggesting when to use particular positions, the bath or shower,
and specific comfort measures.

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 A doula cannot and does not take over your role as the birth partner
because you know the birthing person better and love them and the
baby as no one else does. But there are many times when the person
giving birth needs more than one helper in labor, and the partner needs
reassurance, advice, and help, too.
Besides helping the laboring person, a doula can help you in these ways:
• Guide you in applying the information you learned in childbirth
class to the more stressful and unpredictable labor situation.
• Relieve you so you can get a meal, a nap, or just a break during a long
or all-night labor.
• Bring beverages, hot packs, or ice for the laboring person so you do
not have to leave to do so.
• Reassure you if you are worried about the laboring person’s well-being.
The doula’s experience provides perspective, which can keep you
from misinterpreting normal reactions to labor as signs that some-
thing is wrong or that the laboring person is not coping well.
• Help you understand what the laboring person might be feeling and
interpret the signs of labor progress to you.
• Provide support and help you participate more confidently, if you do
not feel comfortable as the laboring person’s only constant source of
support, by making sure the laboring person’s needs are met.

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 • By getting to know the two of you before the birth, the doula can dis-
cover your priorities, fears, and concerns and help develop strategies
to deal with them.
• Photograph or videotape the two of you during labor and birth or all
three (or more!) of you afterward. Check hospital policies on this.
Doulas do not make decisions for you or project personal preferences
on you, but rather help you get the information you need to make good
decisions. A doula’s goal is to help the laboring person have a satisfying
birth as they define it.
One partner described the doula this way: “She was like my big sister—
ready, willing, and able to help me do the best job I could. She showed me
how to rub Mary’s back, reminded us to try the lunge (see page 170), and
got me a bagel when I was really hungry. She kept encouraging us. She
seemed so confident. A lot of the time, both she and I were helping Mary.
I was holding her during the contractions, and our doula was pressing on
Mary’s back and helping her breathe in rhythm. Our doula even gave me
a shoulder rub in the middle of the night. She never left except to go to
the bathroom. Without her, the birth wouldn’t have been as great for both
Mary and me. The doula helped me do a better job.”
Numerous scientific trials have compared birth outcomes of women
who had doulas and those who did not. In very “high-tech” hospitals
with high cesarean and induction rates, women attended by doulas had
fewer forceps and vacuum-extractor deliveries and fewer cesareans.
They did not need to use as much pain medication. Also, women
attended by a doula were more likely to report birth experiences that
were satisfying versus those who did not have a doula. Although a doula
cannot guarantee a normal or an easy labor, statistics show that having
a doula results in less need for major labor interventions. Chapter 3
describes what doulas do to help during each phase of labor.
There are many organizations that train and certify birth doulas,
with different methods of training and requirements for certification.
When choosing your doula, it’s important to consider the doula’s train-
ing. DoulaMatch.net has a comprehensive guide to evaluating
doula-certifying organizations, which can help guide your selection.
We agree with DoulaMatch.net’s suggestions for choosing a doula
trained by a high-quality training organization. They are reprinted here

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Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
 “How do you know?”
“Read it. Growers in Jersey has been doin’ it these years.”
Eli digested this information and leaned against the wall,
watching Penaluna at work.
Eli liked the man’s air of patient power, also his economy of
speech. He decided he was to be trusted. “You’re a good farmer,
aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said Penaluna truthfully.
“What’s wrong with our place, Bosula?” Eli inquired.
“Under-manned,” said Penaluna. “Your father had two men
besides himself and he worked like a bullock and was clever, I’ve
heard tell. Now you’ve got but two, and not a head between ’em.
Place is going back. Come three years the trash’ll strangle ’e in your
beds.”
Eli took the warning calmly. “We’ll stop that,” he announced.
Penaluna subjected him to a hard scrutiny, spat on his palms,
worked the crow-bar into a crevice and tried his weight on it.
“Hum! Maybe—but you’d best start soon.”
Eli nodded and considered again. “Are you clever?”
Penaluna swung his bar from left to right; the rock stirred in its
bed.
“No—but I can read.”
Eli’s eyes opened. That was the second time reading had been
mentioned. What had that school-mastering business to do with real
work like farming?
“Went to free-school at Truro,” Simeon explained. “There’s clever
ones that writes off books and I reads ’em. There’s smart notions in
books—sometimes. I got six books on farming—six brains.”
“Um-m,” muttered Eli, the idea slowly taking hold.
 In return for advice given, he helped the farmer pile walls until
sunset and not another word was interchanged. When he got home
it was to learn that Ortho was in Devon with Pyramus and that he
was to go to school in his stead.
Eli’s feelings were mixed. If Ortho had had a bad time he would
undoubtedly have worse, but on the other hand he would learn to
read and could pick other people’s brains—like Penaluna. He rode to
Helston with his mother, grimly silent all the way, steeling himself to
bear the rods for Bosula’s sake. But Ortho, by the dramatic manner
of his exit, had achieved popularity when it was no longer of any use
to him. Eli stepped in at the right moment to receive the goodly
heritage.
Was he not own brother to the hero who had tricked Rufus into
slicing himself across the leg and followed up this triumph by
pummeling seven bells out of the detested usher and flooring him in
his own classroom? The story had lost nothing in the mouths of the
spectators. A half-minute scramble between a sodden hulk of a man
and a terrified boy had swollen into a Homeric contest as full of
incident as the Seven Years’ War, lasting half an hour and ending in
Rufus lying on the floor, spitting blood and imploring mercy. Eli
entered the school surrounded by a warm nimbus of reflected glory
and took Ortho’s place at the bottom of the lowest form.
That he was the criminal’s brother did not endear him to Rufus,
who gave him the benefit of his acid tongue from early morn to
dewy eve, but beyond abuse the usher did not go. Eli was not tall,
but he was exceptionally sturdy and Rufus had not forgotten a
certain affair. He was chary of these Penhales—little better than
savages—reared among smugglers and moor-men—utterly
undisciplined . . . no saying what they might do . . . murder one,
even. He kept his stick for the disciplined smaller fry and pickled his
tongue for Eli. Eli did not mind the sarcasm in the least. His mental
hide was far too thick to feel the prick—and anyhow it was only talk.
One half-holiday bird’s-nesting in Penrose woods, he came upon
the redoubtable Burnadick similarly engaged and they compared
eggs. In the midst of the discussion a bailiff appeared on the scene
and they had to run for it. The bailiff produced dogs and the pair
were forced to make a wide detour via Praze and Lanner Vean.
Returning by Helston Mill, they met with a party of town louts who,
having no love for the “Grammar scholards,” threw stones. A brush
ensued, Eli acquitting himself with credit. The upshot of all this was
that they reached school seven minutes late for roll call and were
rewarded with a thrashing. Drawn together by common pain and
adventure, the two were henceforth inseparable, forming a
combination which no boy or party of boys dared gainsay. With
Rufus’ sting drawn and the great Burnadick his ally Eli found school
life tolerable. He did not enjoy it; the food was insufficient, the
restraint burdensome, but it was by no means as bad as he had
expected. By constant repetition he was getting a parrot-like fluency
with his tables and he seldom made a bad mistake in spelling—
providing the word was not of more than one syllable.

At the Owls’ House in the meanwhile economy was still the rage.
Teresa’s first step was to send the cattle off to market. In vain did
Bohenna expostulate, pointing out that the stock had not yet come
to condition and further there was no market. It was useless. Teresa
would not listen to reason; into Penzance they went and were sold
for a song. After them she pitched pigs, poultry, goats and the dun
pony. Her second step was to discharge the second hind, Davy. Once
more Bohenna protested. He could hardly keep the place going as it
was, he said. The moor was creeping in to right and left, the barn
thatch tumbling, the banks were down, the gates falling to pieces.
He could not be expected to be in more than two places at once.
Teresa replied with more sound than sense and a shouting match
ensued, ending in Teresa screaming that she was mistress and that
if Bohenna didn’t shut his mouth and obey orders she’d pack him
after Davy.
But if Teresa bore hard on others she sacrificed herself as well.
Not a single new dress did she order that year, and even went to the
length of selling two brooches, her second best cloak and her third
best pair of earrings. Parish feasts, races, bull-baitings and cock-
fights she resolutely eschewed; an occasional stroll down the Cove
and a pot of ale at the Kiddlywink was all the relaxation she allowed
herself. By these self-denying ordinances she was able to foot Eli’s
school bills and pay interest on her debts, but her temper frayed to
rags. She railed at Martha morning, noon and night, threw plates at
Wany and became so unbearable that Bohenna carried all his meals
afield with him.
Eli came home for a few days’ holiday at midsummer, but spent
most of his waking hours at Roswarva.
On his last evening he went ferreting with Bohenna. The banks
were riddled with rabbit sets, but so overgrown were they it was
almost impossible to work the fitchets. Their tiny bells tinkled here
and there, thither and hither in the dense undergrowth, invisible and
elusive as the clappers of derisive sprites. They gamboled about,
rejoicing in their freedom, treating the quest of fur as a secondary
matter. Bohenna pursued them through the thorns, shattering the
holy hush of evening with blasphemies.
“This ought to be cut back, rooted out,” Eli observed.
The old hind took it as a personal criticism and turned on him, a
bramble scratch reddening his cheek, voice shaking with long-
suppressed resentment. “Rooted out, saith a’! Cut back! Who’s goin’
do et then? Me s’pose.”
He held out his knotted fists, a resigned ferret swinging in each.
“Look you—how many hands have I got? Two edden a? Two only.
But your ma do think each o’ my fingers is a hand, I b’lieve. Youp!
Comin’ through!”
A rabbit shot out of a burrow on the far side of the hedge, the
great flintlock bellowed and it turned somersaults as neatly as a
circus clown.
“There’ll be three of us here when I’ve done schooling next
midsummer and Ortho comes home,” said Eli calmly, ramming down
a fresh charge. “We’ll clear the trash and put the whole place in
crop.”
Bohenna glanced up, surprised. “Oh, will us? An’ where’s cattle
goin’?”
“Sell ’em off—all but what can feed themselves on the bottoms.
Crops’ll fetch more to the acre than stock.”
“My dear soul! Harken to young Solomon! . . . Who’s been tellin’
you all this?”
“Couple of strong farmers I’ve talked with on half holidays near
Helston—and Penaluna.”
Bohenna bristled. Wisdom in foreign worthies he might admit,
but a neighbor . . . !
“What’s Simeon Penaluna been sayin’? Best keep his long nose
on his own place; I’ll give it a brear wrench if I catch it sniffing over
here! What’d he say?”
“Said he wondered you didn’t break your heart.”
“Humph!” Bohenna was mollified, pleased that some one
appreciated his efforts; this Penaluna, at least, sniffed with
discernment. He listened quietly while Eli recounted their neighbor’s
suggestions.
They talked farming all the way home, and it was a revelation to
him how much the boy had picked up. He had no idea Eli was at all
interested in it, had imagined, from his being sent to school, that he
was destined for a clerk or something bookish. He had looked
forward to fighting a losing battle, for John’s sake and Bosula’s sake,
single-handed, to the end. Saw himself, a silver ancient, dropping
dead at the plow tail and the triumphant bracken pouring over him
like a sea. But now the prospect had changed. Here was a true
Penhale coming back to tend the land of his sires. With young blood
at his back they would yet save the place. He knew Eli, once he set
his face forward, would never look back; his brain was too small to
hold more than one idea. He gloated over the boy’s promising
shoulders, thick neck and sturdy legs. He would root out the big
bowlders as his father had done, swing an ax or scythe from cock-
crow to owl-light without flag, toss a sick calf across his shoulders
and stride for miles, be at once the master and lover of his land, the
right husbandman. But of Ortho, the black gypsy son, Bohenna was
not so sure. Nevertheless hope dawned afresh and he went home to
his crib among the rocks singing, “I seen a ram at Hereford Fair” for
the first time in six months.

Eli was back again a few days before Christmas, and on

Christmas Eve Ortho appeared. There was nothing of the chastened
prodigal about him; he rode into the yard on a showy chestnut
gelding (borrowed from Pyramus), ragged as a scarecrow, but
shouting and singing. He slapped Bohenna on the back, hugged Eli
affectionately, pinned his mother against the door post and kissed
her on both cheeks and her nose, chucked old Martha under the
chin and even tossed a genial word at the half-wit Wany.
With the exception of Eli, no one was particularly elated to see
him back—they remembered him only as an unfailing fount of
mischief—but from Ortho’s manner one would have concluded he
was restoring the light of their lives. He did not give them time to
close their front. They hardly knew he had arrived before he had
embraced them all. The warmth of his greeting melted their
restraint. Bohenna’s hairy face split athwart in a yellow-toothed grin,
Martha broke into bird-like twitters, Wany blushed, and Teresa said
weakly, “So you’re back.”
She had not forgiven him for his school escapade and had
intended to make his return the occasion of a demonstration as to
who ruled the roost at Bosula. But now she thought she’d postpone
it. He had foiled her for the moment, kissed her . . . she couldn’t
very well pitch into him immediately after that . . . not immediately.
Besides, deep in her heart she felt a cold drop of doubt. A new
Ortho had come back, very different from the callow, pliant child
who had ridden babbling to Helston beside her ten months
previously. Ortho had grown up. He was copper-colored with
exposure, sported a downy haze on his upper lip and was full two
inches taller. But the change was not so much physical as spiritual.
His good looks were, if anything, emphasized, but he had hardened.
Innocence was gone from his eyes; there was the faintest edge to
his mirth. She had not wanted to be kissed, had struggled against it,
but he had taken her by surprise, handled her with dispatch and
assurance that could only come of practice—Master Ortho had not
been idle on his travels. An idea occurred to her that she had been
forestalled; it was Ortho who had made the demonstration. Their
eyes met, crossed like bayonets and dropped. It was all over in the
fraction of a second, but they had felt each other’s steel.
Teresa was not alarmed by the sudden development of her first-
born. She was only forty-one, weighed fourteen stone, radiated rude
health and feared no living thing. Since John’s death she had not
seen a man she would have stood a word from; a great measure of
her affection for her husband sprang from the knowledge that he
could have beaten her. She apprised Ortho’s slim figure and mentally
promised him a bellyful of trouble did he demand it, but for the
moment she concluded to let bygones be—just for the moment.
Ortho flipped some crumbs playfully over Wany, assured Martha
she had not aged a day, told Bohenna they’d have a great time after
woodcock, threw his arm around Eli’s neck and led him out into the
yard.
“See here what I’ve got for you, my old heart,” said he, fishing in
his pocket. “Bought it in Portsmouth.”
He placed a little brass box in Eli’s hand. It had a picture of a
seventy-four under full sail chased on the lid and the comfortable
words, “Let jealous foes no hearts dismay, Vernon our hope is, God
our stay.” Inside was coiled a flint steel and fuse. Eli was profoundly
touched. Ortho’s toes were showing through one boot, his collar
bones had chafed holes in his shirt and his coat was in ribbons. The
late frost must have nipped him severely, yet he had not spent his
few poor pence in getting himself patched up, but bought a present
for him. As a matter of fact the little box had cost Ortho no small
self-denial.
Eli stammered his thanks—which Ortho laughed aside—and the
brothers went uphill towards Polmenna Down, arms about shoulders,
talking, talking. Eli furnished news of Helston. Burnadick was sorry
about that row he had had with Ortho—the other fellows pushed
him on. He was a splendid fellow really, knew all about hare-hunting
and long-dogs. Eli only wished he could have seen Ortho ironing
Rufus out! It must have been a glorious set-to! Everybody was still
talking about it. Rufus had never been the same since—quaking and
shaking. Dirty big jellyfish!—always swilling in pot-houses and
stalking serving-maids—the whole town had laughed over his
discomfiture.
Ortho was surprised to learn of his posthumous popularity at
Helston. Eli’s version of the affair hardly coincided with his
recollection in a single particular. All he remembered was being
horribly frightened and hitting out blindly with results that
astonished him even more than his victim. Still, since legend had
chosen to elevate him to the pinnacle of a St. George, suppressor of
dragons, he saw no reason to disprove it.
They passed on to other subjects. How had Ortho got on with
the Romanies? Oh, famously! Wonderful time—had enjoyed every
moment of it. Eli would never believe the things he had seen.
Mountains twice . . . three . . . four times as high as Chapel Carn
Brea or Sancreed Beacon; rivers with ships sailing on them as at
sea; great houses as big as Penzance in themselves; lords and ladies
driving in six-horse carriages; regiments of soldiers drilling behind
negro drummers, and fairs with millions of people collected and all
the world’s marvels on view; Italian midgets no higher than your
knee, Irish giants taller than chimneys, two-headed calves and six-
legged lambs, contortionists who knotted their legs round their
necks, conjurers who magicked glass balls out of country boys’ ears;
dancing bears, trained wolves and an Araby camel that required but
one drink a month. Prizefights he had seen also; tinker women
battling for a purse in a ring like men, and fellows that carried live
rats in their shirt bosoms and killed them with their teeth at a penny
a time. And cities! . . . Such cities! Huge enough to cover St.
Gwithian parish, with streets so packed and people so elegant you
thought every day must be market day.
London? No-o, he had not been quite to London. But travelers
told him that some of the places he had seen—Exeter, Salisbury,
Plymouth, Winchester—were every bit as good—in some ways
better. London, in the opinion of many, was overrated. Oh, by the
way, in Salisbury he had seen the cream of the lot—two men hanged
for sheep-stealing; they kicked and jerked in the most comical
fashion. A wonderful time!
The recital had a conflicting effect on Eli. To him Ortho’s story
was as breath-taking as that of some swart mariner returned from
fabulous spice islands and steamy Indian seas—but at the same time
he was perturbed. Was it likely that his brother, having seen the
great world and all its wonders, would be content to settle down to
the humdrum life at Bosula and dour struggle with the wilderness?
Most improbable. Ortho would go adventuring again and he and
Bohenna would have to face the problem alone. Bohenna was not
getting any younger. His rosy hopes clouded over. He must try to get
Ortho to see the danger. After all Bosula would come to Ortho some
day; it was his affair. He began forthwith, pointed out the weedy
state of the fields, the littered windfalls, the invasion of the moor. To
his surprise Ortho was immediately interested—and indignant.
“What had that lazy lubber Bohenna been up to? . . . And Davy?
By Gad, it was a shame! He’d let ’em know. . . .”
Eli explained that Davy had been turned off and Bohenna was
doing his best. “In father’s time there were three of ’em here and it
was all they could manage, working like bullocks,” said he, quoting
Penaluna.
“Then why haven’t we three men now?”
“Mother says we’ve got no money to hire ’em.”
 Ortho’s jaw dropped. “No money! We? . . . Good God! Where’s it
all gone to?”
Eli didn’t know, but he did know that if some one didn’t get busy
soon they’d have no farm left. “It’s been going back ever since
father died,” he added.
Ortho strode up and down, black-browed, biting his lip. Then he
suddenly laughed. “Hell’s bells,” he cried. “What are we fretting
about? There are three of us still, ain’t there? . . . You, me ’n Ned. I
warrant we’re a match for a passel of old brambles, heh? I warrant
we are.”
Eli was amazed and delighted. Did Ortho really mean what he
said?
“Then—then you’re not going gypsying again?” he asked.
Ortho spat. “My Lord, no—done with that. It’s a dog’s life, kicked
from common to heath, living on hedge-hogs, sleeping under
bushes, never dry—mind you, I enjoyed it all—but I’ve had all I
want. No, boy”—once more he hugged his brother to him—“I’m
going to stop home long o’ thee—us’ll make our old place the best in
the Hundred—in the Duchy—and be big rosy yeomen full of good
beef and cider. . . . Eh, look at that!”
The sun had dipped. Cirrus dappled the afterglow with drifts of
smoldering, crimson feathers. It was as though monster golden
eagles were battling in the upper air, dropping showers of lustrous,
blood-stained plumes. Away to the north the switch-backed tors
rolled against the sky, wine-dark against pale primrose. Mist
brimmed the valleys; dusk, empurpled, shrouded the hills. The
primrose faded, a star outrider blinked boldly in the east, then the
green eve suddenly quivered with the glint of a million million spear-
heads—night’s silver cohorts advancing. So still was it that the
brothers on the hilltop could plainly hear the babble and cluck of the
hidden stream below them; the thump of young rabbits romping in
near-by fields and the bark of a dog at Boskennel being answered by
another dog at Trevider. From Bosula yard came the creak and bang
of a door, the clank of a pail—Bohenna’s voice singing:
“I seen a ram at Hereford Fair,
The biggest gert ram I did ever behold.”
Ortho laughed and took up the familiar song, sent his pleasant,
tuneful voice ringing out over the darkling valley:
“His fleece were that heavy it stretched to the ground,
His hoofs and his horns they was shodden wi’ gold.”
Below them sounded a gruff crow of mirth from Bohenna and the
second verse:
“His horns they was curlèd like to the thorn tree,
His fleece was as white as the blossom o’ thorn;
He stamped like a stallion an’ roared like a bull,
An’ the gert yeller eyes of en sparkled wi’ scorn.”
Among the bare trees a light winked, a friendly, beckoning wink—
the kitchen window.
Ortho drew a deep breath and waved his hand. “Think I’d change
this—this lew li’l’ place I was born in for a gypsy tilt, do ’ee? No, no,
my dear! Not for all the King’s money and all the King’s gems! I’ve
seen ’s much of the cold world as I do want—and more.” He linked
his arm with Eli’s. “Come on; let’s be getting down-along.”

That night the brothers slept together in the same big bed as of
old. Eli tumbled to sleep at once, but Ortho lay awake. Towards ten
o’clock he heard what he had been listening for, the “Te-whoo-whee-
wha-ha” of the brown owls calling to each other. He grunted
contentedly, turned over and went to sleep.
 CHAPTER XII
Christmas passed merrily at Bosula that year. Martha was an
authority on “feasten” rites and delicacies, and Christmas was the
culmination. Under her direction the brothers festooned the kitchen
with ropes of holly and ivy, and hung the “kissing bush”—two barrel
hoops swathed in evergreens—from the middle beam.
Supper was the principal event of the day, a prodigious spread;
goose giblet pie, squab pie made of mutton, raisins and onions, and
queer-shaped saffron cakes, the whole washed down with draughts
of “eggy-hot,” an inspiring compound of eggs, hot beer, sugar and
rum, poured from jug to jug till it frothed over.
The Bosula household sat down at one board and gorged
themselves till they could barely breathe. Upon them in this state
came the St. Gwithian choir, accompanied by the parish fiddler,
“Jiggy” Dan, and a score or so of hangers on. They sang the sweet
and simple old “curls” of the West Country, “I saw three ships come
sailin’ in,” “Come and I will sing you,” “The first good joy that Mary
had,” and
“Go the wayst out, Child Jesus,
Go the wayst out to play;
Down by God’s Holy Well
I see three pretty children
As ever tongue can tell.”
Part singing is a natural art in Cornwall. The Gwithian choir sang
well, reverently and without strain. Teresa, full-fed after long
moderation, was in melting mood. The carols made her feel
pleasantly tearful and religious. She had not been to church since
the unfortunate affair with the curate, but determined she would go
the very next Sunday and make a rule of it.
She gave the choir leader a silver crown and ordered eggy-hot to
be served round. The choir’s eyes glistened. Eggy-hot seldom came
their way; usually they had to be content with cider.
Martha rounded up the company. The apple trees must be
honored or they would withhold their fruit in the coming year.
Everybody adjourned to the orchard, Martha carrying a jug of cider,
Bohenna armed with the flintlock, loaded nearly as full as himself.
Wany alone was absent; she was slipping up the valley to the great
barrow to hear the Spriggans, the gnome-miners, sing their sad
carols as was the custom of a Christmas night.
The Bosula host grouped, lantern-lit, round the king tree of the
orchard; Martha dashed the jug against the trunk and pronounced
her incantation:
“Health to thee, good apple tree!
Hatsful, packsful, great bushel-bags full!
Hurrah and fire off the gun.”
Everybody cheered. Bohenna steadied himself and pulled the
trigger. There was a deafening roar, a yard-long tongue of flame
spurted from the muzzle, Bohenna tumbled over backwards and
Jiggy Dan, uttering an appalling shriek, fell on his face and lay still.
The scared spectators stooped over the fiddler.
“Dead is a?”
“Ess, dead sure ’nough—dead as last year, pore soul.”
Panegyrics on the deceased were delivered.
“A brilliant old drinker a was.”
“Ess, an’ a clean lively one to touch the strings.”
“Shan’t see his like no more.”
“His spotty sow coming to her time too—an’ a brearly loved roast
sucking pig, the pretty old boy.”
Bohenna sat up in the grass and sniffed.
“There’s a brear strong smell o’ burning, seem me?”
 The company turned on him reproachfully. “Thou’st shotten Jiggy
Dan. Shot en dead an’ a-cold. Didst put slugs in gun by mistake,
Ned?”
Bohenna scratched his head. “Couldn’t say rightly this time o’
night . . . maybe I did . . . but, look ’ee, there wasn’t no offense
meant; ’twas done in good part, as you might say.” He sniffed again
and stared at the corpse of his victim.
“Slugs or no seem me the poor angel’s more hot than cold. Lord
love, he’s afire! . . . The wad’s catched in his coat!”
That such was the case became painfully apparent to the
deceased at the same moment. He sprang to his feet and bounded
round and round the group, uttering ghastly howls and belaboring
himself behind in a fruitless endeavor to extinguish the smoldering
cloth. The onlookers were helpless with laughter; they leaned
against each other and sobbed. Teresa in particular shook so
violently it hurt her.
Somebody suggested a bucket of water, between chokes, but
nobody volunteered to fetch it; to do so would be to miss the fun.
“The stream,” hiccoughed Bohenna, holding his sides. “Sit ’ee
down in stream, Dan, my old beauty, an’ quench thyself.”
A loud splash in the further darkness announced that the
unhappy musician had taken his advice.
The apple trees fully secured for twelve months, the party
returned to the kitchen, but the incident of Dan had dissipated the
somewhat pious tone of the preceding events. Teresa, tears trickling
down her cheeks, set going a fresh round of eggy-hot. Ortho
pounced on Tamsin Eva, the prettiest girl in the room, carried her
bodily under the kissing bush and saluted her again and again.
Other men and boys followed suit. The girls fled round the kitchen in
mock consternation, pursued by flushed swains, were captured and
embraced, giggling and sighing. Jiggy Dan, sniffing hot liquor as a
pointer sniffs game, limped, dripping, in from the stream, was given
an old petticoat of Martha’s to cover his deficiencies, a pot of rum,
propped up in a corner and told to fiddle for dear life. The men,
headed by Ortho, cleared the kitchen of furniture, and then
everybody danced old heel and toe country dances, skipped, bowed,
sidled, passed up and down the middle and twirled around till the
sweat shone like varnish on their scarlet faces.
The St. Gwithian choir flung themselves into it heart and soul.
They were expected at Monks Cove to sing carols, were overdue by
some hours, but they had forgotten all about that.
Teresa danced with the best, with grace and agility extraordinary
in a woman of her bulk. She danced one partner off his feet and all
but stunned another against the corner of the dresser, bringing most
of the crockery crashing to earth. She then produced that relic of her
vagabondage, the guitar, and joined forces with Jiggy Dan.
The fun became furious. The girls shook the tumbled hair from
their eyes, laughed roguishly; the men whooped and thumped the
floor with their heavy boots. Jiggy Dan, constantly primed with rum
by the attentive Martha, scraped and sawed at his fiddle, beating
time with his toe. Teresa plucked at the guitar till it droned and
buzzed like a hive of melodious bees. Occasionally she sang ribald
snatches. She was in high feather, the reaction from nine months’
abstinence. The kitchen, lit by a pile of dry furze blazing in the open
hearth, grew hotter and hotter.
The dancers stepped and circled in a haze of dust, steaming like
overdriven cattle. Eli alone was out of tune with his surroundings.
The first effects of the drink had worn off, leaving him with a sour
mouth and slightly dizzy. The warmer grew the others, the colder he
became.
He scowled at the junketers from his priggish altitude and
blundered bedward to find it already occupied by the St. Gwithian
blacksmith, who, dark with the transferable stains of his toil, lay
sprawled across it, boots where his head should have been. Eli rolled
the unconscious artificer to the floor (an act which in no way
disturbed that worthy’s slumbers) and turned in, sick and sulky.
 With Ortho, on the other hand, things were never better. He had
not drunk enough to cloud him and he was getting a lot of fun out of
Tamsin Eva and her “shiner.” Tamsin, daughter of the parish clerk,
was a bronze-haired, slender creature with a skin like cream and
roses and a pretty, timid manner. Ortho, satiated with swarthy gypsy
charmers, thought her lovely and insisted upon dancing with her for
the evening. That her betrothed was present and violently jealous
only added piquancy to the affair. The girl was not happy—Ortho
frightened her—but she had not enough strength of mind to resist
him. She shot appealing glances at her swain, but the boy was too
slow in his movements and fuddled with unaccustomed rum. The
sober and sprightly Ortho cut the girl out from under his nose time
and time again. Teresa, extracting appalling discords from the guitar,
noted this by-play with gratification; this tiger cub of hers promised
good sport.
Towards one o’clock the supply of spirituous impulse having
given out, the pace slackened down. Chastened husbands were led
home by their wives. Single men tottered out of doors to get a
breath of fresh air and did not return, were discovered at dawn
peacefully slumbering under mangers, in hen roosts and out-of-the-
way corners. Tamsin Eva’s betrothed was one of these. He was
entering the house fired with the intention of wresting his lass from
Ortho and taking her home when something hit him hard on the
point of the jaw and all the lights went out. He woke up next
morning far from clear as to whether he had blundered into the
stone door post or somebody’s ready fist. At all events it was Ortho
who took Tamsin home.
Teresa fell into a doze and had an uncomfortable dream. All the
people she disliked came and made faces at her, people she had
forgotten ages ago and who in all decency should have forgotten
her. They flickered out of the mists, distorted but recognizable,
clutched at her with hooked fingers, pressed closer and closer,
leering malevolently. Teresa was dismayed. Not a friend anywhere!
She lolled forward, moaning, “John! Oh, Jan!” Jiggy Dan’s elbow hit
her cheek and she woke up to an otherwise empty kitchen filled with
the reek of burnt pilchard oil, a dead hearth, and cold night air
pouring in through the open door. She shuddered, rubbed her sleepy
lids and staggered, yawning, to bed.
Jiggy Dan, propped up in the corner, fiddled on, eyes sealed,
mind oblivious, arm sawing mechanically.
They found him in the morning on the yard muck heap, Martha’s
petticoat over his head, fiddle clasped to his bosom, back to back
with a snoring sow.

The Christmas festivities terminated on Twelfth Night with the

visit of goose dancers from Monks Cove, the central figure of whom
was a lad wearing the hide and horns of a bullock attended by other
boys dressed in female attire. Horse-play and crude buffoonery was
the feature rather than dancing, and Teresa got some more of her
crockery smashed.
Next morning Eli went to Helston for his last term and Ortho took
off his coat.
When Eli came home at midsummer he could hardly credit his
eyes. Ortho had performed miracles. Very wisely he had not
attempted to fight back the moor everywhere, but had concentrated,
and the fields he had put in crop were done thoroughly, deep-
plowed, well manured and evenly sown—Penaluna could not make a
better show.
The brothers walked over the land on the evening of Eli’s return;
everywhere the young crops stood up thick and healthy, pushing
forwards to fruition. Ortho glowed with justifiable pride, talked
farming eagerly. He and Ned had given the old place a hammering,
he said. By the Holy they had! Mended the buildings, whitewashed
the orchard trees, grubbed, plowed, packed ore-weed and sea-sand,
harrowed and hoed from dawn-blink to star-wink, day in, day out—
Sundays included. But they’d get it all back—oh, aye, and a
hundredfold.
 Eli had been in the right; agriculture was the thing—the good old
soil! You put in a handful and picked up a bushel in a few months.
Cattle—pah! One cow produced but one calf per annum and that
was not marketable for three or four years. No—wheat, barley and
oats forever!
Now Eli was home they could hold all they’d got and reclaim a
field or so a year. In next to no time they’d have the whole place
waving yellow from bound to bound. Ortho even had designs on the
original moor, saw no reason why they should not do their own
milling in time—they had ample water power. He glowed with
enthusiasm. Eli’s cautious mind discounted much of these grandiose
schemes, but his heart went out to Ortho; the mellowing fields
before him had not been lightly won.
Ortho was as lean as a herring-bone, sweated down to bare
muscle and sinew. His finger nails were broken off short, his hands
scarred and calloused, his face was torn with brambles and leathern
with exposure. He had fought a good fight and was burning for
more. Oh, splendid brother!
Ned Bohenna was loud in Ortho’s praise. He was a marvel. He
was quicker in the uptake than even John had been and no work
was too hard for him. The old hind was most optimistic. They had
seeded a fine area and crops were looking famous. Come three
years at this pace the farm would be back where it was at John’s
death, the pick of the parish.
For the rest, there was not much news. Martha had been having
the cramps severely of late and Wany was getting whister than ever.
Said she was betrothed to a Spriggan earl who lived in the big
barrow. He had promised to marry her as soon as he could get his
place enlarged—he, he!
There had been a sea battle fought with gaffs and oars off the
Gazells between Jacky’s George and a couple of Porgwarra boats.
Both sides accused each other of poaching lobster pots. Jacky’s
George sank a Porgwarra boat by dropping a lump of ballast through
her—and then rescued the crew. They had seen a lot of Pyramus
Herne, altogether too much of Pyramus Herne. He had come down
with a bigger mob of horses and donkeys than usual and grazed
them all over the farm—after dark. Seeing the way he had
befriended Ortho, they could not well say much to him, especially as
they had grass to spare at present; but it could not go on like that.
Eli buckled to beside the others. They got the hay in, and, while
waiting for the crops to ripen, pulled down a bank (throwing two
small fields into one), rebuilt a couple more, cleaned out the
orchard, hoed the potatoes and put a new roof on the stables. They
were out of bed at five every morning and into it at eight of an
evening, dead-beat, soiled with earth and sweat, stained with sun
and wind. They worked like horses, ate like wolves and slept like
sloths.
Ortho led everywhere. He was first afoot in the morning, last to
bed at night. His quick mind discerned the easiest way through
difficulties, but when hard labor was inevitable he sprang at it with a
cheer. His voice rang like a bugle round Bosula, imperious yet merry.
He was at once a captain and a comrade.
Under long days of sunshine and gentle drenches of rain the
crops went on from strength to strength. It would be a bumper year.
Then came the deluge. Wany, her uncanny weather senses
prickling, prophesied it two days in advance. Bohenna was uneasy,
but Ortho, pointing to the serene sky, laughed at their fears. The
next day the heat became oppressive, and he was not so sure. He
woke at ten o’clock that night to a terrific clap of thunder, sat up in
bed, and watched the little room flashing from black to white from
the winks of lightning, his own shadow leaping gigantic across the
illuminated wall; heard the rain come up the valley, roaring through
the treetops like surf, break in a cataract over the Owls’ House and
sweep on. “This’ll stamp us out . . . beat us flat,” he muttered, and
lay wondering what he should do, if there was anything to do, and
as he wondered merciful sleep came upon him, weary body dragging
the spirit down with it into oblivion.
 The rain continued with scarcely less violence for a week, held off
for two days and came down again. August crept out blear-eyed and
draggle-tailed.
The Penhales saved a few potatoes and about one-fifth of the
cereals—not enough to provide them with daily bread; they would
actually have to buy meal in the coming year. Bohenna, old child of
the soil, took the calamity with utter calm; he was inured to these
bitter caprices of Nature. Ortho shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
It was nobody’s fault, he said; they had done all they could;
Penaluna had fared no better. The only course was to whistle and go
at it again; that sort of thing could hardly happen twice running. He
whistled and went at it again, at once, breaking stone out of a field
towards Polmenna, but Eli knew that for all his brave talk the heart
was out of him. There was a lassitude in his movements; he was
merely making a show of courage.
Gradually he slowed down. He began to visit the Kiddlywink of a
night, and lay abed long after sunrise.
At the end of October a fresh bolt fell out of the blue. The
Crowan tin works, in which the Penhale money was invested,
suddenly closed down. It turned out that they had been running at a
loss for the last eight months in the hope of striking a new lode, a
debt of three hundred pounds had been incurred, the two other
shareholders were without assets, so, under the old Cost Book
system current in Cornish mining, Teresa was liable for the whole
sum.
She was at first aghast, then furious; swore she’d have the law of
the defaulters and hastened straightway into Penzance to set her
lawyer at them. Fortunately her lawyer was honest; she had no case
and he told her so. When she returned home she was confronted by
her sons; they demanded to know how they stood. She turned sulky
and refused details, but they managed to discover that there was
not five pounds in the house, that there would be no more till the
Tregors rent came in, and even then was pledged to money-lenders
and shop-keepers—but as to the extent of her liabilities they could
not find out. She damned them as a pair of ungrateful whelps and
went to bed as black as thunder.
Ortho had a rough idea as to the houses Teresa patronized, so
next day the brothers went to town, and after a door to door
visitation discovered that she owed in the neighborhood of four
hundred pounds! Four plus three made seven—seven hundred
pounds! What was it to come from? The Penhales had no notion. By
selling off all their stock they might possibly raise two hundred. Two
hundred, what was that? A great deal less than half. Their mother
would spend the rest of her life in a debtor’s prison! Oh, unutterable
shame!
They doddered about Penzance, sunk in misery. Then it occurred
to Ortho to consult the lawyer. These quill-driving devils were as
cunning as dog foxes; what they couldn’t get round or over they’d
wriggle through.
The lawyer put them at their ease at once. Mortgage Bosula or
Tregors . . . nothing simpler. Both strong farms should produce the
required sum—and more. He explained the system, joined his finger-
tips and beamed at the pair over the top.
The brothers shifted on their chairs and pronounced for Tregors
simultaneously. The lawyer nodded. Very well then. As soon as he
got their mother’s sanction he would set to work. Ortho promised to
settle his mother and the two left.
Ortho had no difficulty with Teresa. He successfully used the
hollow threat of a debtor’s prison to her, for she had been in a lock-
up several times during her roving youth and had no wish to return.
Besides she was sick of debt, of being pestered for money here,
there and everywhere.
She gave her consent readily enough, and within a fortnight was
called upon to sign.
Carveth Donnithorne, the ever-prospering ship chandler of
Falmouth, was the mortgagee; nine hundred and fifty pounds was
the sum he paid, and very good value it was.
Teresa settled the Crowan liabilities with the lawyer, and,
parading round the town, squared all her other accounts in a single
afternoon. She did it in style, swept into the premises of those who
had pressed her, planked her money down, damned them for a pack
of thieves and leeches, swore that was the end of her custom and
stamped majestically out.
She finished up in a high state of elation. She had told a number
of her enemies exactly what she thought of them, was free of debt
and had a large sum of ready money in hand again—two hundred
and fifty pounds in three canvas bags, the whole contained in a
saddle wallet.
Opposite the market cross she met an old crony, a retired ship
captain by the name of Jeremiah Gish, and told him in detail what
she had said to the shop-keepers. The old gentleman listened with
all his ears. He admired Teresa immensely. He admired her big
buxom style, her strength, her fire, but most of all he revered her for
her language. Never in forty years seafaring had he met with such a
flow of vituperation as Teresa could loose when roused, such range,
such spontaneity, such blistering invention. It drew him like music.
He caught her affectionately by the arm, led her to a tavern, treated
her to a pot of ale and begged her to repeat what she had said to
the shop-keepers.
Teresa, nothing loth, obliged. The old tarpaulin listened rapt,
nodded his bald head in approval, an expression on his face of one
who hears the chiming of celestial spheres.
A brace of squires jingled in and hallooed to Teresa. Where had
she been hiding all this time? The feasten sports had been nothing
without her. She ought to have been at Ponsandane the week
before. They had a black bull in a field tied to a ship’s anchor. The
ring parted and the bull went loose in the crowd with two dogs
hanging on him. Such a screeching and rushing you never did see!
Old women running like two-year-olds and young women climbing
like squirrels and showing leg. . . . Oh, mercy! The squire hid his
face in his hands and gulped.
Teresa guffawed, took a pound out of one of the bags, strapped
up the wallet again and sat on it. Then she called the pot boy and
ordered a round of drinks. To blazes with economy for that one
evening!
The company drank to her everlasting good health, to her
matchless eyes and cherry lips. One squire kissed her; she boxed his
ears—not too hard. He saluted the hand that smote him. His friend
passed his arm round her waist—she let it linger.
Jerry Gish leaned forward and tapped her on the knee. “Tell ’em
what you said to that draper, my blossom—ecod, yes, and to the Jew
. . . tell ’em.”
Once more Teresa obliged. The company applauded. Very apt;
that was the way to talk to the sniveling swine! But her throat must
be dry as a brick. They banged their pots. “Hey, boy! Another round,
damme!”
Other admirers drifted in and greeted Teresa with warmth.
Where had she been all this time? They had missed her sorely.
There was much rejoicing among the unjust over one sinner
returned.
Teresa’s soul expanded as a sunflower to the sun. They were all
old friends and she was glad to be with them again. Twice more for
the benefit of newcomers did Captain Gish prevail on her to repeat
what she had said to her creditors, and by general request she sang
three songs. The pot boy ran his legs off that night.
Towards eleven p. m. she shook one snoring admirer from her
shoulder, removed the hand of another from her lap, dropped an
ironical curtsey to the prostrate gentlemen about her and, grasping
the precious wallet, rocked unsteadily into the yard. She had to
rouse an ostler to girth her horse up for her, and her first attempts
at mounting met with disaster, but she got into the saddle at last,
and once there nothing short of gunpowder could dislodge her. Her
lids were like lead; drowsiness was crushing her. She kept more or
less awake until Bucca’s Pass was behind, but after that she
abandoned the struggle and sleep swallowed her whole.
She was aroused at Bosula gate by the barking of her own dogs,
unstrapped the wallet, turned the roan into the stable as it stood,
and staggered upstairs. Five minutes later she was shouting at the
top of her lungs. She had been robbed; one of the hundred pound
bags was missing!
The household ran to her call. When had she missed it? Who had
she been with? Where had she dropped it? Teresa was not clear
about anything. She might have dropped it anywhere between
Penzance and home, or again she might have been robbed in the
tavern or the streets. The point was that she had lost one hundred
pounds and they had got to find it—now, at once! They were to take
the road back, ransack the town, inform the magistrates. Out with
them! Away!
Having delivered herself, she turned over and was immediately
asleep.
Ortho went back to bed. He would go to Penzance if necessary,
he said, but it was useless before dawn. Let the others look close at
home first.
Wany and Martha took a lantern and prodded about in the yard,
clucking like hens. Eli lit a second lantern and went to the stable.
Perhaps his mother had dropped the bag dismounting. He found the
roan horse standing in its stall, unsaddled it, felt in the remaining
wallet, turned over the litter—nothing. As he came out he noticed
that the second horse was soaking wet. Somebody had been riding
hard, could only have just got in before Teresa. Ortho of course. He
wondered what his brother was up to. After some girl probably . . .
he had heard rumors.
Martha reported the yard bare, so he followed the hoof tracks up
the lane some way—nothing.
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