Page 59 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

And then, thank God, the music stopped, and she was able to make her exit. Oh, you fool, Rachel, you fool! ran her thoughts. What have you done?

The headquarters that Angus Tullamore had set up for Mr Cowling was in Finsbury Square, where he had also taken lodgings, but the new shipping venture required an office closer to the docks, in Limehouse, and it was there that he had been spending most of his time lately.

Just the week before, the last documents had been signed, with relish by Mr Cowling and perhaps a little wistfully by Mr Mayer, and the shipping line of Mayer and Frank had become part of Cowling’s ‘empire’. There was no Frank to sign the deed – the original blood line had ceased to exist when a previous Frank’s only child, a daughter, had married a Mayer son: the name had been kept on out of sentiment, and because it was recognised in the shipping business. The present Mr Mayer was keeping a minority share in what was now the Mayer, Frank & Cowling Company. It had taken over the lease of the office, and had added the premises next door in anticipation of expansion. Here Angus had been toiling in a morass of legal documents, financial accounts, contracts, bills of lading, lists of ships, crew manifests and more, while the vast maps on the walls were improving his geography at pace.

Now Mr Cowling, in his shirt sleeves, was leaning on his fists on the desk, looking at papers and talking about the future of the company. It was hot outside and the windows stood open, the slight breeze bringing in the flat smell of the river and twirling dust motes in the shafts of sunshine. Workmen were busy in the office next door, and when they came to knock a door through the dust would be dreadful. But at least when it was all finished they could have a thorough cleaning – and Cowling had promised both offices would be fresh-painted, the floors revarnished.

‘We’ve got to think about the company’s name, first of all,’ he said. ‘Mayer, Frank & Cowling’s a mouthful, but Mayer’s not wrong that we need to keep his name for recognition, at least to begin with. We should have insisted on my name going first,’ he added discontentedly. ‘But Cowling, Mayer & Frank sounded awkward, somehow.’

‘We can shorten it to the initials, MFC,’ Angus said.

‘Aye, but who’ll know what that means?’ Cowling objected. ‘Sounds like a football club.’

‘We’ll do it by degrees. Look, I’ve been sketching out the heading for the new company stationery. You see’ – he passed over a dummy sheet – ‘there’s the full name across the top, but then in the corner – actually, I think it should be larger than this – a sort of emblem, a badge, if you like, like they have in heraldry.’

‘Heraldry, eh?’ Cowling said, with a slight increase of interest.

It was a triangle with the capital letters MFC printed across it. ‘I’ve been toying with a double line round the letters – I think it looks more solid. The idea is that people get used to seeing the badge alongside the full name. We print it on everything, and gradually withdraw the name so that the initials are all anyone uses.’

Mr Cowling looked at it with reserve. ‘I don’t know,’ he mused.

‘We can have it painted on the funnels of the ships, too,’ Angus went on, watching him closely. ‘An enormous triangle with MFC in it – you’d see it for miles.’

‘Aye, but I still don’t like it. It’s a dry mouthful. I can see it’ll work on the stationery, all right, but it’s not memorable. We need a trading name. “MFC trading as…” and something catchy. Like the White Star line – something people’ll remember.’ He stared at some rather dull photographs on the wall of Mayer & Frank ships. Then his eyebrows went up as he thought of something. ‘Funnels, you said?’

‘It’s the first part of the ship you see as it comes up over the horizon, long before you can make out the name on the bow. And when there’s a mass of shipping all in port together, the funnels are about all you can distinguish.’

‘Well, that’s it, then, isn’t it? We paint all the funnels the same colour – aye, and put your blessed badge on ’em if you like – and call ourselves, what? Blue’s a good colour, I like blue. The Blue Funnel Line!’

‘I’m afraid there already is a Blue Funnel Line,’ Angus said gently. ‘And a Red Funnel.’

‘Hmm. What about green then? Anyone got green?’

‘No, sir, not that I know of.’

‘Right, then, we’ll grab it, before anyone else does! Mayer, Frank & Cowling trading as the Green Funnel Line. A good strong green, mind, and your badge smack in the middle – it makes a good picture.’

‘And I’ve just thought of something,’ Angus said. ‘Suppose we do all our letterheads in green ink?’

Cowling wrinkled his nose. ‘Green ink? I never heard the like!’

‘Green ink for the Green Funnel Line! Here’s the thing, sir. Just look at this mass of papers on my desk. Every desk in the world gets covered over with papers, all printed in black ink. Ours would stand out. Like a rose in a vegetable bed. You’d catch a glimpse of green out of the corner of your eye and think, “Oh, yes, Green Funnel.” It would get the name known faster than anything.’

Cowling laughed. ‘By God, you’re a smart one! It was a good day’s work when I gave you a job. Very well, Green Funnel it is, badge and green ink and all. You’ll do the necessary.’

‘I will, sir.’

‘I’m leaving things in your hands, because I’m going back to Leicestershire tomorrow. My wife is very near her time, and the doctor says first babies often come early, so I want to be on hand.’

‘I understand sir. I hope all goes well.’

‘So do I,’ Cowling said, suddenly serious. ‘I think the worry’s worse when there’s nothing you can do yourself to help. You’ll find out one day, when you get married. Now, what’s this meeting you’ve called me in for? Sir James Farocean? What does he want?’

‘I’m not sure, sir. His secretary wouldn’t say. But from gossip I’ve heard around the docks, I think he’s worried about competition from the new company.’

‘Well, he should be. I’ll give ’em all competition!’

‘I suspect there may be a proposal not to compete directly on certain routes. There have been informal agreements between shipping lines before.’