Hushed whispers and incredulous faces stared back at James Polcarrow, but there were more smiles than frowns. His voice soared across the hall, ‘Your election promise may be contacts for contracts, but will you really share your boatyard contracts with the ship-builders of Fosse? And if you did bring our boatyards commissions, would you pay the highest rate or keep the cost deliberately low so that the excellent ships they build can be sold on at a huge prot?’ I heard Father’s sharp intake of breath. He was staring at Sir James in amazement. ‘Would your new contracts be for warehouses to prot from the West Indies sugar trade? Why are we not putting our efforts into rening our own sugar beet that grows so well on this land? Others are trying it, so why not us? Why should sugar merchants and warehouse owners prot, while the labouring poor starve through want of employment?’ A murmur of assent lled the hall; heads were nodding. James Polcarrow’s voice turned hard.
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