David would not allow himself to think of what they would find near the machine. Miracles did happen. Look at Danny. The second fall may not have touched them in there. If it had…well.
Long before they came to the machine they heard the metallic tapping that spoke of iron, and Danny cried, ‘That’s him! That’s Tom. He was near the machine. He likely passed out, and that’s why he never knocked afore.’
Although it was but a comparatively short time, it seemed hours later to David when he actually saw Tom. He was lying by the machine, almost sheltered by a lean-to of twisted props and loaded boulders, not more than inches from his face. He did not move when the light shone on him, but looking down the length of his body his eyes met David’s, and although there was no welcoming gleam in them, the personal issue was waived, at least for David, and he said softly, ‘We’ll soon have you out of that, lad. Just hang on.’
At first Tom made no response by word or sound, and when he did it was to the sweat-gleaming face of Danny he spoke.
‘Joe,’ he said, and motioned with his hand to the side of him.
The men, following his pointing finger, saw a face that looked part of the tortured rock itself, and nearby, as if severed and resting there, lay a grotesquely clean forearm.
‘It’s Joe,’ said Danny, quietly, ‘and he’s buggered.’
‘He’s alive.’ The words seemed to be dragged from Tom, and it was evident to David that he must have attempted the superhuman task of freeing Joe whilst still being trapped himself, and he thought, Oh, Tom lad, Tom. If only things were as they used to be and he could look at him and put into his eyes his pride of him. Words were always futile things in moments like these, but a look between men could convey thoughts that had never yet found expression in sound.
Tom’s voice came again, and David knew it was speaking to him although Tom was looking at Danny. ‘See to…Joe,’ he said.
David’s hand went out to Tom’s arm, but he checked it, he did not want a rebuff, not in front of the men. He turned to Joe, and slowly and with a tenderness that would have done credit to the gentlest of women, he and Danny began to clear the rocks away. But long before they had Joe’s twisted body lying on the top of the stones David had administered the prescribed dose of morphia and had the satisfaction of seeing the tortured lines straighten out of the man’s face.
Few words were spoken as they strapped him up in preparation for the difficult task of getting him along the face.
‘Ben will you go along first and pull?’
‘Aye, dep.’
Ben, a scrap of a chap with seemingly no flesh on his bones but with a body that gave the impression of indefatigable energy, lay face downwards in what had become little more than a man-breadth tunnel. His body was pressed on the spike-edged rock, yet he might have been reclining on a couch, such was his unconcern for his own feelings.
‘You, Stan.’
Without a word, the man addressed went on to his stomach; and one pushing and one pulling, they started the tortuous journey with their unconscious burden towards the mothergate.
‘Hell of a job,’ commented Danny. ‘Take half an hour or more.’
David made no reply, for his eyes were flashing over the roof on the far side of the machine. He seemed to have to drag them back to Tom, to his foot where it disappeared among the stones.
Tom was lying still, waiting with a patience that betrayed nothing of the turmoil within him.
Danny leant over him, saying, ‘Now, fellow me lad, you’ll be up and running in a minute. Where’s that bloody bar?…Are we right, Dave?’ Then he exclaimed, ‘Sh, there, a minute.’ He raised his head and peered at the blocked way ahead. ‘Hear owt…? Listen.’
All eyes were now on the barrier of rocks, and as if by a mystical signal the men further back along the face became quiet. It came again, the faint tapping.
‘It’s wor Bill.’ Danny’s laughter contained his relief. ‘It’s him. Thank God.’ His laughter rose. ‘By, I was getting quite worried. I could see half wor pays going to his widow next week. Why, man, let’s get cracking.’ He lifted his pick to ease the boulders from around Tom’s foot, but David’s voice, strained and sharp, came at him, ‘Hold your hand a minute there.’
He was again looking towards the sloping roof across which a great slab of rock stretched like a beam, both its ends appearing to be buried in a solid mass on either side.
After a moment, during which the men’s gaze had joined his, he said, ‘All right, we’ll go ahead.’
Taking a lever, he inserted it between the boulders directly to the side of the trapped boot.
‘Now,’ he said.
Not only did Danny join his strength to the effort but Tom, feeling the momentary relief from the pressure, pulled on his leg. But what followed was mercifully lost to him.
David had not expected the release to come so quickly, or so easily; and realising that Tom had only fainted, he set about strapping the ankle up roughly.
‘What’s the damage?’ asked Danny.
‘Broken ankle, I should say. He’s lucky.’
‘By God, he is an’ all,’ said Danny. ‘Wouldn’t have surprised me if the only thing for it was…’
‘Sh!’
Tom’s eyes were open, and David said, ‘Here, drink this.’ He made to hold the water bottle to Tom’s lips, but it was pushed aside, and with the aid of his elbow Tom raised himself a little and peered towards his foot.
‘It’s a break,’ said David gently.
He waited like some anxious woman for a direct word to be addressed to him, but Tom said nothing, and he watched him unaided turning on to his side, and knew better than to offer him assistance. Yet when Tom’s body stiffened with cramp, his hands involuntarily went out to him, only to be immediately thrust aside. The rebuke cut into him, and, harsh and rasping, his voice went along the face, ‘Give a hand here, Ned.’
‘I want no hand.’ Tom’s voice was levelled against him, but ignoring this retort, David called, ‘Go along with him, Ned.’
‘Look—’ Tom jerked his head upwards, a protest on his lips, and the expression on his face made David want to cry out, ‘Man, don’t take it like that.’ Through the dust that danced and twirled like slowly moving curtains in the rays of the lamps, Tom’s eyes shone heavy with pain but heavier still with scorn and loathing.
David watched him crawl away until his body was almost beyond the radius of the lights, when it was abruptly halted. He knew what had happened. The rough splint had caught on a piece of wedged rock. It was necessary that someone should follow on behind him.
He called to the man crouched to the side of Tom and pressing himself against the rock to make his passage easier, ‘You go with him, Ned.’
Tom said something to Ned, who seemed to hesitate; but when not more than a few yards on the same thing happened again, Ned made to follow him.
It was Danny’s voice that brought David’s face from Tom’s retreating figure and his thoughts back to the urgent issue at hand. ‘All set, Dave?’
‘Aye…Aye. All set, Danny.’
As, with these words, he turned towards Danny, there came a sound that froze all movement in him, a crunching sound, a sound similar to that he heard three years ago, which had been the prelude to his being shut in for seventy-five hours, the sound he likened to eating cinder toffee, for, like that sound, this went through the bones in your head. He was conscious of yelling something to Danny and of turning on to his back, as if with his hands he could keep the roof at bay. Then a scream filled his head; whether his own or Danny’s he did not know. He was conscious only of a terrible weight squeezing the breath out of his body; then there was nothing…
When the earth shuddered before falling, Tom had pressed his body on to the bottom, his arms covering the back of his head; and the scream came to him. It was like the earth crying out in agony, and he thought, This is it. His lips cried, ‘Oh, my God!’ but his mind cried, ‘Beattie!’ Stuff sprayed on him, fine grey dust, black sp
linters and pieces of rock. There was a heave as if the stratum beneath him was lifting, then a grinding that turned him sick as the earth seemed to settle back into place. He was filled with terror, terror that blotted even Beattie from his mind; he lay still, clutching at the dirt as if he loved it and would never let it go.
He moved first when he coughed; the cough lifted his shoulders through the weight that was lying on them…He was still alive, and his light was still on. His relief made him quiver as if with ague. He heaved again and brought his body out of the slack and looked at the props to the side of him. They had held. But focusing his lamp some little way ahead, he saw that there they had given and the outlet was blocked. His heart sank…All right if it was only small stuff like this; but if it was rock…Where were the others? he remembered the scream. Just behind him would be Ned and Danny…
It was no use trying to push back, he’d have to turn. But how? If he could scrape this stuff away and bring his knee up…
He worked at the slack, pushing it ahead of him, to give him a space in which to attempt to turn. Making the space was comparatively easy, but to turn round was, he found, an excruciating business, for the bone of the ankle seemed to be piercing the flesh.
The sweat ran down him, and added to this he was finding it difficult to breathe. When eventually the task was accomplished he had to lie for some time before he could even examine the conditions ahead. When he did he found the way to the cutter, where he and Joe had lain a short while ago, was once more closed. He crawled forward over the heightened level of the floor, but could see no sign of Ned.
He was below somewhere. He was about to scrape when his light fell on David…he was lying on his back, his head and shoulders partly covered with slack. But his arms were completely out of it and were shielding his face, much in the same way as his own arms had shielded his head.
An odd sensation passed over him, and he stopped in his crawling for a second. How often during the past months had he wished to see David dead? And now? He carried himself forward with a great jerk, calling, ‘Davie! Davie!’
But there was no answer. He unfolded the arms; and the face under the coal dust shone like alabaster in the lamplight.
‘Davie!’ He began to claw the slack and loose earth away, pushing it along his side in ridges, cursing his foot when it impeded him. ‘Davie, man! Davie!’
He uncovered him to his thighs, and there his hands stopped against solid rock. The roof, the end of that great slab. No. No…not that way. Madly, he began to scrape. His hands went deeper, moving around David’s hips; and again they stopped, and a fear such as he had never before experienced came upon him. And once more he cried out wildly, ‘Not that way!’
When at last, whipping up his courage, he shone his light directly on where the legs disappeared, he stared fascinated. Then slowly his head dropped until his face was lying against David’s stomach.
‘Davie. Aw, Davie.’ His tears rained on to the dust. ‘Oh, Davie man…Oh, God. Oh, Christ, Christ in Heaven.’
‘Tom.’ The sound was scarcely loud enough to be a whisper, but it whipped Tom’s head up.
‘Tom.’
‘Aye, Dave.’
‘Tom.’
‘Yes, I’m here, lad.’ He caught hold of David’s hand.
David’s fluttering lids lifted. ‘My back.’
Tom could say nothing.
‘Danny.’
There was no answer Tom could give to this. But he said, ‘Joe and them will be all right. And the others’ll be through to us in no time.’
David’s eyes closed.
‘Are you in much pain?’ Tom stroked the hand he was holding, but David said nothing.
Then a dull thudding coming from the other end of the face caused him to turn over. For the moment he had forgotten about his foot, and the quick jerk brought him to the point of fainting. When he was sufficiently recovered he listened again. There it was…tap, tap…tap, tap.
He gave up the idea of trying to traverse the few yards back to the blocked end, and with a stone he beat out an answer on a wedged rock in the shallow wall. And then he waited.
The tapping came again; and he bent over David. ‘They can hear me, Dave; they’re coming. They’ll be through that in no time.’
As he waited again for an answer he was conscious of his own laboured breathing, and the thought came to him, They won’t have to be long, either.
‘Tom.’
‘Aye, Dave.’
David’s eyes were wide now and staring. ‘My legs.’
‘They’ll soon get through; they’ll have you out.’ Tom kept his eyes steady as he spoke.
‘Tom…I’m fast…It’s the slab…isn’t it?’
‘Don’t talk, lad. There’s not much air.’
Tom held the limp hand again; and in the silence came a faint sound, as if of scratching. After a while the tightening pressure of David’s fingers made him ask, ‘What is it, Dave?’ And the look in David’s eyes as he said, ‘It’s all right, I know,’ made him want to bow his head again and to cry with the abandonment of a child.
Oh, the suffering. All was suffering. In loving you suffered and in hating you suffered; and in the agonies of others, in the crying of women, and in the dry, burning eyes of men…Oh, Davie! Davie!
‘Got me ticket…this time.’ David’s lips hardly moved, and each word was laboured.
‘They’ll fix you up, man. They can do wonders.’
‘Without—legs?’
‘Aw, man.’
Their faces close, in the eerie light they looked into each other’s eyes, and of the two, David’s were the less troubled.
‘Don’t take on, lad. It’s funny, but there’s a kind of peace…Tom.’
‘Aye.’
‘I wish…I could put things right.’
‘Don’t talk, man.’
‘Listen…I’m sorry. Never have hurt you…Ann.’
‘Forget it…forget it, man.’ The choking in Tom’s throat was making his breathing almost impossible.
‘Tell Ann…will you?’
Tom nodded.
‘No-one but her…Forgive me, lad.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, man…Lie quiet now.’
Strange to be able to say there was nothing to forgive. Three days ago when he had looked down on this man’s son lying in the arms of the woman he himself loved, he had vowed silently, I’ll hate it as I hate him.
And at that moment he had thought of his mother; she had been saddled all her married life with a child that was not hers; yet hating, no doubt, as she did the sin, she had, in some measure, loved that which was sinned against. But never could that attitude be his. For Beattie’s sake he might hide his feelings; but there would be no crevice in his heart for a son of David Taggart…Yet now…His eyes moved down towards David’s thighs. The only way they’d get him out of there alive would be to…His mind would not imagine it. Far better for him to die here. Yet how many men were living without legs!
After a time he became aware that the tapping had stopped. It had been stopped for some time…No, there it was again.
He lifted his drooping head. Had it really stopped, or had he not heard it? This made him bend over David to see whether he was still breathing.
That’s how it came. You stopped hearing things and just went to sleep. Beattie! Beattie! He was seized with panic. He didn’t want to die…he wasn’t going to die. She’d be left with a bairn and no-one to see to her, no-one who understood her. Beattie!…Look, I won’t die!
Don’t be a blasted fool! He stopped himself from endeavouring to turn round and make his way to the farther end in an attempt to scrape his way out. That’s the quickest way to it! Lie still.
Like a child obeying a firm command, he dropped back and lay quiet; and in the quiet a thought took form and began to torment him. It was ten to one that if they didn’t get through in a very short time, then when they did they’d find them both dead. Was he to let Davie die without telling him he had a son? Eve
ry man wanted a son. Perhaps it would make dying easier to know that part of you still lived on…There was no part of him to live on…Beattie! Beattie!
‘Dave.’ He brought his face close to David’s. Funny, he could hardly see him. God! The lamp. It was going. Or was it his eyes? ‘Dave…Can you…hear me?’
‘Aye.’
‘Listen…You should know…You’ve got a son, a fine lad.’
There was no answer.
‘Dave…She’s goin’ to call him after you.’ This was pure imagination, for the last thing she’d be likely to call him would be David…‘Can you…hear?’
‘Aye…Tom…’
Tom did not answer; and David’s voice came again, slightly louder: ‘Tom…’
‘Aye, what is it?’ He roused himself.
‘Will you say…a bit…?’
A prayer? His whisper was made fainter with surprise. How long was it since he had said a silent prayer, never mind praying aloud? He felt shamefaced. Yet this was no time or place to be shamefaced: there was no-one to witness his shame but God.
‘Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come…’
His mind began to whirl.
‘Forgive us our trespasses…’
There came the faintest pressure of David’s fingers on his.
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…Bairns’ prayer, what he learned at Sunday school…And if I die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Mr Fraser said he had the makings of a minister but that he must search to find Christ. Some ministers never found Christ, which was why they could never make people believe in Him…David was a Catholic. They had special prayers for all occasions, especially for dying…
‘…as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation…’
Maggie Rowan Page 30