Bearmouth
Page 1
Contents
Title Page
Bearmouth
Acknowledgements
About the Publisher
Copyright
In the beginnin there was the Mayker
An he mayde all around us
He mayde all the men an all the wimmin
He mayde all the creetures on this, his Earf
The Mayker loved each and evryone o us
But then all us men an wimmin betrayd him
They took his Trust an spatt on it
An the Mayker was angry
He sent us down into the dark Earf
To atone for the sins o our forefarvers an muvvers
An one day, tis sed, the Mayker will give us a sine
We will all be foregivven
An we will rise up to the land
An the lyte that the Mayker holds there in his parm
Will be givern to all o us
An all shall prosper in this life an the next
Amen.
I am lernin my lettuz
I am lernin mi letterz
I am lerrnin my lettiss
I am lernin my letterz.
I am learnin my letters.
Better, says Thomas as he blows out the lyte.
Tis hard work usin my brayne.
Thomas teeches me at lunch when the uvvers are at caban an sometimes on Maykers Day I have lessuns arfter prayers.
In the week, the men sit an diskuss things for grown ups at caban an us youngs arnt alloud in. Menstalk they say. Not for youngs.
So I sits out here wi Thomas an he teeches me my letters. They are hard. Only me an Tobe are learnin letters. The rest are too old. Tobe is more young than me but he learns fast an all.
Thomas is my best frend tho hes twyce my ayge an more. He looks arfter me, keeps an eye out. I am diffrent see. I am not one thing or the uvver. They call me YouNuck for I am not a boy nor yet a wimmin an they hold no truck for gels down here so I must by all akkounts be a YouNuck. Not one thing or the uvver. Thomas dunt lyke them calling me that tho so he calls me Newt.
En ee double yoo tee. Newt.
I lyke that.
Thomas says its an undergrawnd creeture, small an nimball. Lyke me.
Learnin letters is hard. My eyes strayne at the end o lessun wi the bryteness o the candul lyte. Then tis back to work for all three o us.
Bearmouth is my home see. Tis calld Bearmouth cos it was near the surfiss wi its wyde open maw so us could walk strayte into the mine but then they dug down, deeper an deeper, myles an myles down, so we are toastee warm at work. So tis the wrong nayme now. Bearmouths are for shallow mines an we ent that. It should be calld Black Pit. Or center o the earf.
When I first cayme, I was a trapper see. Baysic rayte o not very much coinage but an important job shore. Lettin the air in an out, openin doors for ponys an the rest.
Now I am a trayler workin to my hagger. We are a team me an Jack. He shouts at me when I am not fast enuff. He cuts wi his mandril an I packs an moves it.
A trayler has a hole nuvver langwidge you must learn fast. When I startd, I knew nun o it but Jack teeched me. He says Im smart. He dunt kno his letters at all. But he can count. An he works fast. Very fast. Sometimes tis hard to keep up wi him. But the more we cuts, the more we earns.
I earn more being a trayler. One day Ill be a hagger too, lyke Jack.
I gets fiffteen at the moment. Haggers gets more lyke sixtee wuld you believe.
I can do my job blindfold pretty much.
Which is a good thin cos it sayves on canduls.
Canduls are spensive.
I spends fyve on canduls evry week. Fyve on food an matchiss, two on hot water an the rest. Which leeves three wot I sends to Ma.
I ent seen Ma an the rest since I cayme here. Maykers Day ent long enuff to get there an back arfter prayers an the lyke. An I only has that one day a week.
It taykes most harf a day to get back up there, to the surfiss. An it costs. Thirtee each way cos o the lift sharft. So I stays here. Tis cheeper in the dark. I ent seen daylyte since I was fore. Not shore how long ago that were in all trooth but it feels a long time since.
Bein a trayler is tuff but it helps me learn my letters. See, when I pushs the basket to an fro from tram to main road, up the inklyne, in the heat an the dust an dark, I goes over the letters in my head.
When we finishes today, there is a new boy in Gambles bunk. He lays there all day an cry cryes in the corner til Jack slaps him an tells him to shuddup an keep choired so we could get some sleep.
Gamble died last week. Blown up silly bugger an then Harrison got it an all from the vapours tryin to rescue him. Arfterdamp can kill they say. An it did for Harrison.
Two emptee beds.
Now just one.
The new boy looks so spinky clene see. Lyke a newborn foal.
His eyes are massiv. He looks frytend too. Petryfyed.
He ent sed a word.
On first shift, the new lad shivers by the doors from tram to main road. Trappin. Nicholson is teechin him wot to do but hes twyce the ryte ayge an more, an he ent goin to be sayvin much coinage if hes usin up canduls at a rayte o nots.
Neether the new lad nor Nicholson are in the mood for talkin. Tis black as nyte but I can hear the new lad holdin his tears in.
When I sees him layter, at end time arfter shifts, they hav slit his nose. The ryte nostril. Lyke they always do. See if yore man enuff to work. A sharp peece o stone see, zip, strayte up. If you cryes, they beats you.
We all got the scar. Tis how you kno yore a Bearmouth boy.
Hes one o us now. Whevver he wants it or not.
Thomas says the new boy is calld Devlin.
I ent herd him talk as yet but Thomas is good at gettin stuff out o folk. He listerns. Waytes til folk have summat to say an then listerns to them. He says he could o bin a learned man an I believe him. Hes the most learned man I ever met.
Devlin.
Devil In.
We ent bin spectin anyone new down here speshully not a young lad. I ent shore about him. We should be cayreful. Maybe his nayme is a warnin. He is handsum enuff. Devil in disguys. He myte lead us to temptayshun. I pray xtra hard to the Mayker to sayve us.
To keep vigil over us.
An to keep speshul watch on Devlin. Mayker protekt me.
He dunt cry no more tho Devlin. Not now. Hes bin here most o a week an he dos have a steely look now. Eyes as black as the coal we digs out. Hard an tuff lyke Jack says you got to be.
I think o wot he says to me earlier. Devlin. Whisperin, lyke a spyder tippy toein along a wall.
It only taykes one person to start it, he says, voyce ticklin my ears. Just one.
Wot? Start wot? I whispers back as I pushs my load past the trap hes holdin open for me.
A revolushun, he says. Just one, he says. Think on that.
I hear his smyle in the darkness. I feels him shut the door behind me an the breeze blows ryte down my neck an maykes me shudder.
I asks Thomas at letters what (double yoo haytch ay tee, he says) revolushun meens, he tells me ryte off to keep my voyce down. He says I durnt say such things out loud. Not even think em. Not even whisper.
Layters he says to me what it ment. Rebellion. Disobeyin. I think about the Mayker. He sees evrythin. He knos evrythin. If the Mayker sees rebellion, he will skwash it lyke an ant. Lyke Jack did that baby mouse in my bed that time. Skwish skwash flat. Tis the Maykers will. Tis always the Maykers will. I prays xtra hard to be sayved.
Mayker protekt me. Mayker protekt us all. Amen.
Today is Maykers Day. Tis the first Sunday we has had Devlin here. I ent talked to him since before. I dunt want my ears poysoned wi talk o revolushun an the lyke. Speshully not on Maykers Day.
Sundays are speshul.
Thomas larfs at me for being so greedee an Jack tells me off for havin no manners. Devlin watches. Choiredly. Waytes for evryone else to finish fore he eats his, slowlee, wi a spoon. He taykes so long that Jack nicks his bowl fore hes harfway throo.
Here YouNuck, he says, finish this lads off will ya. Hes taykin so long I fear he dunt lyke the tayste!
All the men larf too. But Devlin ent larfin. Hes sat there, starin at me. I could eat anuvver fyve bowls o the stuff, trooth be told, but this is anuvver lads bowl. That goes gainst evrythin.
I dunt say nuffink, but I shaykes my head.
Thomas spekes for me. Ent calld YouNuck, nayme o Newt, he says firm lyke.
Jack ignores him. He narrows his eyes at me an downs the bowl hisself, slappin it down on the tayble arfter, when hes empteed it.
Devlin just sits there, watchin me. Watchin Jack. I feel unsettld, funny in my belly. I dunt meet Devlins eye til just fore the canduls are blown out an Im shore I see his lips curl, almost lyke a smyle. The Devils smyle.
Mayker sayve an protekt me.
We walks up the portways to the levels above, one, two, I counts em on my fingers lyke Thomas tort me. As we goes higher up, the air becomes more chill. Three, fore. I dunt lykes it up here. The winds an the breeze, lyke ghosts ticklin. But we has to come up. Tis where we thank the Mayker. For our lives, for our daylee bred, for evrythin.
Fyve. Past the guards standin watch.
Six.
It taykes ayges. As it always dos. Uphill in the dark, just followin the sounds in front o you. The tracks are larger up here, taller an wyder an you dunt have to stoop to mind yore head so often.
Severn, ayte.
Finally, nyne an then ten. The Maykers here. All over this level. Evrywhere. You feels him all round you in the air, in the lyte. Canduls flicker an burn wherere you look. Tis bryte. So bryte. Hurts my eyes. I blinks an blinks an tears come into my eyes. Tis the sayme evry Sunday. The bryteness o the Mayker. Showin us the way. Guidin us wi his lytes so bryte it will blind if you looks at em for too long.
We walks up a short flyte o stairs, carved out o the rock an whitewashd to reflekt the lytes o the canduls an then turn ryte throo the wyde doorway an into the grayte Hall where the Mayker is. The canduls flicker as we walks into his Hall an joins all the uvver hundreds o men an lads from the uvver parts o Bearmouth.
The Maykers Hall dos fayre tayke my breath away. Evry Maykers Day tis the sayme but I feels my heart beats faster an a lyteness o body when I comes in here. Tis solid rock is the Hall an the biggest room I ever did see. On one side, opposit where we enters an leeves see, theres ruff stone in the shaype o a giant, a god to oversee us. The Mayker hisself. Some say tis always bin there, uvvers say it was carvd but theres a fayce in it. Ryte high at the top, a fayce looking down at you. If you skwints, you sees it better.
I tryes not to look at it anymore. It frytens me. That hes here. The Mayker. That hes here mongst us. Mayker sayve us.
Afore we sings, we says the prayer. We says it evryday when we gets up. But here tis led by Missta Sharp. Hes the overseer on akkount o him overseein things, our work, our wellfayre, the hole workins o the mine. He ent in charge tho, he dunt own the mine, thats the Master, Missta Johnson that is. I ent ever seen him but I hears once that he is tall an thin an wears funny clothes wi a tall hat on his head. All shiny blue an spinky clene lyke the sky mayde solid.
But I am distrakted. Thomas says I am eesily distrakted. Devlin stands next to me, I feels him there, even wi out lookin. The heat comes off him lyke a cloud. The darkness teeches you that. How to read someone wi out seein em.
I joins in the prayer. Chantin, chantin.
In the beginnin there was the Mayker
An he mayde all around us
He mayde all the men an all the wimmin
He mayde all the creetures on this, his Earf
The Mayker loved each an evryone o us
But then all us men an wimmin betrayd him
They took his Trust an spatt on it
An the Mayker was angry
He sent us down into the dark Earf
To atone for the sins o our forefarvers an muvvers
An one day, tis sed, the Mayker will give us a sine
We will all be foregivven
An we will rise up to the land
An the lyte that the Mayker holds there in his parm
Will be givern to all o us
An all shall prosper in this life an the next
Amen.
Devlin is silent. He dunt join in. Dunt even mouthe the words silently lyke I used to fore I learnt em all.
Hes got a faraway look on his fayce. Lyke hes somewhere else entirelee. Maybe he too is eesily distrakted.
When we starts to sing, I feels him lookin at me. It taykes all my willpower not to look back but insted I turns to look up at the Mayker, I looks up at his rock fayce an sings an sings to him an I dunt dare look away til my neck aykes an tis time to go.
On Maykers Day we are alloud a speshul treat. We are alloud to swim in the layke for harf a coin. We wash there, arfter work, both body an clothes by the pumps that pump the water up up an over us an back down to the layke. But we ent alloud to swim in it not lest we fall in by axident. But Maykers Day tis a speshul day. Still, we has to paye for it lykes we have to paye for most things. Boots, canduls, clothes an the lyke.
Not evryone lykes swimmin. Jack dunt lyke it, says tis unnatchural, but Thomas an I do an Tobe too. We dunt do it evry Maykers Day cos o the cost but when we can, we do. Xtra speshul. Spinky clene.
When we was really little, smaller than we are now, me an Tobe used to swim round the hole edge o the layke, in the dark, tryin to find cayves an tunnels. But we stoppd when Jack told us about the day that two men drownd when they was xplorin. They disappeerd for three days an then their bloatd bodies was found, float floatin on the layke. Jack reckons they found a tunnel an tryd to swim throo but got stuck.
Thomas dunt agree tho. He says to me there was marks round the mens necks. Lyke someone had dun em in. He says they was trubble an someone did for em. He never mentshund it again tho so part o me thinks I did magine it.
Tomorro is payday an most folk have run clene out o munny. But Thomas an Tobe an me, we keep our harf coin sayved up when we can for a Maykers Day swim. Tis our treet. We spend most all arfternoon there arfter prayers. Thomas maykes me an Tobe go over an over our letters too. Spellin things out loud, hearin our voyces echo around the cavern. Tis odd hearin ourselves lyke that. Our voyces, disembodeed, call callin back at us.
I knos it lyke the backs o my hand now. The layke. Lyke my floor in the mine, my level. I can walks it backwuds blindfold an Id still kno it. Funny spreshun, the back o yore hand. Oft I carnt see me hands in front o me when Im workin lest I lyte a candul an I tryes an sayves em for when I need em most. The blackness is all around, hole.
I carnt believe my eyes nor ears when Devlin comes in. I hears him fore I sees him. Shufflin, uncertin, maykin a grayte load o noyse wi a lit candul in his hand an all. Wastin a lyte. Im alreddy in deep in the water by this poynte. Just my head bobbin above. The rest o me free. Floatin. I can feel the white fish nibble my tose. Thomas says they be blind, the fish, but I lykes the feel o em ticklin me. Tis all spoyled tho wi the Devil here. Tis our treet, tis for us not for him. Devil In.
Whats he doin here? I says sharp. He dunt even get payd til tomorro for his first week.
Choired, little one, says Thomas. Beehave yoreself. Is this how you welcome our new frend? I lent him the munny, says Thomas an I pulls a fayce at him. Waystin harf a coin on a l
ad you dunt even kno. Spoylin our layke day.
I dives under the water, cool an calmin, to soothe my angry hot fayce. As I comes back up, I hears Thomas talkin in a low voyce to him.
Hotheaded, he says, but the most loyal frend you could have. Smart too.
Hes talkin bout me.
Then Thomass voyce drops too low for ears an they talks more. I swims closer, choired as one o the fish, but he braykes off.
Thomas sits on the rocks, nayked as a seal bar his unders, skin rich an smooth an burnishd brown as Devlins candul flickers by him, burnin down. Devlin slowly taykes his clothes off too. First, his shirt, grey wi dust an then his boots an socks. Nayked to the waist. I stares at him. Hes beautiful, all muscle an lyte. But there are bruses too, big grey streeks lyke the coal seams we search for. Carnt be from this week when he was just trappin, sat openin an shuttin the door for air flo. From what then? He sees me watchin an turns his back, fayce flaymin wi embarassment. I shrugs to myself. What dos it matter? The Mayker mayde us all in his image. Tis his will.
As he turns his back on me, I sees more. Scars still healin, grayte scarlet lynes o weals scored down his back. Lyke that time Tobe was whipped for disobeedients an I had to wash his back evry day for a hole week fore it stopped bleedin.
Devlin pulls his trowsers down then his unders an there he is, back to me, buttocks smooth an creamee an as nayked as the day he come into the world an nayked as the day he will be returnd to the Mayker.
I find myself blush – Mayker forgive me – as he turns around to fayce me an I ducks my head in the water, but not fore I glimpses him. White an dry an coal dark eyes. His skin glows in the candul lyte. Trooth be told tis the most handsum thing I ever did clap my eyes on. I blush at the sinfull thawt – an on Maykers Day too.
I dives deep deep down until my cheeks feel less hot. An then hes beside me. In the water, splish splash sploshin. Not elegant an choired. Not lyke a seal or a fish. Lyke a grayte lumpen dog causin waves an froth.