by Liz Hyder
I hears Devlin and the guards maykin jokes outside. My heart is fayre in my mouth as I skweeze past as far as I can round the Maykers side, as far to the back o him as I can and begin to climb up him, hands and feet fumblin as I go up. I ent climbd lyke this ever but I am strong from years o draggin and haulin hevvy baskets and I pulls myself up and up as fast as I can.
The voyces outside get louder and I fears they are a comin in but Devlin must steer em away somehow and the larfter echos throo the Hall afore faydin. I feel the Mayker under my hands as I climbs, feels it brush against my fayce and there ent no power there, no strength, tis just rock, sayme as the walls o Bearmouth, sayme as the walls o the dorm.
It taykes what feels lyke forever to get to the top but then I feels it, the top o the roof brushin gainst my head and I must be there – the Maykers head itself. Tis here that I must needs lay the dynamyte. I wedges the first stick in underneeth the neck o the Mayker testin it a fayre few times to mayke shore it dos stay tyte. Then anuvver the uvver side o the neck, wedgd tytely in too. The fuse must be long enuff to reetch near to the ground else all fails. I unweeves it from my arm where tis hidden under my shirt. I swallows wi nerves as I do it.
I clambers back down, harder than goin up as I carnt feel my footholds so eesily and a few times I near lose my footin and fear I will fall back into nothin. Tis only when I am sayfe back down and can feel my feet on the floor o the Hall that I lets myself breeth a little more easy. The fuse is only just about long enuff and I tucks it up and under, rollin it back up and then reetchin back up to hide it from view on a little nook as high as I can stretch up.
Tis dun.
Six more days and we will be back here, Devlin and I. Back in the Maykers Hall and the next part o our plan will be put into action. But for now, all I can hope is that all lays undiscoverd til then.
I sneeks back out o the Hall listernin to Devlin and the guards afore I dares come out o the entrance. Devlin whissuls to himself loudly and I kno tis the signal that all is well. I comes out o the shadows and pretends I just cayme up the tunnels.
Mayker protekt him, I groans as I goes over to Devlin and the guards. Shore I am sorry for my frend, tis the first time he dos have beer this eve. I been lookin for him all over. I do hope he ent been borin you to tears wi his drunk talkin, I says rollin my eyes.
The guards larf at me and pats me on the head and says what a nyce lad I am for lookin arfter my frend and they sends us both off sayin they do hope he dunt have too bad a headayke tomorro.
Tis dun, I whispers to Devlin when we are out o ear o the guards.
He sighs wi relief. You took so long I thawt we was to be discoverd, he says. Tis an effort to pretend to be that drunk for so long. All is well? he says and I nod.
The fuse is hidden down the back, it just needs one o us to reetch up and lyte it and then…
The sine, whispers Devlin.
The sine, I says back to him.
We heads back to dorm wi out further trubble. The guard who tryd to stop us ent on duty when we go back and all is well. For now at leest.
The day arfter Beer Munday evryone is feelin soreheaded sayve me and Devlin. Jack is impressd that Devlin seemd to drink so much beer and yet has no hangover.
Tis lyke I was as a lad, he says, slappin him on the back. Tis hard to drink so much beer now as the years do weigh hevvy upon me but this lad is good at holdin it.
We works hard all day but worry nags me. Did I hide the fuse well enuff? What if someone was to go round the back o the Mayker and see the fuse or even the sticks o dynamyte? What if what if? I tryes to clamp down my worryes but I knos some o the guards myte recognyse Devlin again and I worrys for both o us.
The darkness haunts me now. Thomas and Tobe around me. I feel them. I feel all o the soles o those who ent here no more. Worse still, sometimes I fear I feels Walsh too. But I kno he ent wi the Mayker now, even if he was real. Walsh is somewhere far darker, where he belongs. Lyke the Devil he was.
I tryd goin to caban wi the rest o dorm yesterday. They talks about beer, about wimmin and they dos share storyes too. Not lyke those that Thomas and me and Tobe mayde up. Crude storyes, funny ones. It passd the time but I sits there thinkin how they could better use their time. Work together gainst the Master, stand together, but Jack has the loudest voyce and he dos shout down those who try and say anythin about chaynge or how things could be better.
Tis what it is and tis how it is, he says and he dunt listern uvverwyse.
See what happend to Thomas, he says. For all his learnedness, it dunt stop the Mayker taykin you when he wants to. Tis how it is.
So today, we sits me and Devlin and says insted that we are at letters. We bides our time. We plans and plots. A sine is comin see. A sine from the Mayker. And both o us must play our parts as well as we can.
Tis Weddensday when a man we dunt kno appears at mess first thing. Mr Sharp bows to the man awkwud lyke when he comes in as if he is in awe o him. I think at first that he is there for us. That Devlin and I have been cawt, found out. But I am wrong. He ent here for us. He is here for somethin else.
Mr Sharp rattles a spoon on a bowl to get our attenshun.
Listern listern, he says loudly. He poyntes at the bord on the wall. The Master ent too pleased that this last week the produktivitee o Bearmouth is less than the week afore. It ent good enuff so unless this week is better, your wayges will be dockd.
A groan echos round the hall.
That ent all, says Mr Sharp. This ere is Mr Lewis and he has been poynted Inspektor o Bearmouth lyke. And he has somethin to say too.
I looks at Mr Lewis. He looks lyke a rat in green tweed. All little and wiry and nose and whiskers and wi a small pair o glasses perched on the end o his nose. Mr Lewis dos narrow his eyes at us.
Men, he says in a voyce that is calm but commandin. Men and boys o Bearmouth. I have worked in many o the Masters mines and this is the worst I have ever seen.
You an me both mayte, shouts a voyce and a chuckle goes around.
Mr Lewis waytes for calm and then steps forwud. Who sed that? he says and evryone looks at their boots. Who sed that? he says more firm lyke. And the room dos go so quiet you could hear a beetalls foot steps.
Mr Lewis stays where he is. Who. Sed. That. He says again, slow lyke.
A man stands up, nudgd up to standin.
Come here man, Mr Lewis says, beckonin him forwud. Come here. To the front, where all can see you.
The man dunt move at first.
Here, says Mr Lewis loudly and the man walks forwud, starin at his feet lyke he dos wish he was anywhere else but here. He stops in front o Mr Lewis.
You think what I say is funny? says Mr Lewis all teeth and snarl.
The man sniffs and stares at his feet.
Mayker sayve us, says Jack under his breath.
You think what I say is funny? says Mr Lewis again, sayin each word lyke a sharp dagger. Starin at the man as he dos so.
No Sir, says the man findin his feet awfull interestin lyke. It ent funny at all.
No, says Mr Lewis. No it is not. Your wayges shall be dockd in harf for your insolents. Mr Sharp mayke note o his nayme. Harf wayges for three weeks. I think that is a fayre punnishment for insolents.
There is an intayke o breath around the hall. Harf pay for three weeks is harsh for a simple joke.
You may return to your seat, he says to the man who dos look in trooth lyke he has harf shrunk in hyte.
That is what happens when you do not obey your betters, says Mr Lewis. Akshuns have contseekwences. So in future, he says calm as anythin. In future. You will do xactly what I say. Understood?
There is a murmer o assent that goes round the hall. Yes Sir, yes Sir.
Now, says Mr Lewis. It has come to my attenshun that not only is this mine slack in terms o productivitee but also that there are men and lads too who have been labelld awkwud men in the past and may harbor some resentment towards the manidgment o Bearmouth. I say to you all. Stop. Put your past behind
you. For I say now that any smell and any tayste I get o rebellion in this mine will be crushd underfoot. And wi that in mind, anyone who tells Mr Sharp in confeedents o someone who myte be a plottin or a plannin somethin and that man or boy is found giltee by my good self, the person who did tell will get a months salary for free and… he pauses lyke. And free beer for a month for their whole dorm.
A murmer and mutterin dos go round the hall. Dobbin on anuvver man is tell taylin and goes against the rules o work here. I wonders if Mr Lewis sees what I see, that men will mayke any ol nonsense up for a chance o a months salary for free. He will be crushd wi the wayte o all the tell taylers. But my moment o thinkin this soon dissolves lyke shuggar in water when I see the watchfulness o the eyes o the men glancin and dartin over evryone else. The waryness o all. The atmosphere in here has gone from the usual warmth o men and lads chattin to coldness lyke ice. This dunt bode well.
Evryone watchin their backs eh, growls Jack.
I shall be visitin each o you in turn at your playce o work to see how we can improve produkshun, says Mr Lewis. You will all be seein me in the next week. All I ask is that you answer my questions and you do your work to the best o your ability.
The silence hangs in the hall.
Good, says Mr Lewis. You may continue wi your gruel.
Devlin looks over at me. He holds one hand out on the tayble, flat, and stretches out three fingers. One for each day. Three more days o work arfter today and then tis Maykers Day. Three more days until our plan either sayves us or undos us.
Tis not til Friday mornin when we sees Mr Lewis again. The first we knos o it is when we sees a bryte lyte comin down the tunnels, a steddy lyte, not lyke our canduls. He is flankd wi two guards who are both holdin sayfety lamps for him.
My heart tis fayre in my mouth thinkin that someone has told tales on us but then I remember that Mr Lewis says he was visitin each o us in turn.
He stops near me and Jack and so we stops our work.
No no, he says, wayvin his arm at us. Continue as if I am not here.
One o the guards opens up a folded stool and Mr Lewis sits down on it.
We tryes to work as hard as we can but tis odd havin someone watch you and such bryte lytes in your eyes an all.
When the whissul goes for brayke, Mr Lewis comes closer as we put our tools down. He has a small notepad and a fountin pen that he dos use to write. One o the guards holds out a pot o ink for him to dip it into as he maykes notes.
Naymes? he says and we both answers, Jack first as hes older and then me. Roles? Mr Lewis says.
Hagger and trayler, we says.
He poyntes at our basket. How many a day? he says.
Varies, Jack says but we runs throo the numbers o good days and bad days and Mr Lewis writes em all down and comes up wi an average.
Not pleasin, he says lookin disappoyntd wi us.
Jack coffs loudly and then descends into a proper coffin fit. Mr Lewis waytes impayshuntly til he dos stop. Jacks hankercheef is full o black spewtum and for the first time I sees bits o blood in it too. Drops o red.
Mr Lewis asks us more questions, how often our kwipment needs replaycin, what size mandrils we use, all sorts o things til we are fayre worn out wi talkin to him.
Tis only when he is dun that he folds his little notepad aways and puts it in his pockit, pattin it lyke a dog as he stands up, and one o the guards silently folds his chair back up.
Newt Coombes, he says. Newt. Yes, I remember that nayme, it has come up elsewhere. He looks at me wi his flint cold eyes lyke a snayke lookin at a mouse. I shall be watchin you closely chylde, he says. I shall watch all o you here in this mine lyke a hawk. He smyles at me for a moment fore turnin and headin off.
I dunt lykes that man, growls Jack.
I wayte and watch the lyte fayde away down the tunnels.
Me neether Jack, I says. I dunt lykes him and I dunt trusts him neether.
Tis Saturday and the day afore Maykers Day. I am bidin my time. I have gone throo it all so many times in my head, in my dreams, as I work in the dark that it seems to me that I have lit that fuse a hundred times or more.
But I kno I ent. And I kno all dos rest on tomorro.
If we get cawt, we will shore be hangd for it.
I whispers that to Devlin once and he shruggd.
Better hangd topside and one more glance o the sky than be crushd down here in the coal, he says.
Praps hes ryte.
Trooth be told I am havin second thawts sometimes. What happens when we get out? I thinks about Ma and I dunt rytely knos quite where the farm is. I ent got a proper nayme and I ent got a proper home. Far away is what Thomas sed, go far away from here. But then I thinks about what Ill do to earn a crust and all that and I feel fayre panickd about it all. Then I see Jacks blood spatterd handkee and I think we got to get out. Tis what Thomas sed. We got to get out. Come what may.
Tis how my thawts go all day, one way and then tuvver all the time, to and fro to and fro lyke me goin up and down the rolley roads wi the coal. To and fro to and fro.
At mess in the eve, theres a buzz, Maykers Day tomorro, a day o rest and all are glad o a brayke. I am so worn out that I dos near fall asleep into the meets and tatties but Devlin nudges me and I manidges to stay awayke. Tobe once fell asleep strayte into his plate. We did fayre larf at him wi his fayce all coverd in grayvee and meets. Now tho I thinks back on it and I ent findin it funny no more.
Tis our last eve afore the plan. I feel strayngely calm as I looks around the mess at the tired fayces and think how, if all goes well, we will all be free by this time tomorro.
Free.
And I will breeth the fresh air o outside once again. Even if I dunt rytely kno where Ill be headin arfterwuds.
I durnt sleep cayse I waykes up late. So I lies there on my back, starin into nothinness, rackd wi muddld thawts.
I think o Thomas and Tobe. O Walsh too.
I think o before I cayme here. O those glimpses o life before.
I think o all the years o singin to the Mayker. All those prayers.
I think o all the bred and meet eaten over the years. O swimmin in the layke. O the little white fishes nibblin my tose. O how Thomas kept me sayfe.
I think o bein older. O bein a wimmin.
I think o Devlin too. O how I thawt he was the Devil in disguys and how he has insted become a troo frend.
I think o all these things til the thawts becomes so hevvy that they weighs down my brayne and I drifts off into fitful sleep full o dreams I dunt remember. I waykes up wi damp sheets coverd in sweat.
All else is asleep. I hears em snufflin and snorin around me and I realise this is my last nyte here. If all goes to plan, this is my last nyte here in this playce. I think o the lynes I drew on the wall to mark Tobe comin back too.
I dunt sleep anuvver wink til evryone else starts stirrin and the day begins anew.
Mayker sayve us, I says to myself under my breath as I throw back my blanket. I scratchs out the lynes on the wall wi my nyfe. May all go well today, I says to myself.
Devlin catches my eye and I see he is as pale as me. I bet he ent slept a wink neether.
Maykers Day, bellows Jack. Sayve and protekt us Mayker, he says.
Amen, I says loudly.
Amen, says Devlin catchin my eye.
And so it begins.
I feels sick to my stomarck as we wends our way up to the Maykers Hall. I durnt eat a thing at gruel. Not even the sweetniss o the shuggar can brayke throo my nerves.
I holds my hands out in front o me and they dos wobball from side to side.
Tis the shaykes is all, whispers Devlin. Twill be alryte.
I nods.
I feels sick and all, he says and I nods.
We will be alryte, I says back to him. I feels in my pockit to mayke shore my match tin is there. I dunt tell Devlin neether but I keeps the spayre stick o dynamyte in my boot too. Just in cayse.
Tis all or nothin today.
I crosses my fingers
behind my back. Jack always told me not to do that when I was little, sed it was fayre superstishun and the Mayker dunt approve o the old ways but I dunt cayre. I needs all the help I can muster.
We walks into the Maykers Hall, all the canduls flick flickrin and Devlin is ryte by my side.
I feels him skweeze my hand. Tis our signal.
As evryone files in, orderly lyke, from all over Bearmouth, I taykes my chance and slips away in the crowd, gentlee pushin myself over to the uvver side o the Hall where dozens o men are alreddy jostlin up gainst each uvver for spayce and to get the best view o the Mayker. Wi all the movement the canduls flick flicker and shadows loom and disappeers all over the Hall. My heart flit flutters in my chest lyke a bird as I slips over to the far end near the front.
The Mayker is there in front o me. Standin tall over us. I looks cayrefullee lyke but there ent no sine o anythin amiss. Either I hid it all as well as I hoped or someone has discoverd us.
I tryes to swallow but there ent no spit in my mouth and I wonders for a moment if I sweatd all the moisture off in the nyte. I slowly maykes my way to the front but I feels a hand on my sholder stoppin me.
Tis a man I dunt kno but he is smylin at me.
Dunt do to get too close to the Mayker eh, he says.
He smyles but his grip is firm. I am at the front o the far edge o the crowd all buzzin and hummin wi energy and yet calm and quiet. The Mayker is ryte in front o me, bare spittin distance away, the wall o the Hall hemmin me in to the ryte. So close but not close enuff.
I carnt do it. I carnt get to the fuse. I carnt get away wi this man watchin me, wi his hand holdin me back.
I look around in desperayshun for Devlin but I carnt see him neether. I am at the front o a sea o strayngers. Adrift.
I want to cry but tears come there none.
Tis only a week, I says to myself. One more week and we can try again. Praps this man ent gonna be here in this sayme playce next Maykers Day. Tis just bad luck is all.