“It’s still comin’ in.” The superintendent’s voice was expressionless.
“Yes, sir.” Andy’s customarily booming voice was hushed.
“Why didn’t you get pumps in here?” the super asked.
“I sent Daniel for ’em,” Andy answered. “He came back without ’em.”
The super turned to Daniel. “Why didn’t you bring them back with you?”
Daniel cleared his throat. “The clerk said he would send them down.”
The super turned back to Andy. “I think we’d better get up to the office.” He started to leave, then stopped. “Bring the boy with you.” He stepped down from the shoring; then, walking carefully on the wooden planks so that his shoes would not get wet, he made his way out of the tunnel.
Andy stared after him for a moment, then spat some tobacco juice onto the ground. He looked at Daniel. “You sure you spoke to the clerk, Daniel?”
“I’m not in the habit o’ lyin’, Mr. Androjewicz,” Daniel said quietly.
Andy didn’t answer. He climbed down from the planks and waited as Daniel followed him. He turned to the work gang. “Keep pumpin’ an’ see if you kin move some of that dirt some more.”
The men nodded and went back to work. But as fast as they could empty each shovelful into the barrel, the wet earth moved to fill up the gap. Andy stood there for a moment watching them, then started off. “C’mon, Daniel,” he flung back over his shoulder.
The daylight outside the mine hurt Daniel’s eyes and the strange silence of the waiting crowd of people pressed heavily on him. When his eyes cleared, he could see the women, their heads covered with worn shawls, their mouths tightly pressed with fear. He saw children with wide, dark, silent eyes, and men whose patient faces reflected their familiarity with death in the mines.
One of the older men spoke to Andy as he walked by. “What’s it like down there?”
Andy shook his head without answering. A hushed sigh of pain escaped from the crowd. Then the quiet again, the terrible quiet of resignation.
“It’s been two days,” another man said. “You git any closer to ’em?”
“No,” Andy answered. “The groun’s too wet an’ still movin’.”
A woman began to cry. Immediately her neighbors gathered around to shield her tears. A moment later they were taking her away. There was an old rule. No tears at the mine shaft. You must never show that hope is lost.
Daniel followed Andy into the office. The clerk looked up from behind his desk. He gestured to the door behind him. “Mr. Smathers says for you to go right in.”
There were two other men in the office with the superintendent. They were seated in chairs next to Mr. Smathers, who was behind the desk. An open drawing of the mine was on the desk in front of them. Smathers made the introductions. “This is Mr. Androjewicz, foreman of the day shift in the West Tunnel. Andy, Mr. Carter and Mr. Riordan—government safety engineers.”
The men nodded. They did not offer to shake hands. Andy made no move either.
“These gentlemen are trying to establish the reason for the cave-in,” Mr. Smathers said.
Andy nodded. He didn’t speak. Any damn fool ought to know why the cave-in happened. Too much water. The pumps might have prevented it, but there weren’t any pumps, so there was nothing anyone could do about it now.
Mr. Carter was the first to speak. “I understand you tapped a spring on your shift and that you packed and shored it. Why didn’t you also put pumps on?”
“I asked for pumps, but they never sent ’em down,” Andy said.
“You, personally?”
“No, sir. I sent Daniel here.”
The two men looked at Daniel. “Who did you ask?”
Daniel stared at them. “That clerk out there.”
The two men glanced at each other silently.
“If’n you don’ believe me,” Daniel said quickly, “why don’ you jes’ call ’im in an’ ask ’im?”
Mr. Smathers spoke quietly. “We already did, boy. He says you never came up here. Now, why don’t you just tell us the truth? We’ll go easy on you.”
Daniel began to feel an anger rising inside him. “I am tellin’ the truth, Mr. Smathers. Twenty-seven men are dead down there. I knew some of ’em. Do you think I would lie if I was guilty of their death?”
“He insists no one came up here to ask for pumps,” Mr. Smathers repeated.
“I was up here,” Daniel said hotly. “The timekeeper even checked me out.”
“There’s nothing on his report,” the super said. “We looked at it.”
Daniel felt the color leave his face. They were all in on this together. They were going to hang it on him to save their own necks. He thought quickly, looking from one to the next. “Mr. Smathers, did you ask him about me by name?”
“How could I, boy?” the superintendent asked testily. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Do you think your clerk might?”
“What for? He’s got nothing to do with personnel.”
“He wrote my name down in a book on his desk,” Daniel said. “He was mad when I tol’ him Andy would come after him if’n he didn’ send us the pumps an’ he made a point of askin’ my name.”
“Even if he knows your name,” Smathers said, “it won’t prove anything.”
“It’ll prove I was up here like I said,” Daniel answered.
Andy spoke suddenly. “I’ll vouch fer Daniel here. He’s not a liar.”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” Smathers said smoothly. “No matter what the boy says.”
“It don’ cost you nothin’ to check the book on his desk,” Andy said. His face began to flush.
Smathers stared at him silently for a moment, then rose. “Come with me, gentlemen.”
They followed him into the outer office. The clerk looked up at them. “Hatch,” the super asked. “Do you know this boy here?”
Hatch answered. “No, sir.”
“Did you ever see him before?”
“No, sir.”
Smathers glanced at the two men. “Satisfied?”
They nodded.
Smathers started back into his office. At the door, he turned and looked back at the clerk. “Hatch, get me the boy’s personnel record from the file.”
They followed him into his office and he closed the door behind him. He walked behind his desk and sat down. Daniel stared at him. “If’n he don’ know my name, how’s he gonna git my record?”
Smathers looked at Daniel, a sudden respect coming into his eyes. “You think, boy,” he said.
A moment later the clerk entered the room. He held a paper in his hand. He placed it on the desk in front of Mr. Smathers and started to leave.
“Hatch.” Mr. Smathers picked up the paper and was looking at it. “You brought me the wrong file.”
Hatch turned, a look of confusion coming into his face. “Oh, no, sir. That’s the right file. Daniel Boone Huggins. It’s marked right on…” His voice suddenly trailed off as he became aware they were all staring at him.
***
“What they goin’ to do with ’im?” Daniel asked.
Andy shifted uncomfortably on the log outside the superintendent’s office on which they were sitting, his narrowed eyes watching the mine entrance. “Nothin’.”
Daniel was shocked. “But it was his fault—”
“Shut your mouth!” Andy’s voice was sharp. “You fergit about that, now. The company ain’t about to take the blame for what happened. Jes’ be thankful they didn’t lay it on you.”
“But they got to give some reason,” Daniel protested.
“They will,” Andy answered. “Mark my words, they will.”
The door to the building opened. Smathers stood there. “Come back inside.”
They went into the building. Hatch was sitting at his desk, his head bent over an open ledger. He didn’t look up as they walked past him into the superintendent’s office.
Smathers closed the door behind him a
nd went back to his desk and sat down. The two government engineers stood casually against the wall. Smathers looked up at Andy. “We’ve established the reason for the cave-in and we would like to know if you agree with us.”
Andy was silent.
Smathers cleared his throat. “We found out that the day shift fired some shots to loosen up the coal without first checking the shoring. It was their fault. They shouldn’t have been so damn careless.”
Andy met the superintendent’s eye steadily. “Damn careless,” he said.
Smathers relaxed. “That’s what will go in the report these gentlemen will write.”
Andy glanced at them, then back at Smathers. “They ought to know,” he said drily. “They’re experts.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Smathers broke it. “But the company is going to be generous. In spite of the fact that the accident was the fault of the men, we’re goin’ to give each of the miners’ families a hundred dollars death compensation and six months’ free rent at the company’s houses.”
Andy didn’t speak.
Smathers got to his feet. “Now we have to get the mine back in operation. There’s no money for any of us if we don’t start bringin’ out the coal.”
“It’ll take a month to clear out that West Tunnel again,” Andy said.
“I know that.” Smathers’ voice was matter-of-fact. “We’re not going to clear it. We’re going to seal it off. We’ll begin a new tunnel on the South Vein.”
“But what about the men in there?” Andy asked.
“What men?” Smathers’ voice was unemotional. “Their bodies, you mean? They’re dead and buried already. We can’t afford to risk more lives just to get them out and bury them over again.”
Andy was silent. He looked at Daniel. Daniel could see the anger and despair in his foreman’s eyes. After a moment he turned back to Smathers. “I guess you’re right, Mr. Smathers.”
Smathers smiled. “You can also tell your men that the company won’t dock them for the time lost during the past two days, even if we didn’t bring out any coal. The company looks out for its own people.”
Andy nodded. “Yes, Mr. Smathers.”
Smathers turned to Daniel. “How old are you, boy?”
“Sixteen,” Daniel answered, remembering the lie on his application.
“Can you read and write?”
“Yes, sir. I got me six years o’ rural school.”
“Mr. Hatch will be leaving here today,” Smathers said. “I’d like you to come in here tomorrow an’ be my clerk.”
Daniel’s surprise showed in his face. He looked at Andy, undecided. The foreman’s hooded eyes lowered in a half-nod. Daniel turned back to Smathers. “I’d be right grateful fer the chance, Mr. Smathers.”
The atmosphere in the office relaxed. Even the two government engineers were smiling. This time, they shook hands all around.
Daniel looked at Andy as they walked back to the mine. The foreman seemed lost in thought. Finally he spoke. “Got a chaw?”
Daniel fished the plug of tobacco out of his pocket and handed it to him. Andy took a massive bite from the plug, chewed a moment, then spat. “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed.
“What do you mean?” Daniel asked.
“That Smathers is smart. He got ever’body off the hook. Even the company. An’ he got us so tied in that there’s nothin’ we can say about it. An’ even the families of those poor dead bastards down there have got to be grateful to him.”
Chapter 9
The six-o’clock whistle was a piercing shriek that signaled the end of the day. Molly Ann stepped back on the narrow platform, away from the rapidly winding spindles. Carefully she calculated the thread speeding to the end of the reel, then, just at the right moment, raised her hand and pressed the switch, turning off the machine. She watched the reel wind down and nodded to herself with satisfaction as it came to a stop just when it was full. Quickly she lifted the coil of thread from the spindle and placed it in the shipping basket. With a last look, she stepped down from the platform. The air was filled with a hissing whisper as the great steam engines that supplied the power ceased their pounding. It was Saturday, the one night of the week the mill would be silent.
She fell into the throng of girls who walked through the mill, past the silent giant machines, on their way to the paymaster’s window near the gates. There was a holiday air about them. Payday. Saturday night. Their voices, still shrill from trying to rise above the noise of the day, were filled with the excitement of their plans for the evening and the next day.
“Goin’ to the Baptist Church dance tonight, Molly Ann?” one of the girls asked.
“There’s a picnic tomorrow at the Fairgrounds,” another girl said.
“The Holiness Church has a revival goin’ on tomorrow,” a third girl said. “Heered they got a whole passel of new copperheads and rattlers an’ several of the Saints is already preparin’ to partake of the Spirit.”
Molly Ann smiled but didn’t answer. In the six months she had been there, there had been many changes. The slight traces of baby fat had gone from her face, giving her an oddly exotic look. The high cheekbones accentuated her country green eyes, and her full lips blended into a strong chin. Her body too had changed. Her breasts were fuller, her waist narrower, and her hips flared into long straight legs.
“Molly Ann never knows what she’s goin’ to do,” the first girl said. “She’s waitin’ fer Jimmy to tell her.”
“Go on,” Molly Ann said, smiling.
“Yer sweet on ’im,” the girl teased.
Again Molly Ann didn’t answer. They were only children. What could they know about how she felt about Jimmy? Or for that matter, how he felt about her? All they knew was dances and good times Saturday night and Sunday, then the long waiting until the next weekend.
She took up her place in the line in front of the paymaster’s window. It moved rapidly, and soon it was her turn.
The old clerk peered through the window at her. “Evenin’, Molly Ann,” he said, pushing the voucher through the grilled window for her to sign.
“Evenin’, Mr. Thatcher,” she replied, signing the slip and giving it back to him.
He took the voucher, checked it, then went through a box of envelopes on the counter next to him until he found one with her name. He took it out and gave it to her. “Better count it,” he advised. “You have a big pay there with your overtime. You put in eighty hours last week.”
She nodded and silently opened the envelope. The money tumbled out into her hand. Quickly she counted it. “Six dollars and forty cents,” she said, looking at him.
“That’s right.” He nodded. “Eight cents an hour. Now, you be careful with all that money. Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“I won’t, Mr. Thatcher,” she promised. She put the money back into the envelope and started toward the gates. The usual crowd of men and boys who waited for the girls to come from work were lined up along the street. Fathers waiting for daughters, husbands for wives, young men for their girlfriends. All with the same thought. Today was payday.
The chill evening air raced through her sweat-dampened cotton dress, making it cling closely to her figure. She shivered and pulled her shawl closer around her. She walked past the first row of young men. They called and whistled. She averted her face and quickened her steps.
One of them called after her. “What you doin’ tonight, Molly Ann? I don’ see Jimmy aroun’.”
She didn’t answer. She hadn’t expected Jimmy to be waiting for her. He had gone up into the hills to collect some squeezin’s and would not be back until later.
The sound of a girl crying made her turn around. She was just in time to see the man strike the child. He was a large man and already half drunk. The girl tumbled backward into the mud of the streets, staring up at the man with frightened eyes.
He stood there weaving, her yellow pay envelope clutched in his hand. “That’ll teach you who yer pay belongs to!” he shouted. “I
’m yer father an’ you’ll do as I tell you. Go an’ tell yer mother I’ll give her whatever I danged feel like.”
After a moment, he turned and walked away unsteadily. The other men just stood there silently, not moving. Molly Ann walked back to the girl and helped her up.
The child seemed to be no more than eleven years old, and she was whimpering with fear. “There, now,” Molly Ann soothed. “It’ll be all right.”
“No,” the girl cried. “My mother said she’d whup me if’n I didn’ bring home the envelope.”
“You jes’ tell her what happened,” Molly Ann said.
“It won’t do no good,” the child said. She began brushing the street mud from her dress. She looked up at Molly Ann, the tears still in her eyes. “I cain’t wait till I’m growed up like you are. Then I kin do whatever I want with my money.” She finished brushing at her dress. “Thank you kin’ly.”
Molly Ann watched the child walk forlornly down the street. She took a deep breath. There were many things wrong in this town. What right did parents have to treat their own blood as if they were slaves? She thanked God for her own good parents.
A boy fell into step beside her. “Want to come to the dance with me tonight, Molly Ann?”
She looked up at him. He was tall, and his hair was slicked back in the latest fashion. She could smell the beer on his breath. She shook her head. “No.”
He put his hand on her arm. “Come on, Molly Ann,” he said. “Don’t be so snooty. Jimmy’s not the only man in town. You’re a pretty girl. You should git out more an’ have some fun.”
Her voice was quiet. “You take yer hand off’n my arm or Jimmy’ll hear about it.”
His hand dropped quickly. “You’re a fool,” he said. “You think you’re the only girl Jimmy’s got, but you’re not. Jimmy’s got more girls than anybody in town.”
“You’re a liar,” she said. “Now go away.”
He stopped, and she continued walking. “Wait, Molly Ann,” he shouted after her. “You’ll find out.”
Memories of Another Day Page 9