The Thackery Journal

by John Holt

  Of course, strictly it was cheating a little bit. Well in fact it was cheating quite a lot. They had actually agreed that the mine was off limits, out of bounds. More importantly his father had expressly forbidden him to go there. Thackery could almost hear his father telling him not to go into the mine. He could almost see him. His face would be red with anger if he knew. Then he would start tapping his fingers on the left side of his face. He always did that when he was angry. Then he would look Jacob directly in the eye.

  “I expressly told you not to go to the mine, didn’t I?” he would say. Jacob would look to the floor and give a slight nod. “Answer me, boy,” he would yell.

  “Yes sir,” Jacob replied.

  “Then why did you disobey me?” his father would continue. “Why did you go there?”

  What could Jacob say in answer? He hated disobeying his father, but he had to win this game with Miles, just this once. He smiled again. He had never won. When it was his turn to seek he could never find Miles. But when his turn came to hide, Miles would find him easily. This time it was going to be very different. He would win this time. He would. He could not lose. He planned to stay in the tunnel of the mine for a few hours then he would make his way back to Mr. Daniels’ orchard, and hide there. Miles would certainly find him there, but it would take him hours. In fact he might actually have given up looking and long since gone home.

  Thackery was pleased with his idea. He lifted his head slightly and glanced over the hedge. There was Miles a hundred yards away, or more. He hadn’t seen Thackery. He had gone straight past and was headed in totally the wrong direction. Thackery stood up and smiled. He started to wave triumphantly. Miles continued on his way completely oblivious to what was occurring behind his back.

  Thackery stopped waving. He turned around and started to run in the opposite direction, towards the old mine shaft. Every few yards he would stop. He would turn and look back to see if Miles was headed in his direction. He was gratified to note that Miles was nowhere to be seen. Delighted with how his plan was going, he hurried on his way. A short time later he arrived at the entrance to the mine.

  The mine had produced large quantities of silver, until almost forty years ago when the vein had finally run out. It was no longer economical to mine, so it was closed. It was originally intended that the tunnel would be filled in and sealed. That was considered to be far too expensive, and a waste of money. The entrance was, therefore, merely boarded up. Over the years the boarding had become loose. A number of boards had actually been removed. Twenty years ago, or thereabouts, two local men had started to mine once again. They had found nothing. Then there was a partial collapse of the shaft. The two men were never seen again.

  Many boards were now hanging loose, and several were lying broken on the ground. There was a large sign lying on the ground. “No Entry. Keep Out” it read in large letters. There was a second sign propped up against the rock face close to the entrance. It simply said “Danger”.

  Looking at the loose boarding it was obvious that the two signs had not been particularly effective in keeping people out of the mine, especially the local children. In fact Thackery had been inside several times himself, despite his father’s instructions.

  He stopped at the entrance, and slowly looked behind him. He looked to his left. He looked to his right. He looked straight ahead. As far as he could see there was no one around. “Good,” he declared. There was no one to interfere with his plans. There was no one to stop him. He turned and carefully stepped over the remaining timber boards, and entered the mine.

  As he did so he could hear his father’s voice. “You are not to go near the old mine Jacob,” it said. “Promise me.”

  Jacob shook his head, and covered his ears. He looked around once again, just to be absolutely sure. There was no one around. He slowly made his way into the tunnel. Although the path was strewn with fallen rocks, the way was not really that difficult, not if you were careful. He had gone approximately fifty feet or so when he stopped. “This is far enough,” he murmured.

  He sat down on the ground, leaning his back against the side of the tunnel. It was not the most comfortable place in the world, but it wasn’t too bad either. He suddenly realized that he was quite hungry, and wished that he had brought something to eat with him, and a drink. He gave a deep sigh. He just hadn’t thought of it that was all. It had never entered his head. There was nothing he could do about, not now. He gave another sigh. Miles would have thought of it, he murmured in disgust. He was always one step ahead, too clever by half. Stop thinking about it, Thackery, he said to himself. “Just concentrate on what you are doing.”

  Thackery looked around. He couldn’t see much. It was dark, but he didn’t mind the darkness, besides there was a little light coming from the entrance to the tunnel. It was damp, and water could be heard constantly running down the walls, and dripping on to the ground. For a moment he wondered if the water was safe to drink. Maybe later he would try it, he decided.

  Every so often there was the sound of timbers creaking with the strain of the heavy loads that they supported. Then there was a sound of something scampering along the earth. A rabbit perhaps or maybe it was a fox. Or maybe it was a vole. Then Thackery remembered what his father had said about bats nesting in the mine. Thackery shivered. He did not like bats. He looked towards the ceiling. As far as he could judge there was nothing there. Suddenly he heard the noise once again. It came from somewhere over to his left. He strained to see what it was. Gradually his eyes adjusted, becoming used to the dark. There was that noise a third time, closer this time. Thackery looked all around. Over on the far side something moved into the shadows. It was too small to be a fox. And it was not bats, he reasoned with great satisfaction. They would be up high, not down on the ground. He smiled. He was convinced that it was a rabbit. He took a deep breath, and heaved a sigh of relief.

  He looked down the length of the tunnel towards the entrance. His plan was working perfectly. He could imagine Miles running around, looking everywhere for him. He would look down at the old rickety bridge, and Mr. Badger’s barn, then in the forest, and up at the lake. And all of the time he would be getting more and more impatient, and more and more puzzled.

  Thackery smiled. He will never find me and eventually he will just give up and go home. Then he started to laugh loudly. Then he stopped. What was that noise? The creaking had become louder, and more frequent. Suddenly there was a roaring sound that reverberated through the tunnel. Then there was a loud rumble. It was quite close. The ceiling above him seemed to shake. Small pieces of debris fell to the ground. Then there was a loud crack, the sound of snapping timbers, as the railroad sleeper supports broke into dozens of pieces, just like twigs. The ground started to shake violently.

  Something ran out from the shadows in front of Thackery. It was a small rabbit, quickly heading towards the exit. Thackery started to stand up, ready to follow the rabbit. There was a sudden strong vibration that shook the tunnel walls, and then there was a loud crack. Then there was another rumble, followed by more tremors. The ground moved upwards sharply, a large split appeared in the tunnel wall, and the roof caved in a few yards away from Thackery. Tons of rock fell blocking his exit. There was no way out. He stumbled, lost his balance, and fell to the ground. As he did so more rocks fell from the ceiling, and on to his legs. He was trapped.

  Dust filled the air, and there was an acrid smell. For several moments Thackery could not see, and he began to choke. Then he started to panic. He looked at the pile of rocks lying in front of him. What if there was another rock fall? Nobody knew he was there. How would he get out? He could not move. He was fifty feet or more from the tunnel entrance. He had no way of knowing how much of the tunnel was blocked. He reached down to his legs and tried to move. He was stuck fast. He moved his hand down the leg as far as he could. He was bleeding badly.

  He called out loudly. “Help, help”, he screamed. “I’m in here.” Then he shook his head. No one would hear. No one
knew that he was there did they? No one would come. He tried to move once again. A sharp pain shot through his left leg. He just knew that it was broken. He lay back, breathing hard. Tears began to run down his face, forming rivulets through the dust and grime on his cheeks.

  His breathing became labored. He started to hyperventilate. He wondered how the end would actually come. Would he suffocate as the air ran out, or would he simply starve to death? Did it really matter anyway? Either way he could not survive could he? Either way filled him with dread. How much air was there anyway? How long would it last? How long did it take to die?

  He screamed loudly, and started to pull at the rocks, to no effect. As he pulled one rock away, others would fall into its place. Once again he tried to move, but to no avail. He cried out in agony. It was no use. There was nothing to be done. The more he tried the more trapped he became. Just how long could he just lie there, he wondered, how long before …. before the end came.

  He called out once again. “Here,” he cried. His voice sounded hoarse, his throat sore with the dust. “I’m in here.”

  Then he lay quiet, listening, although what he expected to hear he did not know. There was nothing. He was trapped, and he couldn’t move. He had no food, no water, and, shortly, or so he imagined, he would exhaust the air supply. He felt very cold and damp. He could feel nothing in the lower part of his leg. What could he do? No one would come that was certain. Sure he would be missed, and certainly there would be a search made. But he would not be missed for a long while, and it would be hours before a search was started.

  Either way there would be no search carried out in here, not at the mine. He shouldn’t even be here so no one would even think to come. Even if they did pass by, nobody would hear him, not deep in here. He could shout and shout, until his voice gave out, nobody would ever hear him. What a fool he had been. He might never be found, just like those two local men who went missing twenty years ago. He was quite alone. He suddenly thought of his parents. How would they feel? They would never know where he was. No one would ever know. He would never be found.

  “Help,” he screamed again in sheer desperation. “Help, help.” He took a deep breath. He remained silent for a few moments listening. There was nothing. “HELP,” he called once more, as loud as he could.

  Then suddenly he heard something, a muffled sound. He listened. What was it? There it was again, louder this time. Still he could not identify what it was. Then there came another sound, the sound of rocks falling. Was it another cave-in? He wasn’t sure.

  Then there were more muffled sounds, rocks being moved, frantic shouting. “Jacob, Jacob,” a voice suddenly called out, barely audible. “Where are you?”

  Thackery’s heart was pounding. What was that, he wondered. Was that someone calling? It couldn’t be. He was hearing things that was all, there was no one there. It was probably nothing more than an echo of his own voice.

  “Jacob, Jacob.” There it was again, a little louder this time. There was someone there. “Jacob, Jacob. Are you in there?” The voice called a third time. “Answer me.”

  “Is someone there,” Jacob called as loud as he could.

  There was a sudden movement as several rocks were pulled away, then a bright light. “Jacob are you in there?” cried a voice.

  It was Miles, Thackery murmured. But how did he know that I was in here? Thackery shook his head, and smiled. He simply saw me, by the hedge, and he followed me. He cheated. Talk about me cheating, Thackery murmured, and smiled. I never could win against Miles. He has won again. Even here, in my impossible to find hiding place, he has found me. He simply cheated. Thank goodness he did.

  He started to laugh. Tears of joy started to stream down his face. “Miles is that you?” he called out, as loudly as he could. “Miles I’m in here.” He started to cough again, as the dust entered the back of his throat. Suddenly there was another rumbling, and more rocks fell from the roof of the tunnel. Thackery started to panic once again. Help was close by, but time was running out.

  “Miles,” he called again loudly. “Miles please help me.”

  * * *

  “Miles,” Thackery whispered. “Miles please help me.” But he knew that Miles could not help him, not now. No one could help him. He quickly closed the window, and secured the catch. Once more they were playing Hide and Seek as they had all of those years ago when they were young boys. Had he been seen? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t think so. It was all so quick. Miles would have called out surely. He walked back to the table, and relit the candle.

  Momentarily he thought of escape. Perhaps he could jump from the window as the soldiers made their way into the building. He shook his head, and smiled. He instantly dismissed the thought from his mind. How could he get away? It was far too high, and besides they would not leave the area unguarded. Even if he could get away, where would he go? Who would help him? No, he shook his head again. There was no one. Wherever he went, they would come after him. They would not give up. There was no escape he knew that. If he were to be perfectly honest with himself he had probably known from the very beginning that there would be no escape.

  He bent down and picked up the scattered papers. He placed them carefully in order on to the table in front of him, and then he picked up the pen. For a few moments he sat perfectly still listening.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “We Have Him”

  There they are he whispered. He could hear them on the stairs. Their boots echoing loudly on the timber treads. He could hear the timbers creaking. They were shouting excitedly to each other, knowing that their quarry was near, knowing that soon they would have him. Their search would soon be over.

  He could hear doors slamming as rooms on the lower floors were searched. Somebody was screaming as they were being dragged down the stairs. Douglas, he thought, the man who had sheltered him. He will certainly talk, Thackery knew that. Under torture who could blame him? Maybe that would save his life. He would tell them everything. Then they would come for him. They would be here quite soon now.

  He dipped the pen into the ink and started to write once more. His hands were shaking, and the sweat ran down his forehead into his eyes.

  “I can hear them coming for me. They are coming up the staircase.”

  He could hear the frightened screams of the children in the house, as they were hastily pushed out of the way. Women were crying, people were shouting. Men were protesting, in vain. He could hear the dogs barking loudly in the yard.

  Suddenly he heard somebody call out. “Here.”

  “In there,” said another.

  Then there was a loud crash against the door.

  “We have him now,” called a third voice.

  “He cannot get away. Not this time,” from a fourth. Another heavy blow struck the door. “Open up,” one shouted. They were trying to break the door down.

  “They are outside now, banging on the door, they are coming for me.”

  Thackery stood up and walked to the door. He checked the lock. It was secured. He pushed the iron bolt firmly into the keep at the top of the door. He then did the same to the one at the bottom. Satisfied, he then walked over to the cabinet at the side of the room. His arm hurt badly but he started to push the cabinet towards the door, to form a barricade. He knew that it would not stop them, but it would delay them just long enough for his purpose. He pushed the cabinet in front of the door. There was a third crash. The door shuddered, but held firm.

  He hurried back to the table and took up his pen once more. He glanced at what he had written, then continued writing.

  “It will not be much longer.”

  He looked over at the door, and then turned to look at the window. He shook his head sadly. He looked back at his journal and continued.

  “There is no way out. There is no escape.”

  There was a fourth crash. The door shuddered once again. There was a loud crack as one of the hinges broke away from the doorframe. Still the door held. Time was running out. H
e looked down at the parchment. He took a deep breath, and wrote a final entry.

  “May God have mercy on my soul.”

  He laid the pen down, and reached across the table, for his revolver. As he did so he brushed against the silver fob watch that lay upon the table. He reached for it, and opened the case. He looked at the lithograph that lay inside. He noticed that his hand was shaking. He gazed at the image wistfully, and slowly, gently ran his fingers across the picture. The image was that of his mother, twenty-five years or more ago.

  The Silver Fob Watch

  She had been beautiful then, Jacob thought. He looked up and stared at the far wall. He tried to visualize how she had looked on that last day that he had seen her. She and his father were standing by the gate as he had ridden away. She was crying, he remembered sadly. How long ago was it? Four years almost to the date - just four short years.

  He looked back at the image. He shook his head, and rubbed his eyes. He could not remember anything else. Her hair, he murmured. What color was it? Light brown, auburn, or perhaps it was darker. He shook his head. It was dark. Or was it fair? He shook his head once again. Try as hard as he might he could not remember. Her eyes, what color were her eyes? Blue? Green? Olive? Sadly he had to admit that he did not know that either. He could not think. Everything was just a haze, a blur. He could not remember anything at all. He looked back at the lithograph.

  “You look beautiful, mother,” he said in a whisper.

  * * *

  “You look beautiful, mother,” he said in a whisper, as he saw her coming down the staircase. She was wearing a ball gown of white silk trimmed with pink ribbon. The upper part was in spotted lace trimmed with Vesuvius red ribbon. She had a head-dress of blue cornflowers and blue velvet ribbon. On her hands she wore fingerless gloves in a lacy black design. She was carrying a black Battenberg lace fan. She stopped and looked at him as he waited by the bottom step. “Did you say something, Jacob?” she asked.