Trapper Boy

by Hugh R. MacDonald

  His dreams were vivid but not of pirates and pyramids. The rats had huge teeth and they carried off lunch boxes and hissed at him as he shooed them away. The trap door was heavy and he had to pull it open every five minutes. Men with blank faces passed by, never speaking with him, just shouting orders to the horses and to him.

  JW startled awake. He sat up in his bed, surprised that he had fallen asleep at that hour of the day. Trembling at the memory of the dream, he looked at the picture on his wall.

  The rain had stopped, so he decided it was a good time to weed the potato patch. The sooner it was done, the sooner he could get back to work on the old fort. There were only a couple of months of summer, and then he would be off to high school. He wanted to enjoy as much fishing and swimming as he could get. You only get to be a kid once, he concluded, and he knew that Mickey hadn’t gotten the chance. He wished that his friend could be there with him but knew Mickey had to get his rest to carry out the mind-numbing job of sitting in the dark waiting for horses and rats.

  Pulling on his old clothes, JW descended the stairs quietly, not wanting to wake his father. The memory of the picture haunted him as he thought of Mickey. Fear crept into his thoughts as he remembered the importance his father had put on the details of the trap door. He didn’t want to think about the mines anymore and pushed the thought aside as he went outside. He finished the weeding in no time and sat with his back against the barn. He saw Beth making her way along the road toward him. He secretly hoped that one day he could pilot a ship with her aboard. Brushing the dirt from his knees, he stood up and pushed the hair off his face, leaving a streak of dirt across his forehead. He stood still while Beth rubbed the dirt off. He wondered when it would be the right time to kiss her again.

  “Want some stew and biscuits?” JW asked. “Ma just made a fresh batch, and I’m going to have some.”

  “Sure, if there’s enough,” Beth said.

  “There is, but even if not I’d share mine with you.” He blushed when he realized what he’d said.

  “Aren’t you the gentleman,” Beth said. John Wallace Donaldson blushed a deeper crimson.

  He held the door for Beth as she entered the kitchen, then hurried to the wash basin and washed his hands.

  “Hello, Mrs. Donaldson,” Beth said. “John Wallace told me you’ve been busy baking, and he’s offered me some biscuits and stew. He even said he would share his with me if there wasn’t enough.”

  “Oh, he did, did he? He must be going sweet on you, dear,” Mrs. Donaldson said, and this time it was Beth’s turn to blush a little.

  JW heard his father stir in his room and lowered his voice. While Beth and his mother set the kitchen table, he went upstairs to get his swimming trunks to take along, just in case the water was warm enough. He’d noticed that Beth had brought her swimsuit.

  Stopping halfway down the stairs, JW looked to where his mother and Beth stood. He hadn’t realized that Beth was as tall as his mother. It struck him that he and Beth would be in high school in a couple of months and were no longer children.

  “Let’s get going. Time’s a’wasting,” JW said after they'd had some stew. “Bye, Ma.”

  “Bye, Mrs. Donaldson. Thanks for lunch,” Beth added.

  “Yeah, thanks, Ma.”

  Chapter 8

  Mary felt the strong hand of her husband squeeze her arm as he laid his arm across her shoulders. She smiled sadly as she watched Beth and JW walk away from the house.

  “You’d better get some sleep, Andrew dear. You’ve only been down for a couple hours,” Mary said.

  “I can’t sleep with thoughts of the boy going into that black hole. I keep hoping that work will somehow pick up, but it seems more likely it’ll just get worse. Is there any other way?”

  “I wish I knew. I’d take in washing to do, but no one can afford to pay to have their laundry done. The few folks that can have live-ins. I can’t see any other way but for John Wallace to go to work. When are you gonna tell him?” Mary asked.

  “I’m gonna keep drawing the pictures, and I’ll start telling him about how coal mining works, and we’ll see how it goes from there,” Andrew said. “You're right. I better try to get a few more hours sleep,” he said, and kissed Mary’s forehead before heading to the bedroom.

  Chapter 9

  July was almost over, and JW’s bedroom wall was filling with pictures of the underground workings of the mine. The details of how each part fit with the others in order to ensure safe production of coal were interesting, but JW missed the stories of talking fish and runaway horses and the bones of long-dead animals. But it seemed important to his father that he pay close attention, so he did.

  He learned that hard coal, mined in Pennsylvania, was called anthracite and was used largely in homes for heating. He also learned that softer coal, the kind mined in Cape Breton, was known as bituminous. Since there was no known anthracite in Nova Scotia, bituminous was what they used as fuel in their homes. Bituminous was also used in the production of coke and coke was used in the production of steel.

  As he put the pictures together on his wall, JW noticed they were forming a mural. It looked like an underground city with men whose blackened faces had a haunted look. Some leading and others following horses along the railway lines. He shivered as he peered into their faces. His eyes were always drawn first to the one that looked like his friend Mickey.

  His father hadn’t included a picture of the opening where the men went down in the trip to the mine below, but he told him about it. The trip, or rake, as it was also called, consisted of pulley cars that ran on small railway tracks. JW followed the natural progression from start to finish and traced tunnels where men used black powder to blast open new seams of coal, and followed other tunnels that were already in production. Huge timbers had been put in place to support the roof. In other areas, pillars of coal were left to hold up the ceiling overhead. Two-man teams dug out the rooms and loaded the coal. Their backbreaking work expanded the mine deeper into the earth and even under the ocean.

  JW was surprised to learn that once a room was stripped of its coal, the ceiling was collapsed using a pick. The resulting mass of coal was known as a miner’s harvest. It was extremely dangerous work and could be fatal. Only the skill of the miner and his wits kept him safe. The harvest was part of his own father’s work. Fear entered into JW’s heart for his father and for his friend Mickey.

  His father stressed the importance of the two shafts that were constructed along the seam of coal. One shaft carried fresh air into the deeps, which was the working face of the mine, and the other shaft carried the stale, gas-filled air back to the surface. JW learned that canaries, housed in little cages carried on a pole, were used as a warning system to let the men know when the gas levels were dangerously high. If the canaries jumped about or died, then the men knew it was time to leave the area. He learned more than he ever wanted to know, but his father was relentless in his instruction. He told him that a building on the surface housed the fans that blew the air into the mines. He learned that years ago there were furnaces used in the mines to circulate the air, but they were too dangerous and increased the risk of explosions. They were replaced with the fans.

  “See here? This is where they extended the mine. The old shaft had to be boarded up to keep the air in. You see there? That’s where they cut a hole and put a door so the horses can get through. They call it a trap, a trap door. You open the door to let the horse through, then you close it quickly to trap the air, to keep it from crossing over so it’ll be forced down to where the men are working. That’s where they came up with the name, trap boy or trapper boy. You understand?” his father asked.

  “Sure, Da, I understand,” JW said. “But I never plan to go down there.”

  “John Wallace–” his mother began, but stopped as she caught her husband’s look. She saw him shake his head no. “Why do
n’t you finish up your breakfast and go fishing for the day? I’m sure Beth will be by soon.”

  “We’re going to go to the fort and read for the day. I still have two whole books left and half of another one to read before school starts back. It’s hard to believe summer’s half over. If they teach any courses on coal mining, I’ll know most of it. Same time tomorrow, Da?” JW asked.

  “Same time. Maybe I’ll have a funny story to add. We’ll see how tonight goes. How’s that sound?”

  “Just as long as there’s pictures,” JW said as he left the kitchen table. “See you at supper time.” He hurried out the back door and across the field. He wanted to get there before Beth.

  Chapter 10

  “Why do you figure he’s telling you all the stuff about the pit?” Beth asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like the sound of it,” JW said as he leaned against the wall of the fort, The Count of Monte Cristo propped up on his knees. “It’s probably because I’ve asked for so many stories over the years and now I’m getting older, so he’s telling me grown-up stories. It makes me worry for my father and poor Mickey. I just couldn’t imagine doing that for the rest of my life.”

  Changing the subject, JW asked, “What did you bring for lunch?”

  “Me? I thought it was your turn to bring lunch,” Beth said. “Just kidding.” She laughed as she pulled a drumstick for each of them from the basket.

  JW could see other goodies in the picnic basket and thanked her as she handed him the food. Finally, when he’d finished the large slab of apple pie, he didn’t think he’d be able to move for an hour. Gulliver had fared well also, eating the leftover scraps of chicken.

  Beth and JW discussed the first two chapters of The Count of Monte Cristo and agreed that it was a great story to get lost in, whisked off to a fanciful time.

  Chapter 11

  JW listened as his father spoke of the importance of understanding the workings underground. It was mid-August, and although the pictures had stopped, the stories of the pit had intensified. Stories were repeated over and over, and JW was sometimes asked to bring the pictures to the table so his father could point out locations where each job was carried out.

  He learned the history of mining, at least the recent history, and how there was a brotherhood among the men who worked underground and how sticking together was crucial to the success of the union.

  “Sometimes we hafta to go on strike in order to get better wages and better working conditions,” his father said. “Last year’s strike took a terrible toll on the men. William Davis lost his life for the cause, being shot by the company goons. There’s talk a strike could be just as bad again this year. Roy the Wolf wants to take more from the little wages we’re getting now. The Company could end up closing with him at the helm.

  “If it hadn’t been for our union leaders, especially J. B. McLachlan, fighting for our rights, we’d be working for nothing. He had us stand up to Wolvin last year. It even cost J. B. four months in prison on some trumped-up charge. Wolvin only cares about money. If we don’t agree to his terms, he just cuts our hours even more. With the shifts cut to three or four a week, I can’t make it on the little that’s coming in now, JW.” Andrew Donaldson looked into his son’s eyes and then looked at his teacup.

  “Maybe I can get a part-time job after school, Da. I could check down at the Co-op, see if there’s anything there with deliveries after school and on Saturday.”

  “Mr. Ferneyhough’s got two boys working there now, and I heard that a few miners have even approached him looking for work. Before long, with the hours cut back, Mr. Ferneyhough’s not going to be very busy either. I wish there was something you could do after school.”

  “Maybe I could help some people with their gardens?”

  “I’m sorry, JW. You hafta go to work. We don’t have any other way to get by. I talked to the manager and he said you can start underground as a trapper boy ’cause they don’t need any more boys picking rocks at the breakers. It’s better pay anyway.” Andrew stood up from the table and began to walk outside.

  “What? You want me to go in the pit? I’m going to school. I can’t go to work there!” JW shouted.

  “There won’t be any school, John Wallace. Weren’t you listening? We’ve got no choice. My hours have been cut, and if we can’t pay the taxes on the house, we’ll lose it. The government will take it. Besides, I owe the Co-op most of my pay, and I can’t keep running up a bill if I can’t pay it.”

  “It’s not fair! I shouldn’t have to go in the mines.”

  “Life’s not fair!” His father stared at him. “I pass by lots of boys every day that work at the breakers and others working underground, including Mickey.” His father’s voice softened. “I wish it wasn’t so, but it’s all set. You start in two weeks,” he said, then went outside.

  “We’re sorry about your schooling, John Wallace, but we need the money,” his mother said.

  No school and stuck in the mines forever. He felt betrayed. He rose from the table.

  “You can do whatever you want for the next two weeks.”

  JW gathered the pictures together and moved slowly as he walked upstairs to his room. He laid the pictures on his bookshelf, no longer interested in putting them on the wall, for all too soon he’d be able to see himself alongside Mickey. Tears streamed down his face, and he was overcome by a mix of anger and frustration. He wanted to go to school. He wanted to visit far-off lands.

  He lay face down on his bed to smother the sound of his crying and didn’t hear his mother come into his room. He felt her hand rest on his back.

  “I’m sorry, John Wallace. I know you had your heart set on school. Maybe in a year or two the wages will pick up and you can go back then,” she said in a reassuring voice. “Right now your father is working every available hour, and we can’t keep up.”

  “I know, Ma, but once I’m in, I’m there for good,” he said. A sudden thought came to mind. “Will I be working the back shift like Da? Maybe I can still go to school and sleep in the afternoon.” Sitting up in his bed, he said, “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. If all I gotta do is pull the door open and closed all night, then I should be able to go to school too.”

  JW didn’t see the sad look in his mother’s eyes as she said, “Well, you can sure give it a try. Why don’t you go fishing for the day, or go see Beth?”

  “I think I’m just gonna lie here for a while and think about things. Tell Da I’ll talk to him later,” was the quiet reply.

  Chapter 12

  “I didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d be too tired to go to school after working all night. I don’t see the harm in letting him think he’ll be able to do it,” Mary said. “He seemed to perk up once he figured he could do both.”

  Andrew rubbed his calloused hands over his face. “Not much chance of that. The poor little fella. He doesn’t know the half of it. It’s a different life down there. You stop being a boy the minute you go underground. He’ll be treated like one of the men, and there’s no place for fear of the dark.”

  Andrew and Mary walked arm in arm toward the barn, each one silently wishing that life was fairer and that JW could remain a child for at least a little while longer. They walked behind the barn and saw the garden. The plants had grown well under their son’s care.

  “There should be enough potatoes to last the winter,” Andrew said. “He worked hard on the weeding. Well, I better get in and get to bed, though I don’t think I’ll sleep much.”

  “I told him he could have the next two weeks to do as he pleased,” Mary said. They looked at each other and fell silent.

  Chapter 13

  “You mean you’ll be doing the same job as Mickey?” Beth asked.

  “Yeah, that’s what Da said, trapping,” JW said.

  “What about school?”

  “Oh,
I plan to work back shift and go to school during the day and sleep in the afternoon,” he said, sure that the plan would work.

  “When would you have time to do your homework? Grade nine is not easy, lots of new courses. I hear the math is really hard. Besides, remember poor Mickey. He couldn’t keep up, even with you tutoring him,” Beth said, not realizing that she was dashing his hopes.

  JW felt despair steal into his heart but put on a brave face. “I’ll just do it somehow. I got to. Ma said the wages might pick up in a year or so and I’d be able to return full time, so if I can make a passing grade, that’ll do.”

  “When do you start?” Beth asked.

  “Just around the time school reopens. I’ll work the night before and show up for the first day of classes.” He was no longer sure he’d be able to work and attend school as well, but he planned to try. “I gotta get home soon. Ma and I have to go to town to get my work clothes. I guess it can get pretty cold down there, so I’ll need some warm clothes.”

  “Yeah, and pretty dark too,” Beth said, and shivered. “I’d be scared to death down there, JW. You are some brave,” Beth said, and kissed his cheek. “We better get back then, so you can get your outfit.”

  Chapter 14

  Mary Donaldson talked about their garden, marvelling at the size of some of the plants. “The potatoes grew well, I’m sure there’ll be five or more on a stalk, and the corn is taller than your father. He said we should have enough potatoes to do the winter.” She asked about the fort and about Beth, never mentioning school or the pit.

  JW smiled and nodded in all the right places. However, his heart sank when they passed the high school on their way to the Co-operative. Since the company stores had closed the previous year, the Co-op had extended credit to many of the miners and their families. He didn’t understand the difference between the company-run store and the ones run by the merchants but was told the difference was huge.