Children of Fire

by Paul CW Beatty

  The coffee was similar to what he had drunk at the dinner party but it was deeper and more bitter. Cardamom was present but there was something else, something not as usual in Turkish coffee. Josiah inhaled the steam and then sipped. ‘Mr Hailsworth, I would say that the secret ingredient in your reserve cru is liquorice.’

  ‘Very close, Constable, but not quite right. Have you ever come across anise? The fresh beans are sent to me from an old friend in Constantinople and have seeds of both cardamon and anise added. Roasting is done in the kitchens here and they are ground only when the coffee is to be made.

  ‘Well it is excellent, at least to my taste.’

  Mr Hailsworth sipped from his cup. ‘You are right, Josiah. The older I get the more I appreciate the small things of life, like excellent coffee. But you were saying you wanted to go to the mine.’

  ‘Yes Sir.’

  ‘So does this mean you have got a new lead, Constable?’ asked Aideen.

  ‘No not really. It is more about making sure I understand fully the nature of Mr Abram’s business.’

  ‘You are commendably thorough, Mr Ainscough,’ Aideen said. Josiah thought he could detect in her voice a slight sense of amusement at his expense.

  Agnes came back into the room. ‘Pardon Sir but your carriage is on its way round. It will take a few minutes and I was asked to say there is no need to rush. ’

  ‘Good, I shall have time for another coffee. Thank you Agnes.’ Mr Hailsworth turned to Josiah. ‘Can I interest you in another, Josiah?’

  ‘It would be rude of me to refuse.’

  They chatted on. The farm was prospering, the game had been good this year, the lambs were growing and the harvest of both wool and mutton was set fair. Finally, the coffee was drunk and Agnes returned to announce that the carriage was ready.

  ‘If you can offer me your arm, Constable, we can be on our way?’

  ‘My pleasure, Mr Hailsworth.’ Josiah stood and held out a hand. With the aid of his stick, the older man eased forward on his seat before Josiah pulled him up gently and steadily. Then he took Mr Hailsworth’s free arm.

  ‘Let me help,’ offered Aideen. She got up and went round to Mr Hailsworth’s other side.

  ‘Thank you, my dear. If you could take my arm I’m sure Josiah will be able to handle my cane as well as stabilising me. I get set in one position sitting down but once I get going I am usually all right. We will go down the back stairs to the courtyard, it is quicker and easier.’

  When they got down the stairs the coachman took over helping Mr Hailsworth into the carriage. Aideen waited with Josiah until Mr Hailsworth was settled.

  ‘This is opportune, Mr Ainscough. I had resolved to ask you, the next time I saw you, if you ride?’

  ‘A little,’ said a puzzled Josiah.

  ‘You see that I am again deserted by Phelan. He is away for several days on a trip to Matlock. I wondered if you would care to ride out with me one day this week. You could regale me again with some more of your excellent stories.’

  Josiah hesitated. An extra day sheltered from the grief of Long Clough would be welcome. To be in the company of one as easy and charming as Aideen Hayes would be a double relief. What would be the harm?

  ‘Yes I would like that. Could I suggest tomorrow or the day after?’

  ‘Tomorrow then, if the weather is good. I will bring a horse for you at nine.’

  ‘I will look forward to it,’ he said. As he pulled himself up into the carriage for the first time that morning his thoughts turned from Rachael or the investigation to the prospect of a fine day on the high hills away from all his troubles.

  22

  Merriman

  It only took the first few hundred yards of the coach journey, for Josiah’s feeling of relative peace, to be blown away by a remark from Mr Hailsworth.

  ‘Have you concluded anything about Abram being in danger?’

  Was this the moment, Josiah wondered? Was this it? Was Mr Hailsworth about to broach the question of the sulphur and then make clear his disgust at Josiah’s suggestion that Mr Hailsworth son could be lying. Was that his main reason in taking this a trip to the mine, of which his wife so clearly disapproved?

  Josiah tried to detect anything in Mr Hailsworth manner that might guide him but there was nothing he could discern. There was tension but Mr Hailsworth spoke with all the assumed casualness of a man trying to make a topic of vital interest seem of little importance. The tension concerned his worries for Abram.

  ‘Not entirely, Sir.’

  ‘Do I take it that you think he is holding something back?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Josiah stuttered, ‘More that the conversation left some loose ends,’ he steeled himself for the blow.

  ‘If it helps, I know about Elizabeth.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Elizabeth, Abram’s mistress.’ A smile of satisfaction came across Mr Hailsworth’s face. ‘Oh Josiah don’t tell me you don’t know about his mistress.’ Josiah was taken aback. This was not what he was expecting and it surprised him.

  ‘… And your attitude is, Sir?’

  ‘In general, I approve of her. She is sensible and intelligent. She is an experienced woman of the world. In many respects she is exactly what he needs. For all the veneer of sophistication and self-assurance, Abram is not as mature as he might appear. She will make him a good wife.’

  ‘Thank you for being so frank, Sir.’ Josiah swallowed and tried as best he could to appear to be in control of his feelings but failed. Seeing his discomfort Mr Hailsworth laughed. ‘I had got used for you to be well ahead of me in this investigation, I am pleased to be one up on you, my boy.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘You did not think I would approve of Elizabeth, did you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Josiah don’t look so shocked.’ Mr Hailsworth sighed. ‘Methodism is a fine institution but it can be a very harsh task master when it comes to moral weakness. Shall I shock you further?’ Josiah could not reply.

  ‘My reserve cru that comes from Constantinople. I said it is supplied by a friend. Not quite true. It is supplied by my other son.’

  ‘Your son?’

  ‘Yes my illegitimate, much-loved, firstborn. I was a young man when I went to the Levant, I had a young man’s appetites. I fell in love with an Arab lady in Jerusalem and Ishmael, as we named him, was the result. I was fortunate to be able to see that he and his mother were well proved for in material things and to pay a suitable debt of honour to her family. I helped set up his business in Constantinople and he prospers. What I could not provide for him was myself, though I wished most sincerely to do just that. My duty lay here. As Elijah Bradshawe would have said I have tried to make amends for my sin, though I regret that I will never be able to hold my eastern grandchildren in my arms. If someone knowing this were to ask what even on my travels most influenced my character, then it was Ishmael’s birth. It prevented me from becoming a selfish wastrel.’

  Finally, Josiah found his voice. ‘Does your wife know?’

  ‘I never confessed to her but it would not surprise me if she has guessed.’

  The carriage was rolling over rougher ground now. Mr Hailsworth looked out of the window. ‘Not far, now,’ he said.

  The carriage slowed and pulled up. A man, wearing a rather dirty frock coat, was making his way hurriedly towards them. He opened the door of the brougham.

  ‘To what do I owe the pleasure, Sir?’ he said in a cautious tone.

  ‘Don’t worry, Johnstone, it is just a social call. Let me introduce Constable Ainscough of the Stockport Police Force. He is assisting the Derbyshire authorities in investigating the death of Elijah Bradshawe. He wants to talk to Merriman about the new cartridges.’ Josiah shook hands with Johnstone.

  ‘Constable, I’ll leave you in Mr Johnstone’s capable hands. Since I am here, Johnsto
ne, I will have a look round but I would be obliged, if I have to go before Mr Ainscough has finished, if you could arrange to get him back to either the Hall or Long Clough where he is staying.’

  The mine looked more like a quarry than anything Josiah had seen before. There was a flat area with a scattering of buildings. This was criss-crossed by a trackway very similar to the one in the powder mill. At places at the ends of tracks there were sidings on raised frameworks where coal was emptied from wagons onto conical piles.

  ‘Ever been to a mine before?’ said Johnstone.

  ‘No,’ replied Josiah.

  ‘In this mine, coal seams come to the surface. They can be followed using tunnels, dug from ground level, called drifts. We were surveying for a new limestone quarry a few years ago when we came across a shallow seam of coal in the rock face over there,’ Johnstone pointed to a cliff, towards which several trackways ran. ‘We dug out a test tunnel and followed it for about twenty yards before it opened out to a height of fifteen feet or so. We still haven’t got to the end of it though the main drift now goes in near enough half a mile.’

  They reached the tunnel entrance. After a couple of yards, there was a small room cut into the wall. Inside was a rack of brass lamps, a row of numbered disks on strings and a large lighted candle.

  ‘Take a disk, Constable, and a lamp,’ said Johnstone, who did the same himself. ‘Anyone who needs to know how many people are in the mine just counts the numbers of missing disks. Your Davey lamp is all the light you’ll have while you’re in there. It is probably a good idea to leave your hat here as well; the roof can be low.’

  They lit their lamps from the candle and turned down the main tunnel. It sloped slowly but its ceiling got lower the deeper they went. Soon it was no more than a foot or so above Josiah’s head. To complete his discomfort, the floor was wet and slippery.

  A few yards further and the daylight faded completely. Josiah became dependant on his lamp. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out details of the stout wooden props to the roof; even shadows began to appear. He followed, the light from Johnstone’s lamp, which extended back to him like a lifeline. The air started to taste stale. It was unexpectedly quite, except for occasional muffled sounds which seemed strangely distant. Then without warning Johnstone turned right and ducked. Josiah followed.

  The quiet was broken as the ringing of hammers on metal. Two men were chiselling holes into a vertical stone face. A third was holding a lamp and examining their work.

  ‘Got a visitor for you, Merriman,’ called Johnstone above the din.

  ‘What sort of madman visits down ’ere?’

  ‘A policeman brought by the Master. He’s interested in how well the new cartridges work.’

  ‘Then if ’e ’angs on for a few minutes I’ll give ’im a practical demonstration. That’ll do, lads.’ The hammering stopped. ‘You two clear out while I shows this visitor ’ow we set the charges. You can check the drift’s clear for me as yo’ go.’

  ‘I’ll go with your lads, Merriman,’ said Johnstone. ‘Just make sure the constable gets back to the surface in one piece.’

  Merriman held out a dirty hand. ‘Solomon Merriman a’ yo’r service.’

  ‘Josiah Ainscough, Mr Merrimam. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Right, pleasantries over. Come up here, lad. You’ll get a better view.’ Josiah stumbled forward. There was a mysterious regular pattern of holes cut into the rock face. Very near the ceiling was an arc of seven. Below that a second arc of six and then one very deep one right in the middle of the face.

  ‘If you look down you’ll see there’s been a slot cut into the face at floor level; all this rock is hanging from the ceiling. The ’ole at the centre we call the cut shot, it takes double the charge of the others and it’s fired first. Next are the easers,’ he pointed to the arc of six, ‘last the trimmers next to the ceiling.’

  ‘So the main part of the rock comes out first, then the bit above it and then the very last so there’s a new roof,’ said Josiah.

  ‘That’s the theory.’

  ‘How do you get them to fire in the right order?’

  ‘That’s the beauty of the new cartridges. It used to take three goes but now we can do it in one. The fuses are reliable enough for us to set sequential charges from a single point. Will ye give me an hand to place the charges?’

  Merriman showed him a box near the foot of one of the nearby ceiling props and Josiah passed cartridges from it as Merriman requested them. The Foreman Blaster pushed them into the drill holes leaving ends where the fuses would, go poking out. A second box contained the fuse cord wound on a large wooden bobbin. It was a cross between very stiff sewing thread and thin rope.

  Merriman cut the fuse cord and connected it to each of the cartridges. Then he used a piece of wooden dowel to push the cartridges down to the bottom of their respective holes and sealed them in with clay. Finally, he tied all the fuses together and ran out a long length for several yards back down the tunnel.

  ‘That should be long enough,’ he said. Then he double-checked everything. ‘Now all we ’ave to do is light the long ’un and wait for the bang. Would you mind carryin’ the cartridge box for me? I’ll take you and it out the drift. When you’re clear I’ll come back and light the fuse.’

  ‘Where will you take cover?’

  ‘I’ll run back to the main drift and take cover in one of the alcoves cut in the wall next to the trackway to give room for wagons to pass. They give enough protection.’

  ‘Don’t you have to leave the mine entirely?’

  ‘Provided ye don’t stand close to a gallery entrance, there is not much danger in getting’ ’urt.’

  Josiah felt an impulse. The mixture of emotions he was feeling in the aftermath of what Rachael had told him, made being near to danger appealing. He wanted to be near the explosion, to feel the thrill of its power.

  ‘Then, if I may, I will stand with you. I want to see for myself everything these cartridges do.’

  ‘Are you quite sure, lad?’ said Merriman. ‘Mr Johnstone said I was to get you back in one piece. It would be more than my job’s worth not to.’

  ‘Quite sure. I want to stand with you Mr Merriman and share your risk. I’ve spent far too much time in my life watching and not participating.’

  ‘There’s a feeling I understand, lad. I’ll take the risk but you’ll have to do exactly what I tell ye.’

  They went back up the drift and Merriman found Josiah a safe alcove in the main tunnel and left him there. Josiah waited in the silence. There were no sounds at all, except water dripping on the muddy floor. He imagined that he and Merriman were the only ones underground everyone else safely on the surface.

  Merriman was back surprisingly quickly. ‘Crouch down and turn yo’r back to the gallery. This will be a quick ’un.’

  Involuntarily Josiah started to count. Then the ground shook and bits of roof fell onto his head. He felt the explosion through his feet before he heard it through the fingers stuffed into his ears. Then a fraction later, a wave of dust and smoke engulfed them from the gallery.

  Creating foggy halos around their lamps, the dust cleared sufficiently quickly for them to go back to see what the explosion had done in no more than a few minutes. Josiah and Merriman crawled over the pile of rubble that had come down. It wasn’t as big or as neat a pile as Josiah had expected but even Josiah could see that the new roof level was good.

  ‘Champion,’ Merriman said to himself.

  Merriman’s drillers had joined them. ‘Right, lads, yer can clear the spoil and get the carpenters in to shore up the new roof.’

  Josiah and Merriman started to walk back to the surface.

  ‘That was a very effective demonstration. Thank you,’ said Josiah. ‘I have only one question about the cartridges. Mr Abram Hailsworth makes great play that they are sulphur free. As far as you can tel
l is that the case?’

  ‘There’s definitely no sulphur in the cartridges or the fuses,’ said Merriman. ‘Normal blackpowder always leaves a smell of sulphurous smoke in the air, especially fuses, but these cartridges don’t.’

  ‘You’re certain. So as far as you are concerned both are sulphur free?’

  ‘Aye. I were very sceptical that cartridges without sulphur would be as good as a well-tamped loose powder, but I was wrong. It must be to do with the way they compress ‘em but properly ignited, they burn as quick as the best military grade powder. I ’ave tested it myself. When contained in the shot holes I think they’re probably five or six times better than loose powder.’

  ‘What about the fuses. Wouldn’t they burn hotter and be more reliable at firing the cartridges with sulphur in their mixture?’

  ‘It’s logical to think so but I can say while we’ve been using them, we’ve ’ad fewer misfires than normal. If ’e press me then maybe I’d rather the fuses were hotter but they are very reliable in terms of timing. You’ve seen for yourself. We did that rip at one go, all because of them fuses. That’s an advantage not to be sniffed at.’

  A few minutes later, covered in dust they came out of the drift. Josiah’s uniform looked pale grey rather than dark blue. He took off his coat and shook it until most of the dust had gone. Then he ruffled his hair until it had returned to its normal brown and swilled his face in the water trough near the entrance before putting his coat back on. Mr Johnstone came over.

  ‘Did you find out what you needed?’ he asked Josiah.

  ‘Yes thank you.’ A miner with a pony pulling three wooden coal wagons, passed them.

  ‘Is it alright to go down, Mr Johnstone?’ said the miner.

  ‘Should be alright if you’re going beyond the first gallery.’

  ‘Yes Sir. Goin’ all the way.’

  At its own patient pace, the pony walked on, pulling three empty wagons. But just before the tunnel entrance, where the downward gradient started, there was a small gap between the rails. The first wagon rattled smoothly over this step, as did the second but the third stuttered and its wheels got caught. The miner urged the pony forward and the wagons moved but the pony started to lose her footing. The miner tried to steady her by holding her head and but the animal dug in her back legs. The result was that she slid about three yards before coming to a halt.