by Stan Mason
When darkness fell, Sadler returned to the bungalow on the pretence of telling her that they had finished at the mine that day. The place was in darkness and he believed that Della had gone out. Despite that, he rapped on the door with his knuckles and waited. After a short while, he turned the handle to discover that it was unlocked. Cautiously he entered, allowing the strong wind to blow the door shut behind him. He was about to turn and leave when an inner instinct caused him to move towards the bedroom. At first he was uncertain whether she was there as the room was in total darkness, then the clouds cleared and a shaft of moonlight shone through a narrow gap in the curtains to show the outline of her shape in the bed. He froze in the doorway reflecting that it would be best to leave discretely. He placed his hand on the door handle with that intent but then an uncontrollable impulse surged through his body as he pushed it shut. Della was a very beautiful woman who had lived alone for a long time. He couldn’t believe that a woman could live happily for a long time in a state of matrimony to become a hermit with no intimate physical activity and the tender sensual approach of a man. She needed to be desired, kissed, hugged, loved and seduced like any other human being. He removed his coat and then proceeded to take off the rest of his clothes until reduced to nakedness. Pulling aside the bedclothes carefully, he eased his body on to the bed and climbed in beside her thinking that she was asleep. From the start he was very gentle and professional in his approach, kissing her sweetly on the face, neck and body. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten that she had worn a nightdress earlier when he pushed himself inside the front door. In the heat of passion, he failed to notice that she was now as naked as him. He began to whisper sentimental thoughts softly in her ear before embarking on a manoeuvre whether he covered her body with a carpet of countless gentle kisses. She moaned ecstatically as he caressed one of her breasts smoothly which gave him encouragement to continue. She was genuinely surprised at his patience and expertise at a time when most men would have over-reacted to become hurried, selfish, brutal, and shortly inadequate. In time, his hands moved lower to the sensuous erotic parts of her body and he started to press her legs open with the palms of his hands before sliding his body over her so that she was unable to move freely. Then, running his hands over her breasts and thighs to excite her further, her legs came up on either side of him and he pressed his extended stiffened baton deeply inside her, causing her to experience a sharp element of pain as he penetrated her body. After finding the appropriate point of entry, he lunged at her gently time and time again, increasing each stroke with a great degree of force... thrusting, pulling, pressing, heaving and panting... faster and faster as his instincts led him blindly towards his goal. Contrary to her initial belief, Della was not unmoved. He had excited her beyond all expectations with extended foreplay and a perfect position in the sexual intercourse. Originally intending to be simply his plaything, for telling him that their alliance was shattered, she found herself matching him stride for stride, caring nothing for anyone or anything at the height of sexual passion. This increased the excitement of the union for the benefit of both of them. She was loving every single second of it! Striving hard to achieve success, he eventually reached the edge of climax as a series of involuntary reactions caused his body to shake spasmodically. Della was very much impressed. By sheer chance, the two orgasms occurred at the very same time which had never happened in all the time she had spent with Homer Wilson. Sadler opened his eyes and looked directly at her face to realise that she was staring up at him.
‘You are such a fantastic woman,’ he commended. ‘I want you so much. I’ve always wanted you ever since I first saw you.’
‘Do you know what you’ve done!’ she accused forcefully, ignoring his sentimental comments. ‘You’ve committed statutory rape apart from everything else.’
‘Everything else?’
‘Breaking into a property, trespass, assault... I could go on!’
‘But you were awake,’ he insisted, knowing that fact to be true. ‘You let me make love to you. You even moved with me. You enjoyed it!’
‘Tell that to the jury!’ she snapped. ‘You broke in here, jumped on me and held me down so that I couldn’t move. I struggled but it was of no use.’
He moved away sharply causing her some discomfort and then realised that there was more to the matter than he could fathom. ‘I didn’t intend for this to happen,’ he apologised.
‘You come to me with a story of an alliance to get me back into the family fold and some nonsense about extorting money from my cousin but all the time you plan to use me sexually as your mistress. You’d better get out of here before I call the police.’
‘I wanted to start a relationship with you from the first moment I saw you,’ he told her candidly.
‘You’re a confidence trickster of the worst kind, Mr. Sadler! Preying on lonely women! You take everything in life that you want... by force if necessary.’
‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ he countered defensively, trying hard to retrieve the situation. ‘I’m not like that at all!’
‘You think I’m an easy touch, don’t you? Well let me tell you Homer White made love to me warmly, emotionally, successfully and incessantly... far better than your puny effort. How does it feel to rape a white woman who was regularly intimate with a black man?’ She knew how the import of her words would affect him because the flaw in his character was obvious to her.
The impact was effective immediately for he leapt out of the bed and started to dress quickly. ‘You and Clement are very much alike. Peas in the same pod! It’s easy to see that you both come from the same mould.’
‘That’s right, Mr. Sadler!’ she added, intending to end their relationship once and for all. ‘Add insult to injury! You’re not going to walk away from this scot free.’
He went to the door and stared back at her in the darkness. ‘Why didn’t you simply tell me you’d changed your mind about our agreement instead of going through this charade?’ he challenged recognising the truth of the matter. ‘I’d still have thought the same way about you and you’d have been a better person for it!’
He left quickly, slamming the door behind him. In the short time he had known her, he believed that she was different to other women but he was to be disappointed. Her tactics hadn’t fooled him either. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that the alliance had ended so she conjured up a situation ending it with threats. All the plans he had carefully prepared were now thrown back into the melting pot. People were not only unfair... they were unpredictable!
By the time he arrived home, he had replayed the conversation with her through his mind time and time again. The gibe about Homer White had been deliberate. She had spotted his weakness when he had kissed her that day and had tried to wipe his lips clean with a handkerchief. Now it was worse! He had united his body with her so that their flesh merged much the same way as it had done so many times with the West Indian. With that in mind, he went into the bathroom, disrobed, and turned on the shower, using all the deodorant containers that he could find to clean his body. However it mattered little how many there were for they would still be insufficient to wash him clean enough. The matter wasn’t physical... it was psychosomatic! But one thing was certain... he wasn’t giving up the alliance with Della Lancaster without a fight!
***
It was nearly a week later when a number of dejected Russian students trudged across the countryside to queue up outside the counting house of the Botallack mine. The women had not been invited while a few declined to go, not only to a avoid risking their lives down a vacant mine but also as a protest against the British Government. In their opinion, incarceration in England was no better than being imprisoned in Siberia for freedom in a foreign country evaporated when political pressure was applied. They continued to work of the farms willing to accept the consequences if action was taken against them for not going to the mine as
ordered. When those attending arrived at Botallack, they were faced by Morris holding a clipboard to check their names. He eyed the group in front of him with a wry expression on his face. They were all so young and they knew nothing about mining. In reality, they were simply slave labour and not the kind of crew he sought but beggars could not be choosers. Yet there were advantages and disadvantages with them. They were young and strong, audacious, but unstable in attitude. After all, they had escaped from Russia under their own steam at a moment’s notice. Some of the group began to shuffle their feet impatiently, muttering in Russian until the fat man raised his pen and the clipboard to proceed with the roll call.
‘Ivan Obsiovitch!’ he called out, reading the first name on the list.
There was silence except for a snigger from one of the students.
‘Ivan Obiovitch is dead!’ declared one of them in a deep voice..
‘Dead?’ repeated Morris. ‘He can’t be. He’s on the list!’
‘As far as we’re concerned he’s dead,’ cut in another.
Morris eyed them seriously. ‘I hope we’re not going to play games,’ he spat sharply, ‘because it won’t work. I’ve a game or two of my own and you won’t like them. Vershtays!’
‘If you mean do we understand,’ continued another student, ‘you may be assured that we do. But ‘verstays’ is German and we are Russian. Perhaps you’re the one who doesn’t understand.’
The fat man was hardly put out by the remark, deciding to try another tack. ‘All right,’ he went on, pointing to one of the students. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Alexander Polykoff,’ came the reply.
He examined the list, scanning the names, and then placed a tick in the appropriate place. As he looked up, he saw Anna standing behind her husband. ‘Oh, no!’ exclaimed Morris with dismay. ‘No women! Women are unlucky in mines. Everyone knows that!’
‘I’ve come with my husband,’ she replied, taking hold of Peter’s arm. ‘We work together, side by side!’
The fat man dug in his heels refusing to change his mind. ‘I’m sorry, but women do not go down this mine! Not over my dead body!’
The student with the deep voice stepped forward, moving within a few centimetres of the fat man’s face. ‘You leave us with two options,’ he said coolly. ‘If you won’t let the woman work in the mine we shall all walk away and leave you with no labour whatsoever. Alternatively, as you have told us, we shall have to kill you to climb over your dead body.’
‘Very funny!’ uttered Morris sarcastically. ‘Very funny!’
‘We’re not joking. You take all of us or none.’
The fat man dithered for a few moments wondering whether to take the young man seriously or not. Then he shrugged his shoulders aimlessly as though bored with the issue. ‘All right,’ he said eventually. ‘It’s no skin off my nose!’
‘I don’t know about your nose,’ commented another student. ‘When are you going to take a bath?’
Those students with sufficient knowledge of English burst into laughter much to the chagrin of the trader. He gave them a caustic glance before running through the roster before leading the group to a shed where they selected picks, shovels, helmets and torches, as well as lunch boxes. They carried them into a cage to meet Horace Trevelyan who was there to guide them.
‘I want tow of you to man the whim house,’ ordered the old man instructing them accordingly. ‘There be a telephone in there to keep in touch. The rest of you go down in the cage.’
‘You’re an old man,’ observed Peter. ‘Shouldn’t you be one of the people manning the whim house?’
‘I need to be on hand to advise the rest of you,’ stated Trevelyan. ‘No one’s been down there for years.’
The students looked at each other uncomfortably at his remark.
‘Is it safe?’ asked Anna nervously, thinking about her personal safety and for her child.
‘Minin’s a risky business,’ returned the old man. ‘But someone ‘as to do ‘e.’
‘Why us?’
‘Someone’s got to do it. The world needs copper, tin, lead and zinc.’
‘And what are we supposed to do?’ asked another student.
‘We shall clear the levels in readiness for mining. That be the job for ‘e.’
‘Let’s get started then,’ urged Anna feeling the biting wind cut through her clothes. She held the baby more tightly and threw a shovel over her shoulder marching towards the cage.
The students clambered down the ladders to the cage and they scrambled inside. Trevelyan joined them, using the telephone in the cage to communicate with the whim house. When a voice replied at the other end of the line, he seemed confused, unable to understand a word of the conversation.
‘Give it to me!’ ordered Anna gently. ‘They speak mainly in Russian.’ She took the receiver to act as the interpreter between the two parties.
In a short while, the cage began to sink into the ground and Peter’s heart beat faster. His mind dwelt on the thick hawser wire which was the only support for the cage. It could snap at any moment and it would plunge into the bosom of the earth to crash at some undetermined point to their death. Another possibility was that the two students at the whim house might not be able to control the equipment which could seal the group’s demise just as quickly. They were novices who had never practised this task before which was enough to make the journey treacherous. Now and then the rope jerked suddenly causing occupants to lurch forwards and sideway, At such times, the cage stopped swinging slightly in the narrow shaft, before a further jolt sent them downward at a rate faster than comfort allowed. Worst still, their journey took place in total darkness. They could see nothing, hearing only the noise of rushing air which sounded like a storm as they fell. No one dared to speak until the nightmare was over.
When they approached the first lever, Trevelyan, with the help of Anna, instructed the whim house of the correct procedure and shortly they emerged from the shaft to a horizontal channel in the ground. They turned on their torches and followed the old man along the level until they came across the first rocks strewn across their path.
‘E ‘as to clear these until ‘e comes to the first stope,’ he told them.
‘What’s a stope?’ asked Peter puzzled.
‘Stopin’s upwards or downwards at an angle where the lode be followed,’ explained Trevelyan.’
‘Where does the stop go?’ enquired Anna.
‘To the next level,’ came the answer. ‘We want the one that goes under the seabed.’
One of the students communicated the conversation to the others and they stopped in their tracks.
‘Do you mean under the Atlantic Ocean?’ asked Anna, trying to make sense of it all.
‘That be right but it be safe. ‘E goes under the sea for ‘alf a mile.’ He trudged onwards for a short distance before realising that he was on his own. ‘Come on!’ he urged. ‘What be the matter?’
‘We don’t want to go under the sea,’ admitted Peter firmly. ‘Just because we’re forced to work here by your government, we don’t want to take risks with out lives.’
There be no risk,’ confirmed the old man. ‘I be over eighty an’ I worked this mine man an’ boy.’
‘Nyet!’ shouted one of the students in abject refusal. ‘Nyet! Nyet!’
Treveyan began to laugh in a weak piping voice. ‘‘E ‘as no choice, lad!’ he called out. ‘If ‘e doesn’t muck out, no one leaves the mine. I be the only one ‘oo knows the way out.’
‘Stupid old fool!’ muttered the deep voice. ‘All we have to do is to go back to the cage and telephone the whim house to pull us up. ‘ He gestured to the others to follow him.
‘Wait!’ shouted the old man. ‘‘E can’t do that. I was told to disconnect the telephone an’ I did. I be the only one ‘oo knows how to cont
act the whim ‘ouse so get muckin’ out!’
The group started to talk across each other in Russian before beginning to use their shovels to remove the rubble.
‘You’ve won this battle today,’ Anna told the old man, ‘but we shall not return tomorrow. Never again!’
Trevelyan retraced his steps and faced them in the dim light of their torches. ‘I heard them say that if ‘e do that. They’ll send the lot of ‘e back to Russia. All of ‘e.’
The shovels stopped for a while then Peter took hold of a pick in fury. He struck the decomposed granite repeatedly in anger meaninglessly as tears ran down his face. ‘I should have stayed in Russia,’ he sobbed, his chest heaving hard at his spurious effort. He then started to bang his head against the wall of the mine in a kind of claustrophobic fit. It took four students to pull him away and calm him down. Then they sat in a huddle for some time discussing their dilemma. When they had concluded talking, Anna approached the old man sorrowfully.
‘We shall never forgive your Government for what they’re doing to us.,’ she confided angrily. ‘It’s convicted us to slavery without trial to risk our lives in a mine. We shall never forgive!’
Trevelyan shrugged tiredly. ‘Missy!’ he said quietly. ‘I be an old man. I could die tomorrow. This mine’s been my ‘hole life. She be my true love. An’ now they’re ready to work ‘e, I can live again!’