Breaker Boy

by Joan Hiatt Harlow

  35

  North Star Shaft

  Corey was a little late when he arrived at the colliery. First thing he did was to head for the office to see Mr. McBride.

  Mr. McBride was sitting at his desk when Corey walked in. “Hey, Corey, where’s your dad? He hasn’t signed in yet. I thought he was going to start blasting today.”

  “He was going to start today, sir, but they thought my mom would be having a baby and it was a long night. In fact, she may need surgery. Since he had no sleep, he doesn’t think it’s a good time for him to use dynamite. He said he’ll start blasting tomorrow. But in the meantime, he hoped the timbers would be delivered so his butty Ken could shore up that ceiling. They’ve been waiting on more lumber for over a week. So if you can get the lumber down there today, it won’t be a wasted day. It would be safer if the walls and ceiling of North Star were more stable than they are.”

  “Today?” Mr. McBride raised an eyebrow. “He wants the timber today? Since when do the miners give the orders—let alone their kids?” He shook his head. “Listen, Corey. How can I tell the big bosses up at the office that we’re not blasting? See how it makes me look? They want that new vein opened and working right away.”

  “Even if it’s dangerous?” Corey asked. “Even if the roof is unstable? And who’s to blame for not delivering the timbers?”

  Mr. McBride ignored the question as he twiddled his thumbs. “The bosses won’t be happy.” Then he straightened up and noticed Corey again. “You go down the North Star shaft—and tell Mr. Farley and Ken that they’ll be blasting tomorrow instead.” Mr. McBride suddenly pointed his finger at Corey. “Wait a minute. I can’t let you go down into the mine. You had a bad time that day I took you down in the coal car. You nearly killed yourself.”

  “I’m better now,” Corey protested. He had hoped Mr. McBride had forgotten that day. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

  “Pretty sure?” Mr. McBride burst out. “You can’t be pretty sure down in the mine.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Corey stated as he headed for the door. “Just tell me the way, that’s all.”

  “Well, go ahead, then, if you’re so certain.” Mr. McBride led him to the elevator cage that went down the shaft into the mine, and opened the cage door for Corey.

  “The fire boss’s office is . . . where?” Corey asked.

  “You’ll see it when you get there,” Mr. McBride called as the cage descended. “You can’t miss it. It’s a whitewashed hole-in-the-wall.”

  For a moment, Corey watched the rocky walls slip by as he dropped deeper and deeper into the mine. He began to feel dizzy but tried to ignore it. By the time the cage came to a clattery stop, it was cold and the air smelled dank. He stepped out onto the uneven ground, just as someone above hoisted the cage back to the surface.

  As the elevator disappeared from sight, Corey felt he was trapped in the giant hole. Panic crept into his body, like a chill. I can’t let this get to me, he told himself as he looked around for the white room.

  Then he saw the room. It was just as Mr. McBride said—a whitewashed room, carved into the rocky wall. It stood out bright in the darkness, reminding him of the first aid room. That must be the fire boss’s office, Corey decided, and headed for it.

  Inside the little chamber, a map of the underground tunnels of the mine lay open on a small desk. On the wall hung a pegboard with brass tags with numbers on them. Dad had told him how it worked. Miners put their tags on the pegboard every morning, once they knew where they would be working in the mine. Then, if a tag was still on the pegboard at closing time, the boss knew something could be wrong and who might be in danger and where.

  “Hey, aren’t you Joe Adamski’s son?” a voice boomed. Corey looked up to see a thin man wearing a carbide lantern on his belt.

  “Yes, I’m Corey.”

  “I’m Sean Farley, the fire boss. What are you doin’ here? Where’s your father?”

  “I’m here for my dad. He wanted me to tell you and Ken Keenan that he won’t be in today or be blasting that new vein of coal until tomorrow.”

  Mr. Farley frowned. “Not blasting? How come?”

  Corey explained that his father was extremely tired and what had happened with his mother. “Dad said they could use another day to shore up the ceiling, but the lumber hasn’t been delivered yet.” Then he asked, “Will you inform Ken Keenan, Dad’s butty?”

  “No, I’ll leave that up to you. I’m not a messenger boy.”

  I’ll have to go down to the North Star, Corey realized. Will I be able to go all that way without having a spell?

  “Will you show me how to get to the North Star?” he asked.

  “This here’s a map of the workings.” The fire boss pointed to the map on his desk. “You can read a map, can’t you?”

  Corey didn’t want to make Mr. Farley any angrier than he was. “Yes, sir,” he said as he studied the map. Dad had told him many times how the gangways went through the mine, like avenues. The working sites were situated off them like streets. Dad was in the new one at the very end. Corey traced the map with his finger until he found an X at the end of the main gangway, and the name “North Star” scribbled on the map.

  As Corey headed down the gangway, he repeated in his mind, I’m safe. Nothing can hurt me. I’ve come all this way into the mine, and nothing bad has happened to me.

  He came to a boy sitting on a stool, next to a large wooden door. The boy jumped up when he saw Corey and hurried to open the door for him.

  “I’m heading to the North Star, where my dad works,” Corey explained.

  “I figured you didn’t work here,” the boy said, holding the heavy door.

  “I work on the breaker,” Corey told him. “Do you like your job as a nipper?”

  The boy shrugged. “It’s all right, I guess.”

  “Why do they have doors between the sections of the mine?”

  “These heavy doors keep poisonous gases from leaking into other chambers. Fresh air is pumped down through pipes and ventilation shafts. We don’t want poison gas to mix with the good air.”

  Dad had already told Corey this information many times, but hearing the boy talk kept Corey’s mind off the mine itself.

  The nipper held the door open. “It’s my job to pay attention and listen for the sound of cars, loaded with tons of coal, barreling down the tracks. We have to move fast and get those doors open in time—or else there’s a crash, and a whale of a mess. In fact, I have to get out of the way once the doors are open or else I’d be nothin’ but mincemeat.”

  Corey winced at the word “mincemeat.” “Do they always come fast—the coal cars, I mean?”

  “Not if a spragger can stop them in time. Or if a mule is bringin’ coal cars and there’s no incline. One mule can bring four cars.”

  “That seems heavy for one mule,” Corey said as he went through the open door.

  “Mules are strong. They don’t mind bringing four—but if you try to trick them by sneaking an extra car on, they’ll stop and not move. You can’t fool a mule.” The boy shut the door behind Corey with a loud clank.

  Once again, Corey felt as if the world outside was shut away from him, but this time he did not feel the old panic rise up. He had a job to do, and that thought seemed to guard him from the fear.

  Once he was in even deeper, Corey noticed some of the chambers off the main gangway had names posted over them. BEAR’S CAVE; ROCKY RUN; HOLE-IN-THE-WALL.

  He saw a narrower tunnel that headed in another direction with the name East Wind. If that chamber went toward the east, then he must be turning north now. Too bad all the chambers didn’t have a direction in their names.

  He tromped down the rocky road through the gloomy walls of stone. Corey thought about the world above, which had the sky for its roof—a blue sky with flying clouds that turned golden at sunset. No wonder Dad never wanted us to end up in the mines. Except for a few hours a week with his family, Dad spent his life cooped up inside the mine and its
dark, stone tunnels. Would that be Corey’s future too?

  The walkways were getting rougher and dark when he reached a branch off to the right and saw the sign for North Star. A dark opening, like the jaw of a dragon, opened deep into the center of the mountain. Dad would be blasting in there somewhere tomorrow. Massive timbers had been jammed into the ceiling and walls to brace them.

  Ken appeared from the darkness of the new tunnel, his carbide lamp lighting his face and the area around him. “Hey, Corey, what a surprise! Look at you, down here in the mine!”

  Dad must have told Ken about that day I passed out. Corey felt his face flush with embarrassment. How many others did he tell?

  “Dad wanted you to know he wouldn’t be in today to start blasting,” Corey told him. “Mom had a hard time last night, thinking she’d have the baby. But she didn’t. Today the doctor may be doing an operation.”

  “Oh, so Annie may have that Cesarean operation they talk about? I hope she has a good doctor,” said Ken.

  “The best,” Corey answered. “Dad was up all night, so he thought it would be better to wait on the blasting until tomorrow.” He looked around. “You have timbers here propping up the ceiling, don’t you?”

  “Yeah—but inside the new shaft, the ceiling is unstable and unpredictable. We need to prop that roof up more before we start blasting anyway. I’m still waiting for the timber. What’s the matter with the bosses? I suspect they’re worried about the cost. If this roof comes tumblin’ down, it’ll be their fault, not ours, and our lives, not theirs.” Ken stopped, as if remembering Corey’s fears.

  “How far into the earth does that vein of anthracite go?” Corey asked.

  “Do you want to take a look?” Ken asked, beckoning Corey into the darkness.

  Corey was determined not to show any fear. Too many folks seemed to know about his phobia. “Sure.” He followed Ken deeper into the shaft, bending to keep his head from hitting the low roof, which was just over their heads.

  “See this dark streak?” Ken said, pointing to the streak of black stone that wound its way through the shaft. “There’s the seam of black diamonds.”

  “How far does it go?”

  “Who knows?” Ken answered. “Maybe to another mountain somewhere.”

  “I feel like the river must be nearby,” Corey said.

  “We’re not far from the river—especially the deeper we go into the chamber here. If your dad sees any signs of dripping water, we shouldn’t blast either. We’ve had a lot of rain this weekend, and with the flooding down in the town, and the river so high, we’d be in real trouble if the river came in. It would flood the entire mine.”

  Corey stopped as he imagined himself in the narrow shaft, filling fast with river water. His heart beat faster and harder, and sweat broke out on his forehead. “I’ve got to go to work,” he said to Ken. “I’m late.” He backed up and then scurried toward the main gangway.

  36

  Richie and His Mule

  Corey had to get away from the darkness of the narrow tunnel near the end of North Star, which seemed to close in on him. Why had the panic come upon him so suddenly?

  It was Ken talking about the mine flooding, Corey realized. The very thought of water filling in the chasms and gangways, with men drowning and struggling to get out . . .

  Corey began to run, and it wasn’t until he came to the gangway and the vast chamber with its high ceilings that he slowed to a fast walk.

  Then he heard loud singing. It was his old schoolmate Richie Lee, who had left school in fifth grade to become a mule driver. He was riding on his mule, and pulling a coal car, all the while singing at the top of his lungs:

  “My sweetheart’s the mule in the mines.

  I drive her without reins or lines.

  On the bumper I sit, where I chew and I spit,

  All over my sweetheart’s behind.”

  As Richie came closer, he pulled his mule to a stop. “Hey, Corey!” he called. His mule was covered with leather straps and riggings, and a safety lamp swung from the front of her harness. She paused and tilted her head when she saw Corey.

  “Will ya look at that,” Richie said. “She thinks she knows you, Corey.”

  Corey reached out and petted the mule’s velvety nose.

  “Whatcha doin’ down here in the mine?” Richie asked.

  “Delivering a message for my dad.” He tried to look calm, but his mouth was dry. “Uh, what do you call your mule?”

  “I named her Tootsie—like in the song. She’s a happy mule ’cause she knows I love her. Don’t you, sweetheart?” Richie reached down and patted her neck. Then he tipped his hat and waved to Corey as he rode off.

  Tootsie switched her tail and her ears flicked as Richie, who was not a bit shy or self-conscious, continued singing the latest song loudly as he rode away.

  “Toot, toot, Tootsie, good-bye,

  Toot, toot, Tootsie, don’t cry

  The choo-choo train that takes me,

  Away from you—no words can say how sad it makes me. . . .”

  Corey raced again for the elevator. He knew it would take some time yet before he would feel at ease down here in the mine.

  “I’m okay,” he told himself. “Nothing has happened. Everything in here is safe.” But it didn’t work. Just when he was thinking he could handle it, the panic took hold.

  He found the elevator and tugged at the cord. “Get me up, quick!” he yelled.

  37

  Spring Training

  When Corey finally calmed down and got to work, the boys were already in their seats as the conveyor noisily carried the coal and the rocks down for separating. “You’re late, kid!” the supervisor yelled when he saw Corey. He snapped the stick he carried around.

  Corey said nothing as he climbed into his usual seat. He noticed his hands were shaking. He looked around to see if Charlie was watching him. There he was near the top of the machine, along with his sidekicks Frank and Paddy. But at least they didn’t pay any attention to Corey the rest of the morning.

  Only when the whistle blew at noon did Corey realize he had no lunch. He washed his hands, then went outside. It felt like spring today in the warm sun, with birds chirping loudly. Corey could see a few hopeful buds on the branches of trees and could hardly wait for them to burst open into the bright green shades of springtime.

  He was disappointed in himself. He’d done so well in the mine until he’d gotten deeper into the North Star. Then he’d gone backward, just when he was sure he was winning over the panic and fear.

  Corey looked around for Anthony but didn’t see him. Perhaps Anthony was using his lunch hour to check out the spragger job that would be available soon. Except for Anthony, Corey didn’t have any real friends. There were dozens of breaker boys, but the only ones he knew were the tough ones like Charlie. The other boys—like the Slavic boys—were quiet and hardworking and hardly ever mixed with the other kids. It looked like Ivan and his friends had already tried out at the park the other day and made the team. They were throwing a baseball back and forth farther out on the field.

  Corey sat on a bench nearby and watched Charlie pitch balls, while the boys took turns with the bat. Corey wanted to play on the team—he’d thought he had made that clear. But no one asked him to try out again. If he could stand up there and hit the ball, he’d pretend it was the dark fears inside and smash it right out of sight.

  He watched the kids at practice, and slowly he relaxed. He loved to play ball, and he knew spring training would start soon. Once he was focused on baseball, he’d get his mind off his worries and concern for Mom.

  Well, I’ll never get on the team if I don’t speak up for myself, Corey decided. He went over to home base. “Hey, how about giving me a chance to hit the ball?” he asked Frank.

  The boys stopped playing for a moment. Then Frank shrugged his shoulders and handed Corey the bat. “Go ahead.”

  Corey went to the base and swung the bat a few times. Charlie stood waiting, then—WHO
OSH! He pitched the ball suddenly, and it whizzed right past Corey’s head.

  “Strike!” Frank shouted.

  Before Corey could argue that it was a ball, not a strike, WHOOSH! Charlie pitched another ball that Corey never saw.

  “Strike two!” Frank shouted, trying not to laugh.

  Corey ignored them and took his stance. Charlie pitched again, and this time Corey took a swing and hit the ball off into the field and out of sight.

  “Lucky swing,” Frank said, shoving Corey away from the base.

  “Wait a minute,” Charlie called. “Let’s try another.”

  Corey stood with his legs apart, bat ready this time. WHOOSH! came the ball.

  BAM! Once again, Corey hit the ball far into the outfield.

  Charlie swaggered in to home base. “Okay,” he said, putting an arm around Corey’s shoulders. “So you hit a couple of good ones. We might be able to train you.” He spit on the ground. “I’ve decided you can be on the team, if you want.”

  Corey didn’t trust Charlie or Frank, but he sure wanted to be on the team. “Yeah, I’d like to join.”

  “Whadda ya think, Frank?” Charlie asked. “Have we got some talent here?”

  “Maybe, with some trainin’,” Frank answered.

  Corey saw Charlie wink at Frank and anger welled up inside him. “I saw you wink. Listen, you guys, I’d like to play on this team, and you need a good hitter. But since you can’t stop your stupid shenanigans and settle down to play baseball, I’m out of here!” He hurled the bat to the ground and stomped off.

  After a moment, Charlie ran after him, grabbed the back of Corey’s jacket. “Okay, kid, you’re on the team.” He turned around to the other boys, who had been waiting around to play. “Let’s play ball!”

  The breaker boys lined up, and the Mountain Crest baseball team began spring training.

  38

  Visiting Mom

  After work that day, Corey was heading home, when Anthony called to him. “Corey! Wait up!”