Breaker Boy

by Joan Hiatt Harlow

  Corey almost threw his arms around both of them. “Yes, you can help. Abby, you can stay up here and keep watch. We need someone to stay close to the pipe, so we can call for help if we need it.”

  Richie unhitched the picks from Tootsie and gave them to Corey. “We can take the handles off so it will be easier for us to carry them down the pipe.”

  The three boys looked at one another. “So, are we ready?” Corey asked. “I’m going first, because it’s my dad who’s trapped down there.”

  “You don’t know for sure if he’s trapped inside this mine,” Richie reminded him.

  “I know, but if I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself if we find later that he is in there.” He sat on the edge of the pipe and was about to drop, when he stopped. “Richie, you know how to read the carbide lights. So you should go first and see if there’s any bad gas.”

  “I have an idea,” Abby said. She went to Tootsie and pulled a rope that was coiled up on Tootsie’s harness. She tossed one end of the rope to Richie. “Tie it around your waist. Tug on this line if there’s any sign of gas and we’ll pull you up, Richie.”

  “I’m ready.” He held the small miner’s pick close to his chest as he dropped down into the pipe.

  “If the lamp dims or acts differently, there is gas in the vicinity; you need to get out immediately,” Abby reminded him.

  Richie dropped into the rusty pipe. After a few minutes, he called out, “I’m at the bottom and I’m checking for gas on the walls and ceiling with my lamp.” Corey and Anthony stayed by the pipe, listening.

  “It’s safe!” Richie called. “Pull up the rope and let the next one down.”

  Corey looked into the pipe. “What do you see down there?” he yelled.

  “There’s a path here at the bottom of the pipe that goes to the right or the left.”

  “We want to go to the right,” Corey called as he checked the map. “That’s the direction of the old gangway.” He examined the map more closely. “I wonder what those two circles mean. There are only two, and one seems to show this pipe.”

  Abby handed the rope to Corey, who hitched it around his waist. After he took the pick, he said a silent prayer and lowered himself.

  The trip down was sudden and swift, but in spots, Corey, who was a little stockier than Richie, had to work himself through places where the pipe narrowed, or his pants or jacket caught on rough pieces of pipe and he had to pull himself free.

  Anthony came down quickly and easily. The boys aimed their lights at the narrow passageway with its walls of stone. The pathway went in two directions, as Richie had said.

  Corey was extremely mindful that he was in a narrow tunnel with stone walls around him—like a grave. Beads of sweat were already dripping down his face. He took a deep breath and smelled the scent of musty, dead air. I will not let this mine keep me from my dad. I am alive and well, and I’m going to find him.

  The three boys, armed with the mining tools, made their way down the passage, with Richie in the lead, heading toward the old mine.

  “Are you all right?” Abby’s concerned voice called from far away.

  “We’re okay!” Corey yelled, hoping she could hear him.

  Abby answered, but he could not make out what she said.

  As they moved along slowly, Corey warned, “Watch out for holes, Richie. There could be chasms that drop hundreds of feet.”

  “There sure are lots of dangers in here,” Anthony whispered in a jittery voice.

  The old familiar feeling of panic was taking hold of Corey. His head ached, and he felt as if the stone walls were squeezing in on him. But there was no time to think about it. This was a feeling, not anything real. He pushed the feelings out of his thoughts.

  The stone path sloped downward, deep into the mountain. It was becoming rougher—obviously less used and less traveled in the past. Their carbide lights made eerie shadows on the rocky surface of the walls and roof.

  Suddenly, just when they were beginning to feel the tunnel was endless, they came to an opening—a yawning, gaping cavern.

  “We’re inside the mine,” Richie yelled. “This must be the gangway. Wait until I check for gas.” He headed into the vast, cavernous opening, testing the air in the chamber. He held his lamp to the ground, the walls, and as far as he could reach to the ceiling. “It’s safe!”

  Corey stepped out into what seemed to be the main chamber of the mine. The boys stood silently as they glanced around. The old timbers that supported the roof were black with mold. Some were bent like broken legs, and Corey knew that meant the mountain was pressing. Dad told him that when old timbers bent like that, at some point, the roof would probably fall. Well, part of the roof had already fallen, years before, sealing the mine entrance.

  As they approached the center of the chamber, the boys came to a halt and stood in silence. A monstrous object stood menacingly in the center of the main chamber.

  42

  South Chamber Shaft

  The boys stood immobilized at the sight of the massive object in the center of the mine chamber.

  “What is it?” Anthony was frozen in astonishment, his mouth agape.

  “A . . . giant spider?” Richie whispered.

  Corey aimed his Davy lamp at the strange thing. “It’s a giant fossil of an ancient tree trunk.” He would love to take his time to examine the amazing petrified tree, but his curiosity must wait. Another time, maybe. He pointed to the tunnel straight ahead, beyond the ancient relic. “There’s the only shaft they worked in this mine,” he said, remembering the drawings on the map. He took out the compass and aimed it in the direction of the chamber. “The shaft is heading due south.” His spirits rose. “This is South Chamber, which should bring us close to the North Star working, where Dad is trapped.”

  “Let me go first to check the air.” Richie disappeared into the dark cavity. After a few minutes he called out, “All clear.”

  Corey and Anthony followed him, their lights like fireflies flickering in the intense darkness.

  The boys walked cautiously, turning their heads to aim the lights from their caps. They searched the walls on each side, hoping to find a fissure or a place where the rock looked different—perhaps with a vein of coal.

  “Can’t see anything here,” Richie said, “just solid rock on each side.”

  “I know Dad is on the other side of this wall,” Corey insisted.

  “See if there’s a place where there’s been some mining,” Richie suggested.

  “There just has to be something here,” Corey said, and he went to the most southerly wall. There was evidence of blasting and picking, but the work had stopped before the wall had been excavated completely.

  They came to a section where miners had chopped away several feet into the wall face. He could see a large vein of coal in the rock. “That looks like a vein of anthracite,” Corey said, pointing. “I wonder why the mine was abandoned.”

  “We may never know,” Richie answered.

  “Maybe Dad is close by.” Corey took the pick and banged the wall over and over. He waited for some response—any sound at all—from the other side that might indicate his father was in there.

  Nothing.

  Anthony banged again, hard and loud, with the spade.

  Nothing.

  Then Corey remembered talking to his dad about the new international signal for ships. What was it? Save our ship. SOS. Maybe Dad would remember. SOS. They had talked about how they would use it if anyone ever needed help—never thinking that time would come.

  Three dots, three dashes, three dots. SOS. Corey took his pick and tapped it on the wall—good and loud, and distinct.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! Quickly.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Slowly.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! Quickly again.

  He tried again.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! Quickly.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Slowly.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! Quickly again.

  Then Corey and his friends waited, liste
ning. Nothing.

  Anthony sighed. “There isn’t any response, Corey. Should we leave now? I don’t see any other fissures or holes other than the one we found.”

  “Not yet.” Corey did not want to leave. “Let’s wait a few more minutes.” He grabbed the spade and was about to strike the wall again, when he heard something. Dripping water? Tap, tap, tap—very faint. “Did you hear that?”

  “No, I didn’t hear anything,” said Richie.

  “Me neither,” Anthony answered.

  “Shh! Don’t speak. I heard tapping,” Corey insisted.

  The boys were silent. The tapping had stopped. After a moment, Corey once again struck the wall.

  SOS.

  He waited, then did it again.

  SOS.

  They listened silently for a long minute.

  Then, when nothing happened, Richie said, “You know, Corey, I think—”

  “Shh!” Corey whispered.

  TAP, TAP, TAP, came an answer. Very faint but quick.

  POW! POW! POW! came slower sounds.

  TAP, TAP, TAP. Three quicker sounds, now more distinct than before.

  “Did you hear that?” Corey asked excitedly. “It’s Dad. He’s heard my signal. He knows it’s me. We talked about that new international signal just a few months ago, and we tried it out with my little brothers. It’s got to be Dad.” Corey’s voice trembled. “I know it is.”

  Corey took the shovel and did the bangs again. Louder this time.

  They waited.

  Finally, just when Anthony and Richie were about to give up, the tapping started again.

  SOS. SOS. SOS.

  “See? Dad is answering me!”

  43

  A Voice from Within the Mountain

  Inside the old mine, South Chamber, the three boys listened again for the sound of life beyond the wall of stone.

  “I know my father is in there and alive,” Corey insisted.

  Richie nodded. “What do we do now? How can we get to him?”

  Corey began cutting with his pick at the crevice in the wall, where early miners had already swung their picks and axes. The crevice was more than two feet into the face of the wall, and Corey directed his blows into that spot. Repeatedly he chipped away until he thought his arms would break.

  “Keep at it, Corey,” Anthony said. “I’ll shovel away the pieces of stone that fall.”

  Richie shook his head. “It will take us too long to open up the rock wall this way. We need manpower and more tools.”

  “You’re right,” Corey agreed as he stopped chopping and leaned on the pick.

  “I think Richie should go get help,” Anthony said.

  “Yes, you’ve got the mule, Richie. Ride back to the colliery. Tell them what we’ve done and how close we are to reaching my dad.”

  “Don’t let them talk you out of it,” Anthony said. “They don’t listen to kids like us. Outtalk them!”

  “Let them know we’re in contact with my father—and to bring men and tools . . . augers and drills—enough to cut through this wall quickly.”

  Richie nodded, the light from his cap making up-and-down waves on the walls. “I’ll go. You keep working. But remember, if the flames on your helmets change color or burst up—or if they go out—then get out of here fast.” He headed toward the old gangway.

  Corey and Anthony grabbed the picks and chopped at the wall again.

  Now and again, Corey banged the shovel with the SOS signal, hoping his dad would know there was help on the way. When there was no return sound from the other side, Corey felt his heart would break. Hang on, Dad. Hang on.

  Then a few taps showed Corey that, yes, his dad was still alive.

  The boys worked in tandem, diligently swinging the picks and clearing away debris, as they waited for the miners to arrive. It was a long wait, and Corey’s despair mounted. He felt the mountain over him, with tons of rocks about ready to fall and the smothering sensation that made him gasp for breath. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead and slipped down his body like melting ice, while his sweaty hands could no longer get a grip on the pickaxe. Nausea overpowered his thoughts. He threw the pick on the floor and wiped his forehead and hands on his shirt.

  “Are you all right, Corey?” Anthony asked.

  “Yeah, I’m all right.” But he wanted to give in to the panic—to just sink down into the dirt and let go.

  He recalled Mrs. Chudzik’s words. “I am safe. Nothing is happening to hurt me. Believe it, Corey. Believe in yourself.”

  He couldn’t give up. Corey grabbed the pick from the ground and swung it with a crash against the wall. “I wish they’d hurry.”

  Anthony stopped working and wiped his sweaty forehead. “Want to stop for a while?”

  “No, we can’t stop working. Dad is counting on us. So are my mom and my brothers.”

  Corey gave a huge, angry whack into the fissure with his pick. This time the sound of the pickaxe against the rocks was different. It was hollow, and echoed . . . something that did not happen inside a mine.

  Anthony noticed too. “That sounded funny.”

  Corey aimed the light on his cap toward the cavity. “I think we may have broken through.”

  Anthony looked closely into the hole. “Corey, it seems like you did break through. Just a small hole, but . . . I can’t see rock on the other side. I mean . . . it’s a hole.” He stepped aside so Corey could take a look.

  Corey could see only darkness. Could they have broken into the North Star chute? He put his mouth up to the hole and called out, “Dad, are you there? It’s me, Corey.”

  Silence.

  Then a voice—weak, not more than a whisper. “Corey, I’m here, son.”

  44

  The Old Mine Comes to Life

  Corey and Anthony finally heard voices, tromping footsteps, and the clanking sounds of tools as the old mine came to life.

  “We’re here, Corey!” It was a familiar voice—Mr. Farley, the fire boss, called in a booming voice.

  Corey and Anthony came out from the South Chamber, where they had broken through to the North Star working. A crew arrived and gathered at the central chamber, near the tree fossil. They’d brought a folding canvas stretcher, which they were opening up.

  “What took you so long?” Corey asked.

  “Oh, I’m sure it seemed like hours to you kids,” Mr. Farley answered. “We made it here quickly. Most of us got a ride on Mrs. Chudzik’s car. It was something to see—with miners and breaker boys hanging on the bumpers and the trunk. She had at least six or seven of us dangling on, plus three to a seat.”

  “Mrs. Chudzik’s car?” Corey asked.

  “Yep. Richie was about to ride on his mule to get help. But Mrs. Chudzik saw him and asked what was happening. Then she offered to take him.”

  “She left my mother alone?”

  “I don’t know about your mother. All I know is she offered to take Richie, to get the workers here faster than he could on the mule.”

  “And what did you say about the breaker boys?”

  “They all wanted to come, but we could only take so many on Mrs. Chudzik’s car. They want to help you, Corey.”

  The breaker boys wanted to help him? Corey was stunned.

  Before he could ask more, Mr. Farley continued, “Especially those tough kids, Charlie and Frank . . . and the other one. Paddy, that’s it. They wouldn’t take no for an answer. They think a lot of you, Corey.”

  “Show us where you broke through to the North Star—where you think you heard your dad,” a miner said.

  Corey took the men into the South Chamber and showed them the hole in the wall. “He’s in there, but I haven’t heard from him since.” Corey put his mouth to the hole and called out, “Dad, there’s a crew here now to get you out. They’re coming, Dad!”

  There was no answer.

  From the way the miners looked at one another, it seemed they didn’t believe that his father had answered him earlier, or they feared Dad had
n’t survived. “He answered me just before you came,” Corey insisted. “Please, get him out.”

  Mr. Farley cleared his throat and hollered. “You heard the boy. Get to work and break through this wall.” He turned to Corey again. “We won’t blast with dynamite. It could bring this old roof down on top of everyone. So we’re going to dig—just like you did, Corey, but we have drills and augers to make the work faster.”

  Corey didn’t want to leave the chamber. He wanted to be around when they found his father. Then another thought occurred to him. He turned to Mr. Farley and asked, “How will we get Dad out of the mine? The only way we know is up through the pipe.”

  “It would be hard to pull a stretcher carrying Joe up through that pipe, especially if he has injuries,” Mr. Farley agreed. “Richie told us to bring strong but skinny men, to get down that pipe. Take a look around the mine, Corey. When the Avondale mine caught on fire in 1899, there was only one exit, and that was blocked by fire. One hundred ten men died.” He shook his head. “We learned a lot from that disaster because afterward a law was enacted that mines must have at least two exits. This law wasn’t in effect when they started mining here, but common sense might have ruled. If so, there might be another outlet. Why don’t you go look?”

  “We did most of the work already,” Anthony whispered as they headed out into the main chamber with their tools. “They always want to get rid of us kids.”

  They searched the walls of the gangway and around the tree fossil for signs of another tunnel but could find nothing. Then Corey had an idea. “Wait a minute. There were circles on the map—one where the pipe is located, and another off to the other side. When we came down the pipe to the passageway, we turned to the right at the bottom. But the path also went off to the left, where the other circle is shown on the map.”

  “That’s right,” Richie said. “We don’t know what’s on the other side of that pipe.”

  “Let’s go see where that other end of the path will take us,” Corey said. “Those circles on the map might show air vents. If so, there should be one at the end of the path beyond the pipe.”