Admonition

by Chris Throsby

  This must have satisfied her, because for the first time in three days I saw Adie smile. Raising her cape again, as we were both very wet, I suggested we might make our way home. Shivering, she made no objection, so we started the short walk back and although the rain was falling even harder now and drove into our faces, I was happy because Adie held my hand all the way back. I knew now she would let me go with an easy heart, and that was all I wanted.

  Elizabeth

  Forgotten

  Adie’s fine and that’s the main thing. It’s been a month since Will left and you’d think he’d have sent a note or something just to let her know he’s all right, but we’ve heard nothing from him. Never mind, as I say, his leaving doesn’t appear to have had much of an effect on her. It’s true that for two or three days after he left, she seemed to be a little quieter than usual, but since then she’s been back to her normal self, in fact, since he left, I think we’ve become even closer.

  I can’t say the same for Tom. He’s always been a quiet one, but now he sometimes goes for days without really speaking. Really you’d think he’d be fine because, just as Will promised, that young lad Josh has been helping him. The lad’s a couple of years younger than Will, but from the little I’ve managed to get out of Tom, I know the boy’s a good worker. But I don’t think it matters how good he is, it won’t make any difference ’cos I think Tom just misses Will. If you asked him, he won’t admit it, mind. He says Will’s let him down, that he only ever thinks of himself. Whatever he says doesn’t matter because I know I’m right. For one thing, and it’s as plain as the nose on your face, he misses talking to Will, especially about what goes on in the pans. Of course it’s natural he talked to him about their work more than he does with me. I just wish, now that Will’s gone, sometimes he’d talk to me about his day; I’m sure he’d feel better for it if he did.

  He’s strange with Adie as well. Though he rarely talks to her, I’ve often seen him just staring at her. Once, when I asked him, he denied doing it and said he was just looking out the door. Although it’s true that I had just opened the door when I asked him, it wasn’t the first time I’d seen him staring at her that way and it certainly wasn’t the last. I’m not too worried though, ’cos I think I know why he does it.

  Tom has never made friends easily and I think Will had become like his father before him, Tom’s only real friend in the pans and the straightforward fact is he misses him. He resents Adie because every day she reminds him of her brother, but unlike Will who worked, he thinks she just sits here costing him money. Of course that’s not fair and in his heart he knows it; she’s still young and I won’t let her work in the pans. But it’s not true to say she does nothing because every day, never complaining, she helps me with all my jobs.

  I think in time things will be alright. Tom will forget Will and then his anger toward Adie will fade. Until then I’ll keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t confront her like he did when Will told us he was leaving. I’m sure everything will be fine.

  Jabez

  A Meeting of Minds

  It began like any other Monday.

  Although experience had taught me it was a decision I would regret, I ignored the bar with all its usual mess; empty and mostly empty tankards, ale–soaked tables and ash where some had missed the fire or not even tried. Instead, before setting off on the four mile walk into town, I went out to the barn and fed the donkeys and then released them into the orchard. When I reached town, I settled some debts I could no longer avoid, ordered more ale and then bought myself enough victuals to last me the week. Finally, after paying what was left of my week’s takings, which wasn’t much, into the bank, I began my journey back to the Inn, unaware that a morning begun like any other was to end by changing my life for ever.

  The Boar’s Head lays about half a mile beyond the village I needed to walk through in order to get home. It was just as I was passing the village church, walking slowly because I knew the mess I’d left behind would be patiently awaiting my return, when from a narrow gennel a young girl flew out. She ran into me full–square, knocking the breath out of me and leaving me hanging on the church gate. I didn’t know who she was, but even as I tried to catch my breath, I could see she was really agitated. Recovering enough to speak, I used a few choice words and that started her crying, but then I realised what I’d taken for agitation was, in reality, fear and a few moments later I saw why she was afraid and knew she had good reason.

  I knew Tom Rider from the Boar, although if all my customers were like him, I’d be broke in a month. Years past, before the accident, he used to come in with Bill Bostock and though he never drank like Bill, he still used to share a pitcher with him. I reckon Bill filled his tankard three times as often as Tom, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. I think he was grateful to Bill because all my other regulars steered clear of him. There was something about him that made them wary. I had asked a couple of them once what it was they didn’t like about him. They told me they didn’t really know, but they believed his reserved manner hid something he didn’t want other people to know.

  On seeing him, the girl stiffened noticeably, then remembering her original course, tried to break away from me. Instinctively, I caught her arm, but before either of us could speak, Tom called out,

  “That’s right Jabez. Just hold her there for me will you, she’s been carrying on something shameful, cussing and swearing. Old Bostock used some choice words and I reckon she must have picked them up from him, but me and Lizzie don’t hold with that kind of talk and the girl needs to be punished.”

  It was in that moment I understood two things; first, I realised who the girl was and second, it was clear to me Tom was lying. You see I’d heard men talk, especially when they were drunk, about women and girls and what they’d like to do to them. But with them, talk was all it was and by the time they sobered up, they’d forgotten everything they’d said. But sometimes there were those who never spoke of their feelings, whether drunk or sober and keeping their thoughts inside, dreamed, planned and listened closely to the others. They were the dangerous ones, and Tom was one of them and I was certain that was the reason Admonition was running from him, not because she’d done anything wrong.

  I whispered to her,

  “If you can just trust me Adie, I think things will be alright.”

  The truth is I really had no idea what I was going to say or do, but distracted, I think because I knew her name, she relaxed slightly, allowing me time to say the first thing that came into my head.

  “So this is Bill and Hannah’s girl, is it Tom?”

  Tom, who’d stopped running when he saw I held Adie, had now reached us. Still out of breath from his exertions, he panted,

  “That’s right. Me and Lizzie took her and her brother in when the rest of ’em were killed.”

  After stopping to catch his breath, he added,

  “Will was alright, takes after Bill I suppose. He worked with me and tried to pay his way. Mind, he’s long gone, went to work down Marshall’s mine; told us he wanted to find his own way in the world. That’s all very well, but he left us with that one.”

  Now fully recovered, he stabbed an accusing finger at Adie.

  “And she’s nothing but trouble; sits in the house doing nothing and if, like this morning, Lizzie asks for her help, she just gives her a mouthful of abuse.”

  I felt Adie stiffen again and I knew she was about to speak and I didn’t think she was likely to help her situation, so I said quickly,

  “Perhaps you should put her to work Tom. Get her out from under Lizzie’s feet and bring a little extra money into the house.”

  “I would if I could find her any,” Tom said, “but Lizzie doesn’t want her to work in the pans. Says it’s too dangerous and there’s no other work for her around here.”

  I thought about all the mess waiting for me back at the Boar and realised here was an opportunity that might benefit me as well as Admonition.

  “I’ll give her some work
Tom. I could do with help looking after the Boar. I won’t be able to pay her much mind, but I’ll treat her fairly and at least whilst she’s with me, she’ll not be troubling Elizabeth.”

  Surprised, Tom faltered, so before he could reply, I added,

  “Of course, I don’t know what Admonition thinks about the idea.”

  I looked at Adie, hoping she understood I was trying to help her, but Tom had found his voice.

  “She’ll do as she’s told Jabez, but I’ll need to talk to Lizzie first. I’ll come and see you when I’ve spoken to her.”

  Looking coldly at Adie, he said,

  “Right. Come on Admonition, let’s get you home.”

  Adie showed no sign of moving, so I said,

  “Why don’t I come with you both and then we can all hear what Elizabeth has to say?”

  Not waiting for a response from either of them, but still with a firm hold of Adie’s arm, I started back towards the gennel. Adie came without resistance; she later told me she would have accepted any situation that saved her from being alone with Tom. For his part, Tom had little choice but to follow.

  Elizabeth looked surprised to see the three of us, but once I’d explained my suggestion and a glance at Tom told her he had nothing to add, she voiced no objection. I filled the awkward silence that followed by telling Adie that because the Boar was usually open until late, I wasn’t in the habit of rising early, so I wouldn’t expect to see her until about nine o’clock. Finally I added,

  “So if we’re all agreed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I hoped I sounded matter–of–fact and that Adie would see my smile as reassuring, but whether she did or not didn’t seem to matter because Tom intervened.

  “You don’t need to worry. Like I told you, she’ll do as she’s told and she’ll definitely be there by nine.”

  A barely noticeable nod from Adie told me she agreed. So as there was nothing more to say, I made my goodbyes and got on my way.

  I didn’t know it at the time, but my relationship with Admonition, one as unusual as her name, was born that day.

  William

  Chance Meetings

  More than three hundred feet:

  That’s how far underground the tub took us, with nothing but a tallow candle to scratch the darkness. Barely a yard wide, the tub provided the only way in or out of the mine for both miners and salt. What’s more, if the steam engine that operated its winding mechanism broke down, then anyone in the mine was stuck there until it was fixed. Of course, if miners underground were trapped, it also meant that any miners still above ground couldn’t work and didn’t earn a living. So when the engine broke down, which it seemed to do about once a week, the miners preferred to be underground stockpiling for when it was working again; they told me the winch was able to lift twelve hundred pounds at a time, so a backlog could soon be cleared and they lost little, if any, earnings.

  I’ll never forget the first time, after descending by the light of that one dim candle, I entered the mine’s main chamber. Having descended well over two hundred and fifty feet in a chimney barely wider than the tub, I hadn’t imagined the mine to be anything like the sight that now presented itself. I’d expected it to be small, really nothing more than a tunnel, and I only hoped that I might be able to stand upright. But when without warning the tub left the chimney, I found I was still about thirty feet above the floor of a cavernous chamber, and as, gently swaying, the tub completed its descent, I looked around and was fascinated by halos of light dotted all over the mine. Also, between the pillars of rock salt which provided doubtful support for the roof, I saw ghost–like figures loading tubs led by ponies, or prising away boulders of salt for others to break.

  As I headed slowly towards the chamber floor, I realised that wherever a candle was placed close to a wall, and many were, salt crystals in the rock cheerfully reflected the candle’s light. These reflections created the ‘halos’ that had taken my eye when I’d first descended into the chamber. But then, just as I do now, I thought they appeared out of step with what otherwise appeared to be a sombre place.

  It didn’t take long for me to get used to the sudden jolt as the tub reached the ground and I quickly learnt that simply grasping its side prevented me from being thrown across the tub. What took me much longer to get used to were the miners themselves. Many, just as they did in the pans, worked as a family. But unlike in the pans, where everyone went home at the end of their shift, many of the mining families stayed underground all week, only going home on Sundays.

  In the pans I’d been used to the sound of brine boiling, salt slapping into moulds, carts filling, pans being scraped and workers shouting across to each other. They were relaxed with each other, always laughing and joking and I think because the heat forced them to wear very little, it would be impossible to do the job wearing more, it also gave them a freedom which allowed them to be much more familiar with each other. They worked hard, very hard, but what united them was that they depended on each other for their safety.

  The miners were different because, whilst the mine echoed loudly to the sound of them working, the miners themselves said very little. Salt mining may have been hard, grim work, but it was also constant and methodical with little danger, whereas the pans were hot, frantic and dangerous places. These things all reflected in the miners’ different nature and although they spent so much time together, I found little sense of people working with and for each other; rather, the cavernous nature of the mine with the hushed tones of the miners reminded me mostly of a church with a complacent congregation.

  I can’t deny I missed my old work or that life in the mine made me lonely, but even though I was friendless, for me there was no choice and there could be no going back. So for a little more than a year, I broke up rock salt, filled trams, led ponies, or transferred the salt from the trams into tubs to be hauled to the surface.

  Before leaving the salt pans, Sarah had told me that drift-masters were responsible for hiring everyone who worked in the mine. So when I arrived at Marshall’s, I was surprised that I was taken not to a drift-master but to the mine owner’s mother. Mrs Marshall told me her son, as he often was, was away in London completing some legal work and when he was away, he left her in charge of the mines. She told me it was her way (and I gathered not her son’s) to decide for herself who to hire. Her brother had worked the salt pans all his life until he recently retired and for as long as she could remember, he had told her that pan workers were the best workers in the world. She smiled when she told me and admitted she wasn’t sure if that was true, but said she’d never taken on anybody from the pans who hadn’t turned out to be a good worker. Once I explained I had worked in the pans for three years, I was hired without further ado. So whatever the reason, Sarah’s words proved true: Marshall’s were keen to employ salt pan workers.

  Before taking me to a drift-master, Mrs Marshall saved me from the need to find somewhere to live because, at the same time as telling me I could start on the day shift the next morning, she gave me details of a place in Northwich (one of many owned by Marshall’s), where I could find lodgings. I had a long walk into Northwich on that first day, but once I had taken a share in a room with another miner who only worked nights, I found there were coaches which ran to serve shift changes both night and day.

  I worked a fourteen-hour shift and unless the rock face was to be blasted and we needed to find cover, stopped only once all day and that was to eat my baggin’. Usually, before returning exhausted to my lodgings, I would call at the Cock o’ Budworth, a nearby coach house, staying only long enough to eat some pie and wash away the taste of the day’s salt with a mug of ale. Hopefully, when I returned to my room, my fellow lodger would have already left for work, leaving the bed free until I rose again at five the next morning. George was much older than me, but other than that, and you might think it strange as we shared the use of a bed, I knew little about him. In fact our paths rarely crossed and when on occasion they did, lack of s
leep and plain exhaustion made us both too tired to exchange more than a few words.

  It was only when loneliness finally overcame pride and I had resolved to return to the Rider’s, whatever might have befallen Tom, a chance arose for me to escape the mine. Just as in the pans, much of the salt from the mine was carried by boat to the Mersey Docks for export, and it was from there that, one morning I heard The Mulberry was in the Docks waiting, once its cargo of salt was loaded, to leave for America. Normally this would have caused me little interest, but on this occasion I was spurred into action by the word that went round that the ship was short of crew.

  I didn’t hesitate; I told the drift-master I was leaving, returned to my lodgings to collect my few belongings, then went to the Cock O’ Budworth and caught the afternoon coach bound for Liverpool.

  The journey to Liverpool seemed to last forever, though it really took little more than two hours. The coach’s last stop was at the Exchange and I had been told the ship I was looking for was berthed in the Old Dock. Not knowing which way to go, I hailed a chair and asked its driver how much he would charge to take me there. He said he ought to charge me a bob, but as the distance to the dock was just over a thousand yards, it would only cost me a tanner. I told him I was in a great hurry and that if he made double speed, he’d get his shilling.

  Inviting me to ‘hop up’, I’d barely gained my seat before he took off. Clearly not wishing to miss his shilling, he careered through backstreets, shouting at those who crossed his path to clear the way. Without losing any speed and almost toppling the chair, he rounded the last sharp bend and came to a halt outside the dock gates. Breathing hard and holding on to the arms of his chair for support, he gasped,