Us and Them

by Hugh R. MacDonald

  Us & Them

  by Hugh R. MacDonald

  Praise for Trapper Boy by Hugh R. MacDonald

  “Excellent literature and ought to win prizes. Highly Recommended.”

  CM Magazine

  Mr. MacDonald makes conditions and routine in the mine so vivid…. The language is plain, but correct.”

  Charlottetown Guardian

  This is an especially compelling story that middle school students will relate to and enjoy.

  Resources for Thinking

  “A wonderful piece of storytelling ... it’s not only a good story, it’s a history of coal mining in Cape Breton ... a heartbreaking and emotional account.... It’s the kind of book that should be used for history classes in high school and universities.”

  Sheldon Currie

  Teachers!

  There is a free teacher resource available for Hugh R. MacDonald's Trapper Boy. It was prepared for CBU Press by Patrick Howard, Department of Education,Cape Breton University

  Free download: http://tinyurl.com/zadxpzn

  (http://cbup.ca/wp/wp-content/Special/Trapper-Boy-Teacher-Resource.pdf)

  To my wife, Joanne, and to the memory of our beloved son, Keith, and our coal-mining grandfathers, Red Jack MacDonald and Charles Dawe.

  Copyright © 2016 Hugh R. MacDonald

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, places and events depicted are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Cape Breton University Press recognizes fair dealing exceptions under Access Copyright. Responsibility for the opinions, research and the permissions obtained for this publication rests with the author.

  Cover image: Princess Colliery at Sydney Mines, 1916. 80-31-4211. Beaton Institute, Cape Breton University.

  Cover design: Cathy MacLean Design, Chéticamp, NS

  Author photo: Michael G. MacDonald

  Layout: Mike Hunter, West Bay and Sydney, NS

  Edited by Marianne Ward, Dartmouth, NS

  eBook: tikaebooks.com

  First printed in Canada

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  MacDonald, Hugh R., 1956-, author

  Us and them : a novel / Hugh R. MacDonald.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-77206-065-2 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-77206-066-9 (pdf). ISBN 978-1-77206-067-6 (epub).--ISBN 978-1-77206-068-3 (kindle)

  I. Title.

  PS8625.D637U72 2016 jC813'.6 C2016-905077-7 C2016-905078-5

  Cape Breton University Press

  PO Box 5300

  Sydney, Nova Scotia B1P 6L2 Canada

  www.cbupress.ca

  Sold and Distributed by

  Nimbus Publishing

  3731 MacKintosh St

  Halifax, Nova Scotia B3K 5A5 Canada

  www.nimbus.ca

  Us & Them

  by Hugh R. MacDonald

  Cape Breton University Press

  Sydney, Nova Scotia, Canada

  Us & Them

  Chapter 1

  JW awoke and sat up in bed. The dream was so vivid. Red, the boss, and some faceless men were taking him from the mine, telling him that it was too late and that nothing could be done. He heard tapping coming from the other side of the tunnel; it became fainter as he was led to the surface. He always woke at this point, never knowing if the others in the dream got out. In reality he had played a role in the outcome so he knew what happened, but he wondered how the dream version would end if he stayed sleeping.

  “John Wallace,” his mother called. She was the only person who called him by his full name anymore. Even his high school teachers called him JW. “It’s almost seven o’clock, and I expect your father along soon.”

  It was JW’s job to get the eggs and milk in the morning. He usually got the coal and wood in the night before.

  “Be right there, Ma.” He pulled on his clothes and hurried down the stairs. As a boy, JW’s favourite breakfast meal had always been porridge, but now, at sixteen, he had grown to like eggs and was glad they had lots of chickens. Their goat had gotten ill and died and had been replaced by a cow. It had taken a little while to get used to milking the cow, but there was so much more milk that they could now have butter and cheese in abundance.

  With his father working full-time hours now as an overman, having replaced Red as boss, they had the money to plant bigger gardens, as well as a field of hay. The harvest was a lot of work, but it enabled them to keep the cow. Their horse, Lightning, was getting old, but was busy during haymaking time and didn’t appear any worse for wear, despite his age. JW was kept busy with his chores, but during the summer he had lots of time for fishing and swimming.

  His family was lucky to have inherited Grandfather Donaldson’s farm. Situated on the outskirts of town, the property had lots of fields to roam. It was a mile-and-a-half walk to school each day, but at the midway point JW met up with his girlfriend, Beth Jessome, which made the rest of the walk more enjoyable. Her family owned a small two-acre farm, which gave them enough land to plant a garden and keep a goat for milk. Her father worked away, leaving the chores to Beth, her sister and mother.

  JW’s father, Andrew, worked in the coal mine near town. Most of the men in the area did. In fact, a number of JW’s friends worked in the coal mines and lived in the company houses. His best friend, Mickey, was one of them. After completing grade six, he had gone to work there first on the surface at the breakers, picking rocks and shale from the coal, and then underground as a trapper boy. At barely twelve years of age, Mickey had gone into the mine as a trapper boy, opening and closing the door that kept the fresh air deep in the mines. JW had followed him two years later and had worked long enough to know it was not a life he’d choose. But hard times meant lots of young boys continued to work there, including Mickey. JW was glad he’d been able to leave.

  He’d grown over the past three winters, and JW was now taller than his father. He’d heard his mother tell his father he was big for his age, and his father had laughed, saying he was big for any age. Many of the tunnels where his father and others worked were only three or four feet high, some even less. JW figured that by now he’d be bent in half in some of them.

  He knew that by his age most of the boys in the mine would no longer be on the trap doors. They would be using picks and shovels like the other men, or leading horses, pulling coal-filled trams throughout the mine. Mickey had told JW that he was hoping to move off the trap door soon, maybe go shovelling coal and eventually move to what JW’s father had done, room and pillar mining. That job scared JW. It included using a pick to pull down the tunnel ceiling once the room had been mined for coal – it was known as the miner’s harvest. He remembered what his father had said when he’d asked him why the men would take such a chance.

  “The coal is right above you for the taking. There’s tons of it. It’s a chance for the men to make a decent day’s pay. You just got to keep your mind on the task at hand, and when you hear it getting ready to let go, run like the devil.” It was only the skill of the miner that prevented injury – or worse.

  JW’s experience with a pick and shovel had improved, although not from work in the coal mines. The irrigation trenches he’d dug last summer had taught him how to make the pick do the work. He figured it was different than with coal but didn’t want to find out for sure. Still, there had been a lot of stone
and rocks he’d had to dig through. Shovelling the earth from the trenches had helped him build muscle. With his father so busy at the mine, JW expected that he would cut the wood this year all by himself too. The days were getting longer, and there was only a month left of school; 1929 was almost half over, and JW was looking forward to the coming summer. He hoped to start on the wood soon.

  JW placed the basket filled with eggs on the kitchen table. There were close to twenty in it.

  “Oh dear, I’ll have to do some baking to use up the eggs. There are already more than a dozen in the icebox. Take six or so with you to Beth’s mother, will you please?” his mother said.

  “Sure. I still have to get the milk,” JW said, and picked up the bucket. The cow stood unmoving, munching on some hay, but it still took some time to finish the milking. JW was glad his father had put in the icebox. Storing the milk and other perishable goods in the well had worked okay, but the icebox kept things fresher much longer. His parents shared any surplus food with others.

  Breathing in the odours of musty hay and manure, JW looked around the barn. He noted the various objects that hung from the rafters: saddles, bridles and reins, and there was a rusty old scythe used to cut hay. He was glad to have the hay cutter that he could sit on as Lightning pulled it through the fields. JW couldn’t imagine having to try to cut all that hay with a scythe. Still, he’d rather cut hay with a scythe than work underground again.

  Because he had worked nights in the mine, he’d tried going to school during the days and sleeping in the afternoons but only managed to do it for a short time before he had to quit. When his father took a better paying job, JW returned to grade nine. With Beth’s help and that of his teachers – Mr. Cantwell and Mrs. Johnson – he had managed to finish better than the middle of the pack for grade nine. Without having to work in the mine, grade ten had seen him return to being a top student, and this year in grade eleven he continued to excel.

  When he was younger, he enjoyed getting lost in his books of adventure, but his time in the coal mine had made him curious about the world in a different way. He wondered how many other children worked in dangerous conditions. He had asked the librarian to keep an eye out for any books on the topic. It had taken some time, but he’d just gotten a book written by John Spargo, The Bitter Cry of the Children. Mrs. Johnson said he could keep it for as long as he needed. He planned to read it to learn what other children had had to endure. Long Jack, who’d been injured in the coal mine, once told him that years ago girls as young as five and six used to work the trap doors in Scotland, England and Wales. Long Jack operated the streetcar that ran between Sydney Mines and North Sydney but said he hoped to get back underground soon.

  Long Jack said his grandpa had come from Scotland and had told him the girls and women had been badly treated. He’d said that anytime laws were changed to try to make better working conditions, the owners just agreed to change but didn’t until forced to many years later. JW had been afraid working underground, and he’d been thirteen. It must have been so much worse for those little girls, he thought. He wondered what had happened to the culture of knights and chivalry. Perhaps it only existed in books.

  Chapter 2

  JW came out of the barn in time to see his dog, Gulliver, running to meet his father. He watched his father reach to pet him. Gulliver’s head and tail shook, and the rest of him went into a full-body shuffle. It was Gulliver’s way of letting you know he was happy to see you.

  “How’d it go last night, Da? Still having trouble with the new tunnel?”

  “Yeah, the water’s still coming in. Pretty soon I expect some fish.”

  JW laughed, thinking of the stories his father used to tell. While he no longer sat at the table in anticipation of adventures in the mine, JW liked to hear of the challenges the men faced.

  “Oh yeah,” his father said. “Mick asked if you could meet him Saturday to do a little fishing.”

  “Tell him I can, unless you got some chores that can’t wait, that is,” JW said.

  “I’m sure they can wait.”

  “Tell him we can meet at the old fort, or he can come here. Maybe catch a few trout, then try for some codfish later on,” JW said. He lifted the bucket high enough to keep Gulliver’s nose from dipping into it. His father opened the back door, and they went in for breakfast. JW watched as his mother added some milk and onions to the eggs before putting them into the hot pan. The eggs fluffed up and turned a golden brown – soon they were done. JW piled lots on his plate.

  He listened to his parents talk and nodded when included in the conversation. They laughed and talked about work and school and things that needed to be done, but JW knew there were lots of homes in the area where parents were making tough decisions; boys his age and younger were being told they’d be heading to work in the coal mines.

  JW drank the last of his tea, thanked his mother and got up from the table. He placed his dishes in the sink before he picked up his satchel and the eggs and headed for the door. “Da, I cleaned the stalls, and I’ll get in the coal and kindling after school. See you later.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave them be,” his father said.

  “Only seems fair. You’re the working man these days,” JW said, and they all laughed. During the months JW had spent underground, two and a half years earlier, his father had tried his best to help by doing most of the chores that JW had usually done. His parents were still laughing at his comment as he closed the kitchen door behind him.

  “You know, Mary,” Andrew said, as JW left for school, “it’s hard watching the young boys that continue to come underground. Mickey’s been down there almost four years, and Patty close to three. I wish things would pick up so that no more children end up there.”

  “I know, Andrew, dear, but you got JW out, and you treat the other boys well, so at least that’s something.”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s something. Young Mick has asked about moving off the trap to go shovelling coal. He said he wants to do what I used to do. I felt a shiver at the thought of him doing that. Could be JW.” Andrew felt the strong hand of his wife on his arm.

  “But it’s not. And you’ll make sure Mickey’s well trained before you let him—”

  “That’s just it. I’ve no time to watch out for them like I want to. Mick should do alright, but I’d like to keep young Patty on the trap for a while longer. But the way he follows Mickey around when they’re on the same shift, I’m sure he’ll want to move on too – ready or not.”

  “Best get to bed, dear. Try to get some rest.”

  Mary watched as Andrew walked to their bedroom. She knew if JW was here, he’d surely notice the deep creases in his father’s face.

  “C’mon, Gullie, I have to go to school. Walk me to Beth’s,” JW said, and knelt to hug his faithful dog.

  JW felt the wind picking up as he reached the hill above Beth’s house. Gulliver’s wagging tail tapped against JW’s leg as he waited to be petted.

  “Good boy, Gullie. Run on home,” JW said. He gave him a pat then watched as Gullie trotted back the way they’d come.

  A few drops of rain landed on the satchel he used to carry his books and lunch. JW hoped they wouldn’t get a shower before he and Beth got to school. He wiped the rain from the satchel. His grandfather, Wallace Donaldson, had made it for him when JW was five. Grandpa Donaldson had told him it would last a lifetime, and JW believed it would. He walked quickly down the hill and arrived at Beth’s door just as she was coming out.

  “Ma sent these for your mother,” JW said, holding out the eggs.

  Beth took them inside and returned quickly. “Ma said to tell her thanks. You’re here early today. Trouble sleeping?”

  “Not really, but I had that dream again. The cave-in. You know.”

  “Yeah,” Beth said, and shuddered.

  “Oh, Da said Mickey wants to go fishing on Saturday, and I said I’d go.�
�� As soon as the words left his mouth, he remembered he was supposed to spend the day with Beth at the fort he and Mickey had built by their swimming hole. Beth had helped fix it up, and they used it to change into their swimming clothes. There were times when Mickey would get close to a week off at a time during the summer if the mine shut down.

  “I’m sorry, Beth. I forgot about our date to go to the fort for a picnic, and I know we were going to do some studying and reading. I’ll tell Da to tell Mickey I can’t make it this weekend.”

  “Don’t be silly. Ma will find lots for me to do. Poor Mickey doesn’t get to do much fishing.”

  “You can come too,” JW said, but he knew fishing with him and Mickey wasn’t her idea of fun. Beth liked Mickey, but when JW and Mickey got together they engaged in a little too much tomfoolery for her liking. Beth was becoming quite a young lady, and her tomboy behaviour was in the past.

  “No, we’ll just meet tonight to study, and you go with Mickey tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, exams aren’t far off, so I guess we should. Do you want to come to my place, or should we meet at yours?” JW carried her books and felt her arm go around his waist as they walked toward school. His satchel tapped lightly against his leg.

  “Ma wants me to help with some baking after school, so you might as well come over. You can do some taste testing.”

  JW smiled. He loved to have a second dessert. “Okay, I’ll come over around six o’clock. That way I’ll have time to get my chores done.”

  Beth gave JW’s hand an extra squeeze, then let it go as the school came into view. “See you after school,” Beth said, and walked over to meet her friends.

  Chapter 3

  Lightning moved aside as JW entered the stall, making the soft whinny of familiarity. JW held the oats in his hand, waiting as Lightning ate slowly, savouring the grain. JW had learned that if he wasn’t going to exercise Lightning, he had to reduce the amount of oats he gave him. His father had told him that too much oats made horses excitable, and they needed to run or work it off. JW felt bad cutting back on the oats, so he generally added extra hay.