Us and Them

by Hugh R. MacDonald

  JW looked at his mother. “I know, Ma. Tell Da I’ll see him at suppertime.” JW finished the last of his eggs and headed for the barn.

  Spring had been a little dry, and JW had been concerned the garden would be difficult to keep watered. He had marvelled at the simple irrigation system Alfred put in place. He’d put pieces of boards together in a V shape angled between the rows of plants. Much of the watering could be done from the barn where the pump was. Fortunately, the dry spell had ended, but the irrigation system was a great backup.

  When he stepped in the barn, he was surprised to see that Lightning’s stall was clean and that Alfred was brushing him.

  “Morning, Alfred. I have the day off, so I can take over. Thanks for all your help. Ma sent out your breakfast.” Although two months had passed since his arrival, Alfred still preferred to keep to the work shed. JW walked there with him, carrying the food his mother had prepared for Alfred.

  “I made something for you, JW.”

  JW smiled, wondering if perhaps he’d made him a whistle. His eyes opened wide when he saw the beautiful model schooner Alfred was holding out to him. JW had tried his hand at carving some ships that had ended up looking more like boats, but this one he was sure was perfectly carved to scale. “This is beautiful,” JW said, sounding like an awestruck ten-year-old.

  “I saw some of the carvings in here that someone had done, and thought I would do one. Some of those were quite good. Although they’re not quite to scale, the sculptor has potential.”

  “I was trying to give myself a model to follow so I could build a real one, but I know that’s just another dream that costs too much.”

  “Much of what you need is in the forest where you get your firewood. It would take a lot of hard work to get the trees cut and planed, but the—”

  “I’d still have to know what I was doing,” JW said, interrupting. “It’s one thing to carve out a pretty model, but to be able to make it into a ship or even a boat? It would take a lifetime to learn those skills. I think my schoolin’ days are behind me and that the coal mine is my new classroom.”

  “Then I could teach you and make sure you keep it to scale.”

  JW held out the schooner. It really was beautiful. “I’m sure a real ship is a lot different than this.”

  “Yes,” Alfred said, smiling. “Quite a bit bigger for one thing, and heavier too.”

  “Beth's father is building a schooner in Louisbourg. Have you ever—”

  “That was my life’s work, JW. I built ships in Louisbourg first, and then as my skills were no longer needed, I built fishing boats for those who sought my services. As time went on, I took to the simple tasks of carpentry and built barns and houses when asked.”

  “Would you show me how to build? Teach me?”

  “Of course. I will teach you how to build a ship, but we will build a boat. We can add a small mast or two so that you can have a sail, but we will also have oars, just in case the winds are not blowing. When you have time, we will begin your studies. But now it’s time for me to eat breakfast and for you to milk the cow.”

  —

  “Hurry, boy. Open the door.”

  The familiar voice of Shawn McGuire echoed along the tunnel. JW came to the trap door that young Donnie was tending and saw how scared he looked as Shawn barked his orders.

  “Hey, take it easy on him,” JW said, and watched as Shawn stiffened and turned slowly toward him. His look of fear at being caught changed to one of embarrassment and then anger.

  “Who do you think you are, boy, talking to me that way?”

  “What way?”

  “A little too big for your britches aren’t you?”

  “I hear you and some of the other men talking about how the company doesn’t treat them right. Why should they, when some of you can’t even treat other miners right?” JW moved closer to where Shawn McGuire stood. “He’s just a young fella that doesn’t want to be here. Why do you have to try to scare him? Isn’t it miserable enough to be down here when you don’t want to be? I know lots like the job. Some choose it, but some don’t. Donnie didn’t, so just let him be.”

  “That’s pretty big talk. Your father ain’t here to protect you,” Shawn said, a sneer on his face.

  “I don’t need anyone to protect me. Don’t you think it’s time to stop picking on boys?” JW said. He was unaware that his father had had to have a talk with McGuire, telling him to go easy on the trapper boys. JW watched the smug look turn to one of hatred and realized he had gone too far.

  “Ya got a smart mouth, boy,” Shawn said, and slapped his horse to move him through the now open door.

  There had been a time when Shawn had seemed kinder – above ground, at least – but JW had seen a change in him when he visited Mickey. Lately when JW entered the McGuires’ home, Shawn would leave the room, and then this summer not allowing Mickey to use the horse to haul coal with JW was further evidence that the man didn’t care for him much.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me, JW, but ain’t he just gonna take it out on me when you’re not around?” Donnie asked.

  JW looked into Donnie’s eyes and realized his mistake. Shawn would surely make a point of picking on Donnie as a way of getting back at JW. “You might be right. Sorry, Donnie. I was just trying to help.”

  “Yeah, I know. He hollers at me most nights anyway.”

  JW changed the subject. “How far did you go in school?”

  “I finished grade seven and spent a month in grade eight, but it got too hard working the breakers and going to school. I liked it though, when I was there. Mrs. Johnson was nice,” Donnie said.

  “She was my favourite. Still is.”

  “Mine too.”

  “The thing you have to remember is not to let the other miners know what you’re scared of. I don’t much like the dark or walking by graveyards late at night, but I wouldn’t tell anyone. Besides, you and I know there’s no such thing as ghosts. The sounds we hear down here are just the wind. Just the wind,” JW said, hoping to convince himself.

  “I guess that’s right, JW,” Donnie said, but there was less conviction in his voice than JW’s.

  “Sure it is,” JW said. “Well I gotta get to my trap before the trams head that way. Try not to worry about Shawn.” JW followed a short distance behind Shawn McGuire, happy that he was in another area of the mine and that he wouldn’t have to deal with him again tonight. He listened as some miners’ voices echoed off the tunnel walls. No wonder Donnie’s afraid, JW thought, and picked up his pace.

  There was a spike in the wall in this new location where he was able to hang his satchel. He ate a sandwich down to the crust then flung the remaining pieces to the rats. JW’s mind raced as he considered doing the same task day after day. He could make better money if he moved to tunnel twelve, and Mickey, now working there, had told him it wasn’t too bad. The thought of the extra money weighed heavily, because JW knew his parents needed all they could get until his father was well enough to return to his job. If he gets better, JW thought. But when he thought of having to be dropped in a cage to the depths below, the trap job didn’t seem so terrible. The sound of an approaching tram brought JW out of his ruminations, and he prepared to open the door.

  Chapter 17

  “Did you see that, Mary? He never even mentioned that today is the first day of school. I hate that he’s missing the first week or possibly the first month, but I’m getting stronger every day. I should be back to work within the month,” Andrew said.

  “JW knows all too well that it’s the first day, but I think he might be taking this year off,” Mary answered. “He said even if you get back, he could work the year and save most of it toward college.” Mary looked at her husband, and her heart ached for him. She knew he felt responsible for JW not being in school. “Remember I told him that grade eight was all he ever needed?” she said. “Well
now he’s got a grade eleven. And God knows that’s more than he’ll ever need living in this town.”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t want to stay here. He wants to travel,” Andrew said.

  “He seems pretty content to travel the path to Beth’s each day,” Mary said.

  Andrew chuckled.

  “And maybe he’ll do fine in the mine and stay there,” Mary said. “He said that Alfred is going to teach him how to build a boat. Apparently that was what Alfred did in his earlier years.”

  “At least it will give him something to do on his days off. But Alfred could be gone any time.”

  “I think Alfred’s content right where he is. He’s like a grandfather for JW. Now all they need are some tools for carving and shaping the wood. I am so glad he’s stayed. He’s been a blessing to JW – and to us – and I think he likes to feel useful. JW said maybe he’ll get his ship yet.”

  Andrew smiled sadly. “Yeah, he just might, more likely a boat, but perhaps something big enough to suit his needs. I think I’ll pay Alfred a little visit. I just might sit in when he’s teaching JW, to see if I can pick up a few tips.”

  “Sure, maybe build two ships and you can become pirates together,” Mary said as she picked up the few breakfast dishes from the table. “If you need any more tips, I can show you how to wash the clothes and bake bread.”

  “That’s just cruel, Mary,” Andrew said, laughing, as he pulled the door closed behind him.

  —

  “Da is getting stronger every day, Beth, and he should be back to work shortly, but I’ve missed almost a month already. Won’t be any catching up this year. I’m going to save what money I can and maybe go back next year. By then you’ll be in nursing.”

  “I’m sorry you won’t be back this year.”

  “Would you marry a miner, Beth? ’Cause that might be what I end up doing.”

  “You asked me this before, and I said not any miner, but I’d marry you even if you sold fish for a living.”

  “Well Alfred is going to teach me about boatbuilding, so maybe I will be a fisherman. He said that if we are able to start soon, we may have a good-sized boat ready come the spring. For now, though, I’m leaving the trap door and will be going deeper in the mine, down in tunnel twelve. Mickey’s there now, and he said the money’s better. If I’m going to be underground, I might as well earn the most I can.”

  “What does your father think?” Beth asked.

  “I haven’t told him yet, but it’s not that I chose it anyway. The overman replacing Da told me he was putting me there. The size of me looks a little strange on the trap door when most of the boys doing the job are the size of Patty and Donnie.” JW watched as Beth digested the information. He was surprised when her arms circled his waist, and more surprised when she laid her head against his chest and fell silent.

  “What’s wrong, Beth? Are you okay?”

  “You just told me you won’t be back to school this year, and then you tell me you’re going deeper into the mine, where I’m sure it’s a lot more dangerous. That’s what’s wrong. I’m worried for you.”

  JW took a deep breath and tried to reassure her. “I’m not worried about it. I’m quite sure it’s almost as safe as being on the trap door, only a little deeper, that’s all,” JW said, wishing he believed what he was saying.

  “But you’ll be careful, right, JW?” Beth said.

  “Oh, I’ll be extra careful. Can’t afford to get injured, or Davey Brown will be sweet-talking you again.”

  “No, I think he knows that there’s only one boy for me, JW, and it’s you. But he is kinda handsome.” She laughed at the look on JW’s face. “Just kidding,” she said.

  JW took her hands in his and hugged her to him.

  —

  “Well, our coal hauling is pretty much done for this year,” JW said.

  “Why’s that?” Andrew asked.

  “I’ve gotta cut the last of the hay and then get it in the barn. I don’t want to wear out poor old Lightning. Besides, I need some time to do other things.”

  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain pretty girl that lives in a hollow, would it?” his mother called from the kitchen.

  JW laughed. “I can’t fool you, can I, Ma?”

  Mary laughed too.

  “The trap door’s only givin’ you three or so shifts a week, so you should be able to squeeze a few loads of coal in, if you and Mickey are on the same shift,” his father said.

  JW looked at his father and knew what he said next would upset him, but better for his father to hear it from him than from someone else. “I’m not going to be on the trap much longer, maybe another day or so.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to tunnel twelve, starting next week. Mickey’s already there.”

  “I wish you’d discussed it with me before deciding to follow your buddy deeper into the mine.”

  “I didn’t ask for it. Anderson told me I was too big to be on a trap door and that he was moving me down below.”

  Andrew Donaldson looked at his son. So much had changed in the last three years. As big as he was, he was still a boy with dreams. If he squealed the first night going down on the trip, Andrew was worried he could have the same or worse response his first time going down in the cage. “Well Anderson had no business saying that. I’ll go in and see—”

  “It’s bad enough having to work with Shawn, but if you do that, everyone would be laughing at me. I gotta do it.”

  Andrew sighed deeply and lowered his voice. “Yes, you’re right, but it’s not easy work, and the new guys are always given a rough time at first. It’d be good if you and Mickey were together on the same shift.”

  “Yeah, someone to travel with.”

  “It’s hard, dangerous work. Pick and shovel, and there’ll be a lot of blasting as they move the tunnel deeper.”

  JW saw the look of concern, and the realization of what he would be facing started to set in. He began to say something, but his father spoke first.

  “I’m not trying to scare you, but this is real mining, and you should have a healthy fear of what you’ll be facing. This is where even experienced miners sometimes get seriously hurt, or worse, so you have to have eyes in the back of your head to keep safe. I wanted you to learn the ropes, spend some more time on the trap door, do some coal hauling ... stuff like that.”

  “I’ll be careful, Da. I remember what you taught me from before.”

  “Did he say what you’d be doing?”

  “No, he just said, ‘No more trap doors for you. You’re going to tunnel twelve.’ It sounded like a punishment. I never did anything wrong, and I never spoke more than two words to the man.”

  “I know who he is, but I don’t know much about him, and I can’t remember ever working with him.”

  “Sounds like it’ll be more hours and better pay.”

  “Yes to both, but you’ll earn every penny of it. We were having some issues with twelve before I got sick. I don’t know if there’ve been more problems since.”

  “Mickey hasn’t said anything, but Patty might know.”

  “Patty does seem to know everything that’s going on,” Andrew said, and smiled. “I just wish I hadn’t told your mother about all the issues with twelve. She’ll be beside herself with worry, once she knows.”

  “Knows what?” Mary said, coming into the dining room.

  The deafening silence seemed to last minutes, as JW and his father exchanged glances.

  “JW’s going down tunnel twelve, starting next week,” Andrew said, and watched as the news sunk in.

  “Tunnel twelve? Tunnel twelve! You said you were scared down there. There’s no way he’s going down there,” Mary said, speaking as if JW wasn’t in the room. “You’ll just have to go and tell them, Andy. He can’t go there, he just can’t.” She put her hands up to
hide her tears and hurried from the room.

  JW and his father sat there, heavy-hearted, as they heard the outside door open and close.

  Chapter 18

  JW watched Tennyson walk toward him, his limp pronounced, as if the rainy weather was affecting him. JW laid his palm on the barn’s floor, and Tennyson crawled up and settled into the crook of his arm. His old friend took his time eating the oats from JW’s other hand. The whiskers on his face seemed whiter than even a few weeks ago.

  Alfred entered the room, depending heavily on his walking stick. In his other arm, Beauty rested against his chest. Alfred laid his walking stick down, limped to the workbench and made a place for Beauty to watch him as he worked. He hadn’t noticed JW and Tennyson.

  JW scratched the head of his pet rat and was struck by the similarity of white whiskers on both Tennyson and Alfred, and they both limped. Not for the first time he felt a pang of regret for the injury he had caused to Tennyson, and he petted him again. He smiled. The old man, Alfred, and JW’s pet rat, Tennyson, together made the name Alfred, Lord Tennyson – his favourite poet.

  “Perhaps it’s time we introduce Tennyson and Beauty to each other, since they have to share the space,” JW called across the room.

  “Goodness! I didn’t see you there, JW,” Alfred said. “Yes, let us see how two naturally sworn enemies react.”

  JW knew that Beauty would grow to be four or five times the size of Tennyson. But for now, although Beauty was close to twice his size, he gave the edge to Tennyson for his wily ways.

  JW walked closer to Beauty, and he felt Tennyson bristle, pushing against his arm as he struggled to get down. Beauty’s diet of cow’s milk meant she hadn’t considered other sources of food. She made no effort to strike out at Tennyson. JW knew she was still very young, which was why he thought there was time to have them, if not become friends, at least coexist. JW stayed close by as he laid Tennyson on the bench next to Beauty. He thought it might have been pride that kept Tennyson from scurrying from the bench when Beauty approached.