Us and Them

by Hugh R. MacDonald

  Chapter 21

  “Holy gee, Mickey. I thought I was gonna lose my supper,” JW said, his legs shaky from the cage ride. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to dropping like that, especially with my eyes closed. There seemed to be a little whimpering going on. Was that you?”

  “Wasn’t me. Some of the men hate this more than me, but they gotta feed their families. Can you imagine, being afraid every day before you even start work and then having to do it all over again the next day, for forty years?”

  Feelings of dread and despair came over JW, but he pushed them away. No one to come rescue me from it all. This just might have to be my life’s work, JW thought. “Not what I want to do, Mickey, but if I have to, I will. But I’ll try to get a job where I won’t be dropping over eight hundred feet every day.”

  “Don’t forget there is still the ride on the rake another mile or so before we start work. If you find one of those jobs, I’d like one too.”

  The ride on the rake seemed a snail’s pace compared to the cage. As it came to a stop, JW heard an explosion.

  “Yep, that’s where we’re going, JW. Maimed and dead are two real possibilities, so keep your eyes open. You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.”

  JW nodded, and they walked in silence as he took in his surroundings. The coal dust lay like a heavy morning fog, the helmet lamp barely casting enough light to see where they were going. Dust soon found its way into their mouths, noses and lungs. JW licked his lips and quickly spat. As he closed his mouth his teeth felt gritty, and he spat again but soon realized that his mouth would just get dried out, and he still would have the same gritty feeling on his teeth and tongue. Reluctantly, he swallowed the coal dust mixing with his saliva.

  Reaching the work area, he saw that there was little explanation required. His father said there would be blasting, shovelling and a fair bit of pick use. The mine was almost as high as he was tall, which provided some relief. He might have to bend over slightly, but if he widened his stance, his head didn’t quite reach the ceiling. He was glad that he and Mickey would be working together.

  “You’re Andy’s boy, ain’t you?” one of the miners asked.

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “Name’s Butts, and this is Dawe. We both worked with and for your father. He’s a good man, and he sure is missed. Hope he’s gettin’ along good.”

  “Yeah, he’s getting better every day,” JW said. “He figures he could be back in a month or two,” he added.

  “That’s good news. When he replaced Red, things got even better than under Red, and Red was a real good man too,” Butts said.

  “We just did a blast,” Dawe said. “More than enough to last you the shift. You’ll spend your shift with your head down, shovelling. Say hi to Andy.”

  “Be extra careful, boys. There was another roof collapse today,” Butts said.

  “Yeah, almost a daily occurrence,” Dawe added.

  JW watched as the two older miners headed back the way he and Mickey had come. One was walking with a limp, but it didn’t seem to slow him down. JW remembered what his father had said about tunnel twelve. “You have to have eyes in the back of your head to keep safe.” He heard the clang of metal on metal and turned to see Mickey getting ready to load the tram. JW hurried to pick up a shovel. The summer spent hauling coal together was evident as they fell into a rhythm, matching shovelful for shovelful, quickly filling the tram.

  They watched as the small Sable Island horse strained to get the tram moving. The first few feet splayed the horse’s legs so much it looked as if they would break under the tremendous strain, but once it got started, it appeared effortless for the little horse. Moments later, the next tram was in place, ready to be filled.

  “Not much time in between,” JW said.

  “It keeps up like this all night,” Mickey said.

  Some of the pieces were too big for the shovel and had to be thrown in the tram by hand; others were so large they had to be broken apart with the pick.

  “Well at least I won’t fall asleep, but I don’t guess we’ll get any time for treasure hunting.”

  “No treasure hunting, unless they get backed up at the cage. But you’ll sleep like a baby when you get home in the morning,” Mickey said.

  Not having been around many babies, JW hoped that meant they slept well. “I still have a lot of harvesting to do. Potatoes, turnips and some other stuff still need to be pulled and stored for the winter, and I have to finish cutting up the wood.”

  “This ain’t the trap door, JW. You won’t be able to shovel coal all night and work half the day in the fields and woods. It’s steady work, mostly every night or day. All you’re gonna want to do is sleep when you get home. We’re off in a few days. I can help you then,” Mickey said.

  “Thanks, Mickey. I guess I’ll know in the morning if I can get anything done,” JW said, as the next tram stopped and he and Mickey started shovelling again.

  It was difficult to carry on a conversation, because the noise of the shovels drowned out their voices and JW spoke through mostly clenched teeth; he didn’t want to eat anymore coal dust than he had to.

  The night passed quickly, but by morning JW was so tired his arms and legs felt like he’d been drawn and quartered. After some thought, he supposed being pulled apart by horses would have been much worse. The ride to the surface was just as quick as the descent, and he didn’t have to be told to close his eyes. They were closing on their own. The coursing water from the shower seemed to bring a little relief to his tired muscles as he washed the coal dust from his body. He couldn’t imagine trying to pull vegetables this morning. He coughed and spat up dust that had tried to find a permanent home in his throat and lungs.

  That was his first night of working as a coal miner, and he thought of his father who’d spent more than twenty years doing this very work. JW shuddered. Is this what I’ve signed up for, for the rest of my life? He pushed the thought away.

  JW dressed quickly and picked up his satchel, brushing the coal dust from it and remembering that Grandpa Donaldson had told him it had many compartments where he could hide his secrets. Tennyson was one such secret, when JW took him out of the mine hidden inside. JW wished it held the secret of his future.

  JW’s legs felt rubbery as he started his walk homeward. Being bent in a squat position most of the shift, shovelling, had caused his legs to cramp, and now they just wanted to rest. He was never so happy to see his house. Gulliver bounded along the pathway toward him, but he was too tired to bend down and pet him. Instead, Gulliver jumped up and JW petted him, cooing some words to his best friend. “Atta boy, Gullie. Good to see you too, boy,” JW said, eyeing the entrance to his house. All he wanted was sleep.

  “Will you have time for a lesson today, JW?” Alfred called to him as he neared the house.

  “No, not today, Alfred. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I never realized how difficult the work in the mines was until last night. Now I know why my father is so strong.”

  “Perhaps we’ll get to it once you have a day off.”

  “I wish, but I have fields to harvest and wood to cut. I think it may have to wait until I get all my other work done. But I’m really looking forward to it,” he quickly added.

  “Another time, JW. Sleep well,” Alfred said, and walked toward the barn.

  As JW reached for the door latch, he remembered the cow needed to be milked and fed, and the other chores for Lightning and the chickens had to be done. There weren’t enough hours in the day. His lumbering steps somehow propelled him to the barn, and he pulled the pail from the shelf and washed it free of dust before sitting to milk the cow. Leaning his head against the cow’s side, JW almost fell asleep during the milking.

  He put the full milk bucket back on the shelf and started cleaning the stalls of both Lightning and the cow, the muscles in his arms screaming in protest. T
here was an abundance of eggs this morning, and JW didn’t want to make a second trip. He was glad when Alfred offered to collect them for him. He was surprised and pleased to see Beauty and Tennyson sharing space. Not counting the hens and cow, Beauty was the only female in the barn.

  “Nice to see them getting along,” JW said.

  “I have been bringing Beauty in here several times a day, and Tennyson has started to accept her. But I think she will soon be queen of all she sees. Even Gulliver is good with her. He just sniffs her and moves on. They are not, perhaps, best friends, but they are learning to tolerate each other. Too bad the rest of the world couldn’t get along so well.”

  “Peace is a wonderful idea, but right now, sleep seems as important. Thanks for gathering the eggs, Alfred,” JW said. “I’ve got to get in the house now, or I may fall asleep in the barn.”

  JW placed the milk on the kitchen table, said good morning and goodnight to his parents, then slowly took the stairs one at a time. His eyes closed before his head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 22

  Taking in her surroundings, Beth inhaled the strong antiseptic smell deeply into her lungs. The sterile atmosphere made her catch her breath.

  “Hurry on, Beth. We have to get to Mr. Smith. He needs his bath.”

  “Coming, Sister,” Beth said. Although she knew some of the nuns’ names, calling them all Sister was easier. She was excited when she’d found out she’d been accepted into the nursing program and pleased it was nearby, at Hamilton Memorial Hospital in North Sydney. Both she and Sally had been notified at the same time, and neither had had the chance to tell JW or Mickey yet. She was more than happy to leave grade twelve to start training for her career.

  They were in the classroom each day, but they also spent time with patients. If she had the notion that her days would be passed simply sitting next to patients holding their hands, telling them all would be well, it was quickly changed. Bedpans and chamber pots needed to be emptied and cleaned, and baths had to be given.

  Beth and Sally saw little of each other the first few days, passing quickly in the hallways. Between classroom work and time spent with patients, Beth found there was a lot to learn. Once she was a nurse, she knew she would have to work different shifts: day time as well as overnight. With JW working shifts as well, they could go extended periods without seeing each other. She pushed the thought from her mind. It will work itself out, she thought.

  The hospital ward was large, and some of the people were old and feeble. She wanted to reassure them and read to them but knew that practical stuff came first. She pulled the curtains around Mr. Smith’s bed, like she’d been shown by the Sister. She drew the water in the basin and stood back as the nun prepared to show her how to do the bath. She thought it would be quite easy, but the logistics were important, because they dealt with the dignity of the patient. Beth blushed at the thought of having to bathe the adults and guessed that was why the Sister’s attitude was very businesslike in her explanation and carrying out of the chore – maybe she too was embarrassed.

  Mr. Smith was old and, Beth learned, near death, and that was why they had to bathe him. He no longer had the strength to care for himself. In school, Beth had learned of Florence Nightingale, the nurse who’d been responsible for improving hospital conditions. She’d read that Florence had spent countless hours consoling the patients, making her rounds late at night, carrying a lamp, checking on the ill. She’d become known as the Lady of the Lamp. She was a big influence on Beth’s decision to become a nurse. Beth had dreamed of caring for the sick by comforting them, almost forgetting that Florence was responsible for major changes in hygiene, which led to a huge reduction in infections.

  “Good morning, Mr. Smith,” the Sister said.

  Beth watched the old man smile, and she added, “Good morning, sir” and received a smile and a nod.

  “Beth and I are going to freshen you up and change your bedding. We’ll try to get it done quickly.”

  Beth saw the old man smile again and thought he must not have the strength to answer. His breakfast tray on the bedside table seemed to be untouched, except for perhaps a few sips of tea and a small piece of toast. Once the bath was done and the bedding changed, Beth thought Mr. Smith looked more comfortable. She bundled the clothes and took them to be laundered. Along the way, she heard a hacking cough coming from a room and peeked in. She listened to the doctor say matter-of-factly, “Forty years of breathing coal dust is what’s wrong, Bill. You should come out of the mines to give your lungs a chance to clear out a little.”

  “Ain’t no jobs on the top for me, doctor. Even the breaker boys are breathing in the dust all day. I never went but a few years in school, and what little I learnt is long forgotten. I gotta feed me and the family. How much do I owe ya?”

  “Nothing, Bill. It already comes off your cheque. Try to get some fresh air when you can.”

  Beth moved away from the door before the doctor and patient came out, her thoughts on JW. She worried what a lifetime underground would mean for him. She said a little prayer that he would be safe, then hurried to the laundry. There was much more to do before her shift was over. She was glad that she was only a half-hour walk from home.

  She and Sally could make the walk together. The Sisters had told them that during stormy days, they could stay in the dormitory at the hospital. Beth didn’t like the thought of overnights at the hospital but was glad it was an option, just one she hoped she wouldn’t have to use. She glanced out the window overlooking Sydney Harbour and knew that was where JW would rather be – on the water. It seemed their summers of picnics, reading books and swimming were a thing of the past, as adult life made its presence felt.

  Chapter 23

  “Ma, Beth’s been in nursing school for the past week. She and Sally,” JW said, as he closed the kitchen door. “I just spent an hour with her.”

  “I know, dear. Her mother told me earlier today. Ain’t that grand? She’ll make a fine one too. So will Sally, I’m sure.”

  “It’s like we’re living in two different countries, instead of a mile apart. With working and sleeping....” Changing the subject, JW asked, “How’s Da?”

  “He’s a lot better. He’s out working with Alfred – said he’s feeling stronger every day.”

  “That’s good. I’ll check in on them after I have a quick bite to eat. I’m glad for Beth. It’s just that it took almost a week for me to find out. I guess times are changing.”

  Mary looked at JW and thought how serious and old he seemed. The hard work in the mines was showing on him, but she never heard him complain. She was glad that Andrew was able to start doing some of the chores again, and she’d surprised JW by milking the cow on several mornings before he got home.

  —

  JW watched as his father swung the hammer, sweat glistening on his forehead. This was the healthiest JW had seen his father in months. The ring of the hammer hitting the metal filled the small forge area. There was a loud hiss as the heated iron was dropped into a bucket of water. JW saw the skill with which his father handled the tongs to move another piece of glowing orange metal to the anvil. The hammer struck again; this time there was only a thudding sound as the piece of iron began to spread outward with each strike. As the glow started to fade, his father put it back in the fire. JW realized that if the iron was much hotter, it would be liquefied.

  “Don’t overdo it, Da, and tire yourself out,” JW said, from behind him. He noticed his father didn’t flinch.

  Turning to face him, Andrew smiled. “It’s the first time I’ve felt energetic for a while, and the work has given me an appetite.” He showed JW his belt. “It’s out a full notch, and after supper tonight, it might need to go out another.”

  Although his father was still slim, JW noticed his weight gain. It filled out the hollows in his cheeks, giving his face a healthier look. “What are you making?”

 
“The one in the pail will be used as a rough plane to cut through the knots in the wood, and this next piece will be for some of the finer work. Some of the others you’ll need, I’ll do once Alfred gets back.”

  “Back from where?” JW asked, noticing Beauty was wandering around the floor, pushing some straw about and jumping at any flies that came near.

  “He said he had to see someone and would be back sometime tomorrow. That’s all I know.”

  “I hope he’s still going to teach me to build a ship— boat. I haven’t had much time yet ’cause of the work in tunnel twelve, but I’m getting used to it, so I’m not as tired as I was,” JW said.

  “Don’t worry, JW, he’s waiting for you. He said he’s going to teach you how to build both, but together you will try to finish a boat over the winter. He’s been sharpening any of the tools I’ve made and laying out his own. He’ll be ready to go once you are.” Andrew paused. “Your mother told me Beth is in nursing. You two are all grown up.” He smiled as JW picked up Tennyson from the floor. Not quite, he thought.

  “Beth said the nursing has a lot more to it than she thought going in, but she says she likes it. I guess most jobs are like that. Once she’s a nurse, she’ll have to work shifts too, so when we’re married, if we’re on different shifts, we might not see each other for a week or more.” JW stammered once he realized what he’d said. “I mean, if we were married.” He continued to try to explain and then noticed his father was grinning at him.

  “Where ya gonna live? Maybe you can build a boathouse and live in that. Be good in the summer, at least when the weather’s good. Don’t know about the winter though, once the ice comes.”

  “Good idea, Da,” JW said, playing along, “but I’m not ready to give up Ma’s cooking yet. Leastways, not until I’m sure Beth can cook almost as good,” he said, rubbing his stomach.

  “Since you’re here, and it’s too dark out to do anything else, you might as well try swinging the hammer a little to get used to the feel. I’ll explain as we go. It’s all about shaping the metal the way you want it. It’s more involved, but it’s sorta like the pick. You gotta strike the iron in certain places to get it to do what you want it to, just like swinging the pick and hitting the right spot to make the coal drop.”