Us and Them

by Hugh R. MacDonald

  Safe on the floor of the mine, JW moved to where Mickey and the other men were sitting. Mickey said he was fine, but there was a large lump on his head, and he had a nasty gash there too. Everyone had cuts that would need tending. JW realized how lucky they were. Gerry and Artie would never go home again.

  It was hours before the cage was once again able to be used. JW and Mickey looked at each other as they were helped to the cage. It had been pulled to the surface, and the jacks and dead men had been removed, but there was blood everywhere.

  JW’s father moved to get on the cage, but one of the men said, “I ain’t getting on if the two of you are gonna be on it at the same time. Already caused one accident,” he said.

  “Yeah, you four go up in this one,” Andy said. He hoped the men weren’t going to blame him for the accident, but he knew it would at least be spoken behind his back, perhaps for a long time. “Tell them to send it right back. I’ll see ya topside in a few minutes, JW.”

  “Okay, Da,” JW said, and watched as the bar was pulled into place. He held his breath as the ride to the surface started, and he released it only as the cage jolted to a stop. Stepping out, he heard Mickey tell someone that there was one more injured man to come up.

  JW saw managers and other men from the office scurrying about. One of them barked, “Clean up the mess and get back to work. We’ve got orders to fill.”

  Orders to fill, thought JW. No mention of the injured men or the loss of life and what that was going to mean to the families left behind. JW caught the eye of Mr. Brown, and they looked at each other for a time. Then Mr. Brown turned away without even a nod or a hint of sadness. JW felt anger rising within him. What he’d heard JB McLachlan say about “us and them” was actually true. Until we face that it’s us and them, or us against them and all their dirty tactics, we’ll never get what we want or need.

  JW remembered again how Red, the man his father replaced as overman, told him years ago that the owners cared more about the horses than the men, because horses cost money and men didn’t, men were free.

  JW felt his pulse quicken. He wasn’t sure whether it was from the realization he’d come so close to death or because it mattered little to the mine owners and managers.

  Chapter 29

  Beth listened to the Sister as she informed them that there’d been an accident in the mine and injured men could be arriving soon. Beth glanced to where Sally sat, and their eyes met. So far, they had been caring mostly for the elderly. They were told to be ready for possibly severe injuries. Beth had thought they would have spent more time studying, but one of the nuns had told her “hands-on experience is the best teacher.”

  After stocking the shelves with bandages and supplies, there was little to do but wait. When the bodies of Gerry and Artie arrived, Beth and Sally were shocked. Sally’s crying startled the nuns, whose stern looks did nothing to stifle her sobs. But Beth quickly explained that Artie was Sally’s uncle, her mother’s brother. Sally was quietly ushered from the room by one of the younger nuns. Beth passed the nuns’ visual inspection – they could see she wasn’t about to faint – and although she was saddened by the deaths of the two men, she knew she had a job to do. She tried to hide the tremors in her hands.

  The strong antiseptic smell struck JW as he and Mickey entered Hamilton Memorial Hospital. His father drew a pain-filled breath when he opened the door for them, one hand going to his side. As JW shuffled forward, his right hand holding his left arm tightly against his stomach, he noticed a gurney pushed against a wall with a sheet pulled over the body resting on it. He wondered if it was Gerry or Artie.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Andrew placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Tough, tough day. We’re lucky to be alive.”

  “I know we’re lucky, Da. Poor Artie and Gerry,” JW said. Mickey had slowed his walk and nodded his head. JW added, “I don’t even know the other two who were on the cage with us.”

  “They’re good men—”

  “Come in, Mr. Donaldson,” the nurse said, interrupting him. “We have to take a look at that arm of yours.”

  JW realized she was speaking to him and smiled, despite the trauma of the day. Mr. Donaldson was a salutation he thought better suited his father.

  “Thank you, Sister.” He entered the examination room, the nurse following behind. He was surprised to see Beth in the room and saw her eyes widen in recognition. She hadn’t seen him in full miners’ dress before. His hands and face were darkened a little, but nothing like they were after a full shift underground.

  “What happened?” the nurse asked.

  “The cable on the cage broke. Gerry and Artie were killed and five of us got off lucky,” JW said. He wasn’t sure if they needed more information, so he waited to be asked.

  “You were on the same cage as the men killed?” Beth blurted out, fear in her voice.

  “Yes, me and Mickey, and Da and two more men.”

  As the nurse began to clean the cut on JW’s head, she looked at Beth. “You know each other?”

  Beth blushed. “He’s my boyfriend. We finished grade eleven together, then JW went to the mine to help out his family. He was the smartest boy in the school,” she gushed.

  The sister nodded. “We’ll X-ray your left arm, but I think you’re also going to need some stitches on that head, to keep all those brains in.”

  JW and Beth laughed, and a little tension left the room. JW drew a sudden breath as the nurse moved his arm to remove his jacket in preparation for the X-ray.

  “Oh dear, at least two of your fingers look swollen, so we better make sure they are X-rayed too,” the nun said.

  JW looked at his hand and tried moving his fingers, but his shoulder pain overrode any other pain he might have felt. He heard the nurse tell Beth that his shoulder looked dislocated or broken, perhaps both.

  They helped JW into a wheelchair, and Beth pushed it down the hallway to where the X-ray machine was located.

  “Da seems to have hurt his ribs, so he’ll probably need an X-ray too,” JW told her. “Maybe Mickey and the other men as well. Mickey was knocked out.” He caught a glimpse of his father and Mickey and one of the other men. “Where’s the other man, Beth?” JW said in a low voice, trying to look over his shoulder at Beth.

  “There’s just the four of you that came in. Maybe the other felt well enough to go home.”

  “I think everyone was battered and bruised. We’re just lucky—”

  “Bring him right in. We’re ready to go,” the doctor said.

  “Yes, doctor. Sister said to mention his fingers on his left hand as well,” Beth said, as she pushed JW into the room.

  “Let’s have a look.”

  Beth smiled at JW and turned to leave.

  “I may need some help. It looks as if the shoulder is dislocated, and if it is, I’ll need you to hold him steady as I pull it back into place.”

  “Yes, doctor,” Beth answered.

  JW felt a rush of anxiety as he thought of the pain already throbbing in his shoulder. He could only imagine the pain it would cause if the doctor pulled on it. Crying out in front of Beth would be embarrassing. The doctor told him to let go of his arm so it could be X-rayed. Next came his fingers. He gritted his teeth to endure the pain. Once the X-rays were taken, JW and Beth sat in the hallway, waiting for them to be developed. She held his right hand in hers, and they spoke quietly, trying to come to terms with what had happened.

  “The good news, your arm is not broken; however, the shoulder is dislocated. Two of your fingers are broken. We’ll get the shoulder done first, then splint the fingers.”

  The news didn’t seem particularly good to JW, but apparently it was better than the shoulder being broken. JW sat on the gurney and felt his muscles tighten as the doctor gripped his left arm.

  “Beth, hold him still as I rotate the arm to get the shoulder back into place.”
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  Beth linked her hands together under his left arm, and JW felt her warm breath against his neck. Through gritted teeth, he drew a deep breath as the doctor moved his arm out from his body. Suddenly, JW felt his shoulder pop back into place, and there was an immediate relief from the pain he’d been suffering. He closed his hands into fists and quickly became aware of the pain in his fingers. Moments later, splints were on his fingers and several stitches closed his cut. He sat still as Beth put the bandage on, impressed by her skill. They walked together back to where JW’s father sat. Beth squeezed JW’s arm as they parted.

  “Thanks, Nurse Beth,” JW said.

  “Oh, you’re welcome, sir,” she said to JW, and she smiled at his father.

  “Mickey’s in being seen, and I should be next,” Andrew told his son. “You look a tad more comfortable than earlier.”

  “Yeah, the shoulder was dislocated, not broken. Just have to wear it in this sling for a while. Might be two or three weeks before I can get back to work.”

  “By the looks of that hand, it will longer than that before you’ll be loading any coal. Besides, your mother will have something to say about you and working in the mines.”

  “It’s not like I have a lot of choice. I have to work, and it’s pretty much the only thing around. If we lived in Sydney, I might be able to get on at the steel plant.”

  “There’s injury and death there too, JW. I don’t know of many jobs that are a hundred percent safe.”

  JW sat beside his father, waiting until Mickey came out and his father went in. Mickey’s mother had also been waiting, and JW saw the sad look on her face as she put her arms around her son. JW was sure she didn’t want Mickey to be in the mines, but it was the only way of life she knew. Her father had worked there, as well as her husband, and now her son did too. JW knew they needed the money Mickey brought in to help feed his brother and sisters. JW’s thoughts went to Gerry’s and Artie’s families. A lot had happened today.

  He remembered what the mine manager had said: “Clean up the mess and get back to work. We’ve got orders to fill.” No mention of the dead men. Us and them. The thought kept coming into JW’s mind, but he didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that money was more important than the men sent underground. His thoughts were interrupted when his father came out of the examination room.

  “Nothing broken, just badly bruised. A day or two, and I’ll be good to go,” Andrew said.

  “That’s good then. I imagine the ribs’ll be sore for a while though.”

  “I might be walking a little slower for a few days, but at least I don’t have to shovel coal,” Andrew said, and smiled. “Guess we better get home. Your Ma’ll be worried sick about us. I’m sure she’s heard the news by now.”

  The sun was bright as they walked through the hospital’s doors. JW looked out over Sydney Harbour. The water was a little rough; small whitecaps danced on the surface. A freighter carrying iron ore was on its way to the steel plant, its stacks billowing black smoke into the air.

  “There’s your mother, and Alfred,” his father said. They were coming down the path in the cart behind Lightning.

  JW was happy to see them and glad that Lightning was there to take them home. The walk home was tiring most times, but it would have been much worse today.

  On the trip home, Mary sat between her husband and her son, her head swivelling between them as she asked what had happened. Alfred sat quietly holding the reins, listening but not saying anything. JW saw the expression on Alfred’s face change as he listened to the part about the cable breaking and the cage finally coming to a stop six feet from the floor below. There was a sudden silence. Everyone was exhausted, and there was nothing left to say. JW knew his mother would have lots more questions in the coming days, but for now they all sat quietly and listened to the wheels crunching against the road.

  Chapter 30

  “I wasn’t expecting to see Uncle Artie – dead. I mean, it was a shock, Mickey,” Sally said as Mickey hugged her to him. She started crying again.

  “I know it must’ve been hard, but Beth said you’re doin’ real good at nursing. You should think about it some more before quittin’,” Mickey said.

  “You said a while back that we could get married, and I wouldn’t have to think about nursing, ’cause the mining pay would do us. Besides, you don’t know what it was like seeing Uncle Artie like that.”

  Mickey shook his head. He had heard her say that very thing several times and had nodded and hugged her, but he felt that something had to be said. “Yes I do, Sally. I was in the cage with ’em when they died, and if I hadda been a few feet closer, I mighta got crushed with them, instead of just this gash on my head. But I gotta go back to work in a couple of days in that same cage. I don’t want to, but what can I do?”

  Sally and Mickey stared into each other’s eyes. They had spent the day with Beth and JW looking at the boat’s progress and had stayed behind in the barn after JW left to walk Beth home. Sally petted Beauty but was a little nervous of Tennyson and let out a little gasp when Mickey reached down and picked him up. Tennyson sat on his arm, eating oats from his outstretched hand. Sally made Mickey wash his hands in the water bucket after he put him down. She petted the cow and Lightning but stopped short of trying to pet the chickens. Alfred was asleep on his cot in the shed.

  “C’mon up in the hayloft,” Mickey said. “There’s a nice view of the water. See the window up there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “C’mon then,” Mickey said, pointing out the ladder. He went up first, then held his hand out to her.

  Sally looked at the water and the trees off in the distance. She could just make out the eagle’s nest next to where they’d gone swimming the past summer. “It is a beautiful view, Mickey,” she said, moving closer to him. “It would be nice to have a place like this some day after we’re married.” She put her arms around Mickey, leaned into him and kissed him. She giggled as they lost their balance and tumbled into the soft hay. Neither hurried to get back up, and they continued to kiss.

  Alfred woke from his nap, sat up and stretched from one side to the other, listening to his old joints crack. He was working a little harder than usual these days. He wanted JW to have his boat ready for the coming spring. Once he was sure JW understood how the pieces went together, Alfred helped to move things along to the next step. He was glad JW kept notes for future projects he might do on his own. He marvelled at how good a student he was. If JW wished to have a real ship one day, Alfred knew he could use a variation of this scaled-down version to build one. This boat should bring him much pleasure on the lake, he thought.

  Alfred stoked the stove, and the fire came to life. He pulled the kettle over to the middle of the stove and walked out into the barn looking for Beauty. He saw her playing with a piece of twine hanging from a nail. It amazed him the simple things that brought her such joy. He smiled. He cocked his ear, thinking he’d heard a sound. Quickly, he located the source. Giggling, and it was coming from the hayloft.

  Alfred coughed and watched two heads come into view. JW’s friends, Sally and Mickey, quickly came down the ladder, blushing at getting caught in the hayloft. Alfred smiled at the two who stood there picking stalks of hay from each other’s hair.

  “I was just showing her the view from the window there,” Mickey said, pointing to the loft, and Sally nodded.

  “Yes, it’s a pretty view from there,” Alfred said. “I’m making some tea. Would you like a cup?”

  “No thank you, sir. I should be getting home,” Sally said.

  “Thanks, Alfred, but we gotta go. See you soon. The ship— boat, is comin’ along nice. Hope it’ll be ready for the summer. See ya,” Mickey said, and hurried behind Sally out the barn door and on their way toward town.

  —

  Following the accident there were two funerals in the town, attended by large crowds.
Sitting with his parents, JW had glanced around the church and saw several of the managers from the mines. Mr. Brown was there, as well as the man who’d wanted the mess cleaned up. JW’s eyes met JB McLachlan’s several pews over. JB winked at him, and JW nodded. There was at least twice the usual Sunday crowd. JW understood that wakes and funerals were something of a social event. People got a chance to offer condolences and to catch up on any gossip while enjoying a first-rate lunch. JW was there out of respect for Gerry and Artie and their families, but he knew that some people showed up only for the sake of appearances.

  It had been three days since the funerals, and JW had spent some time out in the barn with Alfred. Smitty had dropped by to help with the boat on his day off and, after spending the day working on the boat, had carried enough wood into the house to keep the stove going for a week or more. Although Smitty was more than ten years his senior, he and JW were friends, and JW realized that Smitty was the definition of a true friend, being there when needed, without being asked.

  JW loved seeing the boat come together. He checked the plans on a regular basis. Geometry was important, and JW was glad he had paid attention in school. The frame was there now, each rib secured in place. There was a long way to go before it would be finished, but it seemed like a reality as he ran his hands over the different woods they had used, inhaling their various scents.

  JW’s father had started back to work on the dayshift today, and JW hoped he’d be okay. He was no longer making a face when he moved, so JW figured his ribs were healing and that he’d be fine, as long as he didn’t overdo it. JW would likely be returning to work himself in another two to three weeks, now that his shoulder and fingers were feeling better. He was filled with a sudden rush of dread as he thought of stepping back into the cage the first time.