“I’m sure the prices go up every Christmas,” Beth whispered.
“Do you think?” JW asked.
“Sure seems like it, JW. Well, I’m through looking.”
“I thought you had to get your mother’s gift today,” JW said. As soon as the words left his mouth, JW realized what the problem might be.
Sure enough, Beth stood on her toes and whispered in his ear. “I don’t have quite enough saved yet.”
“I could give you some ... or lend you it.”
Beth’s eyes lit up. “Okay, if you can lend me a dollar, I will pay you back as soon as I can.”
JW walked behind a bin, filled to overflowing with clothing items, and pulled some change from his pocket. He counted out the dollar and slipped it into Beth’s hand. “If we have time, I’d like to take a walk up through the avenues to look out at the harbour, once we’re done here.”
“Sure,” Beth said. Although she got to see the harbour everyday on her way to and from the hospital, she knew how much JW loved the water.
Standing on a hill overlooking the harbour, JW pointed out Davey’s house. It was huge. It seemed unreasonable to JW that a family of three would live in a house better suited for ten or more people. The two large chimneys billowed black smoke into the crisp air, and JW wondered how many tons of coal was used to heat the house.
He hadn’t mentioned to Beth that he’d seen Davey trudging down Pond Street to the train station with a suitcase in his hand. Although Davey had changed for the worse over the past year, JW remembered when the two of them had been friends of a sort. He knew Davey’s father was a manager and perhaps part owner of the mine and that lower class and upper class seldom mixed. JW had been taught that “the love of money was the root of all evil.” He wondered if just liking it a lot was sinful; it sure seemed to help things go a lot smoother when he had some.
—
“The library will be closing in about ten minutes. If anyone has any books they would like to sign out, please bring them to the desk,” Mrs. Johnson said.
JW watched the few library visitors walk to the desk to sign out their books. Mrs. Johnson wished them goodnight as she locked the door behind them. The small group gathered with JW included Patty, Donnie and two of the other trap boys. JW knew Mickey would’ve been there if he hadn’t been working. He was glad Mrs. Johnson had agreed to let him use the library for their meeting.
There was a loud knock on the door. Mrs. Johnson opened it, and Smitty and JB McLachlan entered the library. Everyone stared at JB. He was a local legend. He took the seat next to JW at the head of the table. Moments later he stood up.
“Good evening, boys. When JW said he was going to have a meeting, I asked to come and speak to you. I know some of you have only been in the mine a few months and some longer than that, but it’s never too soon to learn that you have to stand up for your rights. You can’t let mine owners, like Wolvin and McClurg in the recent past, nor the ones today, talk about rolling back your wages. If you let them take back what you’ve already earned with your blood, sweat and tears, where would they stop?” JB looked around the table, catching each person’s eye until the head nodded in affirmation.
JW noticed that even Mrs. Johnson was caught up in JB’s impassioned speech, nodding her head along with the boys. He wondered what he could add as JB turned the floor over to him. He took a deep breath and waited several seconds before he began.
“I’d like to thank JB for coming tonight and pointing out the importance of fighting for our rights and standing up to the mine owners. But that also brings to mind that we have to get the older miners to start respecting us as workers too. If we keep letting them talk down to us, when will it stop? When we’re twenty, twenty-five?” The boys’ heads were all nodding, as were Smitty’s and JB’s. JW caught Mrs. Johnson looking at him, smiling, and he smiled back.
Chapter 34
JW saw a group of boys gathered near the breakers. Patty seemed to be in a heated debate with several of the boys from the breakers and others who worked in the mines, and even Donnie had something to say. JW headed toward the boys but saw Mickey hurrying inside and realized he barely had time to get dressed for his shift. I’ll check with Patty later, JW thought. As the door closed behind him, it blocked out the last rays of sunshine he’d see for the next eight hours.
“Open the door, boy.”
Patty looked at the miner. “I’m having my lunch, and my name’s not boy.”
Shawn McGuire’s puzzled look quickly turned to one of anger. “Open the door, boy, or I’ll hit ya with the shovel.”
Patty didn’t have a father that Shawn was afraid of, and he was alone with an angry man twice his size, so he didn’t know what his next move should be. He heard the squeal of wheels from a second horse-drawn tram and was relieved to see it was Smitty coming his way. Patty watched Shawn McGuire lower the shovel back on the tram. Patty walked slowly to the door and pulled the rope, opening the trap. Shawn’s menacing look didn’t seem as scary as before, but Patty knew he’d have to be watchful, ’cause Shawn would be at his door two or three more times this shift, and there might not be anyone else show up next time.
“What was that all about?” Smitty asked, once Shawn McGuire’s tram cleared the trap door.
“I told him I was eating my lunch when he told me to open the door. And I told him my name isn’t boy,” Patty said.
“Does JW know about this?” Smitty asked.
“No, but me and Donnie decided we’d do our part,” Patty said.
“Is Donnie working tonight?”
“Yeah, he’s on the next door. Why?”
“Open the door, Patty. I wanna get there before Shawn.”
Patty realized Donnie could be in danger and quickly opened the door. Smitty rushed along the tracks, pushing the small horse harder than he liked.
—
JW walked down the stairs and joined his parents for supper. The dining room table had a veritable feast on it, and he wondered if he’d missed an event. A large deer roast lay on a platter, and potatoes, turnips, carrots and corn were in bowls, as was some beautiful dark gravy that would soon smother his potatoes. He noted the fourth place setting and heard the back door open, announcing the arrival of Alfred, who sometimes joined them for an evening meal. Although he slept in the house overnight, he still liked to take most meals out in the shed.
“Alfred’s nephew brought a huge buck, so you can thank him and Alfred for the feast,” Mary said.
“You’re welcome,” Alfred said, before JW had a chance to say anything. “Please remind me to bring some meat to Gullie for saving my life.”
Once grace had been said, JW began in earnest, piling food on his plate. His only complaint was that the plate was too small, and he said so, eliciting laughter from all present.
“I see you’ve got the boys stirred up,” Andrew said.
JW laid his fork down and continued chewing for a moment. “What do you mean, Da?”
“Patty and Donnie not opening the doors quickly enough, and the boys at the breakers have been letting quite a few rocks get by them.”
“I didn’t tell them—” JW stopped in mid-sentence, remembering his words from the meeting. Although he didn’t want them to act badly, he was sure they only heard his passionate plea for them to stand up for themselves. “I only meant they had rights. I didn’t want them to be insubordinate or put themselves in danger.”
“I’m not saying standing up for yourself is wrong,” Andrew said. “I’ve done a bit of it myself. I just think it best you figure out a better way for them to get their point across. If this news gets to the bosses, there’s nothing I can do to save their jobs. It cost poor Donnie.”
“What do you mean?”
“Patty and Donnie chose to talk back to McGuire, and he hit Donnie with a shovel.”
JW stared at his father.
“I never meant for them to stand up to McGuire on their own. What’s gonna happen to Mr. McGuire?”
“Nothin’. Donnie’s too afraid to say anything. You better keep a watchful eye. I’m sure he blames you.”
For the first time in recent memory, JW’s head overrode his stomach, and he pushed his plate to the middle of the table, wondering how he could fix this. He wished he'd thought to warn the boys to be respectful. The saying, “the pen is mightier than the sword” came to mind, and JW knew he’d have to call another meeting right away. He reasoned that if his words had incited bad behaviour, his message had failed. He thought a discussion with JB was in order.
—
“I’ve more to say, but I’m going to turn the floor over to JW Donaldson,” JB McLachlan said.
The room went silent when JW stood where JB had been. He saw the look of curiosity on some of the men and indifference on others, but the best was the sneer on Shawn McGuire’s face. JW began haltingly but quickly found his voice when the sneer grew bigger on McGuire’s face.
“I’ve been talking with JB for years and thought I understood what he meant about us and them, but it wasn’t until I was on the cage where two men died, and me and Mickey thought we were going to die too, that the point was driven home. Or I should say, shortly after. When we got to the surface one of the managers was only concerned about getting production moving again. I heard him shouting, ‘Clean up the mess and get back to work. We’ve got orders to fill.’ He didn’t mention the loss of two men, two good men, who wouldn’t get to go home to their families again, or the fact that their families had no one to care for them.”
Most of the men gathered seemed to be listening, thinking about their lost friends, as JW continued.
“I read some stuff about indentured servants, which was pretty much what mining families were turned into by the company stores, a place to run up bills until the company kept everything you earned. The owners still treat us like we’re paying off a debt, instead of treating us as valuable, skilled employees.”
“Well, some of us are skilled. Others are still wet behind the ears and afraid of the dark, or have daddies to care for them,” Shawn McGuire said, eliciting a few chuckles from the men.
JW stared at Shawn. “Isn’t that what a father is supposed to do?”
“Anyway,” he continued, “most of the trapper boys and those leading trams said they don’t mind the work. They said the worst part of the job is the few ... the few older miners who are mean to them, hollering for no reason. One even hit a young fellow with a shovel. Now that’s pretty cowardly. As for fear, I recently heard there are miners who won’t go down in the cage, because they’re afraid the cable might break. Guess they’re not the real miners, the trapper boys are, ’cause they’re leaving the doors and going down there.”
JW turned to JB. “I just have a few more things to say and then I’ll give the floor back to JB. The reason I wanted to talk tonight is that I’ve been meeting with the young people and telling them about unity and how the union works together for the rights of all men, and boys too. They come to the meetings with questions about the few who holler at them. Some of them are scared, and when they’re hollered at too, it’s pretty hard to convince them of the importance of us all sticking together.”
A chair scraped loudly, and JW watched Shawn McGuire get ready to grandstand.
“I didn’t come here to listen to no boy tell me how I should act,” Shawn said.
“If we can’t treat each other right, how can we expect to be treated right by management?” JW said, then added, “A house divided cannot stand.”
JW nodded to JB, who got quickly to his feet.
“Lots to consider. Thank you, JW. See you again,” JB said, signalling it was time for him to leave the meeting.
Chapter 35
The next evening, JW was back in the library looking at the shelves filled with books. He remembered, fondly, many of the ones he’d read over the years and how the stories had taken him to places he supposed he’d never get to see.
“JW?”
He looked up at Mrs. Johnson.
“I was quite impressed by what you had to say the other night, and it seemed so was everyone else in the room. Patty and Donnie and the other boys were paying close attention, listening to your every word. I don’t know what your plans are, but I think you should consider this,” she said, laying a piece of paper on the table in front of him. “Grade eleven is a junior matriculation and what you need to go to Provincial Normal College in Truro. In one year, you’d be a teacher.”
“In a year? A teacher? Like you? Thanks very much, Mrs. Johnson. I’ll look it over.”
The door opened and several people came in the library. JW saw that Mrs. Johnson wanted to say more, but he knew she had to see to the new arrivals.
As if reading his thoughts, Mrs. Johnson turned and said, “Oh, and JW, the tuition is little or nothing at all. You just need a place to stay and money for food.”
“Thanks again,” JW said, and folded the paper and put it in his pocket. He knew she’d be busy for a while, so he would check back later. He waved to her as he left. A teacher, I could be a teacher, JW thought. In a year, I could be a teacher.
The walk through town put JW in a festive mood. Decorations adorned the storefronts, and passersby said, “Merry Christmas,” putting aside, for a moment, the worries of everyday life. JW thought of Charles Dickens’s novella, A Christmas Carol, and knew that for many it would be a difficult time. Although Roy Wolvin had left a few years ago, the former president of the British Empire Steel Corporation – BESCO – the company that operated the mine, was still referred to as Roy the Wolf and fit the character of Scrooge perfectly. Roy the Wolf had surely played a role in trying to decrease the surplus population by starving out the miners and their families, and like Scrooge had rolled back the wages of his workers. Unlike Scrooge, he didn’t transform into a caring, loving person. He just left.
JW put that out of his mind as he saw a little girl looking in the Co-operative window at the toys displayed. The squeals of glee brought a smile to his face.
“Well, hello, JW.”
At the sound of Beth’s voice, his smile increased. “I thought you were at the hospital today, Beth. Don’t you have exams?”
“Yes, on Monday, the day before Christmas Eve. They let us out early today, and Sally and I came in to look around. I’ve been studying all week, so I needed a break. I could spare an hour later, if you’re not working tonight.”
“I’m off until Monday. I could help you study later.”
“Why not come over after supper, and we’ll go for a walk? I plan to study again tonight and all day tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there. I’d like to talk to you about some things. See you then.”
Beth leaned in and gave his hand a squeeze.
JW decided to head home to finish any chores so he’d be ready after supper to go to Beth’s. November had been cold and quite a bit of snow had fallen, but it had turned rainy and unseasonably warm for the past week, even though it was almost Christmas. JW noticed bare patches of earth here and there on the sides of the road. He hoped the weather would not be too harsh this winter and there’d be an early spring. Drift ice usually took a while to leave, but once that was gone, if he had the boat finished, he’d test it out on the water. He had discussed naming the boat with Beth, and she said she was honoured that he considered putting her name on his boat.
“Of course your mother’s name should go first. Besides,” she’d continued, “the Mary Beth flows better.”
JW had been relieved when Beth had said tha
t, and he’d smiled when his mother had said he should give his boat Beth’s full name. The Mary Elizabeth was the name he chose, named after both of them. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the folded paper Mrs. Johnson had given him. He’d never considered that he had enough education to go to college. A few months ago, JW believed he was stuck in the coal mines for the rest of his working life, but now the world once again seemed a whole lot bigger. He had options: Teacher’s College, use his boat for fishing or moving supplies, or stay in the coal mines. JW’s mind was spinning. He had a lot to think about, but he was looking forward to the future for the first time since starting in the mine last summer.
The tapping of Gulliver’s cold wet nose against his hand pushed the thoughts away. JW bent down and petted Gullie’s head and back. He was glad Gulliver was still quite young. Poor Lightning and Tennyson were both starting to show their age.
So is Alfred, JW thought. It was better Alfred had moved into a bedroom in the house, at least for the nights. He’d worried he would stay in the shed instead. JW had grown very fond of the old man. It was like having another grandfather. JW hadn’t thought that he might be like the son or grandson that Alfred had never had. They got along so well, and each tried to lighten the other’s tasks.
The house and barn came into view, and JW started off at a slow jog, his satchel tapping against his side. Gulliver fell into rhythm beside him. JW had wood and coal to get in, and he was sure there’d be some other stuff that needed doing. He saw Alfred standing outside, leaning against the barn, as if he was waiting for him. He waved to him, and Alfred returned it and made his way toward the house.
“The coal and wood are in and the stalls are cleaned out. Are you ready to do some work on the boat later?” Alfred asked.
Us and Them Page 14