by A. J. Cronin
“He could hardly get to sleep last night for thinking about it,” Annie said, coming forward. “He’s had me up this last hour.”
“Eh, he looks a regular pitman,” David smiled. “I’m pretty lucky to have him for my trapper, Annie.”
“You’ll be careful with him, Davey,” Annie murmured, in a quiet aside.
“Oh, mother,” protested Sammy, colouring.
“I’ll watch out for him, Annie,” David said reassuringly. “Don’t you worry.” He glanced towards Annie who now stood with her fine pale face warmed by the fire glow, the top button of her blouse, unfastened, revealing her smooth straight throat. Her figure, erect even in repose, had both strength and softness. Her faint anxiety for Sammy, only half concealed, caused her to seem curiously young and untried. All at once, his heart moved in affection towards her. How brave she was, how honest and unselfish!—she had real nobility. “By the by, Annie,” he remarked, making his words offhand, “you and Sammy are invited up to-night. There’s going to be a regular spread.”
A silence.
“Am I really asked?” she said.
He nodded emphatically, quizzically.
“My mother’s own words.”
The trace of wistfulness left her; her eyes fell; he could see that she was deeply gratified at this recognition, at last, from the old woman.
“I’ll be glad to come, Davey,” she said.
Sammy, already at the door, was chafing to be away. He turned the handle, suggestively. And David, with a quick good-bye to Annie, followed him outside. Down the street they went, side by side, towards the pit. David was silent at first; he had his own thoughts. That look in Annie’s eyes as they lingered upon Sammy had strangely inspired him. Courage and hope, he thought, courage and hope.
They passed Ramage’s shop. When they came out of the Neptune at the end of the shift the shutters would be down, the door open, a Ramage planted there, waiting to gloat upon David’s humiliation. Every day of those four weeks, Ramage had waited, wickedly jubilant, exacting the last ounce of triumph from his victory.
And now David and Sammy drew near to the pit yard. They made a little detour to avoid some trucks on which, printed large in white, was the name MAWSON & GOWLAN. On they went, part of the slowly moving stream of men. Above them, looming in the darkness, rose the new headstocks of the Neptune, higher than before, dominating the town, the harbour and the sea. David stole a sidelong glance at Sammy whose face had now lost a trifle of its exuberance, intimidated by the nearness of the great event. And, drawing closer to the boy, David began to talk to him, diverting his attention towards other things.
“We’ll go fishing, Saturday, you and I, Sammy, September’s always a good month up the Wansbeck. We’ll get some brandlings at Middlerig and up we’ll go. Are you game, Sammy?”
“Ay, Uncle Davey.” With eager yet doubtful eyes upon the headstocks.
“And when we come back, Sammy, hanged if I don’t stand you a pie and lemonade in old Mrs. Wept’s.”
“Ay, Uncle Davey.” Eyes still fascinated upon the headstocks. And then, with a little rush. “It’s pretty dark when you get down, like, isn’t it?”
David smiled encouragingly.
“Not on your life, man. And in any case you’ll soon get used to it.”
Together they crossed the pit yard and, with the others, climbed the steps towards the cage. And sheltering Sammy, David guided him safely through the crush into the great steel pen. Sammy pressed very close to David now and in the confines of the cage his hand sought out David’s hand.
“Does it drop quick?” he whispered, with a catch in his throat.
“Not so quick,” David whispered back. “Just hold your breath the first time, Sammy lad, and it’s not too bad.”
A silence. The bar clanged. Another silence. The sound of a distant bell. They stood there, the men, massed together in the cage, massed together in the silence and the dimness of the dawn. Above them towered the headstocks of the pit, dominating the town, the harbour and the sea. Beneath them, like a tomb, lay the hidden darkness of the earth. The cage dropped. It dropped suddenly, swiftly, into the hidden darkness. And the sound of its falling rose out of that darkness like a great sigh which mounted towards the furthermost stars.
THE END
Other Books by A.J. Cronin
The Citadel
The Keys of the Kingdom
