Story, Volume I

by Dai Smith

  The journey rider – this one is called Nat – comes along and we help him to repair the broken signal wires. He knocks on them with a file; there is a bang and rattle as the rope slackens and a tram is lowered to us. It seems that the roof movement is easing a little so I climb on top of the fall to sound the upper top. I have to stretch to my limit to reach it although I am standing quite nine feet above the roadway. The stones above echo hollowly when I tap them with the steel head of a mandrel so we are convinced that they have weakened and may fall at any minute. The awkward part is that we shall have to jump back up the slope and that the tram will be in the way to prevent us getting away quickly.

  One of these trams holds about two tons and we had to break most of the stones, so we were busy to get the first tram filled in the first half-hour. Nat signalled it to a parting higher up where a haulier was waiting with his horse to draw it along the Level Heading where the labourers would unload it into the ‘gobs’. Whilst Nat was lowering another empty tram we noticed the small flame of an oil lamp coming down the slope.

  ‘Look out, you guys,’ Nat warned us when he stopped, ‘here’s the bombshell coming and he’ll want to know why the heck we ain’t turned the place inside out in five minutes, you bet he will.’

  It is the fireman and he came with a rush, stumbling over a loose piece of coal and almost falling; whereupon Nat turns away, partly as an excuse for not putting out his arm to steady the official and partly to hide the grin that he has started in anticipation of seeing the fireman go sprawling. The fireman recovers, however, and he glares at Nat as if he had read his thoughts. His hurry has caused him to breathe gaspingly; drops of sweat are falling, from the end of his nose and the chew of tobacco is being severely punished. He glares at the fall, then back at us as if he thinks we must have thrown more on top of it.

  ‘There’s one gone,’ I tell him, ‘and a good nine left still.’

  ‘Huh!’ he grunts, ‘don’t be long chucking this one in agen. There’s colliers below and coal waiting.’

  He rushed away to hurry the labourers. We were full again when he returned in twenty minutes’ time.

  ‘While the rider’s taking these trams up,’ he ordered us, ‘you roll some of these stones and wall ’em on the sides. Put ’em anywhere out of the way of the rails.’

  Griff went to have a drink after we had filled the fourth. The water gurgled down his throat as it would have down a drain.

  ‘Blinkin’ stuff’s got warm already,’ he complained, ‘and it was like ice when I brought it into this hole.’

  His face is streaked with grey lines where the perspiration has coursed through the thickness of dust; when he wrings the front of his singlet the moisture streams from it. The fireman visited us every few minutes and upset us with his impatience. Even when he did not hurry us with words we could sense that he felt we were taking too long. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning when Nat arrived with the tram that would be sufficient to clear the roadway. It seems that the mountain always becomes uneasy about that hour and small stones had been flaking down like heavy raindrops. We peered out from under the edge of the hole and I said that these falling stones must be coming from the upper edge of the right side. I could see some stones there that had half fallen and become checked in their drop. I got the slender measuring stick – it was about nine feet long – and tried to reach those loose stones but when the stick was to its limit and my arms were outstretched I could not reach the upper top. I climbed upwards on some of the stones that had been walled near the side. When I had scrambled up to about eight feet high it was possible to tap the stones and they fell. It was warm down below but the heat was intense up in the hollow of the fall. The increase of temperature almost stopped my breathing; I noticed the warning smell that is like rotten apples. My head was so giddy that I could not climb down; I slid the last part.

  ‘Phew!’ I gasped. ‘It’s chock full up there. My head’s proper spinning.’

  ‘Full? What d’you mean?’ the fireman demanded, although he knew.

  ‘Full up of gas,’ I replied, ‘and there’s enough in that hole to put us up to the sky.’

  ‘What are you chirping about?’ he snapped back at me, ‘there’s nothing to hurt up there.’

  ‘Try it and see,’ I suggested. ‘I notice you haven’t tested for any tonight.’

  ‘Get on and clear that fall,’ he said, ‘there’s nothing there.’

  ‘Take your lamp up there,’ I insisted, ‘it’s the only oil lamp here. I know the smell of gas too well to be sucked in over it.’

  Very reluctantly he began to climb but when he was nearly up he jerked his hand and the light was extinguished. I had expected it, for that was better than showing there was gas present and he was wrong.

  ‘Now just look what you’ve done,’ he complained, ‘I’ll have to feel me way back to the re lighter.’

  I saved my breath because I knew further comment was useless. The official stayed sitting on the wall like a human crow and watched us while we went on with our filling. We were about half full when I heard a sound like a stifled sob and the fireman slumped down, then rolled to the bottom quite near to Nat. The rider jumped back as swiftly as a cat, then crouched under the shelter of a steel arch.

  ‘Now, where the devil did that ’un drop from,’ Nat demanded. Then he turned to look at what had fallen. ‘Good Lord!’ he added, ‘it ain’t a stone – it’s him. Out to the blinkin’ world, he is. So there was some up there, all right.’

  Our lights showed us that the fireman was breathing, although faintly.

  ‘Let’s carry him back to the airway,’ I suggested, ‘there’s a current of fresh air there and he’ll soon come round.’

  ‘Too blasted soon, likely.’ Nat was not sympathetic. ‘The only time this bloke is sensible is when he’s asleep. And why struggle to carry him when I got me rope as I can put round his neck and the engine as can drag him?’

  After we had carried him to the airway we went on with our job. We had two pairs of steel arches to place in position and bolt together. We were anxious to erect them so that we could cover them with small timber in case any more stones fell. Nat agreed to sit near the official and shout to us if there was any undue delay in his recovering.

  ‘Fan him with me cap.’ Nat was angered when I suggested it. ‘Why the hell should I waste me energy on him, hey? Let him snuff it if he wants to, I shan’t cry.’

  He seemed to be looking forward with delight to the time when the fireman would open his eyes and see the sketches that were chalked on the smooth sides of that airway. We had some skilful artists in that district and no one could mistake who was represented as waving that whip behind those three figures who were carrying shovels.

  We had the one arch solid and were well on with the second before the fireman recovered enough to stumble up the road towards us. He did not praise us for our speed in erecting; I do not think he was very appreciative of anything just then. He said nothing as he passed but climbed on to one of the tram couplings. Nat warned him to hold tight in a manner that showed that the fireman could fall off under the trams if he liked, then they moved away up the roadway from us.

  As soon as we had covered the steel arches we went to have our meal. We moved to where the roof was stronger, covered our shoulders with our shirts and sat on a large stone close to one another. We leant back against the walled sides, partly to ease the ache in our backs, and partly to lessen the target if more stones should fall.

  We were supposed to have twenty minutes for eating food but we had finished before that. Griff looked at his watch; it was ten minutes to four. I remember him stating the time and remarking that we had not been disturbed at our food – for a wonder. Hardly had he said that when we saw a light coming towards us. We could tell by the bobbing of the lamp that the one who was carrying it was running.

  Whoever is coming it must be a workman because he is carrying an electric lamp. We can hear him panting as he comes and his boots hit t
he wooden sleepers with a thud.

  ‘Something have happened.’ Griff speaks my own thoughts, ‘somebody have been hurt bad or—’ He does not finish and we wait, tensed, for the message… The running man reaches us, pauses, then holds his lamp up to our faces. The shadow behind the lamp becomes more solid and I realise that it is Ted Lewis.

  ‘Puff,’ Ted blows his cheeks out, ‘all out of wind I am. Been hurrying like old boots to get to you chaps.’

  Already we are reassured because if someone was under a fall Ted would have shouted his message at once. After taking a deep breath he explains:

  ‘Old bladder-buster sent me to fetch you chaps to clear a fall he did. Said to come at once and bring your shovels and a sledge.’

  ‘Fall!’ We are both annoyed. ‘Making all this fuss about a blessed fall.’

  ‘Aye, I know,’ Ted insists, ‘but it’s on the main and in the way of a journey of coal. He’s in a hell of a sweat about it, not ’arf he ain’t. Told me to tell you to hurry up – to run along with your tools, he did.’

  ‘Run! Huh!’ Griff is disgusted. ‘I s’pose as we’d best go, eh? Allus something, there is.’

  With our tools under our right arms and our lamps hanging on our belts we hurry after Ted. We are careful to keep our heads down, to avoid hitting the low places. Near the top of the third Deep we must meet the fireman, who swings around and walks in front of us. Suddenly he shouts back at us:

  ‘There’s ten full trams of coal the other side of this blasted fall and they won’t be out afore morning if you don’t shape yourselves.’

  He is wasting his breath, for his threats and hurryings have lost their effect on us. His forcing is as much part of our working lives as the stones that fall or the timber that will break. Our lives are now a succession of delayed coal and falling roof; besides we are hurrying all we can. The sweat is dropping from our eyebrows; I feel it running over the back of my hand where a stone has sliced the skin away; it smarts as if iodine was smeared over it. The official stops suddenly and gasps:

  ‘Just on by there. Not more’n four trams down and all stones, so it won’t take you long. Look lively and get it clear.’

  I judge the fall and decide that it is nearer six trams than four. My lamp shows me enough light to see to the top of the hole and to detect the stones that hang, half-fallen, around the sides. There is a whitish glint over the shiny smoothness of the upper top. We call that type of roof the Black Pan; it will drop without the least warning.

  ‘What’s that smooth up above sounding like?’ I ask.

  ‘Not bad,’ the fireman answers.

  ‘Have you sounded it?’ I ask.

  ‘Course I have,’ he answered, and I knew he had not.

  ‘I’m going to do it for myself,’ I stated, ‘because you can’t be too sure.’

  I climbed on top of the fall, then tapped the roof with the measuring stick. Boom – boom – it sounded hollow, as would a tautened drum. I scrambled back down.

  ‘That upper piece is just down,’ I said, ‘it’s ready to fall. Best to put some timber under it?’

  ‘It’s right enough,’ the fireman insisted, ‘and by the time we messes about to get timber here the shift’ll be gone and it’ll be morning afore we gets that coal by.’

  ‘It would make sure that no more fell to delay us,’ I argued, ‘and it would be safer then.’

  ‘And if you was to slam in it would be clear quicker,’ he snapped, ‘it seems as you’re bent on wasting time.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I replied, ‘only I wants to be as safe as I can. It’s my body, remember, and a man don’t want more than one clout from a stone falling from as high as that.’

  ‘Get hold on the sledge, Griff,’ he orders, ‘and make a start. This chap have got a lot too much to say.’

  Griff looks at the official, then at me. He is hesitant.

  ‘Griff can do what he likes,’ I said, ‘but I’m not working under that top until it’s put safer.’

  ‘You’ll do as I tells you or you know what you can do,’ the fireman snarls, ‘and that’s pick up your tools and take ’em out.’

  ‘I’ll do that too,’ I replied and threw my shovel on the side, ‘and what about you, Griff? Are you staying?’

  ‘Don’t know what to do, mun,’ he mumbles. ‘P’raps it’ll stay all right until we have cleared this fall. We’ve done it afore, heaps of times. Let’s pitch in and clear away as soon as we can.’

  I know that Griff has allowed the thoughts of his wife and family to overcome his judgement.

  ‘Aye, that’s the idea.’ The fireman is suddenly friendly. ‘Slam in at it. You won’t be long and I’ll stand up on the side and keep me eyes on the top. If anything starts to fall I’ll shout and you can jump back.’

  I know well that before the word of warning could have formed in his throat it would be too late. Griff looks at me in an appealing way. He will not start without me, but I do not want to feel that I am responsible for his losing the job. I decide to risk it with him but to listen and watch most carefully.

  We start to work, breaking the big stones and rolling them back one on top of another until we have formed a rough wall that is about a yard from the rail. The roof is quiet for a while and so we work swiftly. The fireman keeps very quiet because he can see we are working to our limit so that we can escape from under that bad piece, and he knows that the quieter he keeps the better we can hear. He sits on the wall, holding his lamp high and looking continually upward.

  We had cleared about half of the fall and I had finished breaking a large stone when Griff asked me for the sledgehammer. Our elbows touched when I handed it to him. As he hit with the sledge I lifted a stone on to my knees but it slid down and dropped a couple of feet from the rail. I moved a short pace after it, bent, then began to lift it again. When I was almost straightened up I felt air rushing past my face; something hit me a terrible blow on the back. I heard a sound that seemed to start as a sob but ended in a groan that was checked abruptly. The blow on the back hit me forward. I felt to be flung along the roadway whilst my face ploughed through the small coal on the floor of the heading. I am sure that fire flashed from my eyes, yet I felt at the same time to be ice cold all over. My legs were dead weights hanging behind me. When I breathed I swallowed the small coal that was inside my mouth. My nose was blocked with dust, so were my eyes. I felt about with my hands before realizing that my face was against the floor and pushing down my arms to lift myself. I whimpered with relief when I found I could use my legs and so my back was not broken.

  I could feel something running down my back; obviously it must be blood. Above, below, and around me everything is black with not the slightest sign of light to relieve it. So, whatever has happened the lamps must be smashed and we can have no help from them.

  I had just managed to get to my knees and start to collect my thoughts when I heard a scuffle a few yards away. Suddenly a new sound pierced the darkness. It was a sort of half scream, half squeal. At first I could not realise what this terrible sound meant; I had never before heard a grown man squeal with fear.

  ‘Quick! Quick! Get me out!’ It was the fireman screaming, and he sounded to be quite near to me. It seemed that he had been caught but was still alive. I did not hear the least sound from Griff. I collected my strength and shouted, ‘Griff-oh! Are you all right?’ I am far more concerned about my mate than the official. Griff was near me when I was hit. He was much more in the open than the fireman, who had chosen a part that was sheltered alongside the stronger side. I had no reply from Griff, but the fireman heard my call and I hear him sobbing with relief at knowing that I am alive and near to him.

  ‘Come here, quick,’ he appeals. ‘I’m held fast over here. Get me out before more comes. Quick!’

  I listen for some seconds, trying to puzzle where Griff was standing. I have lost all sense of direction. Am I nearly on top of my mate or will I press a stone still harder upon him if I move in that direction? While I hesitate the fireman res
tarts his screaming. Small stones drip around me continually, like the early drops of a shower of solid rain. Probably these are the warning that bigger stones are loosening but I cannot see what is above or which way to crawl and escape. I have lifted one eyelid over the other and the water from that eye has cleared away most of the dust. I can now open both eyes, but I can see no more than I could when my eyes were fast closed. I crawl towards the fireman, guided by his screams. Soon I find myself checked by what feels to be a mass of stone. I climb upwards, scramble over the top, then slide down. I call Griff again, softly, caressingly, as if to coax him to answer, whatever has happened, but no reply comes.

  I press my shoulder against the solid side of the roadway so that it shall guide me, then I crawl forward, very slowly. The fireman knows I am nearing him and directs my movements – continually imploring me to hurry. Suddenly I touch something that is softer and warmer than stone. I run my hand along and know it is a human leg. My every nerve seems to grate when I decide it must be Griff’s and that he is dead.

  ‘That’s the leg.’ The fireman’s scream relieves me. ‘There’s a stone on it as is holding me down. Lift it, quick.’

  I feel for the stone and set myself to endure the pain of lifting. I might as well have attempted to move the mountain, for three attempts fail to shake the stone. The fireman is speaking near my ear; he is frantic; begs me to hurry; screams at me as would an hysterical woman. I feel about and find a stone that I can move so I push it tightly under the one that holds the leg. This fresh stone will ease some of the weight and will stop any more pressure coming on his foot.

  I have realised that I cannot do more until l have help. I must crawl and get others. I tell the fireman so, but he begs me not to go. I know there is no other way, so I turn around and feel my way over the stones. My fingers touch the cold iron of a tram rail, but as there is no sign of a tram on that side I am assured that this is the right way. I crawl alongside that rail, running my fingers on it for a guide.