Trapper Boy

by Hugh R. MacDonald

  JW felt the blood rush to his cheeks as laughter erupted from every man on the rake, except perhaps one. He heard a man say, “Poor little fella. He’ll find the time long down there.” Another man added, “Too bad about him. He’ll learn like all the rest. My boy’s been at it for months now, and that’s after a couple years at the breakers.”

  JW recognized the voice of Mickey McGuire’s father. He wondered if he’d be working with Mickey, but quickly remembered he’d be alone at the trap door. The sudden stop made JW rise up in his seat and he bumped his head. He refused to call out this time, for he knew more ridicule would follow. He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Remember to keep the flame on the lamp as low as you can, or you’ll run out of oil,” his father said. “See you in the morning.”

  The men stopped long enough to light their lamps and were off again. The height of the tunnel was just over four feet, and everyone had to bend to keep from bumping their heads on the beams that supported the ceilings. Bobbing lights speckled the road ahead of JW until, one by one, they disappeared, and he was alone.

  Chapter 18

  JW turned around in the absolute darkness. He hadn’t gotten his lamp lit before the men left. Where was the man who was to train him? Panic paralyzed him for a moment. He jumped when he heard a sound to his left.

  “Just giving you time to get used to the darkness before I take you to the trap,” the man’s voice said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Name’s Red Angus. You’re Andy’s boy, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir, I am. John Wallace Donaldson, sir.”

  “Sir? I’ve never been called ‘sir’ before. Just call me Red. That’s the colour of my hair. Everyone down here’s got a nickname. I think I’ll call you JW. Yeah, that’s your new name, JW.” JW smiled to himself and watched with relief as Red pulled his oil lamp from underneath a wooden box, the wick turned so low that the flame was barely visible.

  “I just wanted you to see how dark it really is down here,” Red said as he turned up the wick, and a small ray of light illuminated the area around them. “I’m gonna spend a couple of hours with you until you get the hang of the door. It’s not hard, but sometimes it gets sticky, so you gotta pull real hard on the rope. I s’pose Andy’s told you about how important it is that the trap door is closed, to keep the air in?” Red Angus asked.

  “Yes, sir,” JW said.

  “Red Angus, or just Red’ll do. Okay, JW?”

  “Yes, s– Red Angus.”

  “Pass me your lamp, JW. I’ll get her lighted up for you.”

  With his lamp lit, JW felt some of the tension leave his body. He could see his surroundings a little better than with just Red’s lamp. They walked for ten or fifteen minutes before Red said they’d reached their destination.

  “Trap boys are the first in the mine and the last out, ’cause you control the air. We just gotta wait here until the horse and tram comes along, then I’ll show you how the door works.”

  Within a half hour, Red announced that it was time. JW watched as Red pulled the trap door open, and the horse and tram, led by a miner, made their way through. The trap door was immediately pulled closed. He watched closely as Red showed him the counterweight on the door. He learned that he had to pull the door open with the rope and then let go of the rope. The counterweight would pull it closed.

  “Be sure to give the door a push to make sure it’s closed all the way.”

  “I will.”

  A short while later, JW heard the approach of another horse. The bobbing light of the miner’s lamp illuminated the horse’s face somewhat, and JW thought of how his father referred to their horse as a beast of burden. What a terrible existence, JW thought. He stood ready, waiting for Red’s instructions.

  “Get ready,” Red said. “Wait’ll he gets a little closer, then pull her hard.”

  “Yes, Red,” JW said. He stood poised to pull the door.

  “Pull her now, JW.”

  JW pulled the door and was relieved when it slid open. Once the tram cleared the doorway, he let go of the rope and watched the door close, then pushed on it, as he’d seen Red do.

  “Good job, JW. Good job,” Red said. “I’ll watch you do another two and then leave you to it.”

  JW had been starting to relax, but felt his heart rate quicken at the thought of Red’s leaving. The two oil lamps cast enough light for JW to take in his surroundings, but the area was far from bright. Water splashed beneath his feet each time he took a step. Overhead, a small trickle dripped a few inches left of the door, which he assumed accounted for the water that accumulated underfoot.

  Movement crossed his line of vision, and JW followed the shadow with his lamp. He drew in a breath at the sight of several rats scrambling over each other. Gee, they’re big, he thought to himself and shivered.

  “Here comes another. You do her all this time,” Red said.

  JW swallowed and noticed his mouth was dry. He stood ready, but before he pulled the door open, the miner leading the horse called out.

  “Hurry, boy! Open her up. No time for lollygagging down here. Time to grow up, boy.”

  As he drew nearer, JW looked into the face of Mickey McGuire’s father. He pulled open the door and stood aside, closing it as the cart cleared the doorway. From the other side of the trap door, he heard: “Careful, boy! You almost hit the horse.”

  JW felt Red’s hand on his arm.

  “Don’t pay any attention to Shawn McGuire, JW. He’s angry at the world. I’m surprised young Mick is as friendly a lad as he is. But you did good. Pulled the door at the right time. Just remember, there’s a lot of nice fellas down here, but not all the fellas you meet are friendly-like.”

  JW nodded and remembered his father saying something similar. As long as they weren’t mean, he didn’t care if they were friendly.

  “You ain’t sixteen yet, are you?” Red asked.

  “Not yet, Red.”

  “Your Pa musta signed a paper like Shawn did for Mick to get you underground. Years ago, kids as young as six and seven were trap boys, but they changed the age to go underground back in 1923. Now they say you gotta be sixteen before going in the pit.”

  JW knew his parents must be pretty desperate if they had to seek permission to get him the job. “I don’t know. All I know is I’m here now.” If he’d been able to wait another three years, he would have completed grade eleven. Perhaps the economy would have been better and he could have stayed in school. JW pushed the thought from his mind.

  “What time do I finish up in the morning, Red?”

  “You’ll be heading for the surface about six-thirty,” Red answered. “Why?”

  “Tomorrow’s the first day of school, and I was wondering how much time I’ll have before classes start.”

  “Can’t see you being able to work all night and attend school all day,” Red said.

  “I have to finish high school if I’m ever going to get to college. I don’t want to spend my life underground. Not that there’s anything wrong with the work. It’s just that I want to travel, you know, explore the world.” JW stopped talking, because he felt embarrassed. His dreams sounded silly, even to himself.

  A chill had set into his bones and he shivered. The thought of spending his life in these mines was suffocating, but very real. Water splashed as he stepped toward the door. A few drops reached his lips; the taste was metallic and gritty. He heard a horse whinny and readied himself at the door.

  “If you get this one okay, then I’ll be off,” Red said.

  JW pulled the door open and watched as the miner struck the horse hard in the ribs to get him to move faster.

  “Hey!” JW said.

  “Shh...” Red said. “Mind your business.”

  The horse plodded its way through the doorway,
and JW closed it as soon as the tram cleared.

  “He shouldn’t hit the horse like that,” JW said.

  “You’re right. But if you say anything to him, it might be you he hits next. Most of the horses get treated better than the men, ’cause it don’t cost nothing to get men, they’re free. But the horses are owned by the company, and they had to pay for them. They get the best of food and water, and the lodgings ain’t too bad either, if you don’t mind bunking down with rats.”

  JW shuddered and turned his lamp in the direction he had seen the rats. They were still there.

  “You’re a quick learner, JW, so I’m gonna head back to the surface. You got your lunch with you, so you can eat whenever you feel like it. Just be ready to open the door at all times,” Red said.

  JW asked Red the time before he left. It was only two o’clock, almost five hours before the end of shift. He watched as Red’s light moved away from his area.

  “Oh, Red, what about the toilet? Where’s it at?” JW asked.

  “All around you. Cat sanitation,” Red said.

  “Cat sanitation?”

  “Yeah. Just cover up your business like a cat does,” Red hollered as he turned down a tunnel, and his light was gone.

  JW felt his stomach rumble and was glad his mother had packed him a lunch. He hadn’t thought he would get hungry, but he was. He remembered his father telling him to hold the corner of his sandwich with two fingers, and to throw the remaining crusts to the rats.

  The strawberries he’d picked in the summer tasted delicious as he swallowed a large bite of his jam sandwich. A few bites later, he was down to a small piece of crust, which he threw toward the place he had last seen the rats. The tea was cold, but it helped wash down bites of the molasses cookie. He took a large bite and felt his fingers touch his lips. He spit some of the cookie at his feet and heard the rats scurry toward him. He threw the remainder back along the track and heard the rats splashing in the water in their bid to be the first to reach the food.

  He quickly closed his lunch box and stood next to the door. Suddenly, he felt something move across his feet and a small scream escaped his mouth. He was glad he was alone, so no one could hear him. Moments later, small feet made their way up his pant leg. JW jumped up and down and slapped his leg, but the rat continued to climb inside his pants.

  JW undid the top of his pants and reached inside. Grabbing the rat’s tail, he flung it toward the wall and heard a loud smack, followed by a pain-filled squeal. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t thrown it so hard. The forceful pounding of his heart echoed loudly in his ears, and he leaned back against the wall.

  Against advice and better judgement, JW turned up the wick on his lamp. Although the light was only marginally brighter, he felt a little better being able to see his surroundings. Squeaking and squealing noises seemed louder, and JW angled his head toward the rats. Some of them stood on their back legs and sniffed the air, unconcerned by the light. He noticed one rat dragging its injured leg and again wished he hadn’t thrown it so hard.

  A horse’s whinny and then a gruff “get up now” told JW it was time to open the trap door. He stood at the ready and hoped it was one of the friendly miners, who could dispel the fear he was feeling.

  “Long night, eh, lad?” the miner asked as he passed through the doorway.

  “Yes, sir, it is,” JW answered. As he let the door close, he heard the man call out.

  “Best turn...”

  The rest of the words were muffled as the door closed. JW listened as the horse and cart sounds became fainter. He wondered what the man wanted to tell him, then realized he had left the light on his lamp turned up. Grudgingly, he turned the light down, and once again the darkness encroached on the space that had been dimly lit.

  Two more drivers came through before Red Angus appeared to tell him he had completed his first night. His eyes felt droopy as he followed behind Red. The blackness and absence of time was unnerving. JW knew the rats had helped keep him awake.

  “You made her through the night, JW,” Red said. “So it’s off to home and bed for you.”

  “I’m off to school for the day, Red. Like I said earlier, it’s the first day of school. I’ll go home and have a quick wash before I go.”

  “You’ll need more than a quick wash from a night below. You don’t have to handle coal to get dirty down here. The coal dust’ll do that to you.”

  JW put his hands in front of his lamp and saw they were filthy. Soon they were standing with the other men, waiting for the trip to take them to the surface. He stood quietly and felt exhaustion wash over him. A strong hand squeezed his shoulder.

  “Hi, JW. Got any stories to tell?” his father asked.

  “I’ve got a few,” JW said. Some parts of the stories he would keep to himself.

  His father grinned. “You can wash up here. That way you’ll be ready for school on time.”

  “I don’t have soap or towels with me.”

  “I brought towels and a change of clothes for you with me last night. They’re up top with mine.”

  The uphill ride to the surface was slower than last night’s descent. There was no one to scare this morning, and most of the men were too tired for pranks. Within the bathhouse, a large pipe drilled with holes splashed water over the men. JW watched as his father took a spot next to another man.

  All of the men’s faces were as black as the coal they mined, and their bodies matched the colour. JW was surprised to see that the coal dust had blackened his body as well. Taking the soap his father had given him, JW stood beneath the water and tried to wash away the night’s dirt.

  It was seven-thirty by the time they headed toward home. The warm September morning drove away the chill from the pit. JW learned that he would wear his regular clothes to the pit, and change into his work clothes, which were left at the mine. He would take them home weekly for washing and mending. He told his father about the rats and the one that had gone up his pant leg.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you to tie off your pant legs. We’ll make sure you do that tonight.”

  “I did some scrambling and dancing with that in my pants. But I threw it against the wall, and it seemed like it hurt its leg,” JW said.

  “A lot of men hit them with their shovels because they’re just as afraid of them as you are.”

  JW couldn’t imagine killing the rats that were only seeking food, but if they crawled up his pant leg again, he might reconsider his beliefs.

  The walk home was fast. Gulliver ran to meet them and was pleased to see his young master. His nose tapped against JW’s hand as he sought to be petted.

  Fried eggs were waiting for JW and his father when they got home, and he realized that his mother had to collect the eggs this morning. With him in the coal mine, extra work fell to her. Coal and kindling were beside the stove. With the thought of entering the pit for the first time, he had forgotten to get it in last evening.

  “Hi, Ma. Porridge would have been fine,” JW said, as he dropped into a chair.

  “You’re a working man now, so you need a big supper,” his mother said.

  JW was used to calling his father’s morning meal “supper,” but it was the first time for him. He ate his food quickly and was back on the road toward school by twenty minutes past eight.

  Chapter 19

  When he reached the hill above Beth’s house, JW saw she was waiting for him.

  “How was it? Were you scared? Of course not,” Beth said before he had a chance to answer. “So tell me, how was it?” she asked again, excitement present in her voice.

  “Well, there’s lots of rats down there, and they sure are hungry. One near ate my leg,” JW told her, watching as Beth’s eyes opened wide.

  “Near ate your leg?” Beth said and waited.

  “Well, not really. But one did crawl
up my pant leg. I’ll be sure to tuck my pants in my boots tonight and tie a string around them.”

  “Is it very dark underground? What do you have to do?” Beth asked.

  “It’s dark as pitch, but the oil lamp helps a bit. I have to control the air in the tunnel by opening and closing the trap door. So you have to be ready when the horses are coming through,” he explained. “I met a nice fellow. Red Angus is his name. He told me everyone in the pit has a nickname. He gave me one.”

  As they walked, he looked at the sun and realized how lucky he’d been before entering the pit. The air smelled fresher, and he paid special attention to the birds singing.

  “Well, are you going to tell me your nickname, or is it a secret, some kind of code?” Beth said, smiling at him.

  “JW,” he said.

  “What?” Beth said.

  “JW. That’s my nickname.”

  “Pretty much everyone calls you that,” Beth said.

  “I know that, but he doesn’t.”

  The schoolyard was filled with students, many of whom were returning for their second and third years. A large group of grade nine students stood off to one corner of the yard. He and Beth hurried over.

  JW listened as Beth told some of the other kids that he was working in the mine. There were some sad faces as his friends digested the news. He hoped classes would soon begin. He was tired from standing around, especially after spending all night on his feet. The ringing of the bell was music to his ears, and he joined the crowd as they shuffled toward the double doors that led to the high school.

  Orientation took twenty minutes, followed by English class. JW listened with interest to the poetry and paid close attention to the titles of the books he would have to read throughout the year. French class seemed like a continuation of last year, building on grammar and conversation.

  When the final morning class arrived, JW felt his eyes closing against his will. Trying desperately to remain alert but losing the battle, he thought the algebra being taught seemed to him like a new language. Finally, the bell rang for lunch, and he sought out Beth.