Trapper Boy

by Hugh R. MacDonald

  “I can’t stay any longer today. I’m just too tired. I practically slept through algebra. If you could pick up my other books and assignments, I’ll get them from you later,” he said, as a face-altering yawn overtook him.

  “Sure, I’ll drop them off to your house right after school. Tell your mother I’ll be over,” Beth said, squeezing his arm.

  JW walked to the office to speak with the principal.

  “I hope you don’t plan on making it a habit to come half days, because it won’t be long before you’ve fallen far behind your classmates,” Mr. Morrison said.

  “No, sir,” was the reply. “Last night was my first night in the pit, so my body hasn’t made the adjustment yet. I hope after a few nights, it will get used to the switch between nighttime and daytime.”

  “Okay, son. Go home and get some sleep. I hope to see you back here tomorrow. If you can’t make it every day, come as often as you can,” Mr. Morrison said.

  JW thanked him, pleased to learn there would be some leeway regarding his attendance. He hoped his body would adjust quickly to being awake nights and sleeping days.

  The walk home was brutal, his legs and feet tired from standing for too many hours. JW felt the last of his strength leave his body as his feet hit the front step of his house. Draping his coat over the stair post, he waved to his mother as he went upstairs to his room. He laid his books and satchel on the shelf. His head hit the pillow, and sleep followed immediately.

  Chapter 20

  “John Wallace, time to get up,” his mother called from downstairs.

  “I’ll be right there, Ma,” he answered, and jumped to his feet. He knew he wouldn’t have much time to get his school work done before work. He dressed quickly, pulling on the clothes he had worn to school. He would change into fresh clothes in the morning when he got home.

  The clock began to chime as he gathered up his books and satchel. He counted the number of chimes, and his heart sank when he heard nine of them. JW had asked his mother to wake him at eight, so at least he’d have close to two hours to do some of the work and check out the books Beth had brought for him. He hoped she’d remembered to bring them.

  “Ma, I had to get up at eight.”

  “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you, dear.”

  “It’s the only way I’ll be able to keep up,” JW said. “I have to get up early. Well, I’ll really have to study fast and hard tonight.”

  “Come and have your breakfast with your father,” Mary Donaldson said, and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Can I eat in the dining room, so I can look over my homework?” JW asked. The dining room was usually only used for special occasions like Christmas and Easter.

  “I’ll bring in some stew for you,” his mother said.

  “Thanks, Ma.” Pulling open his math book, he scribbled what he remembered from class, something about finding the variable for X. Using the examples from class, he quickly understood the concept and breathed a sigh of relief. Moving to English, he found the poetry was familiar and broke it into the required rhyme scheme. Lying on the table were three more books Beth had delivered for him. Inside the top book, she had written out his class schedule. Two subjects didn’t require assignments, but a chapter had to be read for science. He noticed his science class was right after lunch, so he would browse through part of it now and finish it at lunch tomorrow.

  The stew was hot and good, and he made sure to eat extra bread. He figured the more food he ate, the more energy he would have and the less likely he would be to fall asleep.

  “C’mon along now,” his father said. “We gotta get moving.”

  “Be right there, Da.” He pulled on his coat and kissed his mother’s cheek. “See you in the morning, Ma.”

  Rushing outside, he hurried to the toilet, and then to the barn where he shovelled out the stall. He threw in some hay and a handful of oats for Lightning. “I’ll brush you down tomorrow,” JW said as he petted him.

  Gulliver stood at his side waiting for his turn to be petted. JW bent down and hugged Gulliver to him. “You look after the house now, boy.”

  “We gotta get moving,” his father said again.

  “Coming now, Da,” JW called out, and hurried to catch up with his father, who had started down the road. He knew his father wouldn’t leave without him, but he understood that they had to leave right away, or they could miss the trip.

  “What are you taking with you?” his father asked.

  “My satchel, the one Pa made.”

  “I wouldn’t leave that up top. Could be gone by morning.”

  “I’m gonna take it to the trap with me. I even got my lunch in it.”

  “It’s gonna get awful dirty underground.”

  JW pulled something from his pocket. “I took an old pillow case to wrap it in down below.”

  “Alright, that might do the trick.”

  The walk seemed a little hurried, but he kept pace with his father. “How far are you from where I’m working, Da?” JW asked. He waited, wondering if his father had heard him.

  After almost a minute had passed his father said, “Less than a quarter mile, probably half that. If you followed the horses that you let through and walked past the first three tunnels, I’m in the next tunnel, about three hundred yards in. You’d know it right off, it’s the one with all the water in it. Before long, they’re gonna hafta close her down, or it might come down on its own.”

  “You think there’s any danger of that happening?”

  “Sure, it could—” his father said, then realized he was scaring him. “But the sky could fall, and I don’t expect that to happen anytime soon. How did school go today?” he asked, steering the conversation in a different direction.

  “Pretty good. I could only stay until lunchtime though. I thought I was gonna fall asleep on the way home. Beth brought over the rest of my books. I spoke to Mr. Morrison, the principal. He seems good. Said I was to come whenever I could.”

  “Ah, that sounds fair.”

  The rumble of voices meant they had arrived. JW spotted Mickey up ahead and caught up to him.

  “Hi, Mickey,” JW said. “You working tonight?”

  “John Wallace Donaldson! I never thought I’d see you down here! I heard you screamed like a girl on the trip last night.”

  JW felt the heat rise to his face. He hadn’t cared that the miners had heard him, but Mickey knowing he’d screamed was embarrassing.

  “But don’t worry, I did the first time. Most of them did too,” Mickey said, waving his arm to take in all the men waiting for the trip. “That’s why they do it to all the new kids, so that someone else gets laughed at for a change.”

  JW was relieved to hear he wasn’t the only one who had screamed. “I’ll see you later, Mickey,” he said.

  —

  Andrew Donaldson listened to JW and Mickey, as Mickey explained that everyone was scared the first time down the trip. But Andrew knew different, because he had been one seat behind Mickey, who hadn’t made a sound his first night going below. What a kind boy, Andrew thought.

  Chapter 21

  The descent was slower than last night and without incident. Mickey took a seat next to JW, and they laughed on the way down. Red met them once the trip stopped.

  “I’m just gonna walk with you, JW, and make sure the door’s opening proper,” Red said.

  “I didn’t see you get on the trip. What do you do, sleep down here?” JW asked with a laugh.

  “Sometimes.”

  The walk along the travelling way didn’t seem as frightening tonight. JW struck up a conversation with Red, asking him about family.

  “Nah, I never had time to get married and have kids. But I live with my sister and her husband, and they got a couple of boys, so I get to take them fi
shing,” Red said.

  “I caught a big one a few weeks back,” JW told him. “He was as big as my forearm, from my elbow to the tips of my fingers.” He held out his arm in the darkness.

  “What was it, a codfish?”

  “No, a trout.”

  “Musta been some eating on that one, JW,” Red said.

  “I was holding him in my hands and he snapped his tail, hit the bank, and was back in the water in a matter of seconds, but—”

  “It sounds like a ‘one that got away’ story. You’ve only spent one night underground and already you can spin tall tales,” Red said, chuckling. Before JW could respond, Red added, “Well, we’re here.”

  JW looked at the trap door and felt a shiver run the length of his spine. He watched Red pull a stick slathered with grease from a bucket beside the door. The bucket was hidden in the shadows, and JW hadn’t noticed it the night before.

  “You plaster it on the hinges every second night, and it makes opening it a whole lot easier. The door’s heavy and you don’t want it sticking,” Red said, as he liberally spread the grease.

  JW paid close attention. “So every second night, Red?”

  “Yeah, that should do,” Red said. “I see you came down on the rake with young Mick tonight.”

  “We spent six years in school together, before he came to the pit.”

  “Well, you’ll get to spend the next forty or fifty years together down here,” Red said, not realizing the feeling of despair his comments had stirred in JW. “I gotta get over to feed the horses,” he said, pulling the trap door to make sure it opened easily.

  Chapter 22

  Alone in the darkness, JW turned up the wick on his lamp and saw long shadows on the far walls. Rats stood on their hind legs as if in a macabre dance. He watched as several sniffed the air. JW noticed the one with the injured leg kept to the back of the pack. He knew the rat wouldn’t last long because the healthy ones would get to the food first.

  JW rubbed his hand along the wall and felt a small indentation he’d noticed the night before. He brushed aside some loose shale and the opening grew larger. He continued to pull shale and small rocks aside until there was just enough room to fit his satchel in the hole. And the hole was high enough off the ground that the rats couldn’t reach it.

  The familiar sound of metal against metal told JW it was time to move nearer to the trap door. As soon as the horse came into view, JW pulled the door and it opened smoothly.

  “Might be an hour or more before the next cart comes through. There’s been a small collapse back a ways, and it’s gonna take some time to clear it from the track,” the miner said.

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “Oh yeah, just dirt on the track.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” JW said. He waited until the cart cleared the doorway then closed the door.

  He decided to have some of his lunch while he waited. He reached deep into his satchel and pulled out a molasses cookie. The rats squealed as they sensed the food. He ate all of the cookie except for the small portion that rested between the coal-stained fingers of his right hand. He reached his left hand into his satchel and his fingers closed around what he sought. He walked a few steps and threw the remaining piece of cookie as far as he could into the darkness.

  JW watched as the healthy rats scurried after the morsel, their shadows moving hurriedly in his lamp’s light. The injured rat tried in vain to follow, but soon stopped. JW walked toward the injured rat and watched as it tried to get away. The rat pulled its wounded leg behind itself, but made little progress. Stopping a few feet from the rat, JW opened his hand, letting the oats fall to the floor. He then backed away, and watched as the rat greedily ate the meal. It was able to consume most of the oats before the other rats returned.

  “Boo!”

  JW jumped and felt his breath whoosh from his mouth. He managed not to scream.

  “You’re easily spooked for an underground miner,” Mickey said, unable to hold in his laughter.

  JW angled his lamp so it illuminated Mickey’s face. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors, especially not ones that tap you on the shoulder and shout ‘boo.’”

  Mickey continued to laugh, and JW soon joined in.

  “Did you hear there was a small cave-in and that there won’t be any trams through for an hour or more?” Mickey asked.

  “Yeah, I heard. Well, at least I got the rats to keep me company.”

  Mickey reached to pick up a lump of coal. “Just throw something at them and they’ll stay away.”

  “No, don’t do that. I already hurt one last night. I made the mistake of dropping some food at my feet, and one of them was up my pant leg before I knew it. I threw it against the wall. Poor thing, it was only looking for food.”

  “You got your pant legs tied up tonight?” Mickey asked.

  “Yeah, I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “You know the best thing when there’s a cave-in? I mean when no one’s hurt, of course. You get to go exploring ’cause you don’t have to worry about the door. It just stays closed.”

  “Da said I wasn’t to leave the door under any circumstances,” JW said.

  “That’s what every new man is told on the first shift, but after a while, you get to realize that it’s okay to do a little exploring, as long as you’re here when the trams are ready to go,” Mickey said. “I do it all the time. C’mon, I’ll show you where your father works. I’m working the door close to where he is.” Mickey pulled a rock from his pocket. “Look what I found on one of my treasure hunts.”

  “What is it?” JW asked and squinted in the dull light. He saw a fossilized imprint of a dead animal. At least it looked different from the usual ferns and other plants. Perhaps it was a fish.

  “I’m not sure, but there’s a bunch more in the same tunnel. It’s only a five-minute walk up the tracks. We can be up and back before they even think of getting the cave-in cleared.”

  Against his better judgement, JW ignored his father’s warning and decided to follow Mickey. It was just a short distance, and they’d only be gone a few minutes. It felt like old times – Mickey and him on a treasure hunt.

  Mickey pulled open the trap door, and for the first time JW ventured beyond it. He watched Mickey pull it closed and waited until he took the lead. Their headlamps cast a dull light. Mickey walked the tram rails as if he’d been doing it his entire life. JW looked up the tunnel that Mickey pointed out as the one JW’s father worked in. It was dark and he couldn’t see any light at all.

  “It’s just up ahead where I found the rock I showed you,” Mickey said. “The tunnel has lots of other strange-looking rocks in it too.”

  “Is it a working tunnel?” JW asked.

  “No, it’s abandoned. There was a cave-in months ago, and Old Man Hennessey was hurt real bad, so they closed it down. We gotta be careful, walk lightly.”

  Entering the tunnel, JW felt a shiver run across his shoulders and wondered if he should turn around. The promise of long-dead animals encased in stone and coal overruled his fear. His father had told him and Mickey many times about the fossilized animals and plants found at the Joggins coal fields on Nova Scotia’s mainland. A famous scientist, Charles Lyell, had discovered them there many years ago.

  “A few more feet and we’ll be there,” Mickey said. “Look!”

  JW stared at the pile of rocks and saw the outline of something. Pulling a piece of coal closer to his face, he was disappointed to see it looked like the skeletal remains of a plant, perhaps a fern. He dropped it and pulled another from the pile. It also looked like a plant of some kind.

  “Are these the only rocks you found?” JW asked.

  “There’s more in further, but it’s too dangerous to go in any deeper. But it’s where I found this rock,” Mickey said, holding it out. “Yo
u can have it. I can get more later.”

  “No, that’s yours. I mean, thanks, but I want you and I to find some more on our next treasure hunt.”

  “We better get back,” Mickey said. “There’ll be a lot of trouble if we’re not at our doors once the trams start running again.”

  Mickey pointed the way to JW’s trap door, then turned to go back to his own.

  “Can’t you walk back with me?” JW asked.

  “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  “Not really, but I don’t want to get lost.”

  “Just follow the tracks back to your door. You can’t get lost,” Mickey said.

  “What if the trap door won’t open from this side?” JW asked, unable to hide his rising panic.

  “Alright, I’ll walk you back.”

  “Thanks.”

  They walked in silence. JW felt the blood rise to his cheeks and stay there. He waited until Mickey pushed on the door and then slid through the opening.

  “Thanks, Mickey.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  They heard the sounds of metal against metal and knew that the trams were running again.

  “Oh no! I’ll never get back to my door in time,” Mickey said, and broke into a run.

  With the door opened a crack, JW watched for a moment as Mickey hurried along the tracks. The tram was already making the turn, so JW closed the door tightly. He attempted to make small talk in order to slow down the miner.

  “I’ve no time to talk, boy. Worked all night with nothing to show for it. Open the door, boy.”

  JW pulled the rope and watched as man and beast sped along on their journey, coal dust falling from the cart. He closed the trap door again, and soon the silence returned, broken only by the occasional squeak of a rat.

  JW hoped Mickey had made it back to his door before the unhappy miner. His face flushed hot at the memory of Mickey walking him back to his trap door. Fear of the dark had overwhelmed him. He recalled the pleading that had been in his voice and the reluctant agreement of Mickey. Few words had been exchanged.