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.Nulli Secundus -
'Second to None'
by Terence Cardwell
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Chapter One - Ghosts
Dawn forced its way across a night sky full of dark grey
storm clouds and rain drizzling on the quiet landscape
below. The wind blew in typical winter fashion,
persistent and penetratingly cold, chilling to the bone
anyone foolish enough to stay too long in its grasp. It
blew along the cobbled streets of Deepcar, a small
village set in the heart of Yorkshire. It gusted around
the mining cottages, finding every nook and cranny, its
icy fingers reaching into every room of the basic homes
of the miners.
 The
miners depended on the local coal mines for their
survival and worked long hours for poor wages, trapped
into a future of little hope or chance of improvement.
It was a life of coal dust and dark mines, long hours of
back-breaking work and basic food with nothing to spare
for even basic luxuries. This was all they had ever
known.
Joseph woke at his usual time of five a.m. Swinging his
legs out of bed on to one of the washed coal sacks
placed strategically to make walking somewhat more
comfortable, he groped under the bed, pulled out a
chamber pot and without standing proceeded to urinate,
careful not to wet his thumb gripping the top of the
pot.
His wife Alathea stirred alongside and rose. She pulled
a chamber pot from under her side of the bed. Pulling
her nightdress up she squatted over the pot, followed by
the sound of running water.
The small cottage was crude in construction, built from
ganister brick, a basic clay brick from the local
Ganister mine. The inside walls were painted with
whitewash, which added some light to the otherwise dark
rooms. The walls were bare except for a framed picture
of Queen Victoria and her consort Prince Albert, a photo
taken three years earlier to celebrate the turn of the
twentieth century.
On the mantelpiece were china ornaments, treasured by
Alathea and some of the few precious possessions she
owned. There was little other furniture apart from a
kitchen table made of four planks nailed together and
scrubbed to a coarse smoothness. In the middle of the
table was a large china bowl with small blue violets
painted on it. A full water jug sat inside it. Hanging
on the wall next to the fireplace was a large tin tub
used by the family for bathing and washing clothes.
Joseph, dressed in a shirt grey from being washed many
times and long coarse woollen underpants, shuffled over
to the open fire that was burning down to its last
embers. He threw small pieces of wood on to the fire,
topping them with a large log. The fire flared up and
lit the room in a warming glow. He walked slowly across
to his two sons, sleeping top to tail in their crude
three-quarter bed. He leaned down and gave both a shake.
The boys reluctantly stirred. They knew there was
little to look forward to on this day, as on every other
long day in the village of Deepcar. Their strongest urge
was to roll over and go back to sleep in the warmth of
their rough wool blankets and sack cloths, but even in
their sleepy state they knew that would last about one
minute before their father grabbed them by the ear and
dragged them out of bed— something they only had to
experience a couple of times to ensure they didn’t do it
again.
Joseph loved his children dearly and was proud of what
little achievements they had made in this God-forsaken
place, but he rarely showed his feelings, preferring to
hide behind a gruff exterior. He was not a cruel man but
he did not have time to molly-coddle his children and
believed boys could never become men unless they were
treated like men. He had little understanding of
children’s needs and desires, having little in common
with his sons except boxing.
This was shared with a passion, because Joseph was the
heavyweight bare-knuckle boxing champion of Yorkshire, a
title he had held for the past three years; the people
of Deepcar and his family were very proud of his
achievement. He could walk tall in any street knowing
people looked up to him. The local children revered him
almost like a god.
Joseph walked to the corner of the room, taking off his
underwear and dressing in his mining clothes of similar,
but dirtier, coarse grey underwear, a long-sleeved dark
grey shirt, black trousers, a well-worn waistcoat, a
dark grey jacket with the elbows almost worn through and
heavy black leather boots. His clothes were coated with
coal dust from the previous day’s work, despite Alathea
beating them with a rod every day. Jack and Thomas,
Joseph’s sons, were dressing in similar clothes that
were no less clean from the coal dust.
Whilst they were dressing Alathea prepared their
lunchtime meals of bread and dripping, known to the
miners as greasy fat, and placed them in tin containers
called snap tins. The snap tin consisted of two pieces,
one sliding inside the other, the shape of a loaf of
bread. They were flat at one end and round at the other,
deep enough to take a thick sandwich. A clip snapped
over the tin, keeping the two halves together. This was
their only sustenance through the whole of the
twelve-hour shift. Their only source of water was their
Dudley bottles, round metal bottles made from tin with
corks in the top for easy access.
‘You lads ready yet?’ Joseph asked, walking to the front
door.
‘Yes dad,’ replied Thomas, the younger of the two boys,
quietly following behind.
‘Bye luv,’ Joseph murmured, kissing his wife softly on
her lips as he went out the door.
‘Bye mum,’ the boys echoed as they each kissed her in
turn. She followed them out the door, having said little
since arising. Alathea handed them their containers in
turn as they left and wiped her lips after the kisses.
The whiskers from Joseph’s moustache tickled and she
could never quite get used to the feel of it.
Joseph and the boys immediately felt the cold wind as
they walked down the street. They pulled the collars of
their jackets up and wrapped their arms around their
chests. As they walked through the narrow streets
leading to the mine, they were joined by other workers.
‘Hey Joe, ya reckon you’ll win on Sunday?’ one of the
other miners called as they neared the pit.
‘Blowed if I know,’ replied Joseph. ‘He’s a tough nut,
won’t be easy. He’s already beaten Jimmy Lyons and that
fella from York, Bob Lamb, and he’s one of the best.’
‘Yea, but you’re the best, Joe; you’ll beat him. I got
faith in you,’ the miner enthused.
‘Dad’ll knock his socks off, won’t ya Dad?’ Thomas added
proudly.
‘We’ll see lad, we’ll see. It won’t be that easy,’
Joseph replied.
As they came to the fields, half way to the mine, Jack
stopped and pulled some long grass and milk thistle.
‘It’s too cold for messin’ about like that,’ Joseph
said in an irate voice.
‘Just a coupla handfuls, Dad,’ Jack replied, repeating
the same plea nearly every day.
‘Ah, but you’re a soft ‘apeth, Jack; it’ll be the bloody
death of you. You think more of yon ponies than you do
of yer sen,’ Joseph replied as he continued walking.
Jack scurried about, picking handfuls of milk thistle
and fresh green grass and cramming them into his
pockets. They were full in a short time and he ran to
catch up to his father and Thomas. This ritual was
repeated almost every day, and Jack enjoyed feeding the
pit ponies and making their day just a little better.
One of his most enjoyable times was when he helped take
care of the pit ponies during the rare occasions they
were brought to the surface for the mine holidays, which
was only three times a year. He would collect them at
the mine cage when they were brought up to the surface,
frisky but obedient. Jack could see they were excited
about coming up to the fresh air and green grass for the
first time in months. He and some of the other boys who
worked on the surface took great delight in caring for
them and would have a sneaky ride when no one could see
them. The ponies didn’t mind and enjoyed the attention.
He also remembered the dark side of caring for them and
hated every second of it, rubbing his injured leg as he
thought of it. It had been one of those rare spring
days, a clear mid-blue sky with scattered white clouds.
A light, cool breeze blew, and the ponies ran around the
fields enjoying the feel of cool air in their nostrils.
Rain had fallen during the night making the long grass
fresh and moist. Then the ponies’ world fell apart, Jack
and another pit boy had come into the field accompanied
by two miners carrying ropes, coiled in loops, and the
ponies knew that their time on the surface was gone.
They had seen it too many times. The human attendants
had come to take them back down the mine.
‘We’ll take yon Bella there,’ George, one of the miners,
said. ‘She’s fairly placid an’ shouldn’t give too much
trouble.’ Bella lifted her head and snorted as if to
warn them, whilst Ted and the other ponies watched from
a distance moving nervously away. ‘Toby you get round
that side. Jack you get over there and I’ll get the rope
on her.’
The boys moved behind, trying to distract the pony. She
followed them with her eyes, turning her head as she
watched them move behind her. When her head was turned
George moved in quickly and dropped the loop over her
head.
‘See. It’s easy when you know what you’re doing,’ he
said with a grin.
Bella suddenly realised the rope was on her neck and
turned away, leaping into a run, pulling George off his
feet. She ran towards the top end of the field dragging
George along; he clung desperately to the rope, sliding
across the wet grass like a sled.
Jack, Toby, and Lloyd, the other miner, roared with
laughter and offered no assistance as George slid away.
‘Ooh, aye. You knows how to get’s ’em like,’ Lloyd said
between laughter. ‘I suppose us dumb buggers should come
and help you,’ he called as he walked towards the fence.
Jack and Toby ran and grabbed the end of the rope,
quickly tying it around the fence post. Lloyd tied a
cloth over Bella’s eyes and the four of them tugged and
pulled her to the mine cage where another group of
miners took her into the cage and tied her feet to stop
her kicking.
One by one they caught the other ponies and took them to
the mine cage. George made sure that the others were
holding the end of the rope each time. Finally only Ted,
Jack’s favourite pony, remained. They approached him
carefully, knowing how much he resisted leaving. They
ushered him into a corner of the field so he had nowhere
to go. George threw the rope over his head and the pony
reared , trying to strike the rope and the miner holding
it, but George was ready and moved quickly out of range.
The boys ran to either side of the pony, to what they
thought was safety behind him. Ted slammed down on his
front legs and his hind legs kicked out. Jack saw the
change too late. The hooves flashed towards him,
striking him on the upper thigh. He felt as if he’d been
hit with a hammer and staggered away from the scuffle,
dropping onto his left hip.
‘Hang on, lad. We’ll get to you as soon as we’ve sorted
Ted out,’ George said, concerned for Jack’s condition.
They threw a rope around one of Ted’s rear legs, slowing
him down, and placed a cloth over his eyes to enable
them to drag him to the mine cages.
Jack felt like a traitor as he watched Ted being led
away struggling. The pain of watching him being taken to
that dark, dirty, underground black hell was worse than
the kick to his leg. He would gladly have traded places
and let Ted stay on the surface. He felt tears run down
his cheeks and wiped them away before the others came
back.
‘Hey, Jack. Wake up.’ Joseph’s voice brought him out of
his thoughts.
‘Sorry, Dad,’ Jack replied, not wanting to explain.
They had walked nearly two kilometres before they
entered the mine, a depressing place with a brick-walled
front and a gateway opening onto an immense yard. The
yard contained rows of railway lines on which stood
numerous timber rail wagons. Some were full of coal,
waiting to be taken away. Others were standing empty,
waiting to receive the hard-won coal.
To the left of the gateway was a two-storey brick
building approximately two hundred feet long; in the
background were two towers holding the large spoked
wheels used to raise and lower the coal and the miners
from the depth of the pit. Behind the towers was a huge
hill of slag and rejected coal. Its size was menacing;
it looked set to collapse at any moment.
All these things had something in common: everything was
covered in coal dust. Everything was black and gritty.
Joseph walked into the lamp room and selected a Davey
lamp. Jack did the same. As they walked out the doorway
a young boy called out.
‘Mr. Cardwell! Can I ride with you? I’m starting
underground with Mr. Walker today, looking after the pit
ponies.’
‘It’s too scary for the likes of you down there,’ Jack
teased the boy. ‘You’d be better up top,’ he grinned.
‘Nothing frightens me,’ the boy replied defiantly,
pushing his chest out.
‘Is that so, Ben?’ Joseph answered, and winked at Jack
and Thomas. ‘We’ll see.’
Thomas said goodbye to Joseph and Jack and wandered
towards the coal sorting area. A large steel and timber
frame supported fifty people as they sat and picked out
the slag and low quality coal. This was tedious,
backbreaking work that only women, girls and boys up to
the age of twelve performed. Once they turned twelve the
boys vied for jobs underground as they paid more money.
They saw themselves as men, not boys, doing a dangerous
but more profitable job. Thomas stood near the sorting
area watching his brother and father getting into the
lift. ‘One more year and I’ll be able to be a man
instead of doing this sissy job,’ he thought as he
watched them enter the mine cage.
Joseph stood at the side of the cage as Jack and Ben
entered, followed by other miners, closing the wire door
after the last of them had entered.
Ben saw Jack smiling and caught the wink from him to his
father. He wondered what was so funny. He had been
careful to wear the same clothes and cap as the others
to avoided upsetting anyone.
‘Hold the rail tight, lad,’ Joseph said to him in a
quiet voice.
‘I
am holding tight,’ he thought to himself. ‘I’m not a
child anymore.’
The cage fell away suddenly from under his feet,
dropping six feet per second. He was suspended with his
feet off the ground until his body accelerated enough to
keep up with the cage. He felt his stomach heave into
his throat and the terrible sensation of his body
lifting up. He heard a half moan, half howl and didn’t
realize it was himself making the noise until Joseph put
his arm around his shoulder.
‘It’s alright, lad, you’ll be ok. It’s always like this
the first few times,’ he said, putting Ben’s other hand
on the rail.
Ben stood terrified and frozen, staring up at Joseph
with pleading eyes. He was going to crash at the bottom,
dying before he had even started. The falling seemed to
go on forever. Then just as suddenly as it had started,
the cage began to slow, and the men bent their legs
automatically as they pulled to a stop. In the light of
the lamps they could see Ben white with fear; his hands
shook uncontrollably.
‘I thought you weren’t frightened of nothing?’ Jack
teased with a wide grin. ‘Don’t worry, it’s always like
that the first time, you’ll get used to it.’
Joseph held Ben’s shoulder gently and, turning to Jack,
pointed down the tunnel. ‘Take him to Charlie Walker,
Jack, you know where he is. I’ll see you at the pit
face.’
Ben was beginning to gain a little composure now his
feet were on steady ground. ‘Th… th… thank you, Mm… Mm…
Mr. Cardwell,’ he stuttered, the colour slowly returning
to his face.
‘Come on,’ Jack said, pulling at Ben’s jacket. ‘It’s not
far.’
Toby, one of the other putty boys, joined them, ‘I’ll go
with you,’ he said in a matter-of-fact way. ‘I know
you,’ he said to Ben. ‘You were sorting the coal up top.
What you doing here?’
‘Mr. Walker’s given me a job helping with the ponies;
now I’ll get another bob a week more,’ he replied,
feeling pleased with himself.
Jack winked at Toby, unnoticed by Ben.
‘There are all sorts of things down here,’ he whispered
as they walked along the tunnel. ‘There are the ghosts
of dead miners who died down here and their spirits
can’t get out. Every time they get in the cage the
draught sucks ’em back out, so they’re trapped down here
until they can find a body with a weak spirit they can
push out.’
Jack stopped Ben in his tracks. ‘Have you got a weak
spirit, Ben? ’Cause they’ll have you.’
‘N… N… No— ah… ah… I’m str… str… strong,’ Ben stuttered,
his eyes wide with fear. ‘They won’t get in me.’
‘Well, you make sure they don’t. Let me know if they do
and we will throw them out, but it’s very difficult.’
‘Wh… wh… when do they attack you?’ Ben whispered.
‘Usually at lunch time, when we’re sitting an’ eating.
They hide in the dark spots and you can only see a whiff
of white smoke drifting up behind you. Then you have to
jump up and shout as bad a swear word as you can think
of so they won’t get in your body.’
‘What sort of swear words? I don’t know any except
bugger and damn, and they’re not real swearing.’
‘Hell, they’re no good!’ Toby scoffed. ‘You got to have
real bad swear words to make it work and scare them off.
You haven’t got any hope with that lot, you’re a gonna
for sure.’ He shook his head, holding it down so Ben
couldn’t see him sniggering. He looked out of the corner
of his eye at Jack, who had a hand held over his mouth
to hide a grin. Ben, oblivious to their antics, was
starting to see ghosts in every corner.
‘Please teach me some bad swear words. I don’t want to
lose my body,’ he pleaded.
‘We-e-l-l— we could...’ Jack drew out the words. ‘But
you can’t tell anyone we taught you because it’s
supposed to come from you, and if the spirits or the
other miners find out it’ll show you’re weak.’
‘Then they’ll jump in your body,’ Toby added
emphatically, his face close to Ben’s.
‘I won’t tell anyone— honest! I swear, just tell me,’ he
said, grabbing Jack’s coat.
‘Ok, here’s some of the worst.’ Jack began to whisper.
‘Repeat them after me.’ He leaned towards Ben.
Toby joined in with enthusiasm, adding a few choice
words of his own. ‘No, no, not like that,’ he
interrupted as Ben pronounced the swear words. ‘Put some
feeling into it. You’ve got to mean it; shout it out
loud, but not now— do it when the spirits get near you.’
Ben put more emphasis into his swearing and looked at
Jack for approval.
‘That’s more like it,’ Jack encouraged him. ‘Just do it
like that, real loud, and you’ll be safe— and don’t
forget to stand up and wave your arms up and down to
fend them off.’
‘How come the spirits haven’t tried to get in your
bodies?’ Ben queried suspiciously.
Toby looked at Jack and made an ‘oops’ shape with his
lips. Jack, a fast thinker, replied, ‘They have tried—
and they nearly got poor Toby, didn’t they Toby?’
Toby shook his head enthusiastically. ‘Yeah, it was
bloody close. I was nearly a gonna.’
‘Ooh, what happened?’ There was a tremble in Ben’s
voice.
Toby again looked at Jack, deferring to his quicker
thinking, and Jack picked up immediately.
‘W-e-e-l-l,’ he drawled, ‘poor Toby had just finished
his greasy fat and bread at snap time and was nodding
off to sleep, when this white wisp drifted towards his
back. It was just about to jump in his body when Toby’s
Dad saw it and started yelling, and Toby woke up and
scared him off.’
‘How did he scare him off?’ Ben whispered.
‘Oh, he jumped up and down waving his arms and swore
some horrible swear words. Once a spirit realises you’re
strong they’ll leave you alone from there on, and look
for some-one weak.’
‘That’s why we’re both safe,’ added Toby confidently.
By this time they had reached the stables where the pit
ponies were kept, deep underground with poor lighting.
The stables were as comfortable as any on the surface.
They were given straw and fed regularly with oats and
hay, and their water was kept clean of coal dust by
their young attendants.
Jack patted the nearest pony and gave it some of the
grass and milk thistle out of his pocket. The pony ate
it eagerly.
‘This is my mate Ted. Me and Toby looked after him and
the other ponies when we was workin’ up top. An’ this is
Molly,’ he said, giving a handful of grass to the second
horse and stroking her head. ‘She’s quiet and easy to
handle. Bella there is a bit flighty. Here, you can give
her some grass.’ Jack offered grass from the other
pocket to Ben.
‘Oh, ta. I’ll bring some tomorrow. Are they easy to get
out of the pit?’ Ben asked as he fed the grass to Bella.
‘Taking them up is easy. They’re smart, they are, and
know when we’re taking them up top.’
‘How do they know you’re taking them up top? They can’t
talk.’
‘When they’re taken away from their usual track they
know something’s going on and get real lively like, and
start shaking their heads up an’ down. An’ when they
smell the fresh air and see the cage they get real
excited and dance about.’
‘Have we got many ponies?’ Ben asked. ‘There’s only
eight here.’
There’s another eight in the other shaft, but some of
the big mines have got nearly a hundred. It can take a
full shift to take them up top,’ Jack replied. “They’re
pretty good going up. We take them up two at a time. But
it’s different coming down again.’
‘Yeah, Jack should know. Ted went and kicked him once
when we were bringing them back,’ Toby said. ‘They don’t
like coming back. We have to tie them up and blindfold
them to stop them kicking everyone.’
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Jack said, patting Ted. ‘He just
didn’t want to come back down here. But we need them, so
we’ve got no choice.’
‘You the only one that brings ’em grass?’ Ben asked.
‘No, a lot of the blokes don’t like them being down here
and they bring them something— apples or grass, things
like that. It makes them feel better,” Jack said.
‘About bloody time!’ a voice boomed from the back of
the stalls. ‘I was about to put another lad on instead
of you.’
A large man with a stomach threatening to burst his
trousers limped from the back of the stalls, a legacy of
being kicked by a pony once too often.
Jack and Toby quickly left when they heard the man shout
, not wanting to get Ben into trouble.
‘Sorry Mr. Walker, but it’s not six o’clock yet,’ Ben
replied in a quiet voice.
‘Well, never mind your lip; shovel this shit out of
bloody road and put it in yon wagons. Then you can clean
out stalls and put fresh hay in there, and mind bloody
ponies don’t kick you. They don’t like people behind
’em.’
‘Yes, Mr. Walker, I’ll do a real good job,’ Ben replied
and picked up the shovel.
‘Well, I hope you do better than last lad,’ Mr Walker
growled.
‘Oh, did you sack him?’
‘No he’s bloody dead,’ Bob Walker replied, snapping the
words out.
‘D –d-d-dead!’ Ben stuttered, thinking that the mine
spirits might have entered his body, or something more
sinister.
‘Yeah, he was a nice kid too,’ Bob Walker said in a
softer voice. ‘He died over there,’ he added, pointing
to a bend a hundred yards away.
‘Did the spirits get him?’ Ben asked, eyes wide with
fear.
‘What, you daft ’apeth? No, a big lump of coal fell on
his head from roof, must have weighed nearly half a ton,
never had a chance.’
Ben didn’t know what to say and went back to cleaning.
The reality of the danger involved in mining was brought
home to him and he spent the rest of the morning looking
at the roof every few minutes.
Jack arrived at the ‘family tunnel’, opened a small
wooden door and crawled on hands and knees to join his
father at the coal face. The tunnel they worked in was
only six feet wide and four high, and with insufficient
room to stand up straight they could only squat or sit.
It was thirty feet long with coal dust covering
everything and in complete darkness except for a glimmer
of light from the Davey lamp that Joseph had mounted
near the coal face. The light cast a weak glow on the
face, where he was methodically chipping away with his
pick.
Jack joined him and commenced moving the coal, putting
it in small carts that he dragged from the coal face
through the small doorway to the main wagons outside,
where he tipped the coal into the wagons after first
closing their tunnel door to keep the air flowing down
the main tunnel.
Along the length of the main mine shaft were other small
tunnels where each miner had their own section or seam
to mine with the help of family members. They were paid
on how much they produced and had to work a minimum of
twelve hours a day to meet their quota and earn enough
money to survive on.
There was little conversation whilst Joseph and Jack
were working because the dust in the air would fill
their mouths in a very short time. They wore
handkerchiefs over their faces but didn’t have water to
spare to keep washing their mouths out. ‘The best way to
keep the coal dust out is to keep your trap shut,’
Joseph told Jack when he first joined him underground.
They both stripped to their trousers and boots, as the
heat was too oppressive to wear any other clothes. Their
bodies were caked in perspiration and coal dust, making
them as black as their surroundings.
Jack thought he heard the whistle a dozen times as he
waited impatiently for crib time, but the time passed
slowly. When it finally came, the midday crib was
welcomed with relief and pleasure. They crawled from
their tunnel to join a group of miners sitting nearby to
eat their snap and talk about everything within their
world. The biggest topic was the weekend’s boxing
tournament between Joseph and a man from Huddesfield, a
butcher of some boxing repute who was known to have
inflicted serious damage to a number of his opponents.
Jack and Toby sat together, sharing a large lump of coal
as a seat. The other putty boys had found a number of
empty containers and blocks of wood to sit on. Ben came
down from the stables to join them; he had recovered
from the morning, but was noticeably nervous as he sat
down.
‘How’s the new job going, Ben, sick of horseshit yet?’
Toby enquired.
‘I’d rather shovel horseshit than shovel coal,’ he
replied. ‘And it’s cleaner. An’ Mister Walker’s all
right, but he told me I had taken over the job of a boy
killed by falling coal.’
‘Yeah, that was Cyril Mason, it only happened a few days
ago, got him dead to rights,’ Jack said.
‘His spirit will be trapped down here till he can find
a weak body to jump into,’ Toby added, a little too
enthusiastically.
‘Wonder where he is now— probably looking for a chance
to find a new boy.’ Toby gave Jack a covert wink, both
observing that Ben was rather pale.
‘Remember what we told you to do if they do come near
you,’ Jack said.
‘And make sure you do it loudly, otherwise they’ll know
you’re weak,’ Toby added.
Ben nodded his head. ‘I will, don’t worry, I don’t want
to be tipped out,’ Ben said, referring to his spirit
being displaced.
Jack and Toby changed the subject and pretended to talk
about the football game they played each Sunday. After a
while Jack looked up and saw a cloud of steam vapour
drifting from one of the pit ponies and gave Toby a
nudge. Toby, busy drawing a football field in the dust,
looked up and saw the cloud. Winking at Jack he looked
over Ben’s shoulder and, giving a loud gasp, pointed
behind Ben, pretending not to be able to talk.
‘Oh no,’ Jack said, feigning horror and grabbing his
cheeks with both hands.
‘What’s wrong?’ Ben gasped. He jumped up and turned
around to see the cloud of steam drifting towards him.
He let out a girlish squeal and felt as if he was going
to choke. He remembered the boys’ words to scare off the
‘spirits’ and, waving his arms around frantically,
proceeded to swear at the top of his voice using words
no miner would be proud of.
The other miners stopped in mid bite, some in the middle
of drinking their water, transfixed by the antics of
this obviously mad young fool.
‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, you
foul-mouthed little bugger?’ one of the miners demanded,
jumping up and grabbing Ben by the collar.
‘We’ll have none of that sort of language down here,’
another said.
‘But the spirits— th… th… they’ll get me if I d… d…
don’t do that,’ Ben replied, trying to pull away from
the man’s grip.
Jack and Toby fell off the coal seat, laughing so hard
that Toby was curled up and Jack was leaning up against
him holding his stomach.
‘Spirits, what spirits? What rubbish are you talking
about, lad?’ Joseph asked.
‘The ones that jump in your body if you’re weak, you
have to swear at them to keep them away,’ Ben said in a
trembling voice.
‘Where the bloody hell did you hear that rubbish?
There’s no spirits down here,’ Joseph replied.
‘Th, th, they t, t, told me— it’s true!’ Ben stuttered,
pointing at Jack and Toby.
Jack looked up, wiping the tears of laughter from his
eyes. Toby still held his side in hysterics.
‘Is this true?’ Joseph enquired staring at them. Already
he and the others were beginning to appreciate the joke
played on Ben.
‘I’m sorry, Dad, I couldn’t resist. He just fell right
into it,’ Jack gasped, trying to control himself.
‘Nobody got hurt,’ he added in defence, tears still
running down his face from laughing.
Some of the other miners chuckled, and the hint of a
smile came to Joseph’s lips.
‘Well, like you say, no one got hurt. But from now on,
no more swearing, you understand, Ben?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Ben said with a bowed head, ‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Any more tricks from you, young Jack, and you’ll get my
boot up your backside.’
By this time Jack, Toby and Ben were suitably chastened
and stood holding their caps in their hands. Jack knew
it would be a long time before they let ‘the spirits’
loose again on another young miner.
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