Children of Toil ✔

Chapter One

A faint glow flickered from each oil lamp that hung along the wall of the tunnel. The orange light cast itself over the rough-edged slobs and rutted rock surfaces, highlighting the dampness. Lucan pulled his coat tighter, ducked his head and hunched his broad shoulders. He could see small speckles of dust floating on the air in that dim light, could see the silhouettes of the men in front of him, see the mist from their breath and hear the sound of their footsteps.
He could smell their sweat.

Lucan walked with these men, dirt-stained and dusty, worn and old before their time and wondered if there was not more to life. How many of them would see their grandchildren born?

He trudged between the rails where tubs, pulled by pit ponies, carried coal to the cage. Lucan watched his feet, felt their heaviness from the day's shift, his boots filthy and tattered.
Focusing on his hand as it held his lunch cloth, he was amazed Kat ever let him touch her. The skin was cracked and callused, the dirt so ingrained, no matter how hard or much he scrubbed, they always stayed the same.

As the cage delivered him to the surface Lucan lifted his eyes to the sky. A fog shrouded the slag piles, oppressive and dim. He slung his bag over his shoulder, took the cap from his head, returned his light to the lamp house, and then ambled along Shunter Todd Road toward the old miner's cottages that surrounded the pithead.

"Lucan!" Jas Muller swaggered toward him. Not a tall man, but sinewy and tough, his features tinged blue with coal ash. "Foreman wants tae send me back to the shallow," Jas called. With eyes bright and alive he added, "He reckons the coggers need a hand. Scarper says no, but what would he ken? He ain't been in the pit as many years." Jas huffed. "You'd reckon the way he talks he was king of the face." Wiping mucus from his nose with his hand, Jas jerked his head in disgust. "Shat 'is trousers when the roof come down in winter of eighty-two." His chest rumbled as his body shook with humour. "Shite, everywhere there was!" A spasm of coughing seized him and stemmed the flow of laughter.

"Ah... Jas, you shouldn't let him get at you like you do." Lucan scratched the back of his head and crouched on his haunches to wait until the fit was over.

"Yea, I know." Jas covered his mouth and put a hand on his chest to ease the wheeze. "But I cannae help it. Wish you'd been there to see 'is face." He wiped away his spit leaving tell-tale red and black marks on his handkerchief.

Lucan stood and continued to walk.

"Where are you now, Luc?" Jas asked. "I'll get the foreman tae put me on the same road?"

"The middle, Jas. It's drawin' more."

Jas trotted to catch up. "You know, Luc, it amazes me you can work as a faceman?"

"Why?" Lucan cocked his head and smirked. "I have two arms and two legs."

"Well, most are short and stocky like me. With your height." Jas shrugged. "I wonder how it don't hinder you?" He took off his cap and slapped it against his thigh. Dust billowed around him as he added, "They place bets you know?"

"Bets on what?" Lucan chuckled, shifted the weight of his pack and looked down on his friend.

"They wager on your stamina and strength. See if they can match you. Most give up in the end."

"Who do you put stakes on?" Lucan asked not believing what he was hearing.

"You." Jas smirked. "I've made a fair bit of money out of you when a new one comes along."

Lucan roared with laughter. "How come I've never heard about this? I might have wanted to bet on meself and make some money."

"Yea..." Jas chuckled. "And you might have slowed up. Bet on the other. We couldn't take that chance."