lighting point and ash. He could follow it in the dark.
Leveret was falling behind. Blair was about to ask Battie to relent when the underlooker stopped on his own and set his lamp by a coal pillar. He spread his map across the floor and pointed to two lamp numbers. “This is where we found these two lads. They were the nearest casualties to the cage except for the boy and pony.”
A trail of numbers led to the west coal face, still twice as far as they had gone so far. The victims on the Main Road had fallen in groups, some huddled in refuge holes.
Leveret arrived, gasping and covered in coal dust as if he’d been dragged behind a pony.
“I’m … fine,” he said and sank to his knees.
Blair and Battie returned to the map.
“Were they burned?” Blair asked.
“No. No one was burned until we get to the end of theMain Road, close to the face. The lads here were stretched out like they’d gone to sleep.”
“But facing the air? Running when they’d dropped?”
“Right.” Battie seemed darkly satisfied. “Mr. Leveret, your friend here knows something about coal.”
“They were crushed?” Leveret asked.
“No,” Battie said. “When firedamp explodes it turns to afterdamp. Carbon monoxide. The strongest man in the world could be running through here at top speed, but two breaths of that and he’ll drop to the floor. Unless you drag him out, he’ll die. In fact, I’ve seen rescue attempts where one, two, three men will drop trying to pull one man out.”
The floor jumped, followed by a roar that rolled through one end of the tunnel to the other. Pebbles rained in the dark.
Leveret was on his feet. “Fire!”
“Just blasting, Mr. Leveret. There’s a difference. When there’s an explosion you can feel it in Wigan. I’ll let you know.” Battie rolled up the map and added, “There won’t be any more demonstrations like that, I hope, Mr. Leveret. Around the men, I mean.”
Battie’s lamp led the way again, pausing only as he mentioned that three miners had died here, four there, all trying to outrun afterdamp. It wasn’t an unsafe mine, as mines went, Blair thought. It was dirty and close and uncomfortable, of course, but tunnels were kept clear, tracks well maintained, and Battie seemed to be a punctilious supervisor. It was just that all mines were an inversion of the natural order, and coal mines in particular were stupid and deadly.
The tunnel started to plunge. It would go deeper as the whole underground strata tilted south, Blair thought. The seam had likely first been worked as an easy outcropping north of Wigan. Roman troops had probably dried their sandals by fires of Hannay coal. With each step down, hewas more aware of heat. The mine’s breath parched the throat even as the skin turned to a slough of black sweat.
The tunnel opened into a crypt-sized chamber where a boy walked a pony on a ring of track, making a ghostly carousel. When the pony stopped, a man silvery with coal dust, naked except for improvised kneepads and clogs, emerged from a low tunnel and hooked full tubs to the animal’s harness. Giving Battie the briefest of nods, he disappeared like an apparition back into the tunnel, pushing an empty tub ahead of him. Pony and boy vanished in the opposite direction.
“Hot.” Leveret found his voice.
“Tea, sir?” Battie offered a tin flask from his pack.
Leveret shook his head and dropped to the track in exhaustion. The first time in a mine was always the worst, no matter how fit you were, Blair thought. Even with malaria, he was simply doing what he had done all his life.
Leveret said, “Sorry to be so clumsy.”
“No bother, sir,” Battie said. “Miners get too comfortable. They know a single spark is dangerous, but they will come skating down the rails here on the irons of their clogs, sparks flying like fireworks. Or sneak away from work into a side tunnel and sleep like a field mouse.”
“Sounds quite cozy,” Leveret said.
Battie said,
Leveret was falling behind. Blair was about to ask Battie to relent when the underlooker stopped on his own and set his lamp by a coal pillar. He spread his map across the floor and pointed to two lamp numbers. “This is where we found these two lads. They were the nearest casualties to the cage except for the boy and pony.”
A trail of numbers led to the west coal face, still twice as far as they had gone so far. The victims on the Main Road had fallen in groups, some huddled in refuge holes.
Leveret arrived, gasping and covered in coal dust as if he’d been dragged behind a pony.
“I’m … fine,” he said and sank to his knees.
Blair and Battie returned to the map.
“Were they burned?” Blair asked.
“No. No one was burned until we get to the end of theMain Road, close to the face. The lads here were stretched out like they’d gone to sleep.”
“But facing the air? Running when they’d dropped?”
“Right.” Battie seemed darkly satisfied. “Mr. Leveret, your friend here knows something about coal.”
“They were crushed?” Leveret asked.
“No,” Battie said. “When firedamp explodes it turns to afterdamp. Carbon monoxide. The strongest man in the world could be running through here at top speed, but two breaths of that and he’ll drop to the floor. Unless you drag him out, he’ll die. In fact, I’ve seen rescue attempts where one, two, three men will drop trying to pull one man out.”
The floor jumped, followed by a roar that rolled through one end of the tunnel to the other. Pebbles rained in the dark.
Leveret was on his feet. “Fire!”
“Just blasting, Mr. Leveret. There’s a difference. When there’s an explosion you can feel it in Wigan. I’ll let you know.” Battie rolled up the map and added, “There won’t be any more demonstrations like that, I hope, Mr. Leveret. Around the men, I mean.”
Battie’s lamp led the way again, pausing only as he mentioned that three miners had died here, four there, all trying to outrun afterdamp. It wasn’t an unsafe mine, as mines went, Blair thought. It was dirty and close and uncomfortable, of course, but tunnels were kept clear, tracks well maintained, and Battie seemed to be a punctilious supervisor. It was just that all mines were an inversion of the natural order, and coal mines in particular were stupid and deadly.
The tunnel started to plunge. It would go deeper as the whole underground strata tilted south, Blair thought. The seam had likely first been worked as an easy outcropping north of Wigan. Roman troops had probably dried their sandals by fires of Hannay coal. With each step down, hewas more aware of heat. The mine’s breath parched the throat even as the skin turned to a slough of black sweat.
The tunnel opened into a crypt-sized chamber where a boy walked a pony on a ring of track, making a ghostly carousel. When the pony stopped, a man silvery with coal dust, naked except for improvised kneepads and clogs, emerged from a low tunnel and hooked full tubs to the animal’s harness. Giving Battie the briefest of nods, he disappeared like an apparition back into the tunnel, pushing an empty tub ahead of him. Pony and boy vanished in the opposite direction.
“Hot.” Leveret found his voice.
“Tea, sir?” Battie offered a tin flask from his pack.
Leveret shook his head and dropped to the track in exhaustion. The first time in a mine was always the worst, no matter how fit you were, Blair thought. Even with malaria, he was simply doing what he had done all his life.
Leveret said, “Sorry to be so clumsy.”
“No bother, sir,” Battie said. “Miners get too comfortable. They know a single spark is dangerous, but they will come skating down the rails here on the irons of their clogs, sparks flying like fireworks. Or sneak away from work into a side tunnel and sleep like a field mouse.”
“Sounds quite cozy,” Leveret said.
Battie said,
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