The Angry Tide (14 page)

So another tunnel, but now water only waist high, and men to help. Sam was feeling all in now and he realized he was knocked about and bruised all over. But light was showing that was not yellow. It was a very diffused light, for it did not fall direct; it came down a slanted shaft that took a dozen different angles on its way up and was further broken by a dozen platforms. But it was daylight and safety for those who could see it. Now all that remained was climbing two hundred-odd feet up the ladders to find it.

Ross was at home when one of the Martin children came sputtering to tell him of the catastrophe. He dropped his pen and ran out of the house and up the hill towards the mine.
Demelza
, with two children to consider, questioned the boy more closely and then, leaving
Jeremy and Clowance in Jan
c Gimlett's care with strict instructions that they were not to be allowed to follow her, she ran in Ross's wake.

By the time she got there Ross was already on his way down
the main shaft. Unlike the othe
r occasion when a whole cavern had subsided an
d smothered the excavations with
dead ground, there had been no sound this time to alert those who were at grass level. First to give the
alarm had been young Sid Bottre
ll, who had leaped up crying the news of disaster. Zacky Martin had been in charge, and his concern was to limit the flooding and the loss of life, so that it was not until the elder of the Curnow brothers sought instructions as to his pumping engine that anyone sent for Ross.

Zacky was on the way up and met Ross at the 20-fathom level.

'Tcs no use going furdicr, Cap'n. They're coming up. We've cleared both main lodes. The few who're on the thirty level are in no danger.'

'Loss of life,' said Ross. 'Are there some drowned?' 'Tis hard to be sure, but certain tis little or none. The alarm were given in time.'

'God rot those Maiden wor
kings!' said Ross. 'We should ne
ver've gone for them.'

'Who was to know? Mines is strange creatures. She was always known as dry. Your own father was constant in saying so. He used to say to me after Grace failed: pity we can't start Maiden 'gain - she was always as dry as a virgin. Begging your pardon, sur, twas what he used to say.'

'Where did it break? Where Sam
Carne
and Hoskin were working? Are they safe?'

'Hoskin's up. Sam's down but coming up. According to what I d'hear tell, twas him going down through the water to the lower level that gave the main tributcrs time to get out. They say three minutes mo
re - even one minute - would 've
been too late.'

'Then who's lost? Anyone missing?'

'Two, I think. Sid Bunt in the 60 level, Tom Sparrock tried to climb but was washed away. They're bringing Bill Thomas up now. He's unconscious but we know no more. That's the lot as far as I d'know.'

'Where's He
nshawe?'

'He went over to Renfrew's about some gear. They've sent over to his house but he'll not be back yet.' Ross stayed on the 20-fathom platform while
the
men filed up.

They were all dripping water but for the most part none the worse. One had a gashed head. Another had sprained his foot. Mostly they were barefoot, having kicked off their boots to swim. They would be more in need of new boots than Jud.

Sam came up, tall and clumsy, and gaunt in the flickering light. Ross shook his hand and asked a question or two but did not detain him, for, in spite of the heat, he was shivering and almost blue. Ross stayed on, shaking each man by hand, putting the odd question. As one after another familiar face sho
wed up he began to feel reas
sured that casualties were as light as Zacky supposed. Work in the mine was abandoned for the day as the half-dozen men prospecting in
the
upper levels heard the news and downed tools and came up. When the last of them was accounted for, Ross followed.

Dwight had been found at home and was attending to minor injuries in the changing shed beside the engine-house. Demelza was helping him, as were Mrs Zacky and three other women. But there was not so much to do as might have been expected. On the floor in a corner and covered with a blanket was Bill Thomas, part conscious but slowly recovering. Demelza said to Ross: 'Dwight did the most strangest of things: he put Bill Thomas on his face and squeezed water out of him - so much as you'd hardly believe - then he laid him on his back and put his mouth to
his
mouth and
blew
into him. Blew and blew and blew, and then after a long time the - the man's eyes flickered and he vomited more water, and
now
look at him. He looks as if he's going to come brave again. Dwight says he's going to come brave.'

Ross squeezed her arm but did not speak.

'The lodes - both lodes
...
they're flooded?'

'Totally. But that can be seen to in time. Our old fire-engine will have to work harder. It will be a loss of weeks - perhaps months. But it's the lives I care about
...
Where's Sam?'

'He had his arm dressed and he went home.'

'They say we owe a lot to him.'

'Yes, I heard it up here.'

'I'll go thank him tomorrow.'

'We'll both go,' Demelza said.

Sam had got home. There was still an hour or two's daylight left, but he had no energy to turn to
the
garden. Nor for the moment could he think whether he had
a
class tonight. What day was it? Tuesday? No, Monday. He wasn't certain. Surely yesterday had been a church day. So there
was
a class tonight, at the Meeting House on the hill, a house built of stones from the mine that had caused today's disaster. Since it was opened it had become known as Maiden Chapel. Monday at seven was Bible reading, and Sam usually had a dozen or more of
the
converted, who sat and listened and then asked questions and spoke about the effect on themselves of the passages he had read.

So he must be feeling better by then. Best, no doubt, after he had put on dry things, to make a dish of tea and cut himself a slice - then maybe an hour with his feet up. For once he must indulge himself -take a bit of leisure in the daytime.

He scraped flint and blew a spark until it lit the shavings and bits of driftwood he had in the fireplace, then he tipped some water from his pitcher into a pan and waited for it to boil. A pinch of tea in a cup and a spoonful of sugar. In about ten minutes he poured the water in the cup and stirred it. Scenes from this afternoon were vivid in his mind. He thanked God that so few lives had been lost, and he thanked the Divine Father that He had seen fit to spare His own so that His will might be humbly done on earth, and so that he, Sam
Carne
, might continue on the great and glorious road of Salvation.

It was an uplifting and a wondrous thought that came upon him every morning when he opened his eyes. Here he was, a humble miner in a desolate corner of England, whom God had chosen as His unworthy instrument to further His divine purposes. Through him more and more sinful souls were finding mercy and entering into the liberty of perfect love. He should not sit here sipping tea and munching bread and jam just because his limbs were aching and bruised and his head a bit swimming and his stomach queasy from the foul water he had swallowed. He must conquer this
weakness and soon be on his fee
t again and about his Father's business. There would be distress at the mine. There would be widows to be comforted. Tom Sparrock had almost certainly gone; he had seen it with his own eyes; Jane Sparrock was a scold - Tom had always been henpecked -but she would grieve all the same. Sid Bunt was from St Ann's way and he hardly knew his wife
...

A knock at the door. A head came round. Beth Daniel, Paul's wife.

'Aw, I came to see 'ow you was, my dear
. To see if I could bring e
e
a
dish o' tay. But I see you've been ahead o' me!'

Beth Daniel, though not a Methodist of the most earnest persuasion, was always wanting to help others. Sam thanked her and said he was fine now, well and fine.

Beth said, fumbling in her apron: 'I got a drop o' something stronger if you've the mind, you. Put 'n in your tay, my dear, twill
flavour it a morsel and give ee
extra kick an' sprawl.'

Sam thanke
d her again but refused. 'The te
a'll do me well, Beth. Thank ee, just the same.'

They talked about the disaster and how Dr Enys had brought Bill Thomas back to life by blowing air into his lungs. Then Beth said:

'Aw, while you was down today, Lobb come - brought the
Mercury
to Cap'n Poldark. In it it d'say there've been a great victory for England. Cap'n Poldark were that excited he give all his servants a rum toddy. Nile, be it? - some place. Admiral Nelson'vc d
estroyed the French ships. Blowe
d'n out o' the sea, he did! Twelve out o' thirteen, Cap'n Poldark say. Twelve out o' thirteen French battleships. Never known nothin' like it, Cap'n Poldark say - not since Armada times!'

'Pray it will end the war,' said Sam.

'Aw, my dear, yes. Cap'n Poldark d'say all the bells be ringing London way. I expect they'll peal at
Sawle
so soon as they d'know.' 'When did it happen, Beth?'

'Aw, weeks gone, I b'lavc. August, I think he d'say.' Beth broke off and clicked her fingers.
'Now,
then. I near forgot what I just come to tell ee. After he'd been Nampara, Lobb come over here and I seen 'im knock on your door, so I come over and say: "Sam be down mine," I say, "you'll find no one't home, you." So he says to me, he say, "I got a letter,
this here letter, for Sam Carne
," so I say I'll hold 'n for ee, and this I done and yur tis, thas if I can find 'n in the deeps o' me pocket.'

She proceeded to fish out the small medicine jar with contained the brandy, then a length of string, two clothes clips and a stained rag. After this came the letter. Sam stared at the handwriting: it was poor and ill-formed an
d spelt his name without an e
. His heart began to thump.

Beth clearly expected him to open it in front of her and if possible give her some idea of the contents, for letters to people in their station of life were a rarity. So she stood there chatting, sometimes about the mine and sometimes about the victory, and occasionally her eye would stray unbidden to the letter in his hand. But he did not, could not, break the seal while she was there, and at length he took a step or two and put it down on the rough mantelpiece that Beth's brother-in-law had once made when he had built this cottage for his faithless moon-flower wife. Then he turned and smiled at Beth, his sad attractive smile, so she knew she would receive no satisfaction and was presently edged towards the door, praising him for his work today and saying it was likely Paul owed his life to him (which was not true, for Paul had been on the north lode), and so left.

He stood at the door and saw her trudge back to her cottage at Mellin, just over the fold of the land; then he went in and picked up the letter. He felt he could not yet open it. He felt he must pray first. But pray for what? Not his own happiness; not even Emma's. He could only pray for her soul, and that he had done every night since she left. Could he add more now, any special or different plea?

He knelt at the foot of his bed for a few moments, saying nothing, thinking nothing, then rose and broke the seal.

Deer Sam, (it said)

I am no writ
ter as you well do knaw so I ave
asked my gcod freind Mary to writ this for me.

Sam deer Sam deer Sam I ave asked my good freind Mar
y to say that to ee for I do mee
n it most truely. But Sam I be gwan to wed the secund footman
. He is a kynd man ten year olde
rer than me but jolly an kynd an thortful of me an
I blave he do true
ly love mc. He be not a wyld man like Tom nor yet a good man like you but he have good ways an quiet ways and do wark onest and true an ard an I do like he and enjoy his company.

Mary say I give e
r some awful ard wurds to spell but she arnt at the end of un yet for Sam I do want ee to knaw that if twer
just so simpel as it did oughte
r be then you an me wud be wed an no other. But tedden so an never could be so for you be a man of God an I be no mor
e an a jolly gurl. Sam tes worse
r an that. Youm such a good man that you d
ont knaw the wurld so well as me. Ef I wed you an come to chappe
l along of you the folks wud look athurt an point an say lookee at that thur brazzen ussie who do she think she be wed to our Sam our preecher. Her what weve all seen in Sallys kiddley adrinking wi the best an walkin arm in arm wi alf the fellers an who do knaw whats gone on in the mowhay. That we all do knaw a
n twas mercy she wur never force
put.
And she wed to our Sam our preeche
r it edn fitty nor proper nor never
shal be an if Sam do think defle
rent he be mazed or not so holy as he pertend.

Sam deer
Sam deer Sam I watch my good fre
ind Mary writ it fur me an she say no more she will writ no more but I give er a shillun for writtin this so she must do some more l
ines wether or no. Ef ee do think defferent ef ee do say the Bible do say deffere
nt that bad wemen be redeamcd that be true of Bible days but not so naow.
Im
not
bad an you do knaw I be not nigh so bad a woman a
s many in the Bible but is reppe
rtation that do count on your folk your prayin folk you may think they be as kynd as you but that they wud never be. They wud not tak me in as you wud tak me in an you wud be afighun t
hem for me. Then deer Sam what e
f I went
an took a drink in Sallys kiddle
y an you did not knaw an one of your
prayin folk come up an telled e
e. Twould never do not in this wurld.

So good by my deer. I be some sad t
alkin this letter to my good fre
ind Mary an the tears be on my face an on my ands fur us sad to say good by to your best love.
But Ned Artnel do love me true
ly an I surely like im an thas the way it must be. Wed sum good woman thurs many about an forgit me. Nay never forgit me fur
Ill
never forgit you but thur cud be no appincss in our wedden together an one day deer cart you will knaw I do speak God's truth.

Your ever loving

Emma. XXXXXXX.

After he had finished it he read it carefully through again. Then he folded it away and put it back on the mantelshelf and went to the door and stared out over the scene. Brown mellow stubble of harvested fields folding upon each other and merging i
nto the scrubland that led to He
ndrawna Beach. And England had won a great victory. The only other houses in sight were the empty Gateh
ouse up on the hill and a chinme
y or two of Mingoose House showing above the windswept trees. The sky was clear. The s
ea was at peace. Smoke from a Me
llin cottage chimney drifted across the sky. A cow was roaring in a dip in the valley. And England had won a great victory.

Then the scene was no longer clear and he began to blub through his hands. He cried noisily, like a boy, hurt and in pain. For a while he could not stop, gulping and jerking, and then he fetched up some of the foul water and the tea he had drunk.

After that he cried more quietly for a while and then took a rag from his pocket and tried to dry his eyes, his nose, his mouth. The water still kept oozing out of his eyes. He had never felt so much alone.

He went into
the
cottage and pou
red some more water on to the tealeave
s, but it was half cold.

He said: 'The Lord is my strength and my Redeemer. Blessed is the name of the Lord.'

He sat down and began to say out loud many of the great passages from the Prayer Book
that he had learned by heart. 'O
God, who art the author of peace and lover of concord, in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal life, whose service is perfect freedom. Defend us thy humble servants in all assaults of our enemies
...'

It helped. Soon it would take over again. Soon. The heartbreaks of this temporal life were as nothing compared to the joys of the everlasting grace to come. Soon.

But this was a double heartbreak for Sam. He had wanted Emma for himself to have and to hold in sickness and in health so long as they both should live. But also he had wanted her as a soul won for God - hers was the most precious soul of all to him. Had he been able both to bring her to God and to wed her, then his cup would have been full. Now it was empty. And just for a wh
ile the eternal spirit of salvati
on ran low in him. It came to him to think that perhaps he should not have struggled and swum so hard this afternoon.

It was blasphemy and sacrilege to think so; he knew that. Perhaps he was among the worst of sinners even to have allowed the thought to settle for a moment. Evil thoughts were like evil birds: one could not prohibit their existence, one could only prevent them from settling in one's mind. With a cold heart he took up his Bible, drew a chair to his home-made desk and began to read. When it grew dark he lit a candle and continued. He read right through the Gospel of St John and t
hen went on to some of the episistl
es.

Thus Ena Daniel found him - Beth's sister-in-law and one of
the
most faithful of his flock. Excuse her, she said, bu
t they were all over to the Meeting House and had been waiti
ng a fair while. They all knew he must be feeling some slight after the terrible, terrible time of this afternoon, and, though they didn't like to start without him, Jack Scawen would be glad to try
and read for him if so be as th
ey might borrow the Bible.

She was qui
te startl
ed at the empty look Sam gave her - as if something had been washed away from him for ever in the flooded mine - but after a few moments he passed his hand across his eyes and made an effort to smile his old smile.

'Why, no, Ena. I'm fine and well now. Just - a little sore, as ye might say. Just a little sore. Wait till I change my shirt and I'll come.'