Part 77 (1/2)
”Ah,” said he, ”they couldn't get white men to mess with backer and such in a hot country, and in course every one knows that blacks won't work till they're made. That's why they bothers themselves with 'em, I reckon. But, Lord! they are useless trash. White convicts is useless enough; think what black n.i.g.g.e.rs must be!”
How about the gentleman in bed? I thought; but he was snoring comfortably.
”I am a free man myself,” continued the old man. ”I never did aught, ay, or thought o' doing aught, that an honest man should not do. But I've lived among convicts twenty odd year, and do you know, sir, sometimes I hardly know richt fra wrang. Sometimes I see things that whiles I think I should inform of, and then the devil comes and tells me it would be dishonourable. And then I believe him till the time's gone by, and after that I am miserable in my conscience. So I haven't an easy time of it, though I have good times, and money to spare.”
I was getting fond of the honest, talkative old fellow; so when d.i.c.k asked him if he wanted to turn in, and he answered no, I was well pleased.
”Can't you pitch us a yarn, daddy?” said d.i.c.k. ”Tell us something about the old country. I should like well to hear what you were at home.”
”I'll pitch ye a yarn, lad,” he replied, ”if the master don't want to turn in. I'm fond of talking. All old men are, I think,” he said, appealing to me. ”The time's coming, ye see, when the gift o' speech will be gone from me. It's a great gift. But happen we won't lose it after all.”
I said, ”No, that I thought not; that I thought on the other side of the grave we should both speak and hear of higher things than we did in the flesh.”
”Happen so,” said he; ”I think so too, sometime. I'll give ye my yarn; I have told it often. Howsever, neither o' ye have heard it, so ye're the luckier that I tell it better by frequent repet.i.tion. Here it is:--
”I was a collier lad, always lean, and not well favoured, though I was active and strong. I was small, too, and that set my father's heart agin me somewhat, for he was a gran' man, and a mighty fighter.
”But my elder brother Jack, he was a mighty fellow, G.o.d bless him; and when he was eighteen he weighed twelve stone, and was earning man's wages, tho' that I was hurrying still. I saw that father loved him better than me, and whiles that vexed me, but most times it didn't, for I cared about the lad as well as father did, and he liked me the same.
He never went far without me; and whether he fought, or whether he drunk, I must be wi' him and help.
”Well, so we went on till, as I said, I was seventeen, and he eighteen.
We never had a word till then; we were as brothers should be. But at this time we had a quarrel, the first we ever had; ay, and the last, for we got something to mind this one by.
”We both worked in the same pit. It was the Southstone Pit; happen you've heard of it. No? Well, thus things get soon forgot. Father had been an overman there, but was doing better now above ground. He and mother kept a bit shop; made money.
”There was a fair in our village, a poor thing enough; but when we boys were children we used to look forward to it eleven months out o'
twelve, and the day it came round we used to go to father, and get sixpence, or happen a s.h.i.+lling apiece to spend.
”Well, time went on till we came to earn money; but still we kept up the custom, and went to the old man reg'lar for our fairin', and he used to laugh and chaff us as he'd give us a fourpenny or such, and we liked the joke as well as he.
”Well this time--it was in '12, just after the comet, just the worst times of the war, the fair came round, 24th of May, I well remember, and we went in to the old man to get summut to spend--just for a joke like.
”He'd lost money, and been vexed; so when Jack asked him for his fairin' he gi'ed him five s.h.i.+llin', and said, 'I'll go to gaol but what my handsome boy shan't have summut to treat his friends to beer.' But when I axed him, he said, 'Earn man's wages, and thee'll get a man's fairin,' and heaved a penny at me.
”That made me wild mad, I tell you. I wasn't only angry wi' the old man, but I was mad wi' Jack, poor lad! The devil of jealousy had got into me, and, instead of kicking him out, I nursed him. I ran out o'
the house, and away into the fair, and drunk, and fought, and swore like a mad one.
”I was in one of the dancing booths, half drunk, and a young fellow came to me, and said, 'Where has thee been? Do thee know thy brother has foughten Jim Perry, and beaten him?'
”I felt like crying, to think my brother had fought, and I not there to set him up. But I swore, and said, 'I wish Jim Perry had killed un;'
and then I sneaked off home to bed, and cried like a la.s.s.
”And next morning I was up before him, and down the pit. He worked a good piece from me, so I did not see him, and it came on nigh nine o'clock before I began to wonder why the viewer had not been round, for I had heard say there was a foul place cut into by some of them, and at such times the viewer generally looks into every corner.
”Well, about nine, the viewer and underviewer came up with the overman, and stood talking alongside of me, when there came a something sudden and sharp, as tho' one had boxed your ears, and then a 'whiz, whiz,'
and the viewer stumbled a one side, and cried out, 'G.o.d save us!'
”I hardly knew what had happened till I heard him singing out clear and firm, 'Come here to me, you lads; come here. Keep steady, and we'll be all right yet.' Then I knew it was a fire, and a sharp one, and began crying out for Jack.