Sally Part 1

Sally

Tamworth Open Mining Company, site office 1850.

It was the thunder of heavy iron shod boots on the wooden stairs to his office, that pulled Squire Richard Tamworth rudely from his study of the last month’s coal production,.

Mr Anderson the site Forman burst into his office without even knocking, to wheeze.

“Sir, you must come quickly sir, I don’t know what it is, but you have to see it.” Getting to his feet to hold the wheezing man’s arms he said.

“Calm down man, calm down.” Supporting the wheezing man he asked. “Now what have I to see?”

“Its, it’s a brick wall sir, and its buried sir, and it’s got a dirty big brass cross on it.”  

Richard Tamworth felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as an almost forgotten story was revived of twenty years ago when the old pit was closed. It was a memory of his grandfather talking about the old mine, and the great Christmas disaster, when twenty-one men had been trapped and died.

****

It was there, a brick wall now tilted but still in one piece where the blast had exposed it. Brickwork that was black with coal dust, but the brass cross and plate screwed to it with the names of the dead still easily readable.

“What is it sir?” Mr Anderson asked, not willing to approach it. “How did it get there? It was buried down there sir, sixty feet down.”

“My grandfather put it there. There are twenty men buried in the old mine, and that wall and plate marks their grave.” There was silence, until a man at the front said. “It’s sacred then.” While another voice from further away was heard asking.

“What can we do Mr Tamworth, we can’t disturb a grave.”  

“I’ll tell you what we will do. First we must get this wall out and to somewhere safe, and while you are doing that I will have a word with Vicar Martin, about what we should do. Myself, and if the Vicar approves, I think we should find these men and give them a proper burial in consecrated ground, and that means with the approval of the church, we shall re-bury them in the cemetery.” There was a murmur from the watches, unsure whether it was in approval or not, he continued.

“Those men died in the service of my family, and to leave them lost and to be forgotten again is not my way. It was only after more men died in the rescue that my grandfather closed that tunnel off, and now as we have the chance, and if I can, I intend to find their bodies and give them a proper burial.” This time as he looked around, there was a low murmur of approval.

“While I go to the vicarage, I want you men to move that wall up to the office, and then get old Billy.” He pointed at the steam shovel. “And start clearing this area. I don’t know how far away they are, but from what I remember, there should be the remains of the tunnel that collapsed somewhere behind that wall.”

Sitting in the church porch explaining to Dr Martin his idea to give a proper burial and memorial to the dead miners, Squire Tamworth found the vicar nodding in agreement as he said.

“All this depends on you finding that tunnel and the bodies, Are you sure you can do it?”

“My Grandfather had to call off the rescue after the state of the tunnel became too dangerous to work in. I don’t have that problem; my men are working from above.”

“Yes but it’s still what, fifty, sixty feet down.”

“I know, what I intend is to scoop the topsoil away with one of the steam shovels, once we have removed that we can dig the last of the way by hand.”

“How far do you have to dig?”

“I’ve been looking at my grand-father’s drawings, and from where that wall was, to the face where the men were working, it’s possibly two hundred and twenty or so feet, but my grandfather said that they had dug thirty feet before the tunnel collapsed again. They had thought the tunnel could be open beyond the roof fall, and the miners trapped there.”  The vicar sat silent for a few moments looking out over the church yard, before getting to his feet he pointed saying.

“There is a nice place over there, ideal for your purpose. You are going to need the room for, how many bodies did you say, twenty one?”

The work was slow; the drift had to be kept working which meant men had to work when they were off shift on the tunnel. Men, including himself with picks and shovels worked for three months, before late one evening in September, Mr Anderson came running up the steps calling.

“Mr Richard, Mr Richard we’ve found it sir, we’ve found the tunnel. I’ve had them clear the entrance but no-ones been in, I told them the air would be bad.”

“Well done Mr Anderson, the tunnel will need ventilating before anyone goes in. Bad air or even explosive gas could have built up in there, so we need some way of blowing air into that tunnel.” There was a silence in the office as Mr Anderson waited for Mr Richard.

The rattle of a water pump running dry caught Mr Anderson’s attention. Water pumps were intended to pump water, but they also could and did pump air when they ran dry.

“Mr Richard, what about using a water pump?” The pencil dropped from Mr Richard’s hands as he looked up saying.

“That’s it, if we push the suction hose as far as we can into the tunnel it will suck the bad air out and pull good air in. Well done Mr Anderson, well done.”

The pump ran for three days before Mr Richard himself ventured into the tunnel. Only to return after a few minutes white and shaking to say.

“They’re there. I only went about ten yards, I think that’s where they are, all of them huddled together. Mr Anderson, will you send someone to the church for Dr Martin.

To be continued