tethered in the shadow of the office building. The noise of the crowd had frightened them and they were restive.
Suddenly the men lost control.They surged forward, shouting and throwing stones, breaking more windows and splintering wood. Jared realized that the pit office would offer no protection for Hesley or his manager.This was a serious business and not only for the pit. His father had reason to worry. His forge relied on regular coal supplies. Also, he used the same bank and his workers wanted their pay too.
The horses whinnied and reared. Hesley and his manager, struck by flying rocks, turned and ran, grabbing the reins of their horses and mounting quickly, spurring the animals to a gallop. A brick caught Hesley full in the back. He yelled and flopped forward, but rallied and urged his horse on. The two men rode away in different directions, faster than any man on foot could catch them.
The mob, angry at their escape, vented their frustration on the buildings and wagons lying around the pithead. Flares were discarded as men rejected them in favour of stone and anything that would serve as a heavy cudgel.
One of the flares landed on a fodder cart for the horses. A bundle of straw smouldered and caught light, spreading to sacks of oats and hay. As it burned, the cart was jostled and began to move, rolling steadily towards the gin-house, containing the steam engine and pit-shaft winding gear.
Cold fear ran through Jared. There’d be coal in there. And grease for the engine, probably oil for the office lamps as well. If that lot went up, the mine would be out of action for weeks! Jared darted around the mob towards the moving cart as the flames took hold. He’d never stop it on his own.
‘Take the shaft and heave! Swing it round!’ Another man had seen the danger and was running with him. Jared registered an unusual accent but no more as both men leaned for all they were worth to change the wagon’s course. It turned slightly and headed slowly towards the army of angry men.
‘Fire! Fire!’
The warning spread as quickly as the blaze and the men scattered.The flaming cart rolled gently towards the mine office and toppled, spilling its burning straw and sacks onto the ground. A couple of miners took off their jackets to beat out the flames, but most could only stand and watch as bedding and food for the carthorses were destroyed.
‘It’s too late! Get back!’ The man who had come to Jared’s aid stood in front of the fire, facing the crowd. The leaping flames behind him cast his face in darkness and gave his gesticulating form a demonic appearance as he shouted, ‘Enough! None of this will help your wives and children. Listen to me!’
‘Why should we?’
‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Tobias Holmes and I’m from County Durham.’
‘Nay, I’ve bin there and tha dun’t sound like it ter me.’
‘I was in America until recently.’
This seemed to impress and still a few of the rebels. There were stories in the taverns of riches to be made in America. Jared raised an eyebrow. So that was where the accent came from.
‘You made a fortune to gi’ us, then?’
‘No, but I can help to feed your families until this business is righted.’
‘Oh, aye? How?’
‘I’ve taken a lease on the old farmhouse. I’ll have soup and bread for your wives and children in the barn at dinner time tomorrow.’
There was quiet as the crowd took in the stranger and his offer.
‘You from the poorhouse, then?’
‘Aye, well, we don’t want your charity, we want us pay.’
‘I’m a Wesleyan,’ Tobias Holmes shouted. ‘I’m setting up a mission in Mexton.’
‘One o’ them preacher types, are you?’
‘Like them that live at the Dissenters’ House?’
‘We’re church folk ’ere. We don’t want no radical preachers stirring up our womenfolk.’
‘I’m not a preacher,’ he declared, ‘and it’s not charity. It’ll cost a farthing for each family. Go back to your wives and tell them
Suddenly the men lost control.They surged forward, shouting and throwing stones, breaking more windows and splintering wood. Jared realized that the pit office would offer no protection for Hesley or his manager.This was a serious business and not only for the pit. His father had reason to worry. His forge relied on regular coal supplies. Also, he used the same bank and his workers wanted their pay too.
The horses whinnied and reared. Hesley and his manager, struck by flying rocks, turned and ran, grabbing the reins of their horses and mounting quickly, spurring the animals to a gallop. A brick caught Hesley full in the back. He yelled and flopped forward, but rallied and urged his horse on. The two men rode away in different directions, faster than any man on foot could catch them.
The mob, angry at their escape, vented their frustration on the buildings and wagons lying around the pithead. Flares were discarded as men rejected them in favour of stone and anything that would serve as a heavy cudgel.
One of the flares landed on a fodder cart for the horses. A bundle of straw smouldered and caught light, spreading to sacks of oats and hay. As it burned, the cart was jostled and began to move, rolling steadily towards the gin-house, containing the steam engine and pit-shaft winding gear.
Cold fear ran through Jared. There’d be coal in there. And grease for the engine, probably oil for the office lamps as well. If that lot went up, the mine would be out of action for weeks! Jared darted around the mob towards the moving cart as the flames took hold. He’d never stop it on his own.
‘Take the shaft and heave! Swing it round!’ Another man had seen the danger and was running with him. Jared registered an unusual accent but no more as both men leaned for all they were worth to change the wagon’s course. It turned slightly and headed slowly towards the army of angry men.
‘Fire! Fire!’
The warning spread as quickly as the blaze and the men scattered.The flaming cart rolled gently towards the mine office and toppled, spilling its burning straw and sacks onto the ground. A couple of miners took off their jackets to beat out the flames, but most could only stand and watch as bedding and food for the carthorses were destroyed.
‘It’s too late! Get back!’ The man who had come to Jared’s aid stood in front of the fire, facing the crowd. The leaping flames behind him cast his face in darkness and gave his gesticulating form a demonic appearance as he shouted, ‘Enough! None of this will help your wives and children. Listen to me!’
‘Why should we?’
‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Tobias Holmes and I’m from County Durham.’
‘Nay, I’ve bin there and tha dun’t sound like it ter me.’
‘I was in America until recently.’
This seemed to impress and still a few of the rebels. There were stories in the taverns of riches to be made in America. Jared raised an eyebrow. So that was where the accent came from.
‘You made a fortune to gi’ us, then?’
‘No, but I can help to feed your families until this business is righted.’
‘Oh, aye? How?’
‘I’ve taken a lease on the old farmhouse. I’ll have soup and bread for your wives and children in the barn at dinner time tomorrow.’
There was quiet as the crowd took in the stranger and his offer.
‘You from the poorhouse, then?’
‘Aye, well, we don’t want your charity, we want us pay.’
‘I’m a Wesleyan,’ Tobias Holmes shouted. ‘I’m setting up a mission in Mexton.’
‘One o’ them preacher types, are you?’
‘Like them that live at the Dissenters’ House?’
‘We’re church folk ’ere. We don’t want no radical preachers stirring up our womenfolk.’
‘I’m not a preacher,’ he declared, ‘and it’s not charity. It’ll cost a farthing for each family. Go back to your wives and tell them
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