Boy Greaser
by 
tusker
|
Posted: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 Word Count: 367 Summary: Underground challenge. Fiction based on the Morfa Incident. |
Underground, deep down where black glittered in meagre lamp light, Rees, a young lad of sixteen, spent many hours greasing axles.
This autumn day at 12.15, like every day around the same time, Rees sat cross-legged, eating his bread and dripping blackened by dust encrusted hands and, as he ate, he imagined above him, his widowed mother mangling Mrs. Llewellyn Jones's laundry while his three younger sisters played in warm sunlight on Margam Mountain.
Sometimes, Rees wished he didn't have to crawl on scabbed knees to satisfy the insatiable demands of the owner, his boss and the copper industry.
But every Sunday, after chapel, he'd walk down to the docks and spend hours watching boats and the men that sailed in them and, as he watched, he longed for the freedom those hulks and their crew enjoyed.
Once, a captain asked if he'd like to join the crew and sail to South America. Rees's almost accepted his offer but realised before he opened his mouth, that with him gone, his mother would struggle to keep a roof over his siblings heads and food in their bellies.
Apart from the camaraderie below surface, there was nothing to look forward to and, each time he set off from his cramped home in Taibach to work in Morfa Colliery, his steps were heavy.
Now, pushing all self-pitying thoughts aside, Rees went back to work until a frightening roar followed by a blast of hot, foul sulphuric air threw him against a tram, cracking his ribs.
Stunned, enveloped in complete darkness, men's terrified screams of fear and pain reached him and, despite his own agony, scrambling on his knees, breathing in dust, he crawled towards the clamour but was met with an impenetrable barrier.
Whimpering, Rees retreated backwards, expecting the weight of the mountain to collapse on top of him at any moment. Ahead, he saw a glimmer of light. Crawling faster on bloodied knees, he reached that tiny halo of hope.
'Hold on, lad,' a voice answered Rees's desperate cries.
And, for what seemed eternity, he heard shovels clanging, hands scrabbling and men cursing until, at last, Rees crawled through a widened gap into the strong arms of his rescuer.
This autumn day at 12.15, like every day around the same time, Rees sat cross-legged, eating his bread and dripping blackened by dust encrusted hands and, as he ate, he imagined above him, his widowed mother mangling Mrs. Llewellyn Jones's laundry while his three younger sisters played in warm sunlight on Margam Mountain.
Sometimes, Rees wished he didn't have to crawl on scabbed knees to satisfy the insatiable demands of the owner, his boss and the copper industry.
But every Sunday, after chapel, he'd walk down to the docks and spend hours watching boats and the men that sailed in them and, as he watched, he longed for the freedom those hulks and their crew enjoyed.
Once, a captain asked if he'd like to join the crew and sail to South America. Rees's almost accepted his offer but realised before he opened his mouth, that with him gone, his mother would struggle to keep a roof over his siblings heads and food in their bellies.
Apart from the camaraderie below surface, there was nothing to look forward to and, each time he set off from his cramped home in Taibach to work in Morfa Colliery, his steps were heavy.
Now, pushing all self-pitying thoughts aside, Rees went back to work until a frightening roar followed by a blast of hot, foul sulphuric air threw him against a tram, cracking his ribs.
Stunned, enveloped in complete darkness, men's terrified screams of fear and pain reached him and, despite his own agony, scrambling on his knees, breathing in dust, he crawled towards the clamour but was met with an impenetrable barrier.
Whimpering, Rees retreated backwards, expecting the weight of the mountain to collapse on top of him at any moment. Ahead, he saw a glimmer of light. Crawling faster on bloodied knees, he reached that tiny halo of hope.
'Hold on, lad,' a voice answered Rees's desperate cries.
And, for what seemed eternity, he heard shovels clanging, hands scrabbling and men cursing until, at last, Rees crawled through a widened gap into the strong arms of his rescuer.