The Quality of Mercy - By Barry Unsworth Page 0,66

He never got over the fear of it, an’ the thought of what had happened to his mates. The family moved away to Castle Eden. I’ve heard since that Harry is fit for nothing.”

“Well,” Bordon said, “he was luckier than the other lads, but that’s about all tha can say.”

“Putting the matter in a nutshell,” Arbiter Hill said, “and weighing up the pros and cons of it, on the one hand you have the state of being overtook by fire, on the other hand you have the state of being a human wreck.”

“Water can be a worse enemy than fire sometimes.”

This had come from an elderly man known to all as Bushy, who had worked underground for almost fifty years and whose face was darkly veined with coal dust.

“A first went down the mine when a was six years old,” he said. “Before any of you lads was born. A Tyneside colliery it was, near Jesmond. There was an old pit nearby that was fallen out of use, but there was coal left standin’ in the pillars holdin’ up the roof. They went down to get this an’ they were workin’ in a dyke between two galleries when the water burst through from the old workin’s, an’ they were cut off, seventy-seven men an’ boys. It was deep down, they didna have pumps that could deal with that much water, an’ they still don’t. It took eight months to dry out the pit. When they got down to them, they found them all starved to death. They had eaten the pit ponies, they had eaten their candles, they had eaten the bark of the roof props. They had lingered an’ died in the dark. The lads that found them said that some had died only recent.”

In the silence that followed upon this grisly story, Percy and Billy, still behind the wall, looked at each other with wide eyes. Now, more strongly than ever before, Percy was tempted to ask his friend if he too felt fear at going down the pit—fear and pride mixed, he would make a point of saying. The imagined hiss and burst of flame, the crawling, doomed men, the terrible washing and slapping of the water, like laughing, while the men and boys, some not much older than themselves, were slowly dying in the dark—all this seemed to Percy the doing of the great beast that lived in the pit, whose breathings and thrashings carried across the fields and accompanied his days. Did Billy feel the same? It would have been a comfort to him to know that he was not alone in these feelings, that his best friend shared them. But as always, another kind of fear kept him silent. Supposing Billy professed not to know what he was talking about, supposing Billy declared himself to be counting the days to starting down the mine? Even if it were not true, he, Percy, would have shown himself up as cowardly, and that would be worse—much worse—than losing his glass alley.

17

The insurance claim on eighty-five African slaves, cast overboard while still alive from the deck of the Liverpool Merchant on grounds of lawful jettison, was heard at the Guildhall, Justice Blundell presiding. In contrast to the long course of postponements and delays that had preceded it, the hearing itself was brief, occupying no more than three hours of the court’s time.

The insurers were represented by an elderly lawyer named Price, who had a large experience of such cases. Kemp’s lawyer, Pike, had wished to hold his fire for the criminal trial at the Old Bailey, which was due to be held at a date not yet specified; he had recommended a young barrister named Waters to represent the ship’s owner.

The claimant, who gave his name as Erasmus Kemp, made a short statement to the effect that he was applying for compensation in the name of his father, now deceased, whose property had passed to him. Price declined to put any questions to him and declared that the underwriters did not dispute his claim to be the present owner of the vessel.

It was only when stepping down that Kemp saw Jane Ashton sitting at the back of the court with a man who he thought must be her brother. She was looking straight at him, and for some moments, as he descended the steps, their eyes met. His own place was in the forward part of the court, in the same row as the insurance broker, Van