Authors: Yelena Kopylova
said, “Why do you always keep drawing the outside?” To get the feel. “ ^ “ The feel of what? “ i The
boy stopped drawing, straightened his back and;
looked down on the huddle of buildings. It was some seconds before he answered.
“I don’t rightly know, except | when I get the chance to do inside I’ll be able to fit things in | better.” |
“You could get the chance to do inside any Sunday, if you;;
so minded. “ j “ Aye, and have me lugs scoffed off by Mr. Holden or’ Coates or Lance
Ritson. “
“Why do you mind them?”
Roddy turned and looked at his mate now, saying, “Because they think it’s daft, lasses’
stuff.”
“They don’t think Will Campbell’s daft and he carves wood into all kinds of things.”
Roddy considered for a moment and then nodded as he said, “Aye, he does. He’s clever
at it an’ all.
Yet somehow, they always scoff at me.”
“They’re only pulling your leg. Anyway, Mr. Mulcaster doesn’t seem to think you’re
daft. He
encourages you. Why don’t you ask him to let you loose inside? You’ve just got to say
the word, I
should imagine.”
“Aye, I’ve only got to say the word and he would let me have the run of the place, when everything’s
quiet. But I don’t want that: I want to go in and stand around and watch the lead being run off; I want to
see the flue glass come off and men chokin’ with the dust like; I want to see them stuffin’
the coal into the
cupola; aye, an’ I want to see them takin’ the hatches off to let the air through into the furnace; I want to
see the lead comin’ out into the pan. Aw, you don’t understand, man, I want to see
everythin’ as it
happens like, you know, as it happens.”
“Well, God above!” Hal had moved to his side now.
“You can see that every day in the week.”
It was some seconds before Roddy made a reply to this. He had dropped his slate onto the grass and
his body had slumped and his voice had a weary note in it as he said, “Aye, as I’m
runnin’ backwards
an’ forwards like a scalded cat, wheelin’ the dross, blinded with sweat, half choked.”
“Well, wouldn’t you be half choked if you were standin’ there drawin’, man?”
“Twould be different.”
“You know what I think?”
“Aye, I’ve a good idea.”
“Aye, well, I’ll say it, you’re barmy.”
Roddy’s back straightened. He swung round on his knees, grabbed up his slate and got to his feet,
crying, “Then why the devil do you keep taggin’ on to somebody that’s barmy? Tis true
what Mary Ellen
says, I can’t breathe without you.”
This unexpected attack, the very first he had experienced, caused Hal’s eyes to darken and the shape of
the lips almost to disappear into a thin line. Then in a flash he was gone, and, almost as quickly, Roddy
was running after him. But he didn’t catch up with him until they were dropping down
the bank opposite
the dam. Gripping the smaller lad by the arm, he pulled him to a halt, only to have his hand shrugged
away. And when, his voice contrite, he said, “I didn’t mean that, Hal. I didn’t. There’s nobody I would
have for a mate but you.
You know that,” Hal’s lips parted but the teeth were still tightly together and his voice came through
them, saying, “ On top, aye, but underneath you’re just like the rest. “
“That’s not fair.” Roddy was shouting now.
“I’ve stood by you through thick an’ thin. And you’re not the only one that’s gone
through the mill, we
both lost our dads at the same time.”
“Aye, we did.” The boy’s voice was quiet now.
“But the cases were slightly different, weren’t they?”
“Aye, they might have been, but then you have one advantage over me, you can
remember what yours
was like, I can’t.”
“Well, I would change places with you any day in the week, and I wouldn’t feel sorry for me self
“Who’s feeling sorry for himself’?”
“You are, and always have done, ‘cos you’ve been brought up soft, pampered by old Kate an’ the Lees
an’ nursed by that little tonguey bitch of theirs....”
At the same moment that Roddy threw his slate aside his other fist shot out and caught Hal on the
cheekbone, and the next minute they were rolling on the ground, kicking and punching at each other.
What finally stopped them was a basket descending on both their heads spraying weeds
over them.
They rolled away from each other and lay for a moment, Roddy on his back, Hal leaning
on his elbow,
looking up at the red face staring down at them, and listening to her voice as high as a scream yelling,
“What’s up with yous? Have you both gone barmy? An’ on a Sunday an’ all.”
“Shut up!” Roddy pulled himself to his feet and, glaring down into Mary Ellen’s
astonished countenance,
continued to bawl, “As for you, you leave me alone, do you hear?” Then added, turning
his head in
Hal’s direction, “Both of you. Get somebody else to trail.” And with this he swiftly
picked up his slate
and marched away, leaving the two people who loved him staring after him.
Her eyes were moist and her lips were trembling when she turned towards Hal,
demanding now, “What
did you do to him?”
The do to him? It’s what he did to me. Knocked me on me back afore I knew where I
was. “
“You must have said something.”
“Aye, I did.”
She waited.
Wiping the trickle of blood from his jaw, he poked his head towards her, saying slowly and in a tone that
always had the power to enrage her, for it laid heavy emphasis on each word, “I told him that you were a
tonguey bitch and followed him about like a cacklin’ hen.”
“Oh you!” Her mouth was thrust out, her small chest heaved and for a moment she
seemed incapable of
further words; but when she cried, “Talk of following anybody about, you don’t let him breathe. He just
puts up with you, ‘cos nobody else will. Nobody likes you; as for lovin’ you, nobody ever will,” it was
immediately evident she had struck home.—The look on his face told her she had indeed
hit him hard for
his cheeks, usually red, were devoid of colour and the blood that was still running from the scratch
looked scarlet.
She waited for the stinging retort. But none came; he just continued to stare at her for a moment before
turning about and walking away. He did not rush as Roddy had done, but he went slowly
like someone
deep in thought, or sad.
She stood, her head drooped, looking down at the basket and the herbs scattered around it and she
wondered why she should feel so awful, not for the same reason which had brought the
tears to her eyes
a few minutes ago when Roddy had barked at her, but because of what she had said to
Hal.
After picking up the best of the limp herbs and placing them in the basket again, she
remained for a
moment looking to where the stocky figure was disappearing round the bend in the path, and twice she
said, “Well! Well!” before swinging round and making her way back towards Kate’s.
And on the way she decided she wouldn’t tell Roddy about the bag, she wouldn’t tell
anybody because
she felt it would only open up trouble.
What kind? She didn’t know, except that it would be grievous trouble and she had
enough to contend
with, because once she got to Kate’s she would have to explain why she had got so few
herbs and that
would bring out the row between Roddy and Hal. And having got that far, the cause
would come to
light, and then Kate might go for her for breaking up the friendship between the two lads, because Kate,
in a way, had sympathy for Hal. And then if it came to the ears of her da there would be more explaining
to do. And he would certainly go for her. By!
he would that.
No, she would leave the bag where it was and let it rot there just as it had in the mire,
‘cos she was in
for enough trouble the night.
PART TWO. Youth
“And you really think they’ll like them, Mr. Mulcaster?”
The overseer looked at the young man whom he had watched grow from a skinny youth
at the age of
ten into this upstanding figure that could be taken for a mature man in his middle years, not one who had
just passed his twentieth birthday.
And it was odd about his birthday. It was one that old Kate had given him. He had come into her care
on the last Saturday in September, eighteen hundred and seven, when she understood he
was then seven
and a half years old. And so when the boy never recovered his memory she added another six months
on, so that he would have a birthday on the last Saturday of the next March, whichever date that
happened to fall on.
“They are excellent drawings,” Mr. Mulcaster said, ‘and I’m sure Mr. MacPherson will
think the same.
Now this could be a chance in a lifetime, Greenbank. Don’t be afraid to speak up because remember,
after all, we are merely human beings, each one of us. “
Roddy smiled at the man as he thought, and you’re the :
best of them. Yet there were folks who didn’t like the agent. But then, there were folks who didn’t like
anybody in power, and these were the ones who wouldn’t know what to | do with it if
they had it
themselves. There were people who never saw two sides of a situation.
“What if I can’t get back the same night, sir?” he said.
Mr. Mulcaster smiled as he replied, “Well, find some where to stay.
Tomorrow’s Friday and the place won’t
68 I
drop down without you for one day . or two. “ And he gave one of his rare laughs, which caused
Roddy to hang his head slightly. The sarcasm wasn’t meant to be hurtful, but although he knew he was
as good a worker as anyone else he wasn’t a natural smelter, not like Hal, because his heart wasn’t in it
in the same way.
But in the technique that went into extraction of silver and lead from the ore, there he knew his interest
lay. And there wasn’t a piece of machinery that he hadn’t drawn since first as a small boy he had raked
out the house from the shoe and seen to it that the flow of water through the shoe kept the rollers cool.
As time went on he had drawn the waterwheel from all angles, every cog of it. As for the odds and ends
such as the dolly tubs, he had dozens of drawings of these smaller items. In the smelting apparatus, he
had done sketch after sketch of the ore hearth, the slag hearth, the assay furnace.
It wasn’t what they looked like from the outside, it was what went on inside that had
fascinated him.
Whenever there was a furnace to be cleaned down he was there drawing sections and
cross-sections.
One day one of the men asked him the purpose he had in doing all these drawings
because all the hearths
had been working as they should for years. How did he expect to better them? And his
answer had
been that he didn’t rightly know if he wanted to better them; he just wanted to draw the innards of things
and satisfy himself why they worked as they did.
Most of the men laughed at him: even Mr. Mulcaster hadn’t at first been in favour of his drawing the
machinery, saying that the company had all the mechanical men and architects they
needed. Yet, as
years went on and the boy still drew, even going further afield on Sunday tramping to the lead mines at
Alston or Allendale, the man recognized that the boy had something that should be
cultivated. But it
wasn’t until he had seen a drawing that he had done, not of a piece of machinery, or of the innards of a
smelting hearth, but of the abbey in Hexham that his interest had really been aroused.
Eventually he had spoken to a friend of his in Newcastle about this young fellow who had a flare for
drawing beyond the usual. And so it had come about that an appointment had been made
for Roddy to
meet Mr. MacPherson, one of a select group of people in Newcastle at that time who
were interested in
the arts, as it was said.
“If Mr. MacPherson so wishes he might invite you into the meeting,” Mr. Mulcaster was
saying.
“There you would make the acquaintance of Mr. Richardson and Mr. Parker, both fine
artists in their
own way. But now may I suggest something to you. Of course, it will depend on how
much money you
will have to spare. Have you got anything put by?”
“Yes, sir, a little bit.”
“Enough to get a change of clothes and shoes? Now, now, not that I’m saying you aren’t decently put
on; in fact, I would say you are better put on than most of them around here, but your dress is typical of
the country. Do you follow me?”
After a moment Roddy moved his head and said, “Yes sir, I follow you.”
“I don’t mean to suggest that you should get anything elaborate or expensive, but
something a little
different. I mean no offence. You understand me?”
“Yes, yes, I do perfectly, sir, and I’m of the same mind.”
“Good, good. Well then, as you haven’t to meet Mr| MacPherson until three o’clock
tomorrow
afternoon you’ll i have plenty of time to get fixed up.” He now held out his hand, saying,
“I don’t know
what might come of this,;
Greenbank, but I hope it will open up a new way of life for you. “
“Thank you, sir. Thank you very much indeed. I’ll always^ be beholden to you.” | They
inclined their
heads towards each other before| Roddy turned away and went out of the office, down the stairs and