The Age Limit

MATTHEW CURLEY and I lounged on a pile of lumber on the shady side of Muddy Brook breaker, while he instructed me in the facts of the coalminers’ strike. Although not without bias, his accounts of men and manners showed him laudably fair-minded, and his anecdotes had a charming way of coming to the point in a few words. Moreover, it is not every day that one can get the stories of the breaker, the engine room, and the shaft confidentially and at first hand.

“There’s old Sandy Anderson, now,” said he. “ Maybe you ’ll know him ? Well, he was a pious old fellow, that was fire-boss in this mine for goin’ on forty years, till six months ago now. Did n’t talk much; quiet an’ sourlike; great one he was about his church, too, an’ Y. M. C. A., an’ timp’rance meetin’s, an’ those things. He’d give it to ’em hot if a fellow happened to swear when he was a-walkin’ down the gangway an’ heard it; even the Hungarians an’ Polanders, that did n’t know no English but swearin’, he’d preach away at them, too. He got the name o’ Deacon with the men long ’fore any of us was born. He knew his business, though, an’ we liked him good enough. Sincet the new comp’ny bought the mine, though, he got treated dirty mean, an’ fin’lly they give him the bounce with one week’s notice. Not for nothin’ wrong, nor ’xsplosions, nor caves, nor scraps with the men, but just ’cause he’d got to be sixty four years old. An’ him knowin’ the mine these forty year, every air-way an’ door an’ slope, as well as I know my shoes.

Yes, sir, it’s a pretty old mine. Forty years is pretty old for a mine, that’s right; but ye see, ’t was opened first by a slope by the hill yonder, an’ then a shaft this side the bend o’ the creek, an’ then this openin’. But’t is all one mine, an’ he’d been in it right along. An’ him bein’ a poor man, with a kind of spiteful old woman to home, made it worse. When he quit work, he had n’t nowhere to spend his time. He seemed to quit goin’ to meetin’s ’bout that time, an’ there just was n’t nothin’ to keep him busy.

“ Him an’ the engineer was the greatest friends ; butties once when they was young, an’ always thought a lot of each other. Day after he quit, old Sandy did n’t show his head out o’ doors ; but the next day I s’pose things got hot at home. Anyhow, down he comes, partly sneakin’ along, an’ sits in the engine room all that day an’ the next, too. The fireman told me afterwards the old Deacon just sat there an’ mostly did n’t open his mouth for a word, an’ now an’ then he’d be sittin’ up there cryin’ kind of slow and stupid-like, an’ not seemin’ rightly to know it at all.

“ One time he heard him say to Jim that old men was no use in the world after the first o’ May. ‘ Why, Jim,’ says he, talkin’ awful Scotchy, ‘I’m a verra strong man yet. Sure, I’m better at my wor-r-r-k than the young chap they have given it to, who is a fearful venturesome young man, and a profane swearer besides, to my own knowledge. Hark ye, Jim,’ says he, ‘ I have served them faithful now for forty year, good times and calamities an’ all, an’ now they put me to shame ! ’ Then he sighed something awful.

“ Pretty soon the bell rang from down the shaft for Jim to hoist away, an’ when the engines started it seemed to make him feel worse again, an’ the tears run down his beard somethin’ pitiful. Soon’s he stopped the engines, Jim went over to him and tried to cheer him up, but he did n’t really pay no attention.

“ ' Mrs. Anderson takes it verra hard,’ says he, scared-like. ‘ She’s verra worried an’ verra much put about in the matter. She says that the man who provideth not for those of his own household is worse than a thief. We must go to the poorhouse in our old age,’ says he. ‘ Business is that dull I cannot get me another place,’ says he.”

Here Curley paused to recline at ease along the boards. I scarcely dared stir, for fear of disconnecting the links of the story. Pen cannot do justice, unfortunately, to the composite dialect which distinguished the quotations.

“ But presently, all along o’ a little matter o’ dockage, the men struck, an’ the pump-runners an’ firemen struck with them to be in the fashion. So the fans was stopped an’ the pumps was stopped, an’ gas an’ water gathered in the workin’s unbeknownst, because there was n’t no men down that week to take notice of it. ’T was a dry weather spell, an’ had been for a long time, an’ the mines were pretty dry, so the comp’ny’s Super’ntindent said he could wait for ’em two weeks to start the pumps, an’ the mines not take no harm from it.

“ Well, there come along a rain, an’ a cloudburst, an’ a flood, an’ a runaway creek got down the shaft overnight, an’ things was in an awful way. The water was anywhere an’ everywhere. The new boss, he went down with a gang o’ six men an’ didn’t dare to go away from the foot of the shaft, ’cause they heard the pillars goin’ whit-wheet, chippin’ something awful, an’ the chunks o’ top-rock splasliin’ down into the water, way off down the gangway. There wasn’t no use runnin’ round the mine, when she was actin’ up that way, just on an excursion-like. When she’s workin’, as we says, excursions is no use, an’ ye want to send down props by the hunderds, an’ do yer explorin’ afterwards. So the new boss, he comes up an’ he sends down all the props there was on hand, an’ he telyphones the office for five hunderd more, — which was n’t specially convenient, them bein’ stood up in piles of fifties in the comp’ny’s lumber yard ten miles away, ’cause the Super’ntindent was such a partic’lar man ’bout ‘ system an’ nateness.’ The worse luck was, the Old Man himself was on hand in th’ office, an’ he telyphones back that the props ’ud come down on a special train soon’s they could be loaded, an’ himself ’ud come down on a special engine ahead o’ the props, to help ’em. Till he got there, they was to presarve the comp’ny’s property, so he said. But the property was that water-soaked by that time, the rocks was just saggin’ in, an’ the pillars was chippin’ to nothin’ with bearin’ up all that extra heft o’ water. An’ as for gas, the fans had been stopped eleven days an’ nights, so there was a plenty; an’ nobody could n’t tell where it had gathered, ’cause there was all the water shovin’ it round out o’ its proper places.

“ Afore he mounted up on his special engine, though, the Old Man had a spell o’ workin’ the telyphone lively with orders. He always was a great hand to get giving orders, anyhow. ’Bout the time he got there, he had engineers, an’ pumpmen, an’fire-bosses, an’carpenters, an’ inside bosses, an’ miners, an’ tools, an’ lumber, an’ powder, an’ oil, an’ Davy lamps, by the dozens an’ carloads from all the comp’ny’s other mines near by, an’ even some men an’ lamps borrowed from other comp’nies’ works along the creek.

“ The firemen an’ engineers an’ pumprunners was set to work firin’ up an’ settin’ the fans goin’ all they could stand, to get up some o’ the gas outen the workin’s. The Old Man ran around shoutin’ out orders, an’ prisently he had engineers at the fires, an’ firemen outside nailin’ up lumber for brattices, an’ fire-bosses runnin’ errands, an’ sweatin’ over the telyphone, an’ carpenters fillin’ an’ cleanin’ the safety-lamps, an’ every Jack of us doin’ some other man’s work. The Old Man always loves to see things hum that way, an’ the strikers just stood round an’ laughed at the show. It was pourin’ rain, too, an’ had been for three days an’ nights.

“ In about two or three hours, the young feller, the fire-boss old Sandy said was so venturesome, had got all his props used, an’ the new ones had n’t come yet. Some o’ the men, Dagos, come out after that, and would n’t go back in again, because she was a-workin’ something awful, an’ the chips o’ coal shootin’ off the pillars every minute, an’ the roof crackin’, an’ water drippin’ where water never dripped when the mine was right, an’ two rows of props round the pillars did n’t seem to do no good, and they was scared. But the boss kept right on. When the props was gone, he left the men up by the shaft an’ went lookin’ round the mine a bit by himself. He always was one o’ those you could n’t kill. Nobody else was anxious to go.

“ Pretty soon he comes back to them, an’ says he, ‘ Anybody here that knows the air-ways of the old Rat-hole Slope ? ’Cause our air-way on Five Gangway is got a fall o’ clay an’ top-rock to spoil its beauty,’ says he, ‘ so, unless we can open into Rat-hole an’ back again into ours under the fan, we can’t get air into this gangway at all, nor get rid of the gas.’

“ But there was n’t a man there with him old enough to look back to the last days o’ Rat-hole Slope. So up comes the boss an’ the men, an’ the boss begins to hunt for a man what knew the Rat-hole air-ways.

“Well, they told him old Sandy Anderson was the only man, an’ just then the Super’ntindent came buzzin’ by an’ heard it. ‘ Then get him ! ’ he snaps.

‘ Send for him ! ’

“ ‘ He’s over in the engine room,’ said somebody.

“ ' He won’t go,’ says the new fire-boss,

‘ not for nobody, nor if the whole mine fell in. You don’t know old Sandy Anderson.’

“ ‘ He will too ! ’ yelled the Super’ntindent, beginnin’ to scold an’ swear, an’ makin’a bee-line acrost the yard towards the engine house. Everybody that heard what was up began to run for the engine house, too. Time I got there, there was old Sandy standin’ in the doorway, glarin’ down at the Super’ntindent an’ talkin’ solemn-like.

“ 4 Ye discharged me the first o’ May,’ says he. ‘ Now ye may attend personally to yer own mines.’ An’ with that he turns his back to go in, an’ all the crowd sets up a cheerin’.

“ Then the Super’ntindent began to swear somethin’ surpassing standin’ there an’ shootin’ off his words through the door. After a minute, Sandy comes to the window an’ looks out at him.

“ ' Man ! ’ says he, ‘ stop yer blasphemin’ ! Ye ’re on in life now, and ye’ve enough to reckon for if ye should be called this night to yer account. Besides, it riles my temper.’

“ ‘ Will ye go down in the mine an’ help open up the old air-way, then, ye stubborn old fool ? ’ yelled the Old Man, letting off another string.

“ ‘ Ye discharged me the first o’ last month. And I do not like to be swore at. I can have ye arrested,’ says he.

“ ' Discharged you, did I ? High time, too, I guess ! ’ yells the Old Man. ‘ An’ now I need ye, an’ I ’ll hire ye again. Get back to your work, an’ quit shirkin’! ’

“ ' I don’t know if I just want the job,’ says old Sandy ; an’ the crowd cheered him again.

“ Then the Super’ntindent saw’t was no use, an’ he changed his tone. ‘ Look here, Anderson, you ’re the only man that’s here now that knows the old Rathole air-ways. We ’ve got to open that air-way, and you ’re the only one can manage it. Name yer own terms,’ says he.

“ Old Sandy just grunted an’ looked out the window, an’ did n’t seem to hear the jawin’ that was bein’ done on his account. ' It ain’t a very nice job,’ says he, squintin’ his eye. ‘ But yet, a man cannot be too partic’lar if he’s out of a job.’

“ He waited awhile, an’ then says he, ‘ If you ’ll promise afore these here witnesses to pay me fifteen dollars a month the rest o’ my lifetime if I don’t get killed, or thirty dollars a month to Mrs. Anderson for her lifetime if I do, I ’ll go down.’

“ Gee ! I thought the Super’ntindent would bust or blow up afore he could let out his feelings on the Deacon ! An’ yet it was n’t such an awful nervy offer as it looked, seein’ how Sandy had worked for them forty year.

“ ‘Then attend to it yerself,’ said old Sandy, an’ went an’ sat down in the corner by the fly-wheel.

“Well, the men went down an’ the props went down, an’ they did the best they could, an’ did n’t accomplish nothin’. Pretty soon, in about two hours, there come a jolt, an’ the fans was blown clean out o’ the air-shaft. ’T was the gas exploded. The engineer sent down the cage double-quick, in case anybody should be down there to get on. After a couple o’ minutes the bell rang to hoist away. There was another jolt afore he got them to the top, an’ this time ’t was the mine cavin’ after th’ explosion had shook it. There ’s likely to be some cavin’ after a ’splosion, specially if the mine had been workin’ some beforehand.

“ There was three men on, two o’ them burned something awful to look at. The other was an Italian ; he was shakin’ an’ silly, though he was n’t hurt much. His English was clean jarred out o’ him, an’ he could n’t tell nothin’,

“We took the two fellows to the engine room, against the ambulance should come. — Funny how a man that’s burnt bad gen’lly feels the cold, ain’t it ? — They was just awful lookin’. Old man Shea, he walked in of himself, an’ fell down, and says he, ‘ Boys, you want to get the rest of ’em damn quick. Drowndin’ an’ gas an’ cavin’ an’ top-rock,’ says he, an’ went off in a dead faint. His eyes was about all of him that was n’t burnt, being how he could n’t lie down flat in the gangway for the water that was knee-deep, an’ so he just covered ’em with his hands an’ let the rest of himself go to cinders.

“ The other fellow was n’t hurt all over, but he was blinded, an’ we had to carry him across to the engine room. He hollered an’ cried when we touched him, an’ begged us for God’s sake throw him back down the shaft to be out o’ his pain. The skin o’ his one arm come off in my hand when I touched him. It’s an awful thing to see a man burnt like that.” Curley stared off at a gleam of blue river, and seemed to lose interest in his own story.

“ Were the rest all dead ? ” I asked, after an interval.

“ No. Not but we thought they were, though, then. We got him in ’longside o’ old man Shea, an’ give him some whiskey, and asked him did he know if any other o’ the boys was alive down there, and where was they. Jim stood there, listenin’, listenin’, to hoist away the minute he got the signal, so’s there was anybody down there to give it.

“ Old Sandy Anderson was there, too, a-shakin’ all over, an’ kind of chokin’ when he’d try to speak out, an’ sayin’ over to himself : ‘ The young fool! The venturesome, foolish young man ! Thretty men’s lives, because of a fool and his folly ! Thretty lives ! Myself, I’d not ’a’ had them inside this day.’

“ But when the fellow that was hurted began tellin’ as how the boss an’ nine men was just leavin’ the shaft after th’ explosion, an’ ought to be near the foot somewheres, he quit talkin’ an’ listened. In a minute he had his white shirt an’ collar off, an’ was strippin’ to the waist.

' Gimme your shirt, Jim ' ’ says he, ' an’ somebody gimme another. Two’s none too many when we don’t know where the gas is.’

“' Delany,’ says he to a man standin’ in the doorway, ' get me eight men to go down an’ get the boss, the young fool ! ’ says he. ' And be parteeeular to wear two shirts,’ says he.

“ So there was a great strippin’ all round out in the yard, ’count of lots of us bein’ on strike an’ dressed up good, an’ not a stitch of a woolen shirt on lots of us. Them as had on a thick wool shirt was tryin’ to get another, an’ other men tryin’ to pull that offen them instead. And not a man would Delany hear to that wore a bit of cotton on him, nor a thin shirt, because a thick wool shirt has saved many a man’s life from fire, an’ he knew it. Myself, I had to wear old Sandy’s shirt through the streets that night till I could get home ; an’ took it over to Mis’ Anderson after dark.

“ When Delany had got his eight men, he come to the door an’ told Sandy.

“ ' Who’ve ye got ? ’ says Sandy ; and Delany, he told him. They was all men that knew Sandy, and that ’ud worked in the mines twenty years an’ over.

“ ' Man! ’ says Sandy. ' Don’t ye know they ’re all out on strike ? ’

“ ' Strike be damned ! ’ says Delany. ' That don’t cut no ice now. It ’s the men we ’re after. My own cousin’s down there now.’

“ ' So’s my son,’ says a man with a red shirt on over a black one ; and I seen it was the young boss’s father, that had n’t spoke to the young fellow fora month on account of his not strikin’ with the rest. Old Sandy finished talkin’ with Jim just as some o’ the boys come runnin’ up with the tools an’ four safeties. He was just turnin’ around when into the door came the old Super’ntindent, half crazy.

“ ' Sandy Anderson ! ’ says he, with no swearin’ at all, ' I want volunteers to go down with me. My men are down there. I sent ’em, but you must help me get ’em out! ’

“ Sandy, he hardly looked at the Old Man ; he just went on towards the door.

“ Then the Super’ntindent he talked faster an’ worse ’n I ever heard him before, an’ he ends up a-sayin’, —

“ ' I’ll take your blame, mud-suckin’, money-lickin’ offer, you cold-blooded old penny-pinchin’ mongrel! ’ — an’ other decorations. — ' Ye shall grow fat doin’ nothin’, an’ cut your false teeth on your pension money the rest of your life, you slow old skunk ! ’ He was goin’ on to say more when Sandy stopped him.

“ ' Verra weel,’ says he, lookin’ round.

' It’s a contract between us, an’ these persons are my weetnesses. Jim, I name you my executor, to see to it for Mrs. Anderson if I do not come out.’

“ The Old Man began again, but he did n’t say two words.

“ ' ’Hold that jaw ! ’ says Sandy. ' I ’ll maybe be face to face wi’ my Maker in half an hour, an’ I will not go to Him wi’ my ears full o’ your profane oaths. An’ as for the love o’ money, — good God, man, I’m goin’ for the lives o’ thretty men ! I was goin’, anyhow. — Get out o’ my road ! ’ Then he just shoved the Old Man one side an’ ran out, sayin’ over his shoulder, ' The Lord forgive ye, ye have made me begin to swear myself ! ’

“ The Super’ntindent ran out too, but bein’ fat an’ old he did n’t get to the shaft till the cage with Sandy an’ the men was started down. But we heard Sandy call up, ' There was competent weetnesses ’ — " ' The damned Scotchman ! ’ says the Old Man, an’ went back an’ began telyphoning for all the ambulances from the other mines, besides the hospital.”

“ Did they need them all ? ” I asked. " They did,” said Curley. " Though when Sandy’s gang went down we really did n’t think anybody’d come up again, nor even need the undertaker. There was another cave that night; but before that, Sandy had sent up twelve men alive an’ four bodies, an’ Delany an’ the eight men got up just in time.

“ Sandy did n’t come, nor the young boss, neither. The last cavin’ jammed the cage in the shaft, some way, part way down, as Jim was lowerin’ it, so there was n’t nothin’ more we could do for him.

“ Jim was feelin’ awful bad, an’ he would n’t even leave the engine house though the night-shift man had come on ; but he hung round an’ waited, though he did n’t know what for. An’ sure enough, ’bout eleven o’clock, in came old Sandy, dirty and tired, but not hurted.

“ ‘ Jim,’ says he, just as plain an’ natural as anything, l I ’ve not had time to get any supper yet. It’s late now, an’ Mrs. Anderson is very prompt to put away the supper at seven o’clock. Have you or Harry a bit o’ somethin’ in your pails that I could stay my stomach on before I go away home ? I’m a verra strong man yet, but I’m sixty-four years old, an’ I ’m free to say I am just faint wi’ hunger.’

“ So they got the watchman’s pail, an’ the fireman’s, and they come in too, and while he ate up all their three pails he told ’em how he’d found the young fireboss wedged behind a timber, an’ got him out, an’ both come out by some o’ the old workin’s beyond Rat-hole. He had n’t lost no appetite, neither, nor got so much as a scratch on him.”

Curley stood up, stretched, and climbed down from the pile of timbers, as much as to say that he had finished the story. I followed with a question.

“ What became of the old man ? Two people cannot live on fifteen dollars a month.”

He eyed me with a peculiar smile. “ It ’s been done, afore now, to my knowledge,” said he. “ But he did n’t have to. Jim, he rung up the telyphone exchange an’ told them, while Sandy was eatin’ the fireman’s cold pie ; an’ then he rung up the comp’ny’s office an’ told them ; an’ the telyphone girls, they must ’ve told a thousand people an hour, ’cause the whole town was crazy to get news. Anyhow, the next day, the Super’ntindent comes round, an’ ’bout noon he posts a notice at the breaker that Sandy Anderson is made ‘ consultin’ fireboss,’ with his old salary back again.”

“ What is a consulting fire-boss ? ” I asked.

“ There ain’t no such thing, but they called him that because he was over the age limit. He don’t have nothing to do unless they send for him to come to one of the collieries ; there’s weeks when he don’t do a thing; then there ’s weeks when he works as hard as ever.”

“ So he did n’t get his pension,” I remarked, as we strolled past the chutes of the breaker.

“ You bet he did ! ” responded my informant with vigor. “ First pay - day, he got just his sixty dollars, and he told them he’d sue for the fifteen if they did n’t give it to him peaceable. Why, the Union even made him an honorary member, I b’lieve, the ways they could push the thing through if he needed them. But he gets it, all right. They know a corporation has no show before a jury, now’days ; and then Sandy has his witnesses. Oh, he’s fixed fine, I tell you ! ”

E. S. Johnson.