Chapter Thirty-One

“W e’re going to have to climb up this stope,” Nat said, adjusting the hold he had on Yves’s limp form. “We have to get up toward the worked adits, and this is the only way.”

Luckily, the candlelight didn’t show much of the steeply uphill climb they were going to have to make, but it did show how narrow it was. Caroline didn’t want to know what lay ahead of them. She’d been taking this trek a little bit at a time for some time now. Just another ten steps. Just round that next bend in the tunnel. Just while she declined some Latin nouns and adjectives in her head to keep from thinking about their situation and her own fears. Just another ten steps. A stope . Another word to add to her litany. Stope . Adit . Tomb . Don’t think.

Exhaustion had long since taken its toll. Not that they could have walked that far. Rather, it was the nature of the walking: in the dark, by the light of a single candle, along narrow adits that ran with water so she was near as wet as Yves, now. Having to walk bent over where the roof came down low, and splashing through puddles of water on the uneven floor so that her boots and feet were soaked.

Added to all that, the sensation of being miles under the ground with tons and tons of solid rock above their heads, and the knowledge that no one knew they were there, pressed down on her like a physical weight. She mustn’t think about being stuck down here forever. In the dark. Entombed. She mustn’t. Of course, the moment she tried not to think those things, they became the only thing she could think of.

In obedience to Nat’s command, she started up the uneven, rocky slope that would hopefully take them to the next level. Nearer to the worked adits. Nearer to safety. If it was hard for her, it must be even harder for him. Yves wasn’t a heavy child for his age, but he was nine and not a baby anymore. And Nat’s shoulder should not be taking such a punishment so soon after his injury. She could hear his panting breath from behind as she climbed. But at least he wasn’t hampered by wearing a long gown. She was holding it and her petticoats up with one hand, but still her clothing hampered her movement. Once more, the thought that Ysella had it right about wearing boys’ clothes rose to the surface. Too late now. Unless, of course, she ripped off her skirts and climbed in just her drawers. What a thought. Only the hope that they were going to get out of there, in the end, and someone would see her in her underwear, prevented her from doing just that.

Before long they had to rest. Climbing the stope was worse than walking along the adits had been. Her own breath was heaving, and the air felt thick and heavy and difficult to force into her lungs. Hadn’t she once read somewhere that bad air in mines could kill you? The urge to burst out laughing washed over her and she only just managed to hold herself in check. Because if she started laughing, she’d end up sobbing. And she mustn’t do that in front of Yves.

Nat sat down on a large rock and shifted Yves so he was lying in his arms like a baby, his blonde head resting against Nat’s shoulder.

Caroline sat down beside them and felt Yves’s face and hands. A little warmer than they had been.

He opened his eyes. “Caroline?” How feeble his voice sounded in the darkness.

“I’m here. We’ll have you out of this dreadful place soon, don’t you worry.”

“Am I going to die?”

She bit her lip and forced a smile. “Of course not. Do you feel a bit warmer now?”

He nodded, but she couldn’t be sure he was telling the truth. “I’m so tired. My candle went out. I was in the water in the dark for so long. I didn’t think anyone would ever come.” His voice faltered. “I-I thought I was going to die and never see Dash again.”

How dreadful that must have been, afraid that no one knew he was there, that he’d die alone in the cold dark of the maze of tunnels and never be found. He might only be nine, but those thoughts must have run through his mind as he clung to the rocky wall of his wet tomb. What bravery and determination it must have taken not to give up and let the water take him. He’d never given up hope. She squeezed his hand. Thank God they’d come in time.

“We’re all tired,” Nat said. “But not long now. We can’t be far off the worked levels, and there should be men there who’ll be able help get us out.”

“Am I having an adventure?” Yves asked.

Caroline nodded, keeping her voice light and cheerful, which was difficult, as what she needed herself right then was reassurance. “You are indeed. And so are we, thanks to you. But I have to say, it’s an adventure I could have done without.”

Nat laid his free hand on her knee. “But you have turned out to be a fine and brave adventuress.”

She chuckled, glad of the warmth seeping through her wet and torn skirt. “If only that were true.”

“You are,” Yves whispered. “You came to save me.”

“Technically, Nat did that. I couldn’t reach you.”

“He’s brave too. Like Mr. Crusoe and Man Friday.” He closed his eyes and nestled closer to Nat. In a few moments he was asleep.

What a sweet picture the two of them made. Nat, with his hair all awry and the little, sleeping boy cradled in his arms. Despite her fears, Caroline found a smile.

Nat glanced at her. “My father died down here.”

She would have liked to tell him not to talk about dying while they were still not sure they could get out, but she didn’t. “I know. Sir Hugh told me.”

Nat sighed, shifting a little on his rocky seat as though uncomfortable. “I was with him.”

She nodded. “He told me that, as well.”

“I couldn’t do anything to save him.”

Unable to think of a response, she waited for him to go on.

“He was buried under a roof fall that let the water in from an old, blocked up adit. We were further down than this and the sea came rushing in. All the miners who were trapped on the far side of the fall drowned. I don’t know if the fall killed my father or the water. Gryff Casworan was with me. He dragged me out. I wanted to stay and dig my father out, but he made me leave. Forced me to. He saved my life.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He shrugged. “I know that now, but then it felt as though I’d abandoned him to die. It took me a long time to get over it. A long time.”

If he ever had.

He licked his lips as though unsure whether to go on.

She patted his hand. “You can tell me anything.”

His eyes met hers. “Somehow, I want to tell you everything. I don’t know why. I’ve never told anyone before. I feel… as though you understand.”

“Tell me, then.”

“I joined the army and met a girl. In London. A beautiful girl. Her name was Julia. We married young. I was twenty-one and she only nineteen. She…” His voice trailed off and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “She was with child. We were so happy. We had a small house in Town, near to her parents.”

He fell silent and she squeezed his hand again.

The darkness, suddenly companionable, pressed in close to her. “I wondered.”

He nodded. “I thought you did. No one at Roskilly knows about Julia. She died. The baby as well. My son. I never thought I could feel anything again. Not after that. It was my fault. The birth of the baby killed her. I did that to her.”

Oh God. No wonder he was so cold and distant. Life had not been kind to him.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head. “It was, and so was what happened in Spain.”

Yves stirred in his arms and snuggled closer.

“What happened in Spain?” Surely it must be doing him good to finally speak about his demons?

“I was leading my men through a mountain pass. Just a small group of us on patrol. The road clung to the side of the mountain, and up ahead someone had dug a short tunnel through the rock. We didn’t reconnoiter but rode straight into it. The French had set explosives. The roof came down on us. My best friend was killed. The man who used to play chess with me every night. Captain John Carnegie.”

“How was that your fault? Surely it was the fault of the French who laid the trap?”

“I was their Major. I led them into it. I should have foreseen the danger.”

She shook her head. “Nonsense. It was warfare, plain and simple. You had no way of knowing what would happen. It wasn’t your fault.”

Yves stirred again. “What wasn’t my fault?”

“Nothing,” Caroline said. “Nat and I were just talking. That’s all.”

Nat grunted. “Enough of that. We’re not out yet. Up you get, Caroline. We have the steepest bit to do next. Do you think if I put you on my back, young Yves, you could put your arms around my neck and hold on? I could climb better that way.”

The little boy’s eyes, so like those of his big cousin, filled with doubt. “I don’t know. I’m not feeling very strong.”

“I’ve nothing to tie you on with, I’m afraid.”

Caroline stood up, shoving aside thoughts of Nat’s dead wife and friend. “I have. My skirt. I’ll tear it off at knee height. I’ve still got my petticoat, so I’ll be fine. I’d use that, only I think my skirt will be stronger fabric.”

Thank goodness Nat didn’t argue. How refreshing to meet a man who realized what was necessary. She stood up and managed to rip a strip of fabric about two feet wide from her gown, long enough to tie around Yves and secure him on Nat’s back. This took a bit of doing, as they had so little space, but at last Yves was fixed in place, with his small hands locked around Nat’s neck.

They set off again, climbing steadily in the narrow space of the stope, a space not meant for more than one small miner at a time. Once again, the thought that it was no wonder the mines employed children rose to the surface. Neither she nor Nat were built for cramming themselves into tight spaces.

“Keep your head down, young Yves,” Nat said, right after she heard him bang his own head and swear.

“If I bang mine, can I say that too?” Yves asked, at last sounding a little like his normal self. That short sleep must have done him good.

“No, you cannot,” Caroline retorted, glancing back over her shoulder. “If it became a habit, think how shocked your Aunt Ruth would be.”

“Pooh to Aunt Ruth,” Yves said, with a little more spirit.

They’d climbed for another ten minutes when Caroline stopped, head on one side and ears cocked, listening.

Nat’s breathing filled the silence.

She swung round. “Ssh. Try not to pant. I can hear something.”

They stood still, waiting for their own heavy breathing to lessen. Silence gradually fell. Was that a tapping up ahead? Faint and faraway? Surely not just the drip of water.

“That sounds like hammering.” Yves’s voice rose in excitement.

“Keep going,” Nat said. “We must be nearly there.”

Caroline started climbing again, holding the candle up ahead of her. Another five minutes brought her to a halt again. This time the tapping sounded much closer.

Nat grinned at her out of his filthy face, his teeth flashing white in the candlelight. “We’ve done it. They must be up ahead. Look, we’re out of the stope and into an adit. We’re in the current workings and must be near the main shaft, by my reckoning.”

Caroline set out again with renewed determination, along a tunnel even narrower than any in the lower levels, where she had to squeeze herself between the crowding walls. Hope that they would soon be out in daylight drove her on. From ahead came the distant, muffled sound of voices rising in song. Was that a hymn, like the one she’d heard the miners singing on their way to work? Did they feel the sound of worship made them safer down here, in these dark, depressing tunnels, so alike to hell itself? Was their religion their crutch?

She trudged around a corner in the tunnel and found it widened out. At the far end, four miners, dirty and scruffy and akin to Satan’s own demons, were hammering at the walls, the candles set in small alcoves each throwing a tiny circle of feeble light. And yet it seemed to Caroline as though they’d reached heaven.

All four of them stopped working and swung round to stare. As well they might, for she must be a sight, with her ripped gown, filthy face, and messy hair. As for them, they were more like angels than if they’d been arrayed in heavenly white with wings and haloes. She’d never seen a more welcome sight.

Nat emerged from behind Caroline, Yves peering over his shoulder.

“Mister Nat!” One of the miners started forward. Impossible to guess his age as he was as dirty as Caroline and Nat, but he appeared to be in charge. “What’re you doing down here, surr? I didn’t see you come down with the shift change.”

Nat sat down on a rock, looking relieved to take the weight off his feet. “I didn’t, Opie, but I’m very glad to have found you. We came up through the old workings from Penmar Cove searching for Master Yves, who’d gone exploring on his own. We had to find our way up here because the tide was coming in and the cove would have been shut off. I’m just glad there were no significant roof falls to stop us.”

Opie looked at Yves. “Why, ’tis the young master hisself. What were’ee doing lost in those old adits?”

“Learning to be a miner,” Yves said with some asperity. “But I fell into a shaft full of water and couldn’t get out.”

Opie’s eyes widened. “Right little miner you are then. But I ’spect you all want to get out o’ here.” His eyes ran over Caroline again. “You an’ the young leddy.”

Caroline could have cried with relief, but held herself in check. “I want nothing more than to never go down a mine again, Mr. Opie. Once I’m up in the fresh air, I shall be the happiest woman on Earth.”

Opie grinned, his teeth showing white in his dirty face. “You’ll have to climb a few ladders to git out, I’m afraid. This ain’t no place for a leddy.” He wiped a dirty hand across his eyes. “But if you’ve come all the way up from the old workings, I think you can do it.” He turned back to Nat. “Here, you give me the lad, and I’ll tek him on my back. You look knackered, my luvver.”

What an odd expression that was, but how kindly said. How very Cornish.

Yves was transferred to Opie’s broad back, and the miner led the way along more narrow passageways, past other groups of miners working away at the lode, until the main shaft was reached. Here, the first of what was to be a series of wooden ladders rose upwards.

Caroline heaved in a resigned breath. At least this was the last stage of their journey and ahead lay the great outdoors. A great outdoors she never wanted to leave behind again.