Migration of Souls

By John Kennedy

Set in A coastal mining village in Cleveland North Yorkshire in the 1870s It follows a young widowed mans journey from a rural background to the harsh realities of a mining community, where he meets a young girl who will change his life forever

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291705409

John Kennedy

I was born in Birmingham of the West Midlands in the United Kingdom on 27th April 1971. Around my thirty-nine years I have seen two sides of life. One side being amazing but the other side has been a nightmare. By reading this you will see everything in my words and also read about medical and world subjects of and around the world.

Book preview

Migration of Souls

Migration of Souls by John Kennedy

Published by Songbird publications 2014

Whitby North Yorkshire

© 2014 Lulu Author

All rights reserved

ISBN 9978-291-69521-2

No parts of this book maybe reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronically, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher

Acknowledgments

I wish to thank the staff of the Tom Leonard Mining museum at Skinningrove, for their sharing of knowledge and information.  To Jayne Kennedy whose expertise in genealogy was an invaluable source of information

Foreword

Having spent all my young life in the village of Skinningrove, my Father and Uncles all being miners, I was always interested in the history of the village.

In this book, I have set out to experience what it must have been like to live through the early years on the mines existence. The transition from a small fishing hamlet into a busy thriving village of over a thousand inhabitants who were drawn to the village with the prospect of work and decent housing.

Britain was going through a tremendous upheaval with people who for centuries had made their livings on the land and, were through mechanization, were thrown out of work and in many case homeless, due to the houses they lived in being owned by the landowner.

This story follows one such man through this period and how he coped with the trials that faced him. Events, such as the two industrial disputes and the reduction in wages are factual, as is the death of the boy. The outbreak of smallpox, chicken pox and the opening of the school are also factual, the remainder are fictional.

To help the reader understand the wages of that time I would point out that pre decimal there were:-

240 pennies to a pound.

12 pennies to a shilling

20 shillings to a pound

Two shillings and six pennies to a half crown

8 half crowns to a pound.

A farthing was worth a quarter of a penny

A Ton = 20 hundredweight which in metric terms =1,016 K.g approx

Depending on which formula you use the spending power of a pound in 1873 was equivalent to between £78.00 and £90.00. today.

However, one must remember that in 1873 they did not pay Income tax or v.a.t. Although some imported goods had duty added.  No rates and no electricity or gas bills although gas would be a factor shortly. Had neither cars or appliances to buy and run. They did pay a weekly sum in to a death benefit and a weekly fee to the doctor, and their own blasting powder and candles

I have deliberately avoided for the most part using the dialect of the many different parts of the country these people originated from. It would only lead to confusion.

J.K

Prologue

Ashes to ashes dust to dust. The Vicars words, snatched by the cold March wind even as they were uttered, and carried over the North Yorkshire moors into oblivion, were hardly audible in the gale driven rain.  The mourners, whilst attempting to retain their composure and dignity at such a solemn occasion, were clearly feeling the discomfort and perhaps wishing the Vicar would finish his eulogy quickly, so that they could beat a respectful retreat from the church graveyard.  Anticipating the warmth and dry abode nearby, where a ample supply of ham sandwiches and others forms of nourishment awaited them, including a hot cup of tea. The Vicar, as though reading their minds, began to read the sermon a little faster, and in so doing, concluded the proceeding. He then led the entourage from the graveside as quickly as decency would allow.

John Harrison was oblivious to the discomfort of the mourners, or indeed the wind and rain that soaked him from head to foot. He had declined any offers of sharing an umbrella or the use of an overcoat. It was difficult to discern whether he was crying or not, as any tears would have mingled with the rivulets of rain than ran down his face, causing his jet-black curly hair to cling to his face.

He stood staring down at the plain wooden box lying in the grave bearing the simple epitaph,

Mary Harrison 1852-1871.

He hoped and prayed that this was but a nightmare and he would wake up soon and find all was well, sadly, this was not to be, but he was still unable to believe that the wonderful happy and loving girl he had married less than a year ago was gone, stolen from him by a cruel and uncaring God. The birth of a son, whom they called William, had made them so happy until without warning she had haemorrhaged and died in his arms.

Come along John, we are done here, let us get out of this rain, Mary wouldn't have wanted you to catch Pneumonia and leave your son without a Dad as well, would she The comforting words of his brother in law James, managed to break the trance John was in and slowly he reluctantly followed James away from the grave, which was  filling with water, the single rose he had laid on her coffin already washed aside, as he set off for his sister’s house, where the funeral tea was being held.

The gravediggers, who had been waiting impatiently huddled on the lea side of the Church, to avoid the worst of the elements, quickly and unceremoniously, set to work filling in the grave, before they themselves sought shelter.

Once inside the house, Elizabeth immediately took John's arm and guided him upstairs, ordering him to change out of his wet clothes to avoid a chill. Returning down stairs, she instructed James to go up and help her brother before she rejoined the gathered mourners. The mourners were all fellow workers on the estate of Sir William Daresley, who had expressed his condolences but was unable to attend. This surprised none of those present, as although by normal standards of the landed gentry, he wasn't bad, he still considered the workforce as simply a means to an end and in no way could he be described a philanthropic.

John stripped off his wet clothing, the shirt stuck to his body like a second skin, being quite muscular due to his occupation; there was no looseness in the garment. His trousers were sodden and heavy and dropped to the floor creating a damp patch on the floor. He was a fine strapping lad, standing five foot ten inches with a shock of unruly black hair and deep blue eyes, it was said had been inherited from his mother, his hands were on the large side, pitted with burn scars, and calloused, from his work in the forge.

Having dried himself and changed his clothing, he sat for a while on the edge of the bed and reflected on how unfair life had been. In the space of ten years, he had lost his parents to the fever and now his beloved Mary had been taken from him. He was thankful that he had his sister who was five years older than he, to help him through his grief and of course, James, who he had resented at first for taking his sister from him, but over the years, had seen him as a brother. Also he had his son William, so there was some comfort for him..

He washed his face in the bowl, returned to the living room, and trying his best to be polite in responding to the many utterances of condolence, found he had only one thing on his mind, to hold his baby son in his arms, the last and only link with his beloved Mary.

John's mind went back to the time they had first met, Mary who had been in service at the Big House as Danby Hall, the home of Sir William was called locally. He had been returning a horse to the stables after re-shoeing. John was a blacksmith apprentice, working under the patronage of his brother in law James. Mary had been to the vegetable garden for some carrots and potatoes, when John seeing Mary struggling with the handcart she was pulling, offered to help, she was trying to keep her small bonnet on her head whilst at the same time pulling the cart. When he got close to her, he noticed her blonde curls and pale complexion that made her full lips and pale blue eyes stand out. Her eyes also had a twinkle that captivated him. He became embarrassed and found difficulty in speaking to her. Mary must have noticed his shyness, because she squeezed his hand and thanked him kindly. All the way to the kitchen she never stopped asking questions about him, which emboldened John so much that he forgot his shyness and asked her out, and so the romance began,

Mary who had been in an orphanage in Scarborough and being put in to service, which was the natural course of action by the authorities, lived in the servant’s quarters in the attic of the Hall. Out of her meagre wages, she had to pay for her food and lodgings, so any social life was out of the question.

They spent their time together in the fields and woodlands and in the warmth of the stables when the weather was inclement. They had become engaged, and began saving what they could to buy furniture for their new home. His Lordship did not pay apprentices very well, so James was lodging with his sister and brother in law. The plan was that as soon as John had completed his apprenticeship and been employed as a fully-fledged Blacksmith, he would apply for a cottage and marry Mary, who would also be twenty-one and would not require permission from her benefactor, his Lordship to marry.

Unfortunately, Mary found herself pregnant, which would mean instant dismissal, so on hearing the news, John hastily arranged the marriage with the help of his sister, hoping that no one would count the months on the birth of child to avoid the tongue wagging of the gossipmongers in the village

Elizabeth approached the Vicar and explained the situation, who in turn had a discussion with Lord Daresley who both agreed that to avoid a scandal and the loss of a hard working girl, that marriage was the best and prudent course of action, seeing as the boy was willing to shoulder his responsibilities.

John had decided to visit Mr Hepwood the Estate manager and ask if a cottage could be allocated to him straight away. He carried with him a letter from his brother in law stating that in his opinion, John would reach the standard required to qualify as a blacksmith on reaching his twenty- first birthdays in a year’s time. The response was not what he had expected, the empty cottages were not to be rented out at the present, but if he came back in the Spring, there may be more news. Rather bemused by this response, John had returned to his sister’s house and told them the news. Mary ever the optimist responded with Not to worry, they must be doing them up ready for the Spring. Just think we will have a modern cottage to move in to, there may even be a tap indoors, with that, the subject had been dropped. They had married in the local church and Mary moved in with John in the spare room at his sister’s house until the housing matter was resolved.

The sudden death of Mary had put an end to all their dreams and aspirations for the future and he was left with a little boy to care for, the only consolation was that he had his sister Elizabeth's support. Elizabeth having no children of her own secretly welcomed the chance to be a surrogate mother, helping to fill a void.

The plaintiff crying of his son brought John's thoughts quickly back to the present. He took him up in his arms and withdrawing to the kitchen, hugged the baby and began to sob uncontrollably Elizabeth on seeing this, closed the door and quietly asked the mourners to leave.

Chapter One.

It was now Easter Sunday 1873, the long Winter was now behind them and Spring was evident with the bright daffodils swaying in the breeze. The fields were turning from brown to green as the new wheat shoots began to flourish; the trees were coming in to leaf. A skylark was hovering above the hedgerows and the air was full of the twittering of mating birds. John observed all this and should have been content and happy, his son now two years old was walking and spoke a few garbled words, most of all, he was in rude health.  He had completed his indenture as an apprentice and was now a qualified blacksmith. However, it was also the second anniversary of Mary's death, which saddened him and put all other thoughts to the back of his mind.

Easter was later this year April 13th and as was the custom, all the workers and the gentry, attended church for the Easter Sunday Service. A special mention of Mary during the service was to be made by the Vicar, which pleased John. The service comprised the usual hymns such as All things bright and beautiful and Morning has broken, the sermon seemed to go on and on, often interrupted by William and other children expressing their boredom by bursting in to synchronised crying. Eventually it ended and a moments silence was observed for his beloved Mary, even the children responded with silence. The congregation filed out of the Church and shook hands with the Vicar, John thanked him for mentioning Mary and was making his way to join Elizabeth, when a familiar voice called his name, it was the estate manager, William Hepwood . John, could you call in to my office this afternoon, two o' clock would be fine. I have something to discuss with you. John nodded, and the estate manager continued on his way.

On joining Elizabeth and James, he explained what had happened. Elizabeth chimed in It must be about you finishing your apprenticeship, whilst you are there ask him about a cottage. John knew that Elizabeth didn't mean anything by that remark, but it was a bit cramped in the cottage, especially now that William was growing so fast. However, John failed to note the look of apprehension on James's face as they walked home for Sunday dinner.

John arrived at the estate manager’s office prompt on two o' clock and knocked on the door. Come in came the response and John removed his cap and entered. Take a seat young man offering John a seat. Mr Hepwood then returned to his desk and began to fumble around with the papers on his desk. Ah, here it is, congratulations on becoming a fully fledged blacksmith, here is your certificate. I wish you well in your chosen career John reached over and took the coveted document. Then Mr Hepwood added, Unfortunately I have to tell you it will not be here on this estate. John was somewhat taken aback by this unexpected remark and just sat staring at the estate manager who continued.Let me explain. If you remember last Autumn, his Lordship brought in those chaps to demonstrate that machine for harvesting the wheat. Well he was so pleased with it that he intends bringing them back this year. Not only that, but he has been down to Lincolnshire to have a look at some steam traction engines that can plough a field in a fraction of the time it takes with horses. He has told me that we are to take delivery of two such contraptions shortly. As a result I am instructed by his Lordship to serve notice on four labourers and sell four of our Cleveland Bay’s, which unfortunately means that we will only require one blacksmith for the present and near future which means I have to let you go.

John sat totally stunned by the news. How could his world be torn apart, wasn't the loss of his wife enough to bear, now this. He would be homeless without a job with a boy child. He had a little savings, but how long would that last? Finding no words to reply, he stood up and made for the door. " Hold on a minute John, I haven't finished yet. I was as shocked as you were with the speed of what was happening. I had an inkling what he had in mind, but was unable to say anything, so when you came and asked for a