Children of the Mine: Life Down the Mine in 1839

By Jacqueline Baxter

It was Tim’s 9th birthday, and he’d finally be joining his brother, sister, and dad down the pit. Working down the deepest, most dangerous coal mine in the Northeast of England was his worst nightmare. Especially remembering the horrible stories his sister told him. But thirteen-hours of sitting in the dark don't seem so bad once he makes friends with orphans, Jonnie, and his sister Evie.

But Jonnie isn’t who they think he is and Tim’s sister, Daisy, when harnessed to a coal truck and forced to pull 30 kilos of coal, rebels, setting in motion a disaster that changes their lives forever. The children, forced to flee the mine, set off on the road to London. But unbeknown to them, Annie and Geordie Giles, the worst bullies in the mine, are hard on their heels, desperate to avenge the death of their mother, Martha.

From the darkness of the Skry pit to the treacherous road to London town, Children of the Mine follows the story of a group of children at the height of the industrial revolution, whose lives were dictated by poverty, and the greed of the mine owners. As they make their way through Victorian England, they find that some things are worse than the pit…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Apr 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9781805148845

Book preview

9781805148845.jpg

Copyright © 2024 Jacqueline Baxter

First published 2013 under the title ‘The Strange Story of the Skry Pit Kids’

Copyright © 2012 Jacqueline Baxter (Bellew)

Illustrations by Dan McCloskey (2012)

First edition edited by Sarah Mann (2013)

Second edition edited by Lauren Darby (2023)

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the author at

www.childrenofthemine1839.com.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Troubador Publishing Ltd

Unit E2 Airfield Business Park,

Harrison Road, Market Harborough,

Leicestershire LE16 7UL

Tel: [phone]

Email: [e-mail]

Web: www.troubador.co.uk

ISBN 9781805148845

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my father, Don Baxter (1932—2019), who inspired my love of mining, and to my three boys, Alex, William and Harry Bellew. Finally, I also dedicate it to my partner Robert, without whose support, it would never have been written.

This book is for the children, past and present whose childhoods have been lost to capitalist greed.

Contents

Mining Today

About the Book

Prologue: The Mine

Chapter 1 A Working Lad

Chapter 2 On The Way t’ Pit

Chapter 3 The Pit Wife

Chapter 4 The Entrance to the Pit

Chapter 5 Down the Pit

Chapter 6 Custard Carter

Chapter 7 An Explosive Secret

Chapter 8 Bad Tidings

Chapter 9 Familiar Faces

Chapter 10 Out of the Darkness, Into the Light

Chapter 11 The Plan Takes Shape

Chapter 12 On the Road

Chapter 13 Haunted by the Past

Chapter 14 New Faces

Chapter 15 Meet the Family

Chapter 16 Into the Woods

Chapter 17 London Ahead

Chapter 18 A Change of Heart

Chapter 19 Children of the City

Resources

Glossary

About the Author

Mining Today

Every day, 14-year-old Tenasoa, who has lost the use of her legs, works in a mine to earn money for her family. In Madagascar, about 10,000 children work in the mica mining sector. Mica is found in products such as cosmetics, paints and electrical implements and mining it requires people to work in dangerous conditions underground. In Tenasoa’s mine, 40 children work, seven days a week with no access to school or health services. Worldwide, child labour has risen to 160 million – an increase of 8.4 million in the past 4 years – the risk to children is increasing as poverty, climate change, war and global recession push more and more families into poverty. (Source: www.unicef.org 2023)

About the Book

Children of the Mine: Life down the Mine in 1839 is the first in a series of books by Jacqueline Baxter. The books are the result of 10 years of research into mining and child labour during the Victorian era and before the 1845 Children’s act.

Life Down a Mine in 1839

Life down the mine started very early for children in 1839. They were often sent down for the first time at 5 years old. They would start very early in the morning, sometimes they were carried there by their parents, still sleeping. They would be put to work initially as ‘trappy lads and lasses’, opening and closing the doors between the passages. This was an important job as otherwise a build-up of methane could (and often did) cause an explosion. Mines were very dangerous places to work – accidents were very common for both children and adults, with loss of a limb or permanent disability, a real risk. Conditions down the mine were poor. Flooding meant that children would often work for 13 hours a day, knee deep in water. Pit props (the wood that held up the passageway roofs) could collapse, trapping workers underneath them. A glossary of mining, historic and regional terms can be found at the end of this book.

The second book in the series follows the children to London and explores life and work in the Victorian city.

The sorrow of the trapped lass

I’m just 8 years old but I’m well and I’m fit, 

And my daddy says I am to go down the pit.

To work as a trapper from six until five,

I’m scared and I’m worried I will not survive .

For I’ve heard the old tales that the lassies tell me,

Of the pit wife, the one that eats children for tea.

My mam says don’t worry, it’s all just a tale ,

But I don’t want to go and I weep and I rail,

At the terrible fate that awaits me today.

When instead of the sunshine and outside to play,

Confined underground in the dark I’ll be sat,

My only companions a candle and rat.

But I can’t fight against it cos dad says, you see.

We must all work the pit, we little girls three.

And this is my lot for the rest of my life,

Until I have children, am married, a wife.

That’s ten years at least, of the pain and the sweat,

Of six days of work, (I’ll no holidays get).

When my mammy will carry me sleeping to work,

And the getters will beat me if I dare shirk.

And Mam will say little, but I know she hates,

The way the mine owners control all our fates.

And the heartache she feels that the child she adores,

Is confined without light in a place she abhors.

It was different when dad worked as getter of coal,

A job that he loved to the depths of his soul,

For no finer work for a miner was there,

With cartloads of money, for those that would dare.

Toil the seams for a living, to get that dark gold.

Powering engines once it was sold.

But dad was the victim of dangerous gas,

Something that happens to lad and to lass.

In a flash the explosion killed horses and men, 

And the tallies collected to know what we ken¹,

That all of them down there were injured or deed²

The victims of the pit owner’s terrible greed.

Poor dad he was injured, in terrible pain, 

And his leg was all spoiled, it was more than a sprain.

And although he can walk he cannot get the coal,

Avoiding the workhouse is now his main goal.

So that’s why we work, as dad sits in his seat,

Cos if we don’t work we’ll be out on the street,

Or worse, in the workhouse with nothing but gruel,

And the master and mistress notoriously cruel.

And so for today mam will pack up my bait³,

And carry me down there to meet with my fate.

As money piles in and the mine owners profit,

From the notes they pile up within their fat wallet.

So just for a minute please spare me a thought,

You have your childhood, but mine it was bought.

And although for my mam I’ll try to be brave,

It’s so hard at 8 years to be naught but a slave.

Jacqueline Baxter copyright 2024

---

1 Northern word for know

2 Geordie word for dead

3 Miner’s lunch

Prologue: The Mine

It was black, pitch black, blacker than anything Tim had ever known. All around him there were groans and creaks, noises coming out of the inky blackness. Tim tried to stand but barely got halfway before his head hit hard on cold rock. He felt for the base of the door, maybe if he crouched very low in the corner the Pit Wife wouldn’t find him. The groaning became louder and the ground below him trembled.

Somewhere, somewhere near him, the terrible screaming began. Tim tried to catch his breath, but the heat and dust choked him. He reached for his handkerchief, desperately trying to block the stench of the poisonous gasses that were filling his lungs, cutting off the last remnants of clean air.

Suddenly the trap door dividing him from the rest of the narrow pit passage burst open and something began to crawl out of the tunnel towards him.

Dad! Dad, help us!, cried Tim, sobbing as he desperately struggled to close the door, pushing hard on the soaking wood, his feet slipping in the black mud.

Almost there, Tim gave one last enormous heave and the door crashed shut in front of him. Sobbing with relief, Tim sank back against the blackened walls, blood pouring from the cuts in his hands. From behind the door he could hear the creature shuffling around in the dark. Turning away, Tim lit the last remnants of his candle, illuminating the dark passage behind him. As he raised the tiny stub, he saw a terrible sight: rocks and rubble blocked the passageway and just in front of him the poor pit pony lay crushed under a heavy coal wagon, it’s head lolling limply to one side.

Seized with panic, Tim crawled towards the wagon and with the last of his strength, peered inside. The stench was terrible, a mixture of burning and foul gasses. Blinded by the smoke, Tim could just make out a dark shape moving inside the corve.

Daisy, is that you? he croaked.

An unearthly groan emanated from the from inside the wagon and the shape turned to face him. Its ruined face a mass of blackened blisters, the hair burned from its head. Just a single tuft remained, tied by a familiar blue ribbon, which was strangely untouched.

Tim recoiled in horror, losing his grip and falling on top of the dead pony, its sightless milky eyes stared into his. The burned body heaved itself up and what was left of one eye met Tim’s horrified gaze. It raised its bloody arms and out of the black hole where a mouth should have been came a rasping whisper:

It’s me Timmy. It’s your Daisy. I remembered you, Timmy. I’ve come to take you home.

Recoiling in horror, Tim screamed and covered his face as the figure claiming to be his sister slowly moved towards him.

Chapter 1

A Working Lad

‘Ere, steady on, shouted an indignant voice from the floor. I don’t care what day it is, you’re not hogging the whole bed again.

Tim woke up with a start and looked in the direction of the voice. There, knelt on the floor where he’d been pushed, was his brother, Joe, rubbing his backside and groaning.

Nightmares again, little bro? Sooner you get down there for real, the better, grumbled the skinny lad in the nightshirt. A loud banging on the window made them both jump.

"Howay man, it’s the Knocker Man already. Well, time to get up, Bonny Lad."

The knocking at the window grew more insistent, as Dave, The Knocker Man, waited to see some sign of life before he moved on to wake the occupants of the next house.

Come on you lot, shake a leg. I’ve got another 30 houses to knock up yet! Dave shouted up at the window.

All right, all right, keep your hair on, they heard their father shout from downstairs.

Tim’s little sisters, Lottie (five) and Mary (four), were still asleep in the bed next to him and he could just make out the shapes of his younger twin brothers, Jack and Den (six), at his feet hiding under the covers. Joe and their sister Daisy, who were both older than Tim, were already up and groping around in the dark for their clothes.

Come on Birthday Boy – hurry about it. Big day today, Working Lad! Joe said grinning at his little brother before pulling the covers off him and giving his legs a friendly slap.

You’ll have to be sharper than this when you’re opening the traps or you’ll be for it said Daisy with a worried frown.

Joe shrugged and raised his eyebrows at Tim. "Take no notice