THE DEPRIVED...Part 9.

A continuation of my book

“Right men and listen up!” shouted Mr. Wilson.
He was a tall lean man with a hard face which expressed no emotion. His voice too was without inflection, neither rising nor falling so that he sounded too tired to think about what he was saying.
“I want two of you to grab those shovels and start digging a pit, just like that one over there.” he said, pointing to a large empty pit some ten feet away.
Michael and Patrick quickly moved forward and took hold of the shovels and began to mark out the square of the dig. Mr. Wilson nodded as he watched Michael and Patrick begin to boot the shovels into the ground. He then turned away to look at the men who stood around him.
“Right now you other men. Do you see all those full sacks over there in that pile? I want you all to carry those bags and empty them down into that empty pit over there. Wait a minute.” he said as the men began to walk towards the pile of sacks.
Mr. Wilson walked over and vanished inside the small shed, to come out carrying a heap of thick gloves.
“Here.” he said, handing out the gloves to the men. “Put these gloves on when you handle the sacks. The stuff will burn your hands if you don’t wear the gloves.”
The men set to work, hefting the bags onto their shoulders and carrying them over to the empty pit. Mr. Wilson slit open the bags, to allow the white sulphurous powder to pour down to fill the bottom of the pit. The rising dust caused the men to gasp and begin coughing loudly. The men had no understanding of quick lime, of its toxic and poisonous effect. To the men it was a job and the wages of which would put food in the bellies of their families. Michael and Patrick worked throughout the day, having the pit dug and were then put to helping the others pour the quick lime into the fresh-dug pit.
The day had lost its strength and the night drew a dark curtain over the country. The Gaffer had arrived, seated up next to the driver and ordered the men back onto the trailer. The men continued to cough and gasp, drawing the air into their lungs as the cart slowly plodded homewards.
Mary had gone downstairs with the children, their eyes scouting the night for the return of the horse and cart and eventually Beth pointed excitedly outwards as the sounds of the horse’s hooves rang out on the cobbles.
“Here comes Da!” shouted Beth.
The cart drew up to allow Michael and Patrick to alight. Michael hugged Mary first, swinging her off her feet and then the children before leading them back up to the room.
“I don’t think I can do the work for four weeks.” said Michael to Mary as they settled down for the night.
“You have to Michael. You’re in bondage for the four weeks and what will we do if you don’t work? We will be sent back to County Cork and we’ll starve.”
“But that dust from the stuff in those sacks is poisonous. It burns into my throat and none of us can breathe.” complained Michael.
“Then tie a cloth round your face like a mask and that will stop you breathing it in.”
Mary tore a piece from one of the blankets.
“Here you are, Michael.” she said. “Make a mask from this.”
Michael took the piece of cloth and tied it round his face.
“I’ll tell Patrick in the morning before we go to work. He can make one for himself.”
“Now lie down Michael and let’s get some sleep. You only have a few hours before you leave for work again.”
“That’s as long as the rats give us some peace.” replied Michael as he lay down.
Suddenly he sat up.
“Do you know what I think I’ll do!” he exclaimed. “Tomorrow I’m going to bring some of that white powder back and let the rats eat it!” he said excitedly.
“Go to sleep Michael.” said Mary sleepily.

The next morning the loud blast of the hunting horn told the men that the horse and cart was outside and ready to take the men to work. Michael had told Patrick about making a mask, showing him the mask he had made from the piece of blanket and Patrick quickly cut a piece of cloth for himself before both hurried down the stairs to climb onto the back of the cart.
“What did I tell you men yesterday?” laughed the Gaffer, having counted the men. “I told you what would happen to those men who had run away instead of going to work. Most of them were caught late last night and this morning they will go up in front of the company court. I expect they will go to prison for a long time and then be sent back to Ireland. I’ll keep you informed.” he finished.
The men said nothing, having boarded the cart and now sat in the early morning light as the cart made its journey to the workplace.
“Those for the bucket job can get off now and I’ll see you tonight.” said the Gaffer and waited till the men had alighted.
The cart then continued its journey until the horse was reigned in near the lime-pits. Michael wrinkled his nose at the stink, made even worse now by the two carts which were sat beside the pit he and Patrick had dug the day before.
“You men.” shouted Mr. Wilson, coming out from the shed. “I want you all to begin today by taking those bodies and throwing them into the pit.”
The two carts contained the bodies of men, women and children who had died from cholera, the naked bodies white and rigid with eyes which refused to close, leaving the faces contorted in death. The smell was sickening as the men lifted the bodies and tipped each one into the pit.
“Get in as many as you can then pour some more quick lime over the bodies. Once that’s done then I want you all to get digging more pits. We have plenty of bodies to get rid of so get to work!” ordered Mr. Wilson, holding a handkerchief up to his nose.
Michael put on the face-mask and motioned Patrick to do the same.