eagerness as they tumbled out of bed was shown in varying degrees, and not all enthusiastic.
A few minutes later. Jimmy, pointing to the shale, said, "You won't be able to do it, our Cissie, 'cos you can't dig in that sort of foundation."
She stared down at the rock, her face blank now, then said, "We'll stick plenty of mud on, then set the first stones in it. That should do it."
When he made no answer to this she looked at him appealing and muttered under her breath, "Our Jimmy, we've got to try something.
Remember last night, and the winter isn't on us yet; we've just got to try, even if it does blow down. "
"Aye, Cissie, aye," he said.
It had sounded like fun when she suggested their carrying of the stones, but the actual work proved an
e impossible task for the young ones; even Jimmy and William could only carry medium-sized ones over the distance. It was after the dinner of rabbit and turnips that Jimmy got the idea of using one of the pit methods for conveying the stones from the quarry to the cave.
He took a nine-inch board from one of the beds, which meant they would have to sleep head to toe. He sawed it in two and nailed the pieces together;
then, burning a hole in each end with a heated poker, he slotted a length of rope through, and on to this rough sledge he tied the biggest and flattest pieces of sandstone he could find, and with the aid of William he pulled them over the rough ground.
It was late in the afternoon, after they had stacked up about forty pieces of stone of varying sizes, when Matthew came to the cave. There was no one about, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the heap of stones near the entrance. Then in the distance he saw Cissie staggering towards him, her arms cradling a slab that brought her body almost double. He did not run towards her for some seconds, and when he did he took the stone from her before exclaiming, "God above! What are you up to now?"
"Oh!" She straightened her back and flexed her arms.
"We're going to build walls round the entrance to keep out the weather."
He turned and looked at her but didn't speak until he had dropped the sandstone among the rest; then, dusting the yellow grit from the sleeves of his Sunday jacket, he said, "But you don't intend to stay here the winter, do you?"
The smile went from her face; her eyes, looking back into his, held the defiant light he had come to know over the weeks, and her voice was flat as she asked him, "Where would we go then?" For answer, he said,
"It's hell up here in the winter. You know it is. It's bad enough under a good roof. You'd all perish."
"Well, if we perish we'll perish together; we're not going into the house, I've told you."
"I wasn't meaning you to go into the house. I ... Well, with the lads working I thought you might be able to find a place somewhere."
Again she asked him a question, "Where?" and when his eyes turned from hers she did not say what was in her mind, "You know you can't get a pit house, or a farm cottage around here unless you're married. And I couldn't get a permit to go to another parish because with having no man they'd be feared we'd end up on the rates" ; but what she did say was, "I wouldn't go into the towns, either Jarrow or Shields, not into those stinking hovels. And they ask as much as three shillings a week, so ..."
She moved away from him now, saying, "If it's big enough we could have a fireplace inside." Then turning quickly to him again, she said, "Do you think you might be able to get us some branches to go across the top? We could stick mud at ween them. And away down the river there's a reed bed; we could sort of thatch it in a rough way."
He stared at her as he said, "I'll get you all the rough wood you want.
I'll be going for my timber in three weeks' time. But you don't want rough wood for up there" --he lifted his eyes to where the level of the roof would come above the opening of the cave-- "you want beams; and well battened down on supports, for a gale of
A few minutes later. Jimmy, pointing to the shale, said, "You won't be able to do it, our Cissie, 'cos you can't dig in that sort of foundation."
She stared down at the rock, her face blank now, then said, "We'll stick plenty of mud on, then set the first stones in it. That should do it."
When he made no answer to this she looked at him appealing and muttered under her breath, "Our Jimmy, we've got to try something.
Remember last night, and the winter isn't on us yet; we've just got to try, even if it does blow down. "
"Aye, Cissie, aye," he said.
It had sounded like fun when she suggested their carrying of the stones, but the actual work proved an
e impossible task for the young ones; even Jimmy and William could only carry medium-sized ones over the distance. It was after the dinner of rabbit and turnips that Jimmy got the idea of using one of the pit methods for conveying the stones from the quarry to the cave.
He took a nine-inch board from one of the beds, which meant they would have to sleep head to toe. He sawed it in two and nailed the pieces together;
then, burning a hole in each end with a heated poker, he slotted a length of rope through, and on to this rough sledge he tied the biggest and flattest pieces of sandstone he could find, and with the aid of William he pulled them over the rough ground.
It was late in the afternoon, after they had stacked up about forty pieces of stone of varying sizes, when Matthew came to the cave. There was no one about, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the heap of stones near the entrance. Then in the distance he saw Cissie staggering towards him, her arms cradling a slab that brought her body almost double. He did not run towards her for some seconds, and when he did he took the stone from her before exclaiming, "God above! What are you up to now?"
"Oh!" She straightened her back and flexed her arms.
"We're going to build walls round the entrance to keep out the weather."
He turned and looked at her but didn't speak until he had dropped the sandstone among the rest; then, dusting the yellow grit from the sleeves of his Sunday jacket, he said, "But you don't intend to stay here the winter, do you?"
The smile went from her face; her eyes, looking back into his, held the defiant light he had come to know over the weeks, and her voice was flat as she asked him, "Where would we go then?" For answer, he said,
"It's hell up here in the winter. You know it is. It's bad enough under a good roof. You'd all perish."
"Well, if we perish we'll perish together; we're not going into the house, I've told you."
"I wasn't meaning you to go into the house. I ... Well, with the lads working I thought you might be able to find a place somewhere."
Again she asked him a question, "Where?" and when his eyes turned from hers she did not say what was in her mind, "You know you can't get a pit house, or a farm cottage around here unless you're married. And I couldn't get a permit to go to another parish because with having no man they'd be feared we'd end up on the rates" ; but what she did say was, "I wouldn't go into the towns, either Jarrow or Shields, not into those stinking hovels. And they ask as much as three shillings a week, so ..."
She moved away from him now, saying, "If it's big enough we could have a fireplace inside." Then turning quickly to him again, she said, "Do you think you might be able to get us some branches to go across the top? We could stick mud at ween them. And away down the river there's a reed bed; we could sort of thatch it in a rough way."
He stared at her as he said, "I'll get you all the rough wood you want.
I'll be going for my timber in three weeks' time. But you don't want rough wood for up there" --he lifted his eyes to where the level of the roof would come above the opening of the cave-- "you want beams; and well battened down on supports, for a gale of
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