Escape from the Dark Page #5

---

That machiney is here to

protect your livelihood.

- And if you weren't such fools...

- We'll not be miscalled by the bosses.

- That's right, we won't.

You can work your own pit,

mister, with your own machiney,

if you think it's so fine. Hey, come on.

Where do you think you're

going? Want to lose a day's pay?

Time and more you were all on

shift. Come on. Get down there.

- Let's have no more of this.

- We're on strike, Sam.

And if you put them ponies in that van,

we'll never come back.

Thanks to you, I've got

a strike on my hands.

I hope you've thought over your

behavior and are ashamed of yourself.

Now, I'm not going to punish you.

I hope it will be enough punishment

for you to know that I'm vey angy,

and I'm disappointed in you.

I hope your future behavior will show

that you understand what you've done.

And are vey sory for it.

Well?

What will happen to the ponies?

You'd better go to bed now.

Will the union give you their backing?

- They might.

- Then again, they might not.

If they don't, we don't

get any strike pay.

What are we going to live on?

Dave, I don't know what

you've got to grin about.

Haven't you got anything better to do?

Aren't you glad they're

not gonna kill the ponies?

Ponies. Ponies. I'm

sick and tired of ponies.

Ponies won't put food in your

belly or clothes on your back.

- Come on, love.

- And, as for you,

I'm not having you

under my feet all day.

You can have your breaMast

tomorrow, then get out of the house.

If you're gonna be on strike, you can

go and be on strike somewhere else.

When does the owner get back, sir?

In a week's time.

They better be back at

work by then, or else...

Can't he see at all?

No, they call it anthracitus.

It's inflammation

caused by the coal dust.

A lot of old pit ponies get it.

When he was down underground, he

knew his way about, so nobody noticed.

Strike! But what the devil

have they got to strike about?

I'm the one who's losing

the money. Mm? Mmm?

They'd better be careful, or I'll beat

them to it and go on strike myself.

Then they'll be sory,

won't they? Won't they?

- Yes, My Lord.

- Yes.

All right, all right.

What's the trouble this time?

I suppose they want more money, hmm?

No, My Lord, it's a

question of the machiney.

The men feel that in

replacing the ponies with...

Machiney, eh? Are you saying

they're refusing to use the machiney?

Not exactly, My Lord. It's more

that they want assurances...

Shh, shh. Please, please.

Sit down somewhere and listen vey

carefully to what I have to say,

will you do that?

Yes, My Lord.

You see, I just simply

don't care what they want.

They're here to work, and you're

here to see that they do work.

Now you told me that this

machiney would, in time,

or should, in time, make the

colliey begin to pay. Good.

Vey well. All right. But

if that doesn't happen,

then I'll have no alternative but

simply to close the pit altogether

and use the land for something else. Hm.

Shooting. Anything. I

don't care. Not a bit.

But if that happens, not a single

man jack of them will have a job

or even anywhere to

live, for that matter.

If I could just go

back to the men and...

Please, please, Sandman.

I'm sory, but there's just nothing

more to be said. Nothing at all.

We won!

So it's tuppence you owe me, right?

Quiet, me beauties.

Quickly, Alice, come away.

Those dreadful miners.

There they are on strike,

and they have the impudence to be

seen out here playing with their dogs.

You have to keep a whippet exercised.

Besides, they've nothing else to do.

Hey!

We've won!

Hey, we've won!

Sam Carter iust put a notice up!

The manager's called

a meeting at the pit.

Quick, come on, then. We've won!

- Come on!

Either you come back to work

tomorrow, or the pit closes. For good.

- I mean what I say.

The Emsdale Colliey is making a loss,

and there's only one way

for it to make a profit.

That's by using machiney to fetch

the coal out in greater quantities.

And so, more cheaply.

I've obtained an offer from

the owners of a steelworks

to take all our coal for

a whole year, on contract.

But it must be cheap.

Then we'd be assured of

work for the whole year?

- Exactly.

What about the ponies?

No place for ponies in this pit.

Oh, come on, Amos. That's an ultimatum.

We can't take an ultimatum.

At least make terms.

We struck for the ponies,

but it weren't just that.

We struck for a bit of

respect for us and our work.

But if they can turn ponies

out without a thought or a word,

they can turn men out, too.

If we go back on his say-so,

- without making terms...

- How can we make terms?

It's a colliey village. And

we live in colliey houses.

Aye. If pit closes, we're

out on street, all of us.

And our wives and bairns.

We'll have no money.

Nowhere to live. No food and no work.

Aye. Nowhere to find none, neither.

There's not a pit in Yorkshire

that hasn't got some men idle.

Nay, Luke. If colliey

closes, we're done for.

So think on.

I say we give it a chance.

- It's agreed, then. We go back.

We should have a vote!

Let's vote.

Them as wants to go back and them

as wants to hold out for terms.

All right, then. We'll

have a show of hands.

Them as wants to go

back to work tomorrow.

Them who's against.

- Morning.

- Morning.

Alice. Father's just

going to the colliey.

Aren't you going to kiss him goodbye?

I shall never kiss him

again, as long as I live.

Get those ponies loaded!

- What's going on?

- Come on. Get them on.

Come on, get a move on!

Come on!

By next week we should drive

south from the forward heading.

Aye. It's a pity we couldn't

find the ponies a home, sir.

Well, it would have made it easier for

the men to go back with a good heart.

They would only have seen

it as a sign of weakness.

Get out of the way there.

Martin. One of the engineers.

- Well?

- There's been an explosion

and a fall in the drift heading.

We don't know yet what caused it.

And there are eight men cut

off in the forward heading.

- Who? Who are they?

- Who's that?

- Mrs. Armstrong, sir.

- I'm sory, Mrs. Armstrong.

I'm afraid that your

husband is one of them.

- Amos.

- Bless you.

Naught.

How's the leg, Amos?

Hey, don't touch it.

All right, lad, all right.

If there's a buildup of

afterdamp beyond the fall,

it could be days

before they get through.

Aye. Cheer us up, why don't ya?

I'm gonna ty the other heading.

See if I can hear anyone.

Alf?

Mind how you go. One spark from your

boots might be enough to set it all off.

- We think they're there.

- I see.

And there's no way of

getting through to them?

It's not a vey big fall,

as far as we can judge.

But it's knocked out the

main ventilation shaft.

And the afterdamp is vey bad.

Afterdamp, that's the suffocating gas.

- That's right.

- When there's firedamp

- and afterdamp together...

- I know. It ignites.

It can do.

There's no other possible

way of reaching them?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes