The idea was so staggering it took my breath away. Excitement gripped me. The men did not take much longer. They removed their boots, rolled up their trousers and recrossed the river. Silently, with odd looks on their faces, they replaced their boots and left. I wondered if they felt the awfulness of what they were doing. Sabotage of this sort carried a heavy penalty.
We stayed hidden until they passed out of sight. Then I followed Cliff down to the water’s edge. I removed my boots but then remembered I was not to wade in the river. ‘I’d better not go,’ I said with a disappointed sigh. ‘Not after what happened.’
‘Aw, come on man, you can’t back out now.’
I hesitated, tempted. Reluctantly I shook my head. The memory of my illness was too fresh in my mind. ‘I better not, see. Just in case.’
‘I’ll carry you if you like.’
I was tempted further but one look at the racing current and I knew he could never manage to carry me. ‘I’d better not, Cliff. You go on and I’ll stay here and keep watch. I’ll whistle if I see or hear anything.’
He shrugged and turned away. I watched him cross, stumbling and nearly falling more than once. I cursed my illness for not letting me see our adventure through to the end.
On the other side, Cliff followed the track, reading every sign, and then turned the bend. He knelt, looked at me, jumped up and began running back to the river. He was half way across when he started talking.
‘It’s like we thought. It’s like we thought,’ he repeated. ‘You should see it Dai.’ He pulled on his boots as fast as he could.
‘Tell me then,’ I said, annoyed.
‘Hurry boyo, we gotta go. I heard the train sort of vibrating on the line . . .’ As he spoke we heard the whistle and knew it was at the Treces tunnel, less than a mile away.
‘Come on, up to the road,’ I suggested. ‘Once we get there we can see what happens.’ We had started away from the river when Cliff grabbed my arm excitedly and pointed.
‘The track Dai, the track. It’s been forced off to one side and down like. Golly, there’s the train.’
We paused to look back at the smoking train. We began to run as fast as we could, the brambles and stinging nettles whipped at our legs. We were halfway to the road when we stopped again. The train was approaching the bend about five hundred yards from us. We saw the packed carriages, the first four coaches with men in ordinary working clothes, the last four with men in uniform. We saw the guns. The train slowed for the bend. When the men saw the signs a great jeering and booing went up and the train driver blew his whistle. Suddenly there was a screech which built up to a scream of locked wheels sliding on metal. The men fell silent as the train slowed rapidly but could not stop in time.
The engine lurched, bounced and stopped. It angled over slightly, paused and slowly turned onto its side. Steam escaped with a loud hissing noise, but was quickly masked by the screams of the men inside the carriages as one after the other they overturned. Three went onto their sides, the fourth went half way, but the last four stayed upright, though one jumped the track. Screams mingled with loud curses as the militia tried to get their men into some semblance of order. We watched them line up, face outwards, rifles at the ready. Some civilians crawled out of the carriages and staggered away from the train. The screams died down to moans and shouts for help. The militia began to break into the carriages to help those trapped.
I felt no sympathy for the injured, in spite of one or two being covered in blood and needing help to reach the ground. These men had come to break the strike. They deserved anything they got as far as I was concerned.
I did not realise what was happening at first when some of the militiamen broke into small groups and spread out. With a shock I saw they were starting search parties. Without a word we turned and left quickly.
The hillside became steeper and the bushes thinner the closer we got to the road and finally we had to stop. Any further and there was a good chance that we’d be seen. Disconcerted we looked at each other in dismay.
‘They’ll see us,’ I whispered to Cliff. The nearest search party now began to cross the river, about seven hundred yards away. ‘We could make a dash for it. They might not see us. And anyway, what if they did? They’ll never catch us from there.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Cliff, ‘but they might try and shoot us.’ It was a terrifying thought. ‘Or they might see us and then search all the houses, find us and blame us for what happened.’
I looked back. It was impossible to recognise anybody at that distance until Cliff suggested they might have a spy glass. With a sigh, no further answer available, we began crawling and shuffling along just below the road and still hidden by bushes. The sodden ground wet our knees and hands, stones and sticks scraped and hurt but we kept at it for about three hundred yards until we reached a bend. Out of sight we stood up and darted onto the road, crossing to the other side. From there it was impossible to see the river or railway.
‘I’m going to have a look,’ I said. ‘We won’t stay long and once we know what’s happening we can go home. What do you say?’
He grimaced. ‘All right, but we mustn’t be long. It’s getting late.’
I looked at the sun. It was late afternoon. Mam would be beginning to wonder where I was. She would not bother about me missing a meal, that was fairly common. And anyway, with things the way they were, it would not have been much of a meal.
Once round the bend we got onto our stomachs and crawled to the edge of the road. The scene around the train was unchanged but the search parties had moved quite a distance. Two had crossed the river and came slowly and surely towards us. Four other groups followed the river banks north and south. The civilians sat in huddled groups around the wreckage. After about ten minutes we wormed our way backwards, got to our feet, dusted ourselves down and started up the valley. We were dirty, scratched and sweating. A light breeze picked up as the sun dropped behind the valleys’ side and the shadows crept inexorably towards us.
Here the hill was at its steepest: there were no houses and nobody passed us.
I felt worn out and my body ached but luckily I did not feel cold or shivery and had no desire to sneeze. I thought if I sneezed it would mean I was getting another dose of pneumonia. ‘Cliff, I know what we thought before but I think we’d better not say anything to anybody. Just in case, like. It’s got awfully serious, somehow.’
‘Where on earth have you been?’ Mam greeted me. ‘Just look at you.’ She was more annoyed than I had seen her for a long time. Sion told me later that for about two hours before I arrived Mam had been to the door about every five minutes to look for me.
She made me bath and sent me to bed early. I was grateful to snuggle under the blankets, absolutely worn out. I thought my day was over but I was in for a rude awakening.
9
‘Wake up Dai. Wake up, boyo. Come on.’ Da shook my shoulder. Slowly the message got through to my tired brain and with difficulty I forced open my eyes. I felt languid and heavy with sleep, ready to drop off again immediately. ‘Dai you’ve got to get up and come downstairs. I must talk to you. Come on, boy.’ Da threw back the bed clothes and the cold brought some action in my mind. Awkwardly I got out of bed and fumbled for my clothes. ‘It’s okay son, you don’t need to get dressed. Just put your dressing gown on.’
I followed him downstairs. Uncle Huw was sitting by the fire. My heart started pounding and I became more alert. I went into the kitchen and washed my face in cold water. It had to be important to get me out of bed and in my guilt-ridden mind I had no doubt what it was.
‘Hullo, Uncle Huw,’ I greeted him warily. He nodded and grunted something. I looked at Da, waiting for somebody to say something.
‘Are you going to ask him, or am I?’ my uncle spoke to Da.
‘It’s your mess, but as he’s my son I’d better ask. Now listen Dai and please don’t lie. Did you and another boy follow some of the men today?’
‘I . . . eh . . . We . . . eh . . .’ I was about to deny it. After all I had made a promise to Cliff. The trouble was I had never really lied to my parents. I realised how serious it was and while I wrestled with my conscience I suddenly remembered we had been seen sneaking away from the meeting. I gave an embarrassed, little cough and nodded.
‘What did you see, Dai?’ asked Uncle Huw.
He disconcerted me for a moment and when I replied, my anger at his tone turned to defiance. ‘I saw you and some of the others putting up those signs. And I saw four of the men do something to the track. I saw the train crash as well . . .’
‘Goddamn it, Dai. What the hell did you want to follow us like that for anyway? What business did you have doing so? I’ve got a good mind to tan the hide off you.’ My uncle jumped to his feet in agitation. So did I, ready to dart upstairs if he took a step in my direction.
‘Don’t talk foolishly, Huw. What’s done is done. The boys had no idea what they were going to see. How could they? Nobody in their right mind would dream of doing what you fools did. So don’t blame the boy. Who was with you Dai? Was it Cliff ? You may as well tell me so I can have a word with him and his father.’
I nodded miserably.
‘Christ, what a mess,’ my uncle sank back into the chair, his hands to his face.
‘I’ll make a cup of tea,’ Mam said. ‘You’ll feel better then.’ She had a strong belief in the therapeutic powers of tea. Mam went into the kitchen and returned a few seconds later with the kettle. We sat in silence watching her. Finally she said: ‘What are we going to do, Evan?’
Da shrugged. ‘I think there’s only one way out of this mess and I want to add the mess has nothing to do with Cliff and Dai seeing what happened. God, Huw, what on earth were you thinking of when you and the others did this? You must have been out of your minds.’
Uncle Huw’s face was drawn and haggard: ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time. We thought if we stopped the train and kept them away for a day or two then they’d know we meant business and perhaps be more willing to give in. Or at least give us more compensation. All the men were for it, and it worked a treat. Didn’t it Dai?’
I was so surprised by his change of tone and attitude I could think of nothing to say. I had no need. Da answered for me.
‘Never mind that, you bloody idiot. Don’t you realise what you’ve done? They aren’t going to be content until they’ve got the men who did it and unless I’m very much mistaken they won’t care how they find them either. How many people knew you were going to do something? And how many more will put two and two together and know who was responsible? God man, it’s as plain as the nose on your face.’ He paused.
Mam got up and made the tea. There was silence while it brewed.
Finally, Da said heavily: ‘What you did can get you deported for at least five years. Just think what’s going to happen next. The militia will arrest different men from all the villages. They’ll accuse them of derailing the train. The men will be told they won’t have a chance at the trial and their only hope will be to give the name of one of the other men. And they’ll give that name, believe me. I would say within a week you’ll be arrested. So don’t blame the boys. In fact thank your lucky stars you came here tonight to see Dai. At least we may be able to do something before it’s too late.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Uncle Huw fiercely, ‘utter bloody nonsense. Nobody will give us away. We’re all in this together. The whole village will stick by us – all the villages. There’ll be a wall of silence that they won’t be able to break. You and your ideas for solving the problem! I don’t need your ideas nor your help. I just came here to tell you that your bloody kid had better not utter one word of what he saw today or else it will be the worse for him – and that other boy, Cliff, too.’ He got to his feet, shaking with anger.
‘Sit down and shut up, Huw,’ said Da in his most commanding voice. ‘We’ve got a problem and unless we come up with an answer damned quick you and the others are going to be in terrible trouble. Huw, you’re my brother; we’ve been through a lot together. I know how the death of Johnny upset you. Sian’s death upset us just as much, believe me. What you’ve done is worse than wrong. It’s criminal. What good will you be to Mair and the kids if you’re in jail? I’ll help you in every way I can but you must listen to reason Huw. Please, bach, while there’s still time.’
Uncle Huw seemed to shrink into the chair. ‘I’m sorry, Evan. The stupid thing is I know you’re right. It won’t be the kids. No one will think of them. It’ll be like you said. One of the villagers will crack, and I can’t say I’d blame them either. God, it was such a stupid thing to do. But it seemed such a good idea at the time.’
‘I know, so you keep saying,’ Da said wryly. ‘When I heard it had happened I didn’t think that even you’d be stupid enough to be a part of it. Sorry, recriminations aren’t the order of the moment. Meg love, go and fetch the rest of the family – don’t forget Albert. Tell them it’s a family crisis, and we need them. Warn them they’ll be up most of the night. That’s assuming they haven’t got a better idea than mine.’