Surrender The Night (49 page)

He didn’t notice the lantern directly behind him until the ax head smashed the globe. Oil showered all three of them, but only Will stood close to the flame. Will’s shirt sleeve flickered, then burst into flames. He screamed, the ax flying wildly as he beat at the blaze.

Devon was doubled over in pain, so Katrina only had to jerk on his arm to pull him flat on the floor, away from Will. The residual oil in the wick kept the lantern lit, briefly.

Even when the flame died, they could still see. . . .

Sitting up, Devon pulled Katrina protectively under his arm and watched Will’s gyrations as he tried to put out the flames. The back of his shirt had caught now. Will rotated against the cavern walls, trying to smother the flames, going farther away from them. His burning shirt brushed against the rope Devon had c
limbed down, which now sagged against the shaft. The hemp caught.

“Shit!” Devon hissed. “That rope was used with the old engine. It’s saturated with oil.” The rope seared a fiery path upward on his words, igniting the greasy trail where the engineers had installed the new pipes. One of the higher, drier timbers smoked, then burst into feeble flame. An adjacent lantern sizzled, then exploded, feeding the blaze. T
he men above, understanding the danger of fire, hauled on the rope. The burning fibers swung wildly, igniting more greasy timbers as it moved.

Katrina glanced from the disaster above to Will. He had dropped the ax to remove his shirt. She saw that his arm was red and slick looking. He gritted his teeth and ripped his shirt open, shrugging out of it. The ends of his hair caught but he patted the flames out and threw the garment aside. Then, his chest hair singed but only his arm badly burned, he picked up the ax in his undamaged hand and came toward them, kicking the burning shirt out of his path. The contact was enough to catch his pants leg.

Moisture gleamed at his feet. It looked too thick to be water, Katrina thought. Just as Will stepped into it, Katrina realized what it was. Oil. Pooling in the floor from the other broken lanterns.

“Will, look out!” she screamed an instant too late. His foot had already reached into the slime. His entire pants leg caught.

He leaped forward, jumping over the pool of fire that whooshed into life. More timbers smoldered, igniting as the lanterns on them also caught.

His scream of pain hammered into Katrina’s eardrums. He ran toward them and the adit of water that had been dug to help drain the mine. By the time he reached it, however, his breeches were aflame. He dived into the ca
nal. The water hissed and steamed around him. The flames went out.

Will slumped limply back against the stone. His upper body was blotched, his face dark with soot. When his eyes opened to stare at them, unearthly pale and glowing in that blackness, Katrina buried her face in Devon’s sweaty shirt. She had respected and admired this man, even loved him, as a friend. She couldn’t bear to see him end this way.

Apparently Will couldn’t bear it, either.

“Take her,” Will said huskily. “Get her away. If we don’t get the fire out, the mine will collapse with the timbers.”

“What do you plan to do?” Devon asked, pulling Katrina toward the entrance. He looked up, but the roaring blaze licking ever upward was so bright that it hurt his eyes.

“The adit,” Will answered wearily. “The water will do the rest.”

“But man, you’ll be killed.”

‘ ‘Everything I care about is lost to me. I’d rather die here for a reason than swing on a rope or rot in prison.” The rigid set of Will’s features, the way in which he refused to look at Katrina, told Devon much Will left unspoken. “Give me the ax, Cavanaugh.”

“Will, no . . . You can’t die this way,” Katrina pleaded, lifting her head.

Devon went to the ax and skidded it along the floor until Will could reach it. Before returning to Katrina, he gingerly lit his candle from the blazing pool and set the tallow firmly back in his cap.

Meanwhile, Will had finally met Katrina’s eyes. Her lips quivered at what she read there.

“Drowning’s a better end than hanging or burning alive.” Will’s macabre smile faded. “At least you can’t call me a manipulator now, Katrina. This is the last thing I can do for my people. And ... for you.” Will closed his eyes as if he’d deny that another man held her. “Cavanaugh, if you aren’t good to her, I swear I’ll come back to haunt you.”

Will said hoarsely, “Go now. Not to the entrance. Come in here. To the left is an opening that will take you to another part of the mine. Take the first right, then the next left. Both lead upward, to another entrance. But hurry. Once the water comes
...”
Will picked up the ax and scooted along the narrow space to the end of the cavern. The blaze behind them allowed them to see clearly even deep inside the crawl space. Katrina glimpsed Will gripping the ax tightly, then drawing it back in the limited space and slamming it against the stone above the canal, where the adit ended.

Then Devon pushed her into the small opening she’d not noticed in the dark. He followed quickly. Katrina was surprised at how big the shaft was. Even Devon could stand upright. They hurried upward, turning as Will had directed.

The ringing echo of ax meeting stone grew fainter. Then they heard a queer, muffled thunk, followed by an ominous roar. Water hissed like an angry dragon, then spewed violently, gathering speed as it came. A garbled scream was abruptly cut off, then came the sounds of water, untold gallons, rushing through every crevice, flattening all in its path. They heard more hissing and smelled smoke and knew the fire was dying.

“Run, Katrina!” Devon cried, pushing her hard. The shaft was too narrow for them to move abreast. Katrina ran as fast as she could, Devon right behind, but still they heard the relentless water gaining on them. When they at last reached the ladders leading upward, Katrina wanted to cry with joy. Her weary feet slipped, and Devon picked her up and set her on the first rung.

“For God’s sake, hurry! You can rest soon, but climb for now. If you value my life.” Devon looked behind them and spied white curls gushing where they’d recently stood.

Reaching deep within herself, Katrina planted her aching feet on the ladder and climbed. And climbed. And climbed. So urgently that she wouldn’t notice until later the splinters lacing her frantic hands. Devon was right behind. Soon the water was slurping at his feet, then wetting his ankles, tasting him.

Katrina turned her head and saw the water’s hunger and scooted faster, her hands and feet flying. Now the water was up to Devon’s thighs, dragging at his weight.

Sobbing, Katrina continued the endless climb. The ladders seemed to stretch forever. Finally, just as she spied the stars beckoning at the entrance, the water sullenly receded.

It seemed to sigh with disappointment as it settled back, filling other innumerable nooks and crannies. With a final burst of strength Katrina pulled herself out on a rough ledge of stone near the dark, silent stamping room, and moved aside so Devon could climb out.

They lay flat, gasping with exertion and relief. Devon pulled her to his chest, his frantic heartbeat slowing as he felt her reassuring softness. “Are you all right? I was afraid being so enclosed would . . .’’He shuddered.

She squeezed his shoulder. “I was terrified at first, but then fear of you and anger at Will saved me. I don’t think I’ll ever again be afraid of being trapped.”

“Something good’s come of this, then, thank God.” Devon sat up. Katrina followed suit. Only then did they notice the glow against the sky.

“Oh dear God, the new engine!” Devon scrambled to his feet. He bolted into the darkness.

Every muscle screaming its protest, Katrina sat up to look. Brilliant against the night, the lower part of the three-story engine house was in flames. The ropes and grease the engi
neers had used had made a perfect wick for the conflagration. They’d not expected danger of fire since the mine was closed.

Katrina forced herself up to follow Devon. Only then did she remember the oil soaking her clothes—and Devon’s.

“Devon, wait!” She hurried after him, stumbling with weariness.

By the time she’d clambered over the rough ground, Devon was pulling away from Billy’s joyous hug.

“We’re both safe.” He looked around at the men, who had fetched buckets and were running, one at a time, to fill them at the well some distance away, then splash them on the flames.

“No, no, not that way,” Devon exclaimed. “Form a line, and pass the buckets down. It’s faster.” While the magistrate and his men obeyed, Devon searched for more buckets. He handed one to Billy and kept one himself.

‘ ‘Help me rig up a pulley. Farrow gave his life to save the mine. He punched through a wall, filling the shaft with water. We can form two lines.”

Katrina helped them find rope and staves, then hammer and nails. Devon didn’t even notice her until she gave him an armful of wood.

“Go home and wait for me,” he growled, his face filthy, his hair straggly with sweat.

She stared at him as if he were the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. “I’m
not letting you out of my sight again,” she said simply. “Be careful. Remember your clothes are full of oil.”

He glared at her. “What do you care! You expect me to believe that when you ran like hell earlier?” He turned away to help Billy set up the wood.

She smiled secretively, feeling wonderful even in her exhaustion. She sat down to watch Devon take command and dreamed of seeing him do the same with the brood they would have.

Soon more men rushed up the hill. Fishermen, smugglers, miners. All who heard of the fire came to help. Katrina watched their hard, tough faces. Some seemed taken aback at seeing the lord looking like the meanest surface worker, groaning with effort as he himself tirelessly pulled buckets up to pass them down the new brigade that had formed. But they gladly joined the line.

Katrina’s eyes filled with tears of joy as she watched. For once, men of both classes, lord and laborer, magistrate and menial, worked together. Somehow Katrina knew she was witnessing the event that would change the course of this district’s history.

Devon shouted encouragement. “We can do it, if we pull together. Come, let’s sing. It will make the rhythm easier.” He cleared his throat and sang in a clear baritone, “Rock of ages, cleft for me . . .”

The Cornishmen joined in hesitantly, at first, then louder. The song did help, and soon they were filling, passing, and emptying the buckets like the well-oiled machine they labored to save. The fire, which had been licking greedily at the second floor, subsided under the constant barrage of water.

Devon’s voice was hoarse with weariness as he shouted to the tiring lines, “Come on, just a little longer. Faster!”

With redoubled effort the men ignored their aching arms and passed, endlessly passed. The fire flickered, then died.

Everyone waited tensely while Billy slipped inside the charred building to examine the pump. He came out shortly afterward, his grin splitting his dark face. “Seems fine. We did it!”

A jubilant roar climbed to the night sky. Empty buckets were thrown skyward; full ones were emptied on friends. Two of the men standing near Devon exuberantly threw the contents of their buckets at him.

Devon’s grin faltered. The men gasped and dropped the buckets, backing away slightly. The other men froze, waiting to see what the lord would do.

Devon looked like a harlequin, for the water had splashed on one side, leaving half of him black. His eyes opened, gleaming like golden guineas.

“Damme,” he said into the tense silence. “Can’t you do better than that? Do my back, too.” And he turned, looking expectantly over his shoulder.

Roaring with laughter, the men filled their buckets again and splashed him. Devon filled his and splashed back, his laughter joining theirs.

A free-for-all ensued. Katrina sat perched on her rock, watching with an indulgent smile.

When he’d calmed, Devon sought her. He filled his bucket again and came toward her.

Her eyes narrowed on his mischievous face, both halves clean now. She stood and backed away, her hands held out. “Oh no, you don’t. I’ll have my bath in the normal way, thank you.”

“Come now, you’re enjoying our fun so, don’t you want to join us?” He inched nearer.

“I’ve had enough ‘fun’ for one evening,” she responded tartly.

Billy put down his bucket to watch. Others soon followed suit. The men nudged one another, grinning. It pleasured them to see that this lord was much like them after all. He was just a man with a maid, delighting in teasing his woman. Those who knew Katrina waited expectantly; she’d give as good as she got.

Devon rotated the bucket gently. “Our fun has only just begun, m’dear. You’ll wed me, child or no child, if I have to almost drown you to wash your odd notions away. Let me
show you.
...”
He hefted the bucket.

Abruptly Katrina halted. She was touched at his generosity. He must love her greatly to be willing to give up all hope of heirs. An odd smile stretched her lips. She knew the others watched, but she didn’t care. She wanted to shout her news to the world. She couldn’t wait any longer to tell Devon. “No, sir, it’s I who will soon be showing you. And everyone else.”