Olivia's Mine (3 page)

“But I keep telling ye, it’s na a bad sea
ladies,” the Captain said.

“Frenchie, that cast iron stomach of yours
would stay still during a hurricane. We ladies have a more delicate
constitution. Besides, I’m thinking about having a little nip of
‘the tonic’ and if I show you where I’m hiding my flask of whiskey,
you’d be all over me and up on charges too vile to mention.”

Lucy pulled Olivia along by the hand.

“Come along Livvy, let’s get outside.
Frenchie, be a darling and watch Robbie and Melissa while we get
acquainted.”

She handed him the infant.

“Lucy,” he pleaded, “dis is no place for de
baby.”

“Well, what do you want me to do with her
Frenchie? Take her outside so she’ll catch her death a cold, or be
swept overboard by a crashing wave? I hardly think so.”

Frenchie looked at Olivia and rolled his
eyes.

“She’s a good one for the stories, she is,”
he said.

Lucy pouted teasingly at the Captain.

“Oh Frenchie, be an angel and hold her for
fifteen minutes. That’s all I ask.”

“Ach, okay, but if de baby, being a wee
girlie, has a “delicate constitution” like de two of you and gets
sick all o’er me, der’s gonna be trouble.”

“She’ll be fine. Come on Liv.”

Olivia had no choice but to follow Lucy back
on deck.

“How do you understand him?” Olivia asked
once they were out of earshot. “It’s hard for me to tell what he’s
saying.”

“Who, Frenchie? You’ll get used to him. He’s
a loveable old salt. Robbie adores him. Frenchie’s like a big
playmate for him. It’s all a big adventure for Robbie. We’ve been
onboard quite a few times over the past few years, but this is the
first trip for the baby, so the Captain is a bit nervous with her.
I need to get out of town when the weather is good. You’ll see. I
suspect you’ll be accompanying me on a few of these trips.”

Lucy leaned closer towards Olivia, and
whispered. “I listen to every third word he says, that’s the
secret. It seems to work.”

Lucy let out a laugh that filled the air.

“You don’t seem too anxious to get back,”
Olivia commented.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Back to what? Back
to countless hours of trying to get the mine out of Marty’s clothes
when they’re permanently stained with rust? Back to worrying about
whether the men are going to come out of the mine alive each day?
No thanks. Honey, if I were you I’d turn around at Vancouver and go
back home. You don’t need Britannia Beach.”

“You’re going back,” Olivia pointed out.

“Liv, I’m an idiot, plain and simple. More
beauty than brains they say…” She let out her contagious laugh once
more,“…but I love my husband Marty, and Marty loves the mine. He’s
a mineralogist, Frenchie probably already told you. Doesn’t know
the meaning of discreet, Frenchie doesn’t. Marty, he tests the
quality of the copper ore they bring out before they take it to
market. He keeps tabs for his head office in the States. He doesn’t
actually work for the mine. He’s on contract from the United
Pittsburgh Smelters. They purchase enough of the ore each year to
have someone up at Britannia year round, permanently protecting
their interests. The mine used to be owned by the Americans, but a
few years back a group of investors purchased it and reformed it
under the laws of the Province of British Columbia. So now it’s
basically Canadian owned and operated. Nothing really changed much
with the purchase, other than the names of the owners.

“My husband is the only one who calls me
Liv,” Olivia stated.

“Well, he’s the one who’s been talking about
you, and that’s what he’s been calling you, so that’s what I
assumed you liked. You’d better get used to it, that’s what
everyone is calling you in that stuffy old town. You’re not going
to change their ways now. Anyway, we’re talking about me. I’ll ask
about you in a minute. United Pittsburgh offered Marty a job at the
head office, but I didn’t want him to take it because it was too
far from my family in Olympia. I get quite homesick, as you’ve
probably gathered. I’m having second thoughts now, but he’s under
contract at the Beach for another two years. I’m hoping they offer
him a transfer then. We’ll be able to move just before the children
have to go to school.”

“How old are they?” Olivia asked.

“Robbie just turned four last month,
and Melissa is almost six-months. They keep me busy, God bless
them, otherwise I’d go quite crazy. Sometimes I don’t think I was
cut out for this motherhood thing. Marty and I met back when he was
a student at the university. I had finished school and wasn’t doing
much of anything. My brother was studying there so sometimes I
would go to the library with him. A lot of the photography students
were always wanting to take my picture so I think I could have
maybe been a model. But Marty and I fell in love and
voila
, as Frenchie would say, I now
live in a town of a few hundred people with not a fashion show in
sight. How about you?”

“Well,” Olivia started, “nothing quite so
glamorous. Frank and I grew up together, he’s twenty-two, two years
older than I am, and we were high school sweethearts.”

“High school sweethearts,” Lucy taunted, “my,
my…”

“We are talking about
me
. You had your turn.”

Lucy laughed at her new found friend’s
confidence.

“Frank’s brother got a job at the mine, so he
got one for Frank. Only his brother quit and Frank’s still there.
End of story.”

“You’re right. That’s not very glamorous. And
your family, they don’t mind you going to another country?”

“My father has travelled around quite a lot.
He thinks I’ll be safe enough. Besides, Frank’s not going to let
anything bad happen to me. He loves me too much.”

“How long have you been married?” Lucy
asked.

“Only just…” Olivia replied.

“Ah, the sound of young love. I’m starting to
like you. You’re full of hope. Well, full of something, anyway. You
might do all right at the Beach after all. God knows I’ll be better
off with you there.”

“Is it really that bad?” Olivia asked.

“Oh goodness no. I’m probably being a little
harsh…just a little mind you. The folks there are just so set in
their ways. I suppose it’s like that in any small community,
really. The first thing they’ll ask you is what church you belong
to, and if you don’t, well, heaven help you. Not that there’s
really a right answer. All the religious services are held together
at the school anyway, just at different times on Sunday. It just
gives them something to argue about. The ladies have tea Saturday
afternoons, and there’s an every other Wednesday night euchre
game...but wait, if you’re really, really popular, you might get a
chance to join the quilting club.” She sighed. “It gets a little
boring.”

“If you’re bored with the town, why don’t you
get a part-time job? I hear more and more women are doing that
these days. Surely you could get someone to watch the children for
a few hours. Won’t your husband let you work?” Olivia asked,
innocently enough.

“Lordy girl,” Lucy laughed, “my husband has
nothing to do with it. The jobs they have there are for the men.
It’s one of J.W. McMichael’s golden rules, and Liv, there are
plenty of them, all beginning with the word “don’t”. “Don’t let
your women out alone after six o’clock. Don’t gamble. Don’t let a
drop of liquor pass your lips past midnight the night before you
have to work. And don’t ever, ever, think of giving a woman a job
that a man has a birthright to hold. I think he even made up some
superstition about women working in the mines being the curse of
all time. Strange isn’t it? In coal mines around the world they’re
using women and children as cheap labour, but here, in the ore
mine, it’s forbidden. Unless of course you’re a Jap or Chink woman,
then it’s okay to ask for work. They get the dirty jobs.”

“Are there a lot of Oriental women there?”
Olivia asked. Olivia had learned through her father that the slang
ethnic terms were common in more than one sense of the word.

“Your ancestors may have been on the
Mayflower,” William had admitted, “but they were in the cargo hold
with a lot of the criminals. We’ve come a long way since then,
because our talents were recognized. Never ignore talent, it can
make you wealthy a lot quicker than a cutting remark.”

They were strong words of advice that Olivia
knew to be true.

“Oriental? Well, I suppose they are Oriental.
Honey, we’re not so conscious about such things at Britannia Beach.
They’re the Japs. They have their own section of town, Japtown, and
they do not associate with us white folk much. Nor with the Chinese
either. They keep pretty much to themselves. I’m not saying that’s
right, but in "McMichaelville", that’s the way things are.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad. You’re making
it sound like some old western town in a novel where the Sheriff is
related to everyone, including the mayor.”

Frenchie Cates voice came booming into the
night. “Ladies yer fifteen minutes is up. I’m not a
babysitter.”

“Frenchie,” Lucy yelled back. “I was just
telling her about J.W. McMichael. Friend of yours?”

“Matey, you mind the wee ones for a moment.
I’ve got to set de record right,” said the Captain, bursting
through the door and passing the infant to his First Mate who had
followed him on deck.

“Lucy,” he said, “if I tole ye once, I
tole ye twice, I spit on de man named McMichael. One time, a mate
of ours, one-eyed Rusty McKay, ‘e tried to sneak back some whiskey
for ‘is own ‘ome, but ‘e ‘ad de misfortune of takin’ a wee tumble
as he got off me ship. De bottle in ‘is ‘and, it broke on de wharf.
No big problem. But McMichael, ‘e got wind of it, and checked
Rusty’s footlocker. ‘E ‘ad some good stuff in der, some rye, a
little vodka, may be even some Mexican tequila, I dunna, I forget.
But I will ne’er forget what McMichael did next. ‘E took all the
bottles and ‘e broke dem on de dock. Said der would be no “outside”
liquor in ‘is town. ‘E told Rusty dat if ‘e e’er cot ‘im again,
it’d be Rusty’s bones e’d be breakin’ and dat it was lucky ‘e
didn’t fire ‘im on da spot and send ‘im packin'. But ye know what
it was? It was because ‘e makes a profit on all de booze dat dey
serve at de hotel, cuz ‘e owns it, and der was no way ‘e would let
anyone cut into dat profit. And Rusty was a good customer of de
bar, so it would cost ‘im a good worker and a good drinker if ‘e
really got rid of ‘im. Worked doh, scared the liven’ bejeeses oudda
Rusty, I’ll tell ye. Never tried smugglin’ again. Well, not booze
anyway. No Misses Lucy, ‘e’s no friend of mine.
Non.
Ye be wantin’ to stay awee from ‘im, Misses
Fitz. Trust me. Now gadder up ye belongings, like yer kiddies Lucy,
as we’re pullin’ inta de ‘Couve to pick up a few supplies before we
go up ta ‘owe Sound.”

“It’s your last chance to jump ship Liv,”
Lucy said. “We’ll be in Vancouver for about an hour.”

“No, it’s been almost a month since I’ve seen
Frank. They only gave him the weekend for our honeymoon. I can’t
wait to see him.”

“A weekend? Hmm. McMichael was feeling
generous,” Lucy commented. “Why don’t you go upstairs and try to
get a bit of sleep before we arrive? We can’t have the young bride
all worn out before she gets there. I have a feeling you’re in for
a few sleepless nights.”

“Oh, you’re terrible,” Olivia laughed, “but
thanks for the suggestion. I think I will. That is if you don’t
mind, Captain.”

“Ye can take over my cabin just like Lucy
does,” the Captain offered.

Olivia smiled and headed inside leaving the
two old friends on deck.

“Getting’ a liddle cheeky der, eh Lucy love?”
the Captain commented.

“When I said she’d be having a few sleepless
nights, I was not speaking of the lust of a newlywed couple,” Lucy
assured him. “You know all too well Frenchie, that poor woman is in
for the shock of her life.”

“Aye, I suppose ye are right der.”

The Captain looked at Lucy and winked. “Ye
know Lucy, it might be best ye give me yer flask o’ whiskey fer
safe keepin’ before you land back at de Beach and dey start askin’
questions. I dunt want them to ‘ave to start callin’ ye one-eyed
Lucy.”

“Aye Frenchie,” Lucy sighed. “It might be at
that.”

She handed him the silver flask.

The air-compression wood drills, weighing
over three hundred pounds, and taking two men to operate, were
running at capacity inside the secondary tunnel, but Frank could
still hear McMichael’s vocal blast through the noise.

“Do you like working at the Royal Columbia
Mining Company, Mr. Fitzpatrick?”

Frank nodded.

“They why the hell did I see you riding up
the skip car yesterday? You take the stairs up, all three hundred
and seventy-five of them, just like everyone else does when you’re
inside the mine. And shut that damn drill down when I’m talking to
you,” McMichael yelled.

Frank and his partner complied, but with the
other ten men still drilling into the ore around them, it wasn’t
much help. McMichael ushered Frank into an enclave. It was slightly
quieter and provided them with a bit of privacy.

“Now explain yourself.”

Frank thought about what he was about to say.
He wiped some sweat from his brow, beneath his helmet. You had to
watch what you said to McMichael, especially the tone you said it
in. Don Smith had been told to vacate the premises and the town
after he had raised his voice to the boss. Frank wasn’t about to
lose his job.

“I wouldn’t normally do that Mr. McMichael,
but my leg was sore. It was the end of a double shift for me, and I
needed to get up there, because Lloyd needed some help fixing the
concentrator.”

“What the hell’s wrong with the concentrator
now?”