I didn't know what to say.
Perhaps he took my silence for acquiescence, for he said, 'You shall have your two hundred and fifty pounds. And when I start to work that lode, you shall be one of my bal captains.' He stared up at the scaffolding. Standing there above me on the edge of the pit he looked a magnificent figure of a man. If his helmet could have sprouted horns he would have looked like the old prints I had seen of the Vikings. 'My son is a fool,' he said. 'He doesn't know when he is rich. This will not work. And if it does — sooner or later he'll be caught. Then what good will it have done to have let the sea into the Mermaid? Before we could work that lode, this gallery would have to be sealed off, the mine would have to be de-watered to the two hundred level and the lode located there. Men are blind when they don't understand. All he knows about is machinery.' He leaned towards me again. 'Come on up, my boy. You shall have your money and then you can go.'
I found my voice then. 'No,' I said. 'I'm not going.'
He peered down. 'You mean you intend to stay here and blast your way through to the sea as my son wants?' His voice quavered.
'I don't know,' I said. 'But I can't go.'
'Why?' His tone was tense.
I waded across to the ladder. I was at a disadvantage down here with him standing above me. I couldn't have it out with him like this. I began to climb. My lamp flashed on his gum boots. He was standing right at the head of the ladder. 'Why?' he asked again, and the echo of his question was flung back by the dripping walls.
'Because,' I said, 'there's too much I need to find out.' And I heaved myself out of the pit and leapt to my feet. We stood there facing each other, seeing the reflection of our mine lamps in each other's eyes.
'You mean about my son?' he asked.
'No,' I said.