The Sawyers:
Or, A Tale of Two Halves (Part I)
WARNING: THIS IS A GRISLY STORY. READER DISCRETION RECOMMENDED.
From Tall Trees Short Stories, vol21. © Gabriel Hemery
PART 1: UNDER-DOG
It was an austere room, clad in dark wood panels, made more gloomy by the meagre light entering through the high windows on the dimpsy day.
‘I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’
‘Please state your full name for the record.’
‘Billy, sir.’
The judge leaned forward, adjusting his wig. ‘Mr Evans, you must state all your given names for the court to hear.’
‘William Arthur Evans, m’Lord.’
‘You should use the address “Your Honour”, Mr Evans.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Mr Evans, my name is Mr Rogers, and I am the Prosecution Barrister. I will be asking you questions relating to the events of March last year. After I have finished, then Mr Starck will ask you further questions on behalf of the defence.’
Billy nodded in affirmation, looking to both barristers in turn. ‘Will you tell the court your current age?’ ‘I was born in 1862.’
‘That would make you 17 years old. And what is your occupation?’ ‘I’m an under-dog, sir.’
‘We can see that!’ came a shout from above.
The courtroom erupted. Two flat caps fell from the public gallery. A lace handkerchief followed, fluttering slowly to the floor.
‘Order! You will refrain—silence! The public will refrain from any such remarks again, or I will have the gallery closed in my court.’
‘Thank you, Your Honour,’ continued Mr Rogers. ‘Would you like to tell the court, Billy, what it is that an under-dog routinely does?’
‘I am a sawyer. I work in a saw pit.’
‘Would I be right in saying that you stand in a hole some six feet in depth, known as a saw pit, whereupon you operate a two-handled saw by manually guiding it in a linear manner along the bole of a tree?’
Billy looked to the judge. ‘I’m sorry sir, I’m not sure . . . My job is to pull the rip saw through the log.’
‘Ah, I see,’ said Mr Rogers. ‘You are merely an engine of sorts. So who is it that guides the saw?’
‘That would be him,’ answered Billy, pointing to the man leaning forward in the dock. ‘He’s the top-dog.’
‘For the record, Mr Evans, are you referring to your former employer, Mr Ash?’
‘Yes, but he weren’t my employer, sir. That was Sir Richard from the big house. Mr Ash was the top-dog, my gov’nor.’
‘And prior to this tragedy, for how long did you work with Mr Ash?’
‘Two years.’
‘What would be your opinion of Mr Ash as your governor, your top-dog?’
‘He was a hard master, but mostly fair. He made me carry more than my share of heavy loads, and dig out the pit without assistance, on account of my needing to build more strength, or so he always said.’
‘Did Mr Ash ever show any cruelty to you, Mr Evans?’
‘Only the usual, ‘specially when I was new to the job.’
‘And, what was that?’
‘He would take the stick to me a little if he thought I were lazying around. Oft’times, I would fall asleep in the pit bottom, being too exhausted to climb out to rest, and he would poke me awake quite viciously. One time, I woke to find him above with his breeches undone, letting his stream play over me.’
The court erupted.
‘Silence, I will have silence!’
Mr Rogers waited patiently for the outrage to fade. He looked first to the public gallery, then to the judge, and then one-by-one into every pair of juror’s eyes, before turning to the young man. ‘That can hardly be termed usual Mr Evans, but perhaps you knew of no other. Was there any other treatment you received from your governor that you wish to remark upon?’
‘Only that I was bloodied, sir, but that’s been the same for all underdogs before me.’
‘What does bloodied mean, Mr Evans?’
‘Oft’times, the farm would bring a large beast to be sliced in half before it were sent to the house, but that were only after it’s insides had been cleaned and bled, so the butchering was not so bad. But it were a tradition for a new under-dog—Mr Ash always said—to saw in half a piglet tied to the transoms while it were alive. I shall never forget the squealing, and the warm gush of blood and gore. Pardon me, Your Honour!’
Mr Rogers waited for the murmurs of the horrified onlookers to subside, looking in vain to the judge hoping he might intervene again. ‘It seems to me, that it would be fair to say, that far from being the ‘usual’ treatment, your superior was more cruel than fair. And remarkably, this was to his apprentice and co-worker, upon which he relied to get the day’s work done. Would that be a reasonable comment Mr Evans?’
‘I never saw it that way before sir, but as you mention it, perhaps I knew no other.’
‘Yes, I believe that to be so, and it is plain that the jury must agree upon this point.’
Billy stood still, head bowed, and with his hands clasped together in front, as they had been since the start of the proceedings. His fawn woollen waistcoat had the appearance of regular use, its sagging pockets emptied specially for the occasion. The white shirt he wore underneath however, was not only freshly laundered, but newly tailored. The young man’s only outward sign of nerves was the constant rotation of a large silver ring on his middle finger.
‘I had not expected to hear of such abhorrent acts at this point in the proceedings. I would like to return, if I may, to the saw pit. I think it could be important that you describe its workings in more detail to the jury. Could you do that Mr Evans?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Good. Then perhaps you could start with the construction of the saw pit, before describing its workings?’
‘It’s a basic thing, being a pit some 6 feet in depth and 20 feet long. It allows the under-dog to stand at full height and use one end of the saw while it’s ripped through a log. There are two side-strakes, which line the pit sides, and the main headsills at each end. The logs are rolled onto the transom beams and held in place by metal dogs while the two us operate the saw. The saw is the ripping sort, not the crosscut used for felling, you see because—’
‘Thank you, Mr Evans, I think that’s sufficient details on the saw. And for you, the under-dog, what is it like to work in the pit?’
‘It’s hot work, even on a winter’s day, on account of the effort. There’s a great amount of dust from the saw which you end up standing in, which would reach over the tops of your boots if you’ve not cleaned the pit enough. I wear a cap and kerchief to keep the sawdust off me, but my eyes are most often quite blind at the end of a working day. But then, my job is to pull the saw, and not seeing is of little consequence except when it interferes with my other duties.’
‘I see. Well, Mr Evans, let us now talk about the 26th of March last year, and the fateful events which ensued. Do you remember that day?’
‘It was a day much like any other sir, though it started with a thick Scotch mist. We were working near the coppices, where all the faggots had been piled high the day before. There was a coupe of oak felled, ready to be sawn into rafters for an extension to the big house.’
‘And did it otherwise continue to be a normal day?’
‘No Sir!’
‘Please tell the court, Mr Evans, what happened that day in the saw pit on the Grace estate.’
‘We had worked hard, cutting four rafters and a square beam, and it was early after the noon when we stopped for a break. Mr Ash had said he would put the pot on the fire for tea. I fell asleep in the pit.’
‘It sounds to me, that until this point of the day, it had been quite a typical day’s work. Would that be right Mr Evans?’ ‘Yes sir.’
‘And then what happened?’ ‘I woke to an argument between Mr Ash and Mr Richards. It was unusual for Mr Richards to come to the woods at that time of day, but I knew it were him because of his airy words.’
‘And do you know what they were fighting about?’
‘Your Honour,’ interrupted Mr Starcks, ‘I request that Mr Rogers rephrase that question as there was no suggestion of a fight.’
‘I agree. Members of the jury, you are to discount the question. Mr Rogers, you will continue.’
‘Mr Evans,’ continued Mr Rogers, ‘do you know what the accused and Mr Richards were arguing about?’
‘I do not sir, but I heard Mr Ash tell Mr Richards to “naff-off ”, then what sounded like a fight, as there followed a great deal of grunting and scuffling. Like two boars after a sow, I’d say. Then I heard a loud crack, like when a branch cracks in a beech top on a windy summer’s day.’
‘And all this time Mr Evans, you did not see this argument, this scuffle?’
‘No sir, it was very quick and I had only just woke.’
‘What happened next Mr Evans?’
‘I do not know sir!’
‘I am sorry, of course you do not know, as you were assaulted, weren’t you Mr Evans?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Will you tell the jury of the events which then unfurled, however distressing they may be for you to recount?’
‘I woke up with a cracking headache. I was being poked with his stick by Mr Ash, who was shouting at me to get to work. I opened my eyes and was surprised to find it as black as Newgate’s knocker.’
‘Are you saying, Mr Evans, that it was night when you woke?’
‘It was well past dusk. I could just make out the shadow of Mr Ash standing above me, but I could not see any details on account of my sore eyes at that late stage of the day. I was surprised by the situation, then I felt the gash in my scalp when I rubbed my head. I thought then that I must have been out-cold.’
‘Do you mean to say that you had been knocked unconscious?’
‘I believed so, yes sir.’
‘What happened next Mr Evans?’
‘Mr Ash shoved my end of the saw at me and told me we were to make a final cut together. I was quite groggy still but managed to hold the saw in the usual way. It was strangely light work, but very soon I was sodden. I could taste the iron, and I knew it to be blood. My hands kept slipping. Mr Ash shouted at me to finish the ripping, which I did with little fervour. I thought it a cruel trick—now that I was no longer his young apprentice—to have been bloodied again.’
‘And what then, Billy?’
‘I think I were struck on the head again, for when I woke next, it was nearly the morn. It took me some minutes to come to my senses, as my head was ringing most awful. When I felt the sawdust under my body, I realised then that I was in the pit still, and not in my bed.’
‘What did you see?’
‘I had yet to open my eyes, Mr Rogers, as I was in such a stupor.’
‘But presumably, you did open your eyes at some point?’
‘Yes sir. I opened them and was not surprised to be looking up and out of the saw pit, through the transoms, to the morning sky. It was very melodious, the dawn chorus being in full song.’
‘And what did you see next Mr Evans?’
‘I found I were tightly wedged so I looked to one side, and I saw a horror like no other.’
‘Yes?’
‘It was Mr Richards, sir, or at least half of him. Then I discovered his other half to be on my opposite side. I was the filling in a corpse sandwich.’
Look out for Part 2: Top-Dog. Coming Soon.
From Tall Trees Short Stories, vol 21.
Gabriel Hemery. Tall Trees Short Stories, vol21. Woodwide Works, 2021.
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