One day after muster, me name is called out and I must stand aside, wait for Timothy Lane the deputy superintendent to assign me a new job after the other convicts get marched out for them daily work. Lane stand in front of me, look me up and down.

‘Well, Buchanan. It has been brought to my attention that you are a capable stonemason.’

‘Yes, sir. Yes, sir, Mister Lane,’ nodding, casting eyes down a little bit like me supposed to.

‘Is this correct, overseer?’

‘Yes, sir. He’s a good mason, sir. Been doing good work down on the quay.’

‘Good man. Then I am reassigning you, Buchanan.’

The overseer look at me with a smirk, chuckle under him breath. I seen that look before. This not going to be a good offer.

‘As of today, you will be working on Busby’s Bore,’ he say. ‘I have been told that some of the uprights are in need of further support. And some of the stone blocks need to be replaced.’

Now I understand what the overseer sniggering bout. One of the fourteen-year convicts told me that backra started building the bore nine years before. It take that long because is not only hard work digging underground through all that sandstone, but none of the convicts like working down there. Some of them rebel against it, even under the threat of a flogging. I don’t have a lot of time to think bout how I don’t like dark, cramped spaces, because the overseer shout out, ‘Get ready to march.’ And we head off, marching, marching, out the gate, cross the road, into the park till we get bout halfway, and then the overseer call, ‘Halt!’

‘Okay, Buchanan,’ the overseer say, as him undo the chain attached to the ring round me ankle. ‘Get down there. Have a look around, then make your way to the next shaft and I will meet you there.’

I look down the shaft entrance. I don’t like the look of it. Don’t make a move.

‘Hurry it up, Buchanan, haven’t got all day,’ him say, prodding me in the back.