Shouting erupted from guards, convicts, passersby. I heard my own voice join the cries as I rushed into the fray, grabbing for the rocks that covered pathetic limbs. Bessie was screaming, but her hands worked alongside mine, pulling away bricks to reveal bodies of men moaning and struggling for breath. Stones were wrenched away from the other side of the wall as guards and prisoners alike worked to unbury those beneath.

“Jack!” Bessie sobbed. “Jackie!”

She tugged at an arm belonging to a bloody young man, his face coated in gray dust. He was pinned beneath a pile of bricks, unmoving.

I yanked aside the stones on top of him, using my basket to scrape away rubble. Bessie helped me, still crying.

The young man stirred and opened his eyes, which rounded when he saw me and then Bessie.

“Afternoon, love,” he said to Bessie, his voice a croak. “The fings you’ll do to visit me.” His grin broke through the dirt on his face.

I dug away the last of the bricks from him. “Are you all right, young man? Anything broken, do you think? Lie still—don’t rise too quickly.”

Jack brushed himself off with care, pressing fingers on his arms then legs. “Seem to be whole. Now, Bessie, me dear, don’t take on so.”

Bessie openly wept in relief and anguish. She and I helped Jack to his feet, and Bessie clung to him. “Thank you, missus,” she said to me, her voice hoarse.

“Mrs. Holloway,” I answered her. “Now, what has happened?”

“Dunno,” Jack said, sounding cheerful. “There I was, heading out to do me shift on the tread, when the wall goes down. Tries to take me with it. Bessie, love, no need for the waterworks, there’s a good girl. Others is still down.”

He gently pressed Bessie aside and turned to help drag bricks and stones from the fallen. Bessie quickly wiped her tears and assisted him.

As did I. The two of us and Jack shoved aside rubble, lifted men to their feet, steadied them. They were shaking, hurt, some of them badly. Guards had surrounded us, but most were busy uncovering men. A doctor appeared with several assistants, wrapping limbs in bandages or splints. The doctor ordered litters for those unconscious or unable to walk away.

None of the prisoners tried to flee. They were too dazed, too shaken. The able ones helped the unable. If this had been a planned escape, either it had gone horribly wrong or most of these men had not been in on the scheme. They’d been taken unawares—they’d never have gone too near the falling wall if they’d known what would happen.