The crowd’s murmuring grew as did the knot of fear and nausea rising in Caleb’s throat. What did he think he was doing? It had been seven years since he had called himself a doctor and yet he felt the call as a powerful, palpable hand on his shoulder, driving him on. The words of the long forgotten Hippocratic Oath, the reminder of the special obligation he owed all people, tugged at his conscience.

A crowd had already gathered at the gate to the mine and as he limped towards them, they parted and he climbed the steep track alone, the eyes of the town on his back. The track ended at a flat cobbled courtyard surrounded by buildings: offices, workshops and a shack with a sign saying ‘Crib’ over the door. A small knot of workers gathered around the entrance to the mine’s adit.

Penrose saw him and came forward, a frown creasing his brow. ‘Hunt? What are you doing here?’

Caleb swallowed. ‘Bowen is incapable. I’ve come to see what help I can be.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’m a doctor, Penrose … or at least, I was.’

Penrose’s mouth fell open. ‘You? I—’

‘Where’s the bloody doctor?’ a man called out from the mine entrance.

Caleb laid a hand on his friend’s forearm. ‘Are you going to trust me, Penrose?’

‘Not sure I have a choice. Come with me.’

Penrose grabbed a lantern from a man at the entrance and as they ducked their heads to enter the mine, Caleb asked for details of the accident.

‘We have a team of three on the face of the mine, drilling holes for the explosives. One of them holds the drill bit while the other strikes it with a mallet. The mallet slipped. It’s nasty,’ Penrose told him.

Puddles of water lay between what looked like rail tracks and Caleb’s boots were mired in mud before the tunnel opened out into a sizeable cavern. Hand-driven winching equipment stood over a massive hole that had been dug in the floor.

‘The men were working on the far face. This way,’ Penrose said.

A crowd of miners were gathered at the mouth of a tunnel on the far side of the cavern. They turned as the sound of footsteps echoed around the cavern.

‘Doc’s here,’ someone said. ‘You lay quiet.’

The miners let Caleb through and held up lanterns to illuminate a slight man who lay in the mud, his face twisted in pain, his hand clutched to his chest. Two men knelt beside him talking in soft tones, trying to keep the injured man calm. Even from where he stood, Caleb could see the man’s hand was badly broken, blood dripping from the shattered fingers through which shards of bone protruded.