The Potter's Lady Read Online Free PDF

any other pottery. Or brickyard. As I mentioned before, the skilled workers hire and pay for their own helpers.”
    The jiggerman lifted the lever of his mold and, with both hands, removed the plate and placed it alongside several others on a board. “We hire young fellows to work in the batter-out and mold-runner jobs. They need to be strong and fast. But even with their youth, they tire out and take days off. Then we run behind. I can’t fault them too much. I figure the mold-runners travel about fifteen miles a day, carrying wet or dry molds that can weigh between six and twelve pounds. And being a batter-out requires just as much vigor.”
    The jiggerman pointed to one of the young workers who placed a chunk of clay on the table and lifted a thick circular piece of plaster referred to as a bat. “That bat weighs near twenty pounds.”
    The muscles in the youthful worker’s arms bulged beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his chambray shirt as he raised the bat overhead and slammed it onto the mound of clay. When the clay was properly prepared, the batter-out lifted the bat onto the mold.
    Mr. Bancock nodded toward the boards where the jiggerman placed the wet plates. “During the course of the day, the batter-out also carries boards that weigh about fifty pounds to the finisher. He lifts at least a couple thousand pounds a day.”
    The jiggerman bobbed his head. “This here is brutal work. And well I should know. I did both of those jobs before finally becoming a jiggerman.”
    As they continued through the clay shop, Mr. Bancock stopped long enough to give them a brief description of the work. Rylan came alongside Rose when they neared the section where cups and bowls were produced. He folded his arms across his chest and tipped his head close to hers. “When I became a handler, I believed I had the most important job in the pottery.” He grinned down at her. “When I turned thirteen years old, I changed my mind.”
    Rose gave a slight shake of her head. “These children should be in school, not working alongside their parents or hired to help the skilled workers.”
    “That may be true, but any of these children will tell you they prefer food and a warm bed rather than school. And I’m guessing not every child in Ireland receives a grand education. When I started to work in the pottery, my mam and da told me schooling was the same in Ireland as it is in this country—for those with money.”
    Rose acknowledged there was some truth to his comment, but she didn’t totally agree. “Even if children must work, they should still have an opportunity to learn how to read and write.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Do you know how to read and write, Mr. Campbell?”
    Rylan greeted one of the workers before giving Rose an affirmative answer. “I can even keep books, Miss McKay. I went to school until I began working in the pottery. The rest I learned at home or from Mr. Bancock. If the desire is strong enough, these things can be learned.”
    “Aye, but there must be opportunity, as well. How many children who worked in this pottery received the opportunity to learn from Mr. Bancock?”
    There was a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes when Rylan admitted he was the only one who’d been given that opportunity. “To have one child learn is better than none, isn’t it?” He was enjoying this exchange with her and didn’t want it to stop. Miss McKay was the most interesting young woman he’d ever met, and she was quite pretty, as well.
    “Indeed, one is better than none, but how much better if all children had that same opportunity.”
    There wasn’t any further time to discuss children or education. Mr. Bancock waved Miss McKay and her brother into the greenware room so they could glimpse the numerous shelves of pottery. “We allow all of the greenware to dry in this room and then it’s placed in the saggers.” He nodded toward the oblong fireclay saggers being filled with the pieces of dried