Day after day Dick sat by the side of his trap, all in the dark and by
himself, opening and shutting it, as the corves and rolleys came by, and
Samuel worked away as usual with his pick and spade. Though not as
strong as many of the other hewers, he made as much as any one else by
keeping at his work. The missionary continued to come to the village
occasionally on the Sunday, but many of the men were absent that day, or
would not come to hear. He was a man very earnest in his work. His
great object was so to preach the gospel, that his hearers might
understand and accept the offers it makes. He therefore considered how
he might best get the ears of all the people in the district. Few men,
knowing the dangers of a coal mine, would go down a second time for
pleasure; but hearing that all the labourers collected in one place to
eat their meals, he got leave to go down to read the Bible and preach to
them all that time. They understood from this that he really wished to
do them good; and in the course of a week or two there were very few who
did not try to attend to what he said. Some few did much more than
that, they repented--they turned to Christ--they put their whole trust
in Him. Happy was it for those few who did so.
Dick was now becoming a biggish boy, and he hoped soon to be made a
putter. He did not like the work a bit more than before. He could not
help thinking of the green fields he remembered playing in when he was a
little boy, and he ofttimes sighed for them; but his parents wanted him
to work in the mines, and so it was his duty to stay on where he was.
At last he was made a putter, and had, with two other boys, to push and
pull along the rolleys. He had been about a week at the work, when one
day, as he was going ahead of a laden rolley, he slipped, and before
those behind saw what had happened, the rolley went over his foot. He
shrieked out, for the pain was very great, and it seemed as if his foot
was smashed to pieces. "I shall be a cripple all my life, like poor
Lawry; oh dear, oh dear!" was his first thought.
His companions put him on the rolley and took him to the foot of the
shaft. He was soon drawn up to the pit's mouth, when the banksman got
two men to carry him home on a stretcher, and sent for the doctor.
"Oh, Dick, Dick, what is the matter? Another of my boys a cripple!"
cried poor Mrs Kempson, when the men brought him in and placed him on
his bed.
Dick could scarcely speak for the pain.
"Don't know, mother. Hope not," he could just murmur out.
"Was there ever so unfortunate a woman as I am? my poor boy! my poor
boy!" she cried, trying to cut off Dick's boot and stocking, which was
covered with blood.
The doctor came at last, and said that he was afraid it would be a long
time before Dick could use his foot; but that, if he took care, he might
recover entirely.
Samuel, who had been hewing at the end of a long gallery far away from
the foot of the shaft, only heard of the accident to his boy on his way
home. Once he would have grumbled very much. Now he only thought of
poor Dick's pain, and not at all of the loss of his wages, and the
additional mouth he would have to feed. Dick was more sorry for his
father and mother than for himself. David came, whenever he could, to
see him, and he amused himself by cutting-out models, as he did when he
was ill before. He could now also read well, but he and David had read
through and through all their books and the tracts which the missionary
had left them. They were therefore very thankful when he came again;
and hearing how much Dick wanted books, left them several nice
magazines. Some had beautiful pictures. Neither Dick nor David had
ever seen anything which they thought so fine. When Dick heard from the
missionary that the pictures were made from carvings on blocks of wood,
he said that he should like to learn so curious an art. The missionary,
seeing this, explained how it was done; and Dick forthwith drew a rolley
on a block, and cut away all the white wood between the lines. Then he
rubbed over the raised parts with lamp black, and pressed it down on a
piece of white paper. There, to his delight, was the drawing of a
rolley. It was not very well done, but Lawry and David thought a great
deal of it.
The missionary smiled when he saw it. "A very good beginning, my boy.
Persevere, and it may be that you may make some use of your talent in
this way," he observed.
Dick had not, however, learned to do much better before the doctor said
that he thought his foot was healed enough to let him go to work in a
few days. Dick was eager to go at once, but Samuel said that he must
stay at play a few days longer. Dick had no love for his task in the
pit, but he felt that as he was fed he ought to work as soon as he
could. At last it was arranged that Dick should go to work the next
Monday.
Samuel kissed his younger children, as he was about to start with his
eldest boy to his work.
"We'll have you with us, Dick, all right and strong next week. You are
to be a half-marrow, I hear. Well, it's better than sitting at a trap
all day." He said, as he went out, looking back with a pleasant smile,
"Good-bye, all."
"He's a kind father, and he is much kinder and gentler than he used to
be before the missionary came," thought Dick, as Samuel disappeared
round the corner of the street.
Samuel Kempson went on his way to the pit's mouth, where a number of
other men collected, ready to go down as soon as the banksman called
them.
It was a fine morning; the sun was just rising in the clear sky out from
the far-off sea. Samuel drew a breath of the pure morning air, and
gazed round at the blue sky and glorious sun, as he stepped off into the
corve, in which, with many others, he was to descend the shaft. Bill
Hagger, who had completely recovered from his accident, and was now a
hewer, was among his companions. Bill, unhappily, was not among those
who willingly listened to the missionary. He was the same rough, coarse
being as before, a constant visitor at the ale-house, a fearful swearer,
and ready at all times for any mischief. There were too many like him.
Samuel and the others having got their picks newly sharpened, and their
spades, went to the lamp-house for their lamps. These were handed to
them, carefully locked, so that they might not open the lamp and expose
the flame to the surrounding air. They were driving a new gallery, and
as a good deal of fire-damp was likely to come out, it was necessary to
be very careful.
Samuel passed David Adams, who was still a trapper, on his way to his
trap. David asked after Dick.
"He'll be down with us in a few days, I hope," was the answer, in a
cheerful tone.
Nearly two hundred human beings were toiling away down in those long,
narrow passages. Some with pick-axes were getting out the huge lumps of
coal from the solid vein, others were breaking them up and shovelling
them into the baskets. The putters were dragging or pushing the baskets
towards a main road, where they were received by the "crane-hoister,"
who, with his crane, lifted them on the rolley-wagons. These were
dragged along a tramway by sleek, stout ponies to the foot of the shaft,
under charge of a wagoner.
Other men were engaged at the foot of the shaft, hooking on the corves
full of coal to be drawn up by the machinery above. There were three
shafts. At the bottom of one was a large furnace kept always burning
that it might assist to draw down the pure air from above and send the
bad air upwards. Down another shaft was a huge pump, pumping up the
water which got into the mine. The third shaft was that by which the
men chiefly went up and down, and the coals were drawn up, though the
furnace shaft could also be used for that purpose. There were men to
tend the furnaces, and stable-men to look after the horses, and
lamp-men, and blacksmiths to sharpen the tools and mend the iron-work of
the wagons, and rolley-way-men to keep the roads in order, besides
several for other sorts of jobs. All these were busy working away at
their several posts. Samuel Kempson was among the hewers farthest from
the main shaft. Near him was Bill Hagger. They had been working for
some hours when the welcome sound of blows on the trap-doors told them
that dinner and drink time had arrived. Leaving their tools, they
unhooked the lamps, which hung on nails above their heads, and hastened
to the drink place, an open space to which their dinners were brought
from the shaft on rolleys, chiefly in basins done up in handkerchiefs,
each having his proper mark. Some had the first letters of their names,
others bits of different coloured cloth, others buttons. Each man
having found his dinner, took his seat, when Samuel became aware that
his friend the missionary was present. He was standing with his back to
the wall, and some candles fixed to a tree, or support, near him. All
were silent. Having read a chapter in the Bible, the missionary
earnestly entreated them to seek the Lord while He might be found. It
was an impressive discourse, and the missionary himself had often cause
to think of it afterwards. The dinner-time was soon over, and the
labourers hastened back to their work, and the missionary returned to
the world above.
Kempson had been pecking away for some time, when Bill Hagger, who was
next to him, ceased working. "I want my blow of baccy," he said, coming
up to Samuel. "That missioner chap put me off it, and that's what I
won't stand, so I'm going to have it now."
"What can make you think of such a mad thing, Bill?" exclaimed Samuel.
"You know it's against orders to light a pipe, and good reason too, for
a spark might blow us all to pieces in a moment. I smell the fire-damp
at this moment, you haven't got matches, I hope?"
"No; but I've got a key to open my lamp," answered Bill, producing a
small key from a concealed pocket.
"Don't be mad, Bill," cried Kempson. "You know that you've no business
to have that key. As sure as you open your lamp you'll blow yourself
and me into bits, and may be everybody in the mine, for I never felt it
fuller of gas than it is to-day. Just think, Bill, where our souls are
to go; for the gas can't blow them to pieces, remember that."
"I'm not going to be put off by any of your talk," answered Bill, in a
surly tone, filling his pipe.
Having done so, before poor Kempson could stop him, he had opened his
safety lamp, and put in the bowl of his pipe to light it. In an instant
there was a fearful report, a sheet of fire flew along the galleries
here, there, and everywhere through the pit, bursting open the traps,
tearing off huge fragments of the coal, overthrowing pillars and
supports, and sweeping to destruction the helpless human beings it
overtook in its course. Those more distant from the first part of the
explosion heard it coming, and knew too well its dreadful import. They
tried to fly towards the foot of the shaft. There only could they hope
for safety; but what hope had they of reaching it with those fiery
blasts rushing through every roadway and passage, and the destructive
choke-damp rising rapidly on all sides?
David Adams was sitting at his trap ready to open it, for he heard a
gang of putters coming along, when a loud, deafening roar sounded in his
ears. The door was shaken violently, but resisted the shock, though he
felt the hot air coming through the crevices. Loud cries arose on every
side from the neighbouring passages. The putters rushed on, leaving
their wagons, and forced open the trap. David, seizing his lamp, rushed
out with them. His first impulse was to cover up his head with his
coat, then to draw his comforter over his mouth and nose, for he already
smelt the too-well-known stench of the choke-damp. Some of his
companions, in their fright, turned the wrong way. He and others pushed
on towards the shaft. They had not gone far when they came upon several
men, some had fallen, overcome by the choke-damp; others were sitting
down, pointing, with looks of terror, at a mass of brick-work which had
fallen in, stopping their advance; while through it came a stream of
gas, which it was clear would soon fill the passage. The stench was
every moment growing stronger and stronger. "We must go back, we must
go back," was the cry from those still able to move.
There was another way to the shaft, through the passage at which David
had been placed. Some of the stronger men led the way, the putters went
next, and David was last. Before they could reach the passage, for
which they were aiming, the main way was filling rapidly with
choke-damp. Now one of the men leading fell, now another, and the rest
had to pass over their bodies. To stop to try and help them would have
been to give up their own lives without doing any good. David saw
several of the putters, strong, hearty lads, drop down by his side,
while he was able to keep on from having his mouth covered up, and from
attempting to breathe only where the air seemed purest.
The survivors, a small party only, now reached the end of the passage,
and ran on, driven on by the air, which was rushing along it. There was
hope for them in that direction if no fresh explosion should take place.
But the danger was still very fearful. The fire-damp might any moment
find the broken lamp of a dying man, and explode, causing further
destruction on every side. On the men sped; now one, now another
dropped. The remainder still pressed on. There were a hundred yards or
more between them and the foot of the shaft. It seemed a vast distance
to go over, when any moment the whole mine might be a sea of fire. Even
there safety might not be found.
Hitherto young David had been preserved, but now he felt his strength
failing. The hot air was coming up behind. He sprang forward, he
thought that he was near the shaft. Cries, and groans, and loud,
roaring, hissing sounds were in his ears. All thought and feeling
passed from him. Not a human voice was heard throughout the long
galleries and passages of the mine, lately so full of active life. The
bodies of the men were there charred and withered, and the only sound
was the roar of the escaping gas, as it caught fire and exploded in the
far-off passages of the mine.