The time went on, with the carpenters and engineers hard at work. As
fast as the water was lowered enough, fresh platforms were placed across
the shaft. After a little consideration and conference with Hardock, it
was decided not to let the men go up and down the mine by means of
ladders on account of the labour and loss of time, but to erect one of
the peculiar beams used in some mines, the platforms being at equal
distances favouring the arrangement.
The boys were present at the consultation, and when it was over they
went off for a stroll, Grip following in a great state of excitement,
and proceeding to stalk the gulls whenever he saw any searching for
spoil on the grassy down at the top of the cliffs.
But the dog had no success. The gulls always saw him coming, and let
him creep pretty near before giving a few hops with outstretched wings,
and then sailing away just above his head, leaving him snapping angrily
and making his futile bounds.
After a time the boys threw themselves on the grass at the top of one of
the highest cliffs, from whence they could look down through the
transparent sea at the purply depths, or at the pale-green shallows,
where the sand had drifted, or again, at where all the seaweed was of a
rich golden brown.
It was a lovely day, and in the offing the tints on the sea were
glorious, but the boys had no eyes for anything then. So to speak, they
were looking back at the meeting which had just taken place at Colonel
Pendarve's.
"Father looked very serious about these lift things," said Gwyn, at
last.
"Enough to make him; it's nothing but pay, pay, pay. I want to see them
get to work and make money. It will be skilly and bread for us if the
mine fails."
"'Tisn't going to fail. Don't be a coward. See what a grand thing this
new apparatus will be."
"Will it?" said Joe. "I don't understand it a bit."
"Why, it's easy enough."
"I can understand about a bucket or a cage, let up and down by a rope
running over a wheel, but this seems to me to be stupid."
"Nonsense! It's you who are stupid. Can't you see that a great beam is
to go from the top to the bottom of the mine?"
"That's nonsense. Where are they going to get one long enough?"
"Can't they join a lot together till it is long enough, old Wisdom
teeth? Of course, it will have to be made in bits, and put together."
"Well, what then?" cried Joe.
"What then? Sam Hardock and the engineer explained it simply enough.
The beam is to have a little standing-place on it at every eighteen
feet."
"Yes, I understand that, and it's to be attached to an engine lever
which will raise it eighteen feet, and then lower it eighteen feet."
"Of course. Well, what's the good of pretending you did not
understand?"
"I didn't pretend; I don't understand."
Gwyn laughed.
"You are a fellow! There'll be a ledge for a man to stand on, all down
the beam from top to bottom exactly opposite the regular platform."
"Yes, I understand that."
"Well, then, what is it you don't understand?" cried Gwyn, smiling.
"How it works."
"Why, you said you did just now. Oh, I say, Jolly-wet, what a foggy old
chap you are. You said as plain as could be, that the beam rose and
fell eighteen feet."
"Oh, yes, I said that, but I don't understand about the men."
"Well, you are a rum one, Joe. Is it real, or are you making believe?"
"Real. Now, suppose it was us who wanted to go down."
"Well, suppose it was us."
"What do we do?"
"Why, we--"
"No, no, let me finish. I say, what do we do? We step on the ledge
attached to the beam?"
"Of course we do, only one at a time."
"Very well, then, one at a time. Then down goes the beam eighteen feet
to the next platform."
"Yes, and then up it rises again eighteen feet, and most likely there'd
be a man on every ledge, from top to bottom."
"Well, what's the good of that?"
"Good? Why, so that the men can ride up or down when they're tired, and
do away with the ladders."
"Isn't that absurd? I'm sure my father never meant to put a lot of
money into this thing so as to give the men a ride up and down on a
patent see-saw."
"Oh I say, Joe, what a chap you are! What have you got in your head?"
"This old see-saw that Hardock and the engineer want us to have, of
course."
"Well, can't you see how good it will be?"
"No, I can't, nor you neither."
"But don't you see it sends the men all down eighteen feet into the
mine?"
"Of course I can. Never mind the men. Suppose it's me, and I step on.
It sends me down eighteen feet."
"Yes, at one stride, and then comes up again; can't you see that?"
"Of course, I can. It comes up again, and brings me up with it, ready
to go down again. Why, it's no good. It will be only like a jolly old
up-and-down."
Gwyn stared at his companion.
"What are you talking about?" he said, but in a less confident tone.
"You know, this gimcrack thing that was to do so much. Why the idea's
all wrong. Don't you see?"
Gwyn stared at his companion again.
"Nonsense!" he cried, "it's all right. There'll be a man step on to it
at every platform, and then down he'll go."
"Of course, and when he has gone down eighteen or twenty feet, up he'll
come again. It sounds very pretty, but it's all a muddle. It's just
like the story of the man who wanted to go to America, so he went up in
a balloon and stayed there for hours and waited till the world had
turned round enough, so as to come down in America."
"Oh, but this is all right; they explained it exactly to my father, and
I saw it all plainly enough then: it was as clear as could be," said
Gwyn, thoughtfully. "A man stepped on and went down."
"Yes, and the beam rose and he came up again."
Gwyn scratched his head and looked regularly puzzled, and the more he
tried to see the plan clearly, the more confused he grew.
"Here, I can't make it out now," he said at last.
"Of course you can't, my lad; it's all wrong."
"But if it is, there will be a terrible loss."
"To be sure there will."
"Let's go and talk to my father about it."
"Or mine," said Joe.
"Our place is nearest, or perhaps father's in the office," cried Gwyn,
excitedly. "Mind, I don't say you're right, because I seemed to see it
all so clearly, though it has all turned misty and stupid like now."
"I know how it was," said Joe. "Sam Hardock had got the idea in his
head, and he explained it all so that it seemed right; but it isn't, and
the more I think about it, the more I wonder that no one saw what a
muddle it was before."
"Gammon!" cried Gwyn, springing up, and the two lads started back toward
the mine; but they were not destined to reach it then, for they had not
gone above a hundred yards along by the edge of the cliff, when they
came upon Dinass seated with his back to a rock, smoking his pipe and
gazing out to sea between his half-closed eyelids.
"Hallo!" shouted Gwyn; "what are you doing here?"
"Smoking," said the man, coolly.
"Well, I can see that," cried Gwyn. "How is it you are not at work?"
"'Cause a man can't go on for ever without stopping. Man aren't a
clock, as only wants winding up once a week; must have rest sometimes."
"Well, you have the night for rest," said Gwyn, sharply.
"Sometimes," said Dinass; "but I was working the pump all last night."
"Oh, then you're off work to-day?"
"That's so, young gentleman, and getting warm again in the sun. It was
precious cold down there in the night, and I got wet right through to my
backbone. I'm only just beginning to get a bit dried now."
"Look here, Ydoll," said Joe, sharply; "he'll have been talking to Sam
Hardock about it, I know. Here, Tom Dinass, what about that hobby
up-and-down thing Sam Hardock wants to have in the mine?"
"'Stead of ladders? Well, what about it?"
"It's all nonsense, isn't it?"
"Well, I shouldn't call it nonsense," said the man, thoughtfully, as he
took his pipe out of his mouth and sat thinking.
"What do you call it, then?" said Joe.
"Mellancolly, sir, that's what I call it--mellancolly."
"Because it won't work?" cried Joe.
"But it would work, wouldn't it?" said Gwyn.
"Oh, yes, sir, it would work," said the man, "because the engine would
pump it up and down."
"Of course it would," said Joe; "but what's the use of having a thing
that pumps up and down, unless it's to bring up water?"
"Ay, but this is a thing as pumps men up and down," said Dinass.
"Gammon! It's impossible."
Dinass looked at him in astonishment.
"No, it aren't," he said gruffly. "I've been pumped up and down one
times enough, so I ought to know."
"You have?" said Gwyn, eagerly.
"Ay, over Redruth way."
"There, then it is right," cried Gwyn. "I knew it was. What an old
jolly wet blanket you are, Joe!"
"But it can't be right," cried Joe, stubbornly. "Here you get on a bit
of a shelf and stand there and the beam goes down twenty feet."
"Nay, it don't," said Dinass, interrupting; "only twelve foot."
"Well it's all the same--it might be twenty feet, mightn't it?"
"I s'pose so, sir. Ones I've seen only goes twelve foot at a jog."
"Twelve feet, then; and then it jigs up again," cried Joe.
"Ay, just like a pump. Man-engines they call 'em," said Dinass; "but I
have heard 'em called farkuns."
[Note: _Fahr-Kunst_. First used in the Harz Mountain mines.]
"Then you've seen more than one?" cried Gwyn.
"More than one, sir! I should think I have!"
"And they do go well?"
"Oh, yes, sir, they go well enough after a fashion."
"Can't," cried Joe.
"But they do, sir," said Dinass. "I've seen 'em and gone down deep
mines on 'em."
"Now you didn't--you went down twelve feet," said Joe, more stubbornly
than ever.
"Yes, sir, twelve foot at a time."
"And then came up twelve feet."
"That's right, sir."
"Then what's the good of them if they only give you a ride up and down
twelve feet?"
"To take you to the bottom."
"But they can't," cried Joe.
"I dunno about can't!" said the man, gruffly; "all I know is that they
do take 'em up or down whenever you like, and saves a lot of time,
besides being (I will say that for 'em) a regular rest."
"What, through just stepping on a shelf of the beam and stopping there?"
"Who said anything about stopping there?" cried the man, roughly. "You
steps on to the shelf and down goes the beam twelve foot, and you steps
off on to a bit o' platform. Up goes the beam and brings the next shelf
level with you, and on you gets to that. Down you go another twelve
foot, or another twenty-four. Steps off, up comes the next shelf, and
you steps on. Down she goes again, and you steps on and off, and on and
off, going down twelve foot at a time, till you're at the bottom, or
where you want to be part of the way down at one of the galleries."
"Of course," cried Gwyn, triumphantly. "I knew it was German, all
right, only I got a bit foggy over it when you said it wasn't."
"But--"
"I knew there was something. We forgot about stepping off and letting
the beam rise."
Joe scratched his head.
"Don't you see now?" cried Gwyn.
"Beginning to: not quite," said Joe, still in the same confused way.
Then, with a start, he gave his leg a hearty slap. "Why, of course," he
cried, "I see it all clearly enough now. You step on and go down, and
then step on and go up, and then you step on--and step on. Oh, I say,
how is it the thing does work after all?"
"Why you--" began Gwyn, roaring with laughter the while, but Joe
interrupted him.
"No, no; I've got it all right now. I see clearly enough. But it is
puzzling. What an obstinate old block you were, Ydoll."
"Eh? Oh, come, I like that," cried Gwyn. "Why you--" Then seeing the
mirthful look on his companion's face he clapped him on the shoulder.
"You did stick to it, though, that it wouldn't go, and no mistake."
"Well, I couldn't see it anyhow. It was a regular puzzle," said Joe,
frankly. "But I say, Tom Dinass, what made you call these man-engines
melancholy things?"
"'Cause of the mischief they doos, sir. I do hope you won't have one
here."
"Why? What mischief do they do?" cried Gwyn.
"Kills the poor lads sometimes. Lad doesn't step on or off at the right
time, and he gets chopped between the step and the platform. It's awful
then. 'Bliged to be so very careful."
"Man who goes down a mine ought to be very careful."
"O' course, sir; but they things are horrid bad. I don't like 'em."
"But they can't be so dangerous as ladders, or going down in a bucket at
the end of a string or chain; you might fall, or the chain might break.
Such things do happen," said Gwyn.
"Ay, sir, they do sometimes; but I don't like a farkun. Accident's an
accident, and you must have some; but these are horrid, and we shall be
having some accident with that dog of yours if we don't mind."
"Accident?" said Gwyn. "What do you mean?"
"He'll be a-biting me, and I shall have to go into horspittle."
"Oh, he won't hurt you," cried Gwyn.
"Don't know so much about that, sir," said the man, grinning. "I should
say if he did bite he would hurt me a deal. Must have a precious nice
pair o' legs, or he wouldn't keep smelling 'em as he does, and then
stand licking his jaws."
"I tell you he won't hurt you," cried Gwyn. "Here, Grip--come away."
The dog looked up at his master, and passed his tongue about his lower
jaw.
"Look at that, sir," said Dinass, laughing; but there was a peculiar
look in his eyes. "Strikes me as he'd eat cold meat any day without
pickles."
"I'll take care he sha'n't bite your legs, with or without pickles,"
said Gwyn, laughing. "Come along, Joe, and let's go and have a talk to
Sam Hardock about the--what did he call it--far--far--what?"
"I don't know," replied Joe; "but somehow I wish Master Tom Dinass
hadn't been taken on."
"Going to have a man-engine, are they?" muttered Dinass, as he sat
watching the two lads from the corners of his eyes. "Seems to me that
things have gone pretty nigh far enough, and they'll have to be stopped.
Won't eat my legs with or without pickles, won't he? No, he won't if I
know it. Getting pretty nigh all the water out too. Well, I daresay
there'll be enough of it to drown that dog."