The Mines
Curdie went home whistling. He resolved to say nothing about the
princess for fear of getting the nurse into trouble, for while he
enjoyed teasing her because of her absurdity, he was careful not to do
her any harm. He saw no more of the goblins, and was soon fast asleep
in his bed.
He woke in the middle of the night, and thought he heard curious noises
outside. He sat up and listened; then got up, and, opening the door
very quietly, went out. When he peeped round the corner, he saw, under
his own window, a group of stumpy creatures, whom he at once recognized
by their shape. Hardly, however, had he begun his 'One, two, three!'
when they broke asunder, scurried away, and were out of sight. He
returned laughing, got into bed again, and was fast asleep in a moment.
Reflecting a little over the matter in the morning, he came to the
conclusion that, as nothing of the kind had ever happened before, they
must be annoyed with him for interfering to protect the princess. By
the time he was dressed, however, he was thinking of something quite
different, for he did not value the enmity of the goblins in the least.
As soon as they had had breakfast, he set off with his father for the
mine.
They entered the hill by a natural opening under a huge rock, where a
little stream rushed out. They followed its course for a few yards,
when the passage took a turn, and sloped steeply into the heart of the
hill. With many angles and windings and branchings-off, and sometimes
with steps where it came upon a natural gulf, it led them deep into the
hill before they arrived at the place where they were at present
digging out the precious ore. This was of various kinds, for the
mountain was very rich in the better sorts of metals. With flint and
steel, and tinder-box, they lighted their lamps, then fixed them on
their heads, and were soon hard at work with their pickaxes and shovels
and hammers. Father and son were at work near each other, but not in
the same gang--the passages out of which the ore was dug, they called
gangs--for when the lode, or vein of ore, was small, one miner would
have to dig away alone in a passage no bigger than gave him just room
to work--sometimes in uncomfortable cramped positions. If they stopped
for a moment they could hear everywhere around them, some nearer, some
farther off, the sounds of their companions burrowing away in all
directions in the inside of the great mountain--some boring holes in
the rock in order to blow it up with gunpowder, others shovelling the
broken ore into baskets to be carried to the mouth of the mine, others
hitting away with their pickaxes. Sometimes, if the miner was in a very
lonely part, he would hear only a tap-tapping, no louder than that of a
woodpecker, for the sound would come from a great distance off through
the solid mountain rock.
The work was hard at best, for it is very warm underground; but it was
not particularly unpleasant, and some of the miners, when they wanted
to earn a little more money for a particular purpose, would stop behind
the rest and work all night. But you could not tell night from day
down there, except from feeling tired and sleepy; for no light of the
sun ever came into those gloomy regions. Some who had thus remained
behind during the night, although certain there were none of their
companions at work, would declare the next morning that they heard,
every time they halted for a moment to take breath, a tap-tapping all
about them, as if the mountain were then more full of miners than ever
it was during the day; and some in consequence would never stay
overnight, for all knew those were the sounds of the goblins. They
worked only at night, for the miners' night was the goblins' day.
Indeed, the greater number of the miners were afraid of the goblins;
for there were strange stories well known amongst them of the treatment
some had received whom the goblins had surprised at their work during
the night. The more courageous of them, however, amongst them Peter
Peterson and Curdie, who in this took after his father, had stayed in
the mine all night again and again, and although they had several times
encountered a few stray goblins, had never yet failed in driving them
away. As I have indicated already, the chief defence against them was
verse, for they hated verse of every kind, and some kinds they could
not endure at all. I suspect they could not make any themselves, and
that was why they disliked it so much. At all events, those who were
most afraid of them were those who could neither make verses themselves
nor remember the verses that other people made for them; while those
who were never afraid were those who could make verses for themselves;
for although there were certain old rhymes which were very effectual,
yet it was well known that a new rhyme, if of the right sort, was even
more distasteful to them, and therefore more effectual in putting them
to flight.
Perhaps my readers may be wondering what the goblins could be about,
working all night long, seeing they never carried up the ore and sold
it; but when I have informed them concerning what Curdie learned the
very next night, they will be able to understand.
For Curdie had determined, if his father would permit him, to remain
there alone this night--and that for two reasons: first, he wanted to
get extra wages that he might buy a very warm red petticoat for his
mother, who had begun to complain of the cold of the mountain air
sooner than usual this autumn; and second, he had just a faint hope of
finding out what the goblins were about under his window the night
before.
When he told his father, he made no objection, for he had great
confidence in his boy's courage and resources.
'I'm sorry I can't stay with you,' said Peter; 'but I want to go and
pay the parson a visit this evening, and besides I've had a bit of a
headache all day.'
'I'm sorry for that, father,' said Curdie.
'Oh, it's not much. You'll be sure to take care of yourself, won't
you?'
'Yes, father; I will. I'll keep a sharp look-out, I promise you.'
Curdie was the only one who remained in the mine. About six o'clock
the rest went away, everyone bidding him good night, and telling him to
take care of himself; for he was a great favourite with them all.
'Don't forget your rhymes,' said one.
'No, no,' answered Curdie.
'It's no matter if he does,' said another, 'for he'll only have to make
a new one.'
'Yes: but he mightn't be able to make it fast enough,' said another;
'and while it was cooking in his head, they might take a mean advantage
and set upon him.'
'I'll do my best,' said Curdie. 'I'm not afraid.'
'We all know that,' they returned, and left him.