To work went Maggot and Trevarrow and Zackey on their new pitch next day
like true Britons. Indeed, we question whether true Britons of the
ancient time ever did go to work with half the energy or perseverance of
the men of the present day. Those men of old were mere grubbers on the
surface. They knew nothing of deep levels under the ocean. However, to
do them justice, they made wonderfully extensive tunnels in mother
earth, with implements much inferior to those now in use.
But, be that as it may, our trio went to work "with a will." Maggot was
keen to get up as much of the rich mineral as possible during the
month--knowing that he would not get the place next month on such good
terms. Trevarrow, besides having no objections to make money when he
could for its own sake, was anxious to have a little to spare to James
Penrose, whose large family found it pinching work to subsist on the
poor fellow's allowance from the club. As to Zackey, he was ready for
anything where Uncle Davy was leader. So these three resolved to work
night and day. Maggot took his turn in the daytime and slept at night;
Trevarrow slept in the daytime and worked at night; while the boy worked
as long as he could at whatever time suited him best.
As they advanced on the lode it became larger and richer, and in a day
or two it assumed such proportions as to throw the fortunate workers
into a state of great excitement, and they tore out and blasted away the
precious mineral like Titans.
One day, about kroust-time, having fired two holes, they came out of the
"end" in which they wrought and sat down to lunch while the smoke was
clearing away.
"'Tes a brave lode," said Maggot.
"It is," responded Trevarrow, taking a long draught of water from the
canteen.
"What shall us do?" said Maggot; "go to grass to slaip, or slaip in the
bal?"
"In the bal, if you do like it," said Trevarrow.
So it was agreed that the men should sleep in the mine on boards, or on
any dry part of the level, in order to save the time and energy lost in
ascending and descending the long ladders, and thus make the most of
their opportunity. It was further resolved that Zackey should be sent
up for dry clothes, and bring them their meals regularly. Trevarrow did
not forget to have his Bible brought to him, for he was too serious a
man to shut his eyes to the danger of a sudden run of good fortune, and
thought that the best way to guard against evil would be to devote
nearly all his short periods of leisure time to the reading of "the
Word."
You may be sure that Maggot afterwards laughed at him for this, but he
did not concern himself much about it at the time, because he was
usually too hungry to talk at meal-times, and too sleepy to do so after
work was over.
They were still busily discussing the matter of remaining in the mine
all night, when they heard the kibble descending the shaft, near the
bottom of which they sat, and next moment a man came to the ground with
considerable violence.
"Why, Frankey, is that thee, booy?" said Maggot, starting up to assist
him.
"Aw dear, iss; I'm gone dead a'most! aw dear! aw dear!"
"Why, whatever brought 'ee here?" said Trevarrow.
"The kibble, sure," replied the man, exhibiting his knuckles, which were
cut and bleeding a good deal. "I did come by the chain, anyhow."
This was indeed true. Frankey, as his mates called him, was at that
time the "lander" in charge of the kibbles at the surface. It was his
duty to receive each kibble as it was drawn up to the mouth of the shaft
full of ore, empty it, and send it down again. Several coils of chain
passing round the large drum of a great horse-windlass, called by the
miners a "whim," was the means by which the kibbles were hoisted and
lowered. The chain was so arranged that one kibble was lowered by it
while the other was being drawn up. Frankey had emptied one of the
kibbles, and had given the signal to the boy attending the horse to
"lower away," when he inadvertently stepped into the shaft. With ready
presence of mind the man caught the chain and clung to it, but the boy,
being prevented by a pile of rubbish from seeing what had occurred,
eased him down, supposing him to be the kibble!
This "easing down" a great number of fathoms was by no means an easy
process, as those know well who have seen a pair of kibbles go banging
up and down a shaft. It was all that poor Frankey could do to keep his
head from being smashed against rocks and beams; but, by energetic use
of arms and legs, he did so, and reached the bottom of the shaft without
further damage than a little skin rubbed off his knees and elbows, and a
few cuts on his hands. The man thought so little of it, indeed, that he
at once returned to grass by the ladder-way, to the unutterable surprise
and no little consternation of the boy who had "eased him down."
The air at the "end" of the level in which Maggot and Trevarrow worked
was very bad, and, for some time past, men had been engaged in sinking a
winze from the level above to connect the two, and send in a supply of
fresh air by creating a new channel of circulation. This winze was
almost completed, but one of the men employed at it had suddenly become
unwell that day, and no other had been appointed to the work. As it was
a matter of great importance to have fresh air, now that they had
resolved to remain day and night in the mine for some time, Maggot and
Trevarrow determined to complete the work, believing that one or two
shots would do it. Accordingly, they mounted to the level above, and
were lowered one at a time to the bottom of the unfinished winze by a
windlass, which was turned by the man whose comrade had become unwell.
For nearly two hours they laboured diligently, scarce taking time to
wipe the perspiration from their heated brows. At the end of that time
the hole was sufficiently deep to blast, so Maggot called out,--"Zackey,
my son, fetch the fuse and powder." The boy was quickly lowered with
these materials, and then drawn up.
Meanwhile Maggot proceeded to charge the hole, and his comrade sat down
to rest. He put in the powder and tamping, and asked the other to hand
him the tamping-bar.
"Zackey has forgot it," said Trevarrow, looking round.
"It don't matter; hand me the borer."
"No, I won't," said Trevarrow decidedly, as he grasped the iron tool in
question. "Ho! Zackey booy, throw down the tampin'-bar."
This was done, and the operation of filling the hole continued, while
Trevarrow commented somewhat severely on his companion's recklessness.
"That's just how the most o' the reckless men in the bal do get blaw'd
up," he said; "they're always picking away at the holes, and tamping
with iron tools; why, thee might as well put a lighted match down the
muzzle of a loaded gun as tamp with an iron borer."
"Come, now," said Maggot, looking up from his work with a leer, "it
warn't that as made old Kimber nearly blow hisself up last week."
"No, but it was carelessness, anyhow," retorted Trevarrow; "and lucky
for him that he was a smart man, else he'd bin gone dead by this time."
Maggot soon completed the filling of the hole, and then perpetrated as
reckless a deed as any of his mining comrades had ever been guilty of.
Trevarrow was preparing to ascend by the windlass, intending to leave
his comrade to light the fuse and come up after him. Meanwhile Maggot
found that the fuse was too long. He discovered this after it was fixed
in the hole, and, unobserved by his companion, proceeded to cut it by
means of an iron tool and a flat stone. Fire was struck at the last
blow by the meeting of the iron and the stone, and the fuse ignited. To
extinguish it was impossible; to cut it in the same way, without
striking fire, was equally so. Of course there was plenty of time to
ascend by the windlass, but _only one_ at a time could do so. The men
knew this, and looked at each other with terrible meaning in their eyes
as they rushed at the bucket, and shouted to the man above to haul them
up. He attempted to do so, but in vain. He had not strength to haul up
two at once. One could escape, both could not, and to delay would be
death to both. In this extremity David Trevarrow looked at his comrade,
and said calmly,--"Escape, my brother; a minute more and I shall be in
heaven."
He stepped back while he spoke--the bucket went rapidly upwards, and
Trevarrow, sitting down in the bottom of the shaft, covered his eyes
with a piece of rock and awaited the issue.
The rumbling explosion immediately followed, and the shaft was filled
with smoke and flame and hurling stones. One of these latter, shooting
upwards, struck and cut the ascending miner on his forehead as he looked
down to observe the fate of his self-sacrificing comrade!
Maggot was saved, but he was of too bold and kindly a nature to remain
for a moment inactive after the explosion was over. At once he
descended, and, groping about among the debris, soon found his friend--
alive, and almost unhurt! A mass of rock had arched him over--or,
rather, the hand of God, as if by miracle, had delivered the Christian
miner.
After he was got up in safety to the level above they asked him why he
had been so ready to give up his life to save his friend.
"Why," said David quietly, "I did think upon his wife and the child'n,
and little Grace seemed to say to me, `Take care o' faither'--besides,
there are none to weep if I was taken away, so the Lord gave me grace to
do it."
That night there were glad and grateful hearts in Maggot's cottage--and
never in this world was a more flat and emphatic contradiction given to
any statement, than that which was given to David Trevarrow's
assertion--"There are none to weep if I was taken away."
[A short but beautiful account of the above incident will be found in a
little volume of poems, entitled _Lays from the Mine, the Moor, and the
Mountain_, written by John Harris, a Cornish miner.]