"Don't tell me, lad; I hevn't worked in t'pit twenty year for nowt.
Think I don't know? Him and his newfangled ways are wuth that!"
The great swarthy pitman snapped his fingers as he stood in the centre
of a group waiting for the return of the cage from the bowels of the
earth.
All about them was dark and weird-looking, with the lights casting
strange shadows where the machinery stood around. There was a hissing
noise and a ruddy light from the engine-house, with the panting clank of
machinery; pistons worked up, and wheels spun round; while where the
group of miners stood there was a square, black-looking pit, surrounded
by a massive frame-work, supporting one big wheel, from which depended a
thin-looking wire-rope, which was rapidly running down.
A few minutes after, and there was the ringing of a bell, the
clink-clank of machinery; the wheel spun round in the other direction,
and in due time the cage, as it was called, came to the surface; the
group of men stepped in, and the signal for descent was about to be
given, when one of the men exclaimed:
"Here he cooms!"
Philip Hexton strode up the next moment, nodded shortly to the men,
stepped into the crowded cage, and giving the signal, the stout
iron-framed contrivance began rapidly to descend, and the fresh comer,
who was still very new at these descents, felt that strange sensation as
the cage rushed down, just as if the whole of the internal organs had
burst out laughing at the fun they were going to have of trying to
frighten their owner's head.
It is not a pleasant sensation, that of a descent into a coal-pit.
There is the rushing noise of the cage, the whirring of wheels, the
constant dripping and plashing sound of falling water, the thudding of
the pump, the stifling feeling of dank heat, the stuffy mist, and joined
to all the knowledge that if that slender thread of wire-rope should
happen to break, the cage would fall perhaps hundreds of feet, and its
occupants be killed. Then, he who descends knows that he is going into
a series of subterranean caves where the gas escapes, that the slightest
contact with a light will explode, burning, slaying, and destroying, and
leaving behind the choke-damp, which is even more deadly in its
insidious effects.
Now Philip Hexton, in making up his mind to take to his father's life,
had readily prepared himself to run all risks, in the hope of soon
lessening them; but after three months' action as deputy
assistant-manager under his father, he had awakened to the fact that all
he had done had been to establish a general feeling of dislike amongst
the men, who, though they did not openly show it, opposed Philip Hexton
all the more by a stubborn, quiet resistance that he found it difficult
to overcome.
It was something unusual for the manager's son to come down upon the
night shift; but, after mastering the various technicalities of the
place, the young deputy had set himself vigorously to work to try and
more rigorously enforce the rules of the mine, many of which, he soon
found, were terribly neglected by the men.
Upon reaching the bottom, Philip saw the party go into a kind of office,
where each was supplied with a locked and lighted Davy-lamp, whose
little wick burned dimly through the wire gauze; and then, as they were
about to shoulder their sharp steel-pointed picks, he said aloud:
"You'll need to be very careful to-night, my lads, for there's a good
deal of gas up in the new four-foot."
The men did not answer, but went sulkily away, leaving Philip to take a
gauze lamp of a larger construction to go and spend a couple of hours
inspecting different parts of the mine, in company with one of the
oldest hands in the pit.
"I wish I could get the men to believe a little more in me," he said, as
they went plashing along through the dark passages of the muddy pit,
past places where the black roof was supported by stays, some of which
were seamed and charred by explosions and fires in the mine.
"Ay, lad, they're a bit obstnit," said the old miner; "they don't like
interference."
"No," said Philip rather bitterly, "not even when I am working to save
their lives."
"Nay, lad; but that's what they don't believe. Yo' mun go on wi' 'em
more gently. But what brought you down to-neet?"
"There was a fall in the barometer, and a great want of pressure in the
atmosphere this evening," said Philip. "I could not rest without coming
to see that everything possible was done."
"Ah," said the overman grimly, "that's what our lads weant believe in--
your brometers, and pressures, and such like. They don't like to be
teached by one who they say's nobbut a boy."
"Does it matter how many years old a person is," cried Philip sternly,
"if he can point out what is right? Look here," he said, as he stopped
short in a low-roofed and distant part of the mine, "do you see this?"
He pointed to his Davy-lamp, inside of which the light kept burning
blue, and there was a series of little sputtering explosions.
"Ay, I see it, lad; it's often so," said the overman coolly; "but the
ventilation's about reet, and it will soon carry that off. It's nowt to
do wi' no brometers."
"Listen!" said Philip; and as the man impatiently stood still, there was
a low dull hissing noise plainly to be heard, where the gas was rushing
from the cracks and fissures of the shaley rock and gathering in the
long galleries of the mine.
"Now," said Philip, "does not the barometer speak truly? When the air
is weighty and dense it keeps back the gas, when it is light the gas
forces its way out. What would be the consequences if I were to open
our lamp?"
"There wouldn't be no consekences," said the overman with a grim laugh;
"there'd be a inquest, if they had pluck enough to come and hunt out
what of us was left."
In spite of himself, Philip could not help a shudder, as he listened to
the cynical, callous manner in which his companion spoke of their
proximity to a dreadful death. Then, bidding him follow, he went on
along the gloomy maze towards where he could hear the rumble of trucks
laden with coal, the sound of the ringing picks, the echoing shouts of
the men, and the impatient snort of some pony, toiling with its load up
an incline.
There was a quick sharp draught of air as they passed through a door
which was closed behind them by a boy, and, satisfied that the
ventilation was good, Philip Hexton and his companion went on.
Meanwhile Ebenezer Parks, the big miner who had been complaining when
the young man came up, kept on with his remarks as, in company with his
party, he made his way to the four-foot seam, as it was called--a part
of the mine where the good coal was but a yard in thickness, and at
which they had to work in a stooping, sometimes in a lying, position.
"She sings to-night, lad," said one of the men, as they stripped
themselves to their trousers, and then began to use their sharp-pointed
picks, their blackened skins soon beginning to glisten with perspiration
in the stifling heat.
"Hey, she do," said Ebenezer, giving a careless glance at his sputtering
lamp. "There's part gas in pit to-neet."
The dim sputtering lamps, and the warning hiss of the gas were forgotten
as the men worked on, showing wondrous skill in the handling of their
picks, and fetching out great lumps of coal with the greatest ease, in
spite of the awkward position in which they worked.
This went on for a couple of hours, when Ebenezer threw down his pick,
seated himself with his back against a pillar of coal, one of those left
to support the roof, and took from his trousers pocket a steel
tobacco-box, a black short pipe, and a nail.
"Who's going to hev a smoke?" he said.
"I wouldn't let young master ketch you smoking," said one of the men.
"He'd better not say owt to me," said the man fiercely. "I know what
I'm 'bout better than he can tell me;" and as he filled his pipe several
more laughed and filled theirs; while, looking like some black spirit of
mischief, the big miner took the gauze lamp from the roof where it hung.
"Now then, lads, who wants a leet?" he said; and, taking the nail, he
proceeded to pick the lock of the Davy-lamp, or rather unfasten it with
the improvised key.
There was a click as the little snap flew back; and then, placing his
pipe in his mouth, he proceeded to open the lamp.
This was about as wise an act as for a man to strike a match over an
open barrel full of glistening grains of gunpowder--perhaps far worse.