Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Mines and its Wonders, by W.H.G. Kingston.
CHAPTER ONE.
THE MINER'S DANGERS.
A hum of human voices rose from a village in the centre of England, but
they were those of women, girls, and children, the latter playing in the
street, running, skipping, laughing, singing, and shouting in shrill
tones, the former in their yards or in front of their dwellings,
following such avocations as could be carried on out of doors on that
warm summer evening. Not a man or lad, not even a boy above eight years
old, was to be seen. On one side of the village far away could be
distinguished green fields, picturesque hills, widespreading trees, and
a sparkling stream flowing in their midst; on the other, nearer at hand,
a dreary black region, the ground covered with calcined heaps, the roads
composed of coal dust or ashes, and beyond, tall chimneys sending forth
dense volumes of smoke, which, wreathing upwards, formed a dark canopy
over the scene. Then there were large uncouth buildings, above which
huge beams appeared, lifting alternately their ends with ceaseless
motion, now up, now down, engaged evidently in some Titanic operation,
while all the time proceeding from that direction were heard groans, and
shrieks, and whistlings, and wailings, and the sound of rushing water,
and the rattling and rumbling of tram or railway waggons rushing at
rapid speed across the country, some loaded with huge lumps of
glittering coal, others returning to be refilled at the pit's mouth.
Those high buildings contained the steam-engines which worked the
machinery employed in the coal mine; the tall chimneys carried up the
smoke from the furnaces and produced the current of air which kept them
blazing. The deafening noises came from cranks, pulleys, gins,
whimsays, and other contrivances for lifting the coal from the bottom of
the mine, pumping out the water, loading the waggons, ventilating the
shafts and galleries, and for performing duties innumerable of various
descriptions. As the evening drew on, the women retired into their
cottages to prepare supper for their husbands and sons, whose return
home they were now expecting. Already the corves which took them down
to their work in the early morning must be on their way up to the
surface, and it is time to have the savoury messes ready for dishing up.
Abundance is on the board, for the miner's wages are sufficient to
supply him with what would be luxuries to an ordinary labourer above
ground; but were they far higher, could they repay him for a life of
constant danger, of hard incessant toil, and the deprivation for more
than half the year of a sight of the blue sky, the warming rays of the
sun, and the pure air of heaven, except on the one blessed day of the
week when he enjoys them with the rest of God's creatures? For months
together he descends the shaft in the gloom of morning and does not
return till darkness has again shrouded the earth.
Many of the good wives had looked at their clocks to judge when to take
off the bubbling saucepans from the blazing fires, when, to their
dismay, they felt the earth tremble beneath their feet, while a dull
rumbling sound like the discharge of musketry struck their ears, coming
from the direction of the works. Pale with terror, they rushed
out-of-doors to see a vast black mass of dust and smoke rising into the
air and forming an inverted cone, beneath which, for an instant, could
be distinguished shattered beams and planks, corves and pieces of
machinery, which quickly fell again to the earth. The next instant a
darkness, like that of early twilight, pervaded the atmosphere, and fine
ashes, such as are ejected from a volcano, fell in a thick shower to the
ground, which it covered to such a depth that the feet of the
terror-stricken women left their imprints on it as they ran towards the
scene of the catastrophe--some shrieking and lamenting, but, in most
cases, the intensity of their alarm preventing them from giving
utterance to their feelings. Among them a young woman, superior to the
rest in appearance, went hurrying on towards the pit's mouth, her hand
held by a little boy, who had evidently grasped it, refusing to be left
behind, when startled by the explosion, she had quitted her cottage.
Her fair hair, escaping from beneath her cap, streamed in the wind; her
countenance exhibited the most intense anxiety. Her boy, among the
oldest of those who had remained that morning in the village, was well
able to comprehend what had occurred, yet he did not cry or shriek out,
but did his utmost to keep pace with the woman's rapid steps.
"Perhaps father and Mat had come up before the blast happened, mother,"
said the boy in a hopeful tone. "They would be stopping to see how
things are going on, or maybe to help any poor fellows left in the pit."
The woman answered only by a gasp. "Don't give way, mother dear,"
continued the boy. "We shall find them both well above ground, depend
on't." Still the woman made no reply; her heart told her that her worst
anticipations would be realised. She and the rest of the women from the
village arrived in a short time at the pit's mouth, where, among the
ruined buildings, the broken machinery, and the heaps of rubbish, they
rushed frantically here and there seeking for the bread-winners of their
families, many uttering piteous wails when they sought in vain for their
loved ones; while others, when they were discovered, bursting into
shrieks of hysterical laughter, as they flung their arms round the men's
necks, led them off to their homes. Some of the miners had, it
appeared, come up just before the explosion; but what was the fate of
the rest, far beyond a hundred in number, still below? Some, it was
surmised, might have escaped death, and many brave volunteers came
forward ready to descend to their rescue. All was quiet--the shaft
appeared to be free--a fresh corve or teek was procured--a rope attached
to the gin, to the shaft of which a party of men putting their shoulders
worked it with the strength of horses. The corve descended with its
adventurous crew down the shaft. The young woman with the little boy
had been among those who had sought in vain for a husband and son.
"Have any of you seen John Gilbart and his boy Mat?" she asked of those
who had come out of the pit and of others standing by. No one could
give her any information about her husband, though one had replied that
he had seen young Gilbart leaving the trap at which he had been
stationed.
Unlike the other women, on hearing this she uttered no cry, but stood
speechless and trembling as near as she could venture to the pit's
mouth, where she waited, with intense anxiety, the return of the corve
to the surface. "Don't take on so, mother dear," said little Mark, who
felt her hand trembling. "They say some may have escaped, and things
may have been worse above than they were down at the bottom. Perhaps
they threw themselves flat on their faces, and let the blast pass over
them. I heard father say, only the other day, that was the best thing
to do when fire-damp breaks out. He wouldn't have forgotten that,
mother, would he?"
"I pray Heaven that he did not," she answered in a scarcely audible
voice. Minute after minute went by, while the brave explorers who had
gone below were searching for their comrades. How that poor mother's
heart ached as she thought of what had too probably happened to those
she loved. Night had come on, but torches and lanterns and a blazing
fire not far off lighted up the scene, casting a lurid glare on the dark
figures of the men, the lighter-coloured dresses and pale faces of the
women, and the surrounding ruins. At last the cry arose that the corve
was ascending. The eager crowd pressing forward could with difficulty
be restrained from impeding the men working at the gin. Then came the
shout, "They're alive! they're alive!" and six dark figures stepped out
on the ground. They were soon recognised by their wives or mothers, and
hurriedly dragged off to their homes, while the rest of the women,
bitterly disappointed, waited till the basket should again come to the
surface. The same scene was again enacted, and the rescued now reported
that there were more to follow, though how many they could not tell.
Little Mark and his mother waited with trembling hearts. Those they
longed to see had not appeared, and to their anxious inquiries no
satisfactory reply was given. Neither John Gilbart nor his son had been
seen. At length, another party came up from the depths, but this time
there were five boys borne in the arms of stronger men. Alas! two were
motionless--the arms and heads of the others drooped helplessly down.
The poor mothers pressed forward--Mark and Mrs Gilbart among them.
"That's Mat--that's Mat!" cried the child, as one of the first was
placed on the ground. The mother, kneeling by the side of the boy,
gazed into his face. Too truly she recognised her son, but no
responsive glance came from his once bright eyes. "Oh, speak to me--
speak to me, Mat," she exclaimed. There was no reply. She took his
hand, it was icy cold. Then she knew that her boy was dead. The doctor
came. "I grieve for you, my poor woman; he is past recovery," he said,
and went on to attend to others. Little Mark sat by his dead brother's
side, gazing at him with awe. No one disturbed him. Mrs Gilbart
waited on, hope not yet abandoned. More men came up, some fearfully
injured. They reported that the rest were in the workings far away--
already the mine was on fire, the heat and smoke unbearable--that it was
a miracle any had escaped, that all but themselves must have perished.
Heartrending were the wailings and shrieks and moanings which arose at
this announcement, confirmed by the viewer and overmen. Still many
lingered on in the hopes that the corve might be again sent down, but
the viewer forbade any to descend, as it must prove their destruction.
At length some men came to carry young Gilbart's corpse to his mother's
cottage. She and Mark followed with tottering steps. The sad truth had
forced itself on her that she was a widow--the two bread-winners of her
household gone. Still it was some poor consolation to have recovered
the body of her son. Many had not that--they were destined never again
to see those they loved. More explosions took place, and the report was
spread that the whole mine was destroyed. This was, however, not the
case. Science enabled the manager to triumph over the fiery element
raging below. By completely closing the mouths of the shafts, the
atmospheric air was excluded, and the flames extinguished. After nearly
three months' labour, the mine was explored, and the bodies of the dead,
scorched and dried to mummies, were recovered. None could be
recognised, and they were buried in a common grave. Mrs Gilbart knew
that her husband was among them. The pit was again opened. Fresh
labourers arrived from other parts, and once more those dark galleries
became the scene of active industry. The cottages were required by the
fresh comers, and Mrs Gilbart, with her son and her little girl Mary, a
year younger than Mark, would have been compelled to go forth houseless
and penniless into the cold world, had not an uncle of her late husband,
a hewer at a pit a few miles away, offered to receive her and her
children into his house. She thankfully went, hoping to maintain
herself and others by her needle.
Simon Hayes had been a miner from his boyhood. Though there were some
soft places in his heart, he was rough and untutored, and he had many of
the faults common among men of his class. He had a wife much like
himself in several respects, but he had no children. Though receiving
good wages, he had saved nothing, having spent them extravagantly in
obtaining luxuries for himself and his wife, for which they cared but
little. By refraining from these, he was well able to feed these
additional mouths, and for some time his wife made no complaint at his
doing so. Still there was nothing saved up for a rainy day. Simon
Hayes took mightily to little Mary. There was nothing he thought too
good for her; but he showed no affection for Mark. He was a boy doomed
to labour as he had been, and the only labour he could think of for him
was down in the mine, first as a trapper, then as a putter, and finally
as a hewer. Mrs Gilbart shuddered when he alluded to the subject. She
had hoped to bring him up to some trade which he could follow above
ground, though it would be several years before he would be old enough
to be apprenticed. "But he is not very strong, and he is my only one,
uncle, you know," she answered. "Let him go to school first. I have
taught him what I could, but he will get on with his learning there
faster than at home."
"What's the use of learning to a miner?" exclaimed Simon with a gruff
laugh. "However, you must have your way, Mary, and I don't mind paying
for his schooling, though, look ye, if times get bad, he'll have to earn
his bread like the rest of us." Mrs Gilbart thanked her uncle, hoping
that the evil day was put off for a long time. Little Mark went to
school, and being fond of his books, made rapid progress in reading and
writing. He thus soon possessed himself of the key of knowledge.
Little Mary was also sent to a girls' school, and being bright and
intelligent, soon became a favourite pupil of the mistress. At length
Mrs Hayes fell ill, and her niece's time was so fully occupied in
attending on her, that she could gain nothing by her work. Then there
was the doctor to pay. Simon also was laid up for some weeks from a
severe bruise by a fall of coal. "I can't stand this no longer, niece,"
he said one day. "The next time I go down the pit I must take Mark with
me." Mrs Gilbart begged hard that her boy might remain above ground.
She would take him from school and try to get employment for him on a
farm. Simon was obdurate; if she would not agree to his wishes she
might leave his house. Her fears were all nonsense, the boy would do
well enough in the pit, he would get tenpence a-day as a trapper--on a
farm he couldn't get twopence. Without telling her what he was about to
do, the first morning he returned to work he took Mark by the arm and
led him along to the pit's mouth. He had brought a flannel suit. He
made the boy put it on. "Now, Mark, we are going into the pit, and
you'll do what I tell you when we get down," he said, as if it was a
matter of course. "I've arranged with the manager to take you on from
to-day as a trapper. Though you may not like it at first, you'll soon
get accustomed to the work, and so let's have no nonsense. Here's the
corve all ready to go down--come along."
CHAPTER TWO.
LEARNING TO WATCH.
Simon, taking Mark by the hand, stepped on to an iron frame-work or
cage, suspended over the pit's mouth. "Take hold of this bar and don't
move as you value your life, boy," he said.
Mark obeyed. Several other men and two boys stepped on to the cage, it
began to descend. Though little Mark had been hearing of mines all his
life, and felt no especial unwillingness, yet all seemed strange about
him. It appeared to him by the dim light of the lamps which his uncle
and the other men held in their hands, that the shafts were rushing
upwards at a fearful rate, while the light of day, which he could still
see above him, grew gradually less and less. A giddiness overtook him.
He might have fallen, had not his uncle still held him by the shoulder.
How long he had been descending he could not tell, when he found the
cage come to a stand-still, and that he was down beneath the surface of
the earth, a thousand feet or more.
The rumbling of the trains of laden waggons coming to the shafts, the
faint voices of the men in the distance, were the only sounds heard,
while the lights which flitted here and there only served to make the
long vaulted galleries appear more gloomy and dark.
"Come along, Mark!" said his uncle, shouldering his pick and spade, and
holding his lantern before him.
As they stepped out of the cage, they found themselves in a gloomy
vault, on one side of which a huge furnace was unceasingly roaring,
while at the other were the stables in which a number of horses, mules,
and donkeys were kept. Before them was the main gallery, about eight
feet high and the same wide, arched over with bricks four thick, and
extending three miles away from the mouth of the pit. Out of it for its
whole length opened shorter galleries or side galleries where the coals
were now being won. In all of them rails were laid down for the waggons
to run on, and on each side were seams of coal, in some places narrow
near the top, in others close to the ground, and in some there was coal
from the top to the bottom. At the entrance of these side galleries
were doors which had generally to be kept shut, and were only opened
when the waggons, loaded with coal or returning empty, had to pass
through. After Simon and Mark had proceeded a couple of miles along the
main gallery, they stopped at one of these doors. "This is to be your
post, Mark," said Simon.
"When you hear the waggon coming, you are to open the door, and as soon
as it is passed to shut it. Mind you don't go to sleep. You'll be in
the dark, but that won't hurt you, and if you feel anything running by,
you'll know it's only a rat. It won't touch you while you are awake. I
began my life in this way, so must you. There, go and sit down in that
hole cut out for you. When you hear the rolley coming, pull that rope,
which will open the door. There, now, you know what to do. Take care
that you do it," and Simon, leaving his nephew, proceeded on to the
farther end of the working. He then commenced operations on a new
cutting which the under-viewer had marked out for him in the side of the
gallery. It was about three yards square, and was to be about four feet
six inches back under the bed of coal, he began by hewing away about two
feet six inches from the ground and working upwards, cutting out the
coal with his pick, shovelling it into a large corve or basket which
stood at hand ready for the reception of the lumps. At first the work
was tolerably easy, as he could stand upright and swing his pick with
all his force. As he got deeper and deeper into the bed, he had to fix
a strut or post with a cross beam to support the weight of the roof, and
he had to get the coal out by stooping down low or resting on his knees.
Finally he had to work lying down on one elbow, swinging his pick over
his head with the other arm in a way a miner alone could have used it.
Occasionally the boy called the putter came by, shoving a rolley or
little band-waggon before him. On to this the full corve was lifted and
the empty one left in its place. Sometimes he proceeded by cutting a
space on each side of the square bed of coal, from the roof to the
floor. He then bored a hole in the middle of the block, into which he
rammed a charge of gunpowder, and having lighted it by a slow match,
retired to a distance. The powder exploding, shattered the whole mass,
and it came tumbling down to the ground in fragments. This could only
have been done where no foul air was present, otherwise the moment the
lamp was opened there would have been a fearful explosion, and he, with
many others, would perhaps have been killed. He laboured on incessantly
until dinner time, when he and all the men in the working, including the
putters, came out, and taking Mark with them, repaired to a central spot
where there were casks of water, and seats, the only accommodation
required by the rough miners. Here their dinners, which had been sent
down during the morning, were eaten.
"Well, how do you get on?" asked his uncle of Mark.
"I kept awake, opened the door when the rolleys came by, and shut it
again after they had passed!" answered Mark.
"That's what I had to do!" said Simon.
"I only wish that I had a candle, and had brought a book down to read.
I should not have minded it much then, although it was a hard matter to
keep awake!"
"You were not afraid, then?" asked another man.
"What was there to be afraid of?" asked Mark. "I heard noises, but I
knew what they were, so I did not mind them!"
"You'll do!" said his uncle in an approving tone. Mark ate his dinner,
and then went back to his trap. He there sat all alone in the dark,
anxiously waiting for "kenner" time. It came at last, and Mark heard
the words "kenner, kenner," which had been shouted down the pit's mouth,
passed along the galleries. It was the signal for the miners to knock
off work, and return to the upper world.
Mark, however, could not venture to move until his uncle came for him.
He was very thankful when he saw the glimmer of a light along the
gallery. Slowly it approached. It was carried by his uncle, who having
closed the door, led him along through the main tunnel towards the
shaft. Together they ascended, and returned home. Mrs Gilbart had
been dreadfully alarmed at her son's absence, until told by a neighbour
that she had seen him going along with his uncle towards the pit's
mouth.
A mother's eye alone could have recognised him, so greatly changed was
he by the coal dust. She soon, however, got that washed off, and
dressed him again in his clean clothes. He did not complain or ask his
mother to keep him out of the mine, so, although still with an unwilling
heart, she allowed his uncle to take him. The next Saturday he received
five shillings, which was as much as she could make by stitching all
day, and sometimes late into the night, by her needle. Simon was well
pleased with Mark, and reported, after he had been some weeks at work,
that no fault had ever been found with him. He was always awake, and
ready to open and close his trap at the proper time. When a little
bigger, he would become a "putter," and have the employment of rolling
the waggons along the tramways.
Coal mines, it should be understood, are worked in various ways, some in
squares, or what is called the panel system. The main roads are like
the frame of a window, the passages like the wood-work dividing the
panes of glass, and the masses of coal which at first remain, may be
represented by the panes themselves. After the various passages have
been cut out, the masses are again cut into, pillars only remaining,
each of which is about twelve feet by twenty-four feet in thickness. At
length these pillars are removed, and props of wood placed instead, and
thus the whole mine is worked out. There are miles and miles of
passages in which tramways are laid down, leading to the shaft, up which
the coal is raised. As the air in the mine has a tendency to get foul
and close, it is necessary to send currents of wind into the passages to
blow it away. The chief object is to make the wind come down one shaft,
and then to bring it along through the passages, and so up by another
shaft. If the wind which came down were allowed to wander about, it
would produce no good effect. The traps or doors, such as the one at
which Mark was stationed, are used to stop it from going through some
passages and make it move along others until the bad air is blown out of
them. To create a powerful current, a large furnace is placed at the
bottom of one of the shafts, which is called the up-cast shaft, and the
foul air is cast up it. Often, notwithstanding this, the heat below is
very great, and the hewer working away with his heavy pick is bathed in
perspiration. Where no bad gas is generated, open lights may be used,
but this cannot often be done with safety, as fire-damp may at any
moment rush out of a hole, and if set alight it would go off like
gunpowder or gas from coal, killing everybody within its influence, and
bringing down the tops and sides of the passages.
In some mines where it is important to have ventilation, there are four
shafts, two up and two down-cast. The latter, where the coals are drawn
up to the surface, are in the lowest part of the mine, and all the
passages are on a gentle ascent towards the furnace, so that the air
down the shafts is drawn that way. The furnace consists of a number of
iron bars placed horizontally across the end of a large brick arch, and
the roof and sides are built of the best fired bricks. On the iron bars
nearly a ton of coals is kept constantly burning and throws out a great
heat, relays of men being employed in replenishing it. At the back of
the furnace is a shaft to carry off the smoke. Thus the cool air
circulates all over the mine. When a large supply of air is required in
any particular part of the mine, the doors are closed at the entrance to
the other parts, thus directing the current where it is most wanted.
This current is so strong that on opening one of these doors, care is
necessary in shutting it, as it would slam with a force sufficient to
knock a man down.
These and other arrangements, and the vast amount of machinery now
employed, had not, however, been introduced when Mark Gilbart began life
as a "trapper." The most dangerous operation is the opening of a new
passage, from which foul air may suddenly escape and poison the miners
inhaling it, or a stream of water may rush forth, rilling up the
gallery, and drowning all within its reach. Numberless, indeed, are the
dangers to which miners are exposed. Their condition is now improved,
but they formerly worked eleven or twelve hours a-day, and occasionally
even from thirteen to sixteen, far down in the depths of the earth, in a
heavy and noxious atmosphere, in a half naked state and in unnatural
positions, kneeling, stooping, lying upon their sides and backs, at any
moment liable to the loss of life. The miner has not only to undergo
bodily labour, but must exercise skill, patience, presence of mind,
coolness, and thoughtfulness. Countless, also, are the dangers to which
they are exposed. To accidents as they come down or go up the shafts by
the breaking of ropes, or the giving way of machinery, from the falling
in of the roof or walls, as also from accidents in blasting, from
spontaneous combustion, from explosion of fire-damp, suffocation from
choke-damp, and eruptions of water, and even quicksands. Sometimes
floods or heavy rains find their way down unknown crevices into the pit,
where the miner is working, and forming a rapid torrent, suddenly
inundates the mine and sweeps all before it.
Such was the life young Mark Gilbart was apparently doomed to lead.
CHAPTER THREE.
LEARNING TO WORK.
We must proceed more rapidly than heretofore with Mark Gilbart's
history. He did his duty as a trapper, never falling asleep, and always
opening and shutting the trap at the proper moment. The rolley boys
never complained of him, and as he was invariably in good humour, and
stood their chaffing, he became a favourite.
Often he had to go into the pit before daylight, and remain until ten
o'clock at night with one candle to light him on his way to his trap,
and another with which to return.
As he always told his mother that he was happy, and he appeared to be in
tolerable health, she became reconciled to his being thus employed,
though she little dreamed of what he had really to go through. When he
had shorter hours of work, he employed his time at home in reading and
improving himself in writing. He had also a fancy for making models.
He began by making one of the parts of the pit in which he worked. Then
he tried his hand at making some of the simpler machinery of the pit.
His uncle acknowledged that the rolleys, corves, picks, and spades were
wonderfully exact,--indeed, was so well pleased that he allowed him a
lantern and a supply of candles, so that instead of sitting in the dark,
he could pass his time in reading and cutting out his models, the
materials for which he carried down with him. So perfect were his
models that they were readily purchased by visitors to the pit. His
mother, on one occasion, taking some of them into a neighbouring town,
sold specimens to tradesmen, who offered to buy as many as she could
bring them of the same description. At length Mark became big enough to
be a "putter," or rolley boy. He could no longer read or make models
down in the pit, but he got better wages, shorter hours of work, and his
health improved with the exercise. Being always wide-awake, he escaped
the accidents from which so many of his companions suffered, which they
called "laming." The injuries they received were from various causes,
but generally from falling, when the rolley passed over their arms or
legs, and broken limbs were the consequence. Some had lost one or more
fingers or toes, others had received gashes in their faces, or arms, or
legs, but they had seldom long been laid up, and had willingly again
returned to their work. The term "putter," it should be understood,
includes the specific distinction of the "headsman," "half-marrow," and
"foal." The "headsman," taking the part of conductor, pushes behind.
The "half-marrows" drag at the sides with ropes; while a "foal" precedes
the train, also dragging by a rope. Mark, however, was not very long
employed in this laborious task, for the overseer, hearing of his
talent, appointed him to the duty of "crane-hoister." The term explains
itself. He had to hook on the "corves," and keep an account by chalking
on a board the number hoisted up. In this occupation he was able to
gain a pound a week. Some part of this he laid by, and with the other
he enabled his little sister to attend a respectable school in the
neighbourhood, where she made great progress, and showed a considerable
talent for music. Mark had by this time gained the esteem not only of
his companions but of the under-viewers, and was favourably known to the
viewer. On several occasions when his services had been required, he
had accompanied one of the under-viewers on his visits through the
mines. He thus traversed the main gallery, the side walks, and the old,
or abandoned works. In the latter the roof was propped up by
perpendicular posts and horizontal beams. In many places the beams were
so bent by the weight of the superincumbent earth, that it appeared they
must before long give way. In many places they had to creep on hands
and knees to pass through the old workings, which opened into others
farther on.
As they made their way along, the under-viewer showed him a fault in the
coal seam, and explained what it was. Coal seams generally run in a
parallel position with the various other strata for a considerable
distance, when, all at once, they abruptly terminate. This is marked as
plainly as if a wall had been built up at the end of the seam. Thus,
while on one side of the wall there is a thick seam of coal, on the
other there is a mass of rock. This break or fault was caused at some
remote period of the world's history by an internal convulsion. It is
known, however, that the seam will again be found, either at a higher or
lower level than the one first worked. To reach the seam a tunnel is
driven right through the rock, when sooner or later the seam is
discovered. In the present fault, a tunnel had been run through the
solid rock for fifty feet in length; and they might afterwards have to
follow up the seam, extending perhaps half-a-mile, or even a mile, for
the whole of which length a gallery would have to be cut, from which,
side workings would extend on either side. So accurately did Mark note
all he saw, that on his return home he was able to draw out a plan of
the mine, with which the under-viewer was so pleased, that he took it to
the manager.
"This boy deserves encouragement. We must see what can be done for
him!" was the remark. Shortly after this, great improvements were
introduced into the mine. Fresh shafts were sunk, for affording better
ventilation, and for more rapidly getting the coal to the surface. Near
them, engines of great power were placed to perform the various
operations required. An endless wire rope was made to run from the
shafts to the extreme end of the gallery, kept revolving by a
steam-engine down in the mine. The man walking ahead of the leading
waggon, to which is secured a pair of iron tongs, grips hold by them of
this endless rope, which thus drags on his waggons without any labour on
his part, towards the shaft, up which the coals are to be carried to the
surface. The chief gallery was divided by a wall down the centre, with
openings at intervals of twenty yards or so, to enable persons to pass
through. There were also niches on either side, where he could stand
while a train was passing. On one side of the gallery the full trains
ran along on rails from the workings to the shaft; on the other side the
empty waggons returned to the workings to be filled. For the purpose of
better ventilating the mine, an enormous fan, forty feet in diameter,
formed like the paddle-wheels of a steam-ship, and kept constantly
revolving by steam-power, was placed over a shaft sunk for that sole
object. The suction caused by the enormous paddles drew up all the foul
air and noxious vapours from the whole of the mine, and at the same time
drew in from another shaft, more than a mile distant, a current of fresh
air, amounting from 70,000 to 80,000 feet per minute, thus doing the
work of a furnace far more effectually, and at much less cost.
Instead of the old corve or basket, an iron safety-cage had been
introduced, sliding up and down on steel bars, resembling indeed a
perpendicular rail-road. Wonderfully changed was the appearance of the
mine itself. Mark, who had been employed above ground for some time,
was astonished, on being lowered in the new safety-cage, to find himself
on stepping out at the bottom in a spacious brick-arched vault, almost
the size of a railway terminus, well lighted by large glass lamps
suspended from the roof. The machinery, both steam and hydraulic,
looked in the most perfect order; the steel parts of the engine shining
like burnished silver. Trains of laden waggons were every now and then
arriving. First of all was heard a distant rumbling, with the "whirr"
of the iron rope far back in the darkness. The rumbling sound grew
louder, and at last the train came in sight. A stalwart miner, with his
lamp dimly twinkling slung at his waist, striding along holding in his
left hand the iron tongs before mentioned, and having behind him a long
train of waggons, gradually came into the light. On he went to the foot
of the shaft. Here a strong iron cage appeared, having three floors,
one above the other. In front of this was a stage, on to which the
leading waggon was run. It was then lifted by hydraulic power, until a
second stage appeared below it. On this another waggon was run, that
again rose, until a third stage was level with the tramway--the three
stages being now level with the three floors of the cage. At the same
time three hydraulic rams or arms ran out from the side of the shaft and
pushed the waggons into the cage, which immediately began ascending. It
should have been said that three empty waggons had come down in the
cage, and had in the first instance been withdrawn and placed on the
return tramway. These were at once coupled together by men stationed
there for the purpose, who had now to wait for the return of the cage
with more empty waggons to be again filled with three others from the
full train. The cage on reaching the summit of the shaft was unloaded
much in the same fashion by hydraulic power. This operation was carried
on with wonderful rapidity, so that the outputs, or amount of coal
raised, averaged from 800 to 900 tons per day.
More than a mile away from this main shaft was the engine-room which
worked the endless rope. On a platform some distance above the ground
sat the engineer, surrounded by a multitude of signals. In spite of the
tremendous noise which prevented one person hearing what another said,
the engineer attended to all his signals with the greatest accuracy, his
complicated machinery in beautiful order, and appearing perfectly at his
ease. Some idea may be formed of the vast amount of labour employed in
this mine when it is understood that the working-faces, with gate-roads,
main roads, air-ways, returns, engine-plains, self-acting and engine
inclines, extended upwards of eleven miles, and with the addition of the
old working roads, including those which were bricked up, the whole
measured the enormous amount of twenty-two miles. All these passages
were kept far better ventilated by the fan than they were by the furnace
hitherto in use, while the pure air brought down, greatly contributed to
the health of the miners.
Mark had risen step by step. He was now able to take a house for his
mother and Mary, although old Hayes and his wife were very unwilling to
part with them. Mary had greatly improved in her music, of which she
was passionately fond, but she had no piano on which to play at home.
Mark, who had a holiday, hearing that an auction was to take place at
the neighbouring town, at which a pianoforte was for sale, set off to
attend it. There was some competition, but he had 20 pounds in his
pocket, saved from his earnings, and it was finally knocked down to him
at that price. With proud satisfaction he at once hired a spring cart,
and set off with it for his home, where he had it placed while Mary was
out with their mother. Her delight at seeing it equalled the pleasure
with which he bestowed his gift. The fact was inserted in one of the
local papers by the auctioneer who sold it, that the piano was purchased
by the first 20 pounds saved out of the earnings of a collier boy, as a
present to his sister.
Unhappily, such instances are rare, for although many collier boys
gained high wages, the money was too generally lavishly spent, without
thought for the future.
Of late years a considerable improvement has taken place among many
mining populations, but even in former years it was possible for talent
to force its way upwards. Who has not heard of George Stephenson, who
began life trapper in a mine at six years of age, and rose to be a great
engineer, father of Robert Stephenson, M.P., and engineer-in-chief of
the North-Western Railway; of Dr Hutton, who was originally a hewer of
coal in Old Long Benton Colliery; of Thomas Bewick, the celebrated
wood-engraver; of Professor Hann, the mathematician, and of many others
whose names are less known to fame, who have obtained respectable
positions in society.
Old Hayes had lately moved to another pit some distance from the one in
which he had hitherto laboured, being tempted by higher wages, and Mark
shortly afterwards was offered a situation as under-viewer in the same
pit. It was worked on the old plan, but improvements were being carried
out.
Old Simon with four other men were coming along the main gallery, being
the last of the miners who were leaving the pit for the night. The rest
had already gained the foot of the shaft, when a rushing, roaring sound
was heard followed by a tremendous blast of wind, which, almost took
them off their feet. The cage was at the bottom of the shaft. They
sprang into it, more than double the number it usually contained
clinging on. Before they could give the signal to be drawn up, they saw
a torrent of water surging on several feet in depth, rapidly filling the
whole lower part of the mine. They were soon out of danger, but what
had become of old Simon and his companions? Mark had come to the pit's
mouth intending to descend and make his usual survey of the mine to see
that all was right. He soon heard on inquiry of the supposed fate of
old Simon and the rest. No one doubted that he had been overwhelmed by
the raging waters, but that such was the case Mark was not thoroughly
satisfied.
"They may have escaped in one of the side workings, and if so they are
still alive, although it may be a difficult matter to get them out," he
remarked.
He at once ordered the cage to be lowered, and with two men who
volunteered to accompany him, descended in it. On getting near the
bottom he discovered that although the water had filled the main tunnel
to the roof, there was still a passage running away to the left on a
higher level which was perfectly dry. They proceeded along it although
his companions considered that a search in that direction was useless.
"If the poor fellows were last seen in the main gallery, it seems
impossible that they should have got up here," they remarked. They,
however, went on and on, but no signs of human beings could be
discovered. They were returning, and were once more approaching the
shaft, when a dull sound was heard, as if some one was striking on a
wall in the far distance.
Mark placed his ear against the side from which the sound seemed to
come, and he distinctly heard several blows given. The others did the
same.
"You are right, Gilbart, that comes from the side working nearest to us.
The men must be there," exclaimed one of his companions.
"We will reply to them," said Mark, and taking a pick he struck several
heavy blows against the side of the gallery. They were replied to by
the same number.
"How is it that they can be there and not be drowned?" asked one of the
men.
"The water is prevented from rushing in by the pent-up air in the
working," he answered. "How long it will be kept back I cannot say, but
no time must be lost in hewing a way through to them. Come, lads, with
God's help, we will save them," said Mark. "Keep picking away until I
return," and he hastened to the shaft.
Having an exact plan of the mine, he was able to determine at once the
working in which old Simon and his companions were imprisoned. The
distance, however, to the spot where he was convinced they must be was
fearfully great, between eighty and ninety yards. It would take days to
bore through. Would those they desired to save be able to exist so
long? The attempt must be made.
Volunteers were quickly obtained, and descending with a dozen skilful
hewers, he commenced operations at the very spot where the sound of the
blows had reached his ears. In a short time a gang of putters with a
supply of rolleys came down to carry away the coal and earth and rock as
it was hewn out, but five men could only labour at a time. They worked,
therefore, in relays. Day and night they laboured on without cessation,
except occasionally stopping to ascertain that their friends within were
alive, when they were encouraged to proceed by invariably hearing the
knocking which had at first attracted Mark's attention. He directed the
course they were to pursue, never once ascending to the pit's mouth, but
taking his food near the working, and sleeping in a blanket on the hard
rock. Day after day and night after night they worked on. The knocking
from within sounded louder. On the seventh day their leader, an old
friend of Simon's, struck his pick into the rock before him, making a
deep hole, through which there suddenly rushed out a stream of noxious
gas, and he fell overcome. His comrades, seizing him by the arms,
dragged him out, narrowly escaping themselves. Reaching the fresher
air, he soon recovered, and undaunted exclaimed, "Let me go at it again,
lads!" and leading the way, once more the bold miners recommenced
operations. Still another day they worked on, and the partition which
divided them from their friends was growing thinner and thinner. A
second escape of gas once more compelled them to retreat, but as soon as
it had dispersed, with the courage of heroes they again went at it. At
length, on the tenth day since the water had rushed into the mine, but a
thin wall remained between them and the imprisoned ones. They had now
come to the most dangerous part of their undertaking, the moment they
had broken away the wall, the compressed air would rush through the
aperture, with a force far greater than the fiercest hurricane, and the
water surging up might drown those within. Still, they knew they must
risk it.
"Now, lads, we'll do it," cried their old leader, and lifting his pick
he struck a blow against the rock. As he withdrew it, the air rushing
through extinguished the lights, and they were left to work in darkness.
Notwithstanding this, in spite of the wind in his face, the old man
worked on with thundering blows. Every moment he brought down masses of
rock until he was convinced that he had made a hole large enough to
creep through.
"Where are you, lads?" he shouted. "Come on, come on!"
Some faint voices replied, he and four others, clambering through the
aperture, each lifted a man in his arms. They could hear the water
rushing in close to them, but they hesitated not. Dragging out their
friends, they staggered along the gallery they had just formed. They
were met by Mark and a party of men carrying lanterns, and battling
against the fierce blast which rushed through the passage. They were
thus soon relieved of their burdens. Quickly reaching the main gallery,
the doctor took the rescued men in hand, having a plentiful supply of
food, medicine, and attendants ready. Though weak and almost exhausted,
the five men in a few hours were sufficiently recovered to be conveyed
up the shaft, where they were received by their relatives and friends,
who long before had given up all hopes of ever again seeing them.
It may be asked how were these men able to live so long during their
imprisonment! Fortunately they had with them a small store of
provisions, and knowing that it might be many days before they could be
rescued, they at once put themselves on the very smallest allowance that
would support life, at the same time the air, which as we have seen was
so compressed by the force of the water, was capable of sustaining
respiration for a much longer period than when of its ordinary density.
There is a very great amount of vitality in the human frame, and where
the wear and tear of active labour does not exist, man can live for a
long period almost without solid food, especially if there be a
plentiful supply of fresh water at hand.
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE MINES OF EUROPE.
Mark Gilbart had never thrown a moment away. By study, perseverance,
and strict integrity, and the exercise of the intelligence with which he
was endowed, he had risen step by step to a far higher social position
than he had before enjoyed. Though still young, he had become a mining
engineer, and was greatly respected by all who knew him. He had the
happiness of placing his mother and sister in a house of their own,
without the necessity of labouring for their support.
He was one day drawing plans in his study, when he received a note from
a Mr Harvey, a gentleman of property, the owner of several mines,
requesting him to call.
Mr Harvey received him cordially. "I am about to ask you, Mr Gilbart,
to accompany my son Frank on a tour of considerable extent, to visit
some of the more important mines in Europe, and, if there is time, in
other parts of the world, and he is anxious to have a practical man who
will enable him to comprehend the different matters connected with them
more clearly than he would be able to do by himself. I need not say
that I am fully aware of the value of your time, and I therefore offer
you such compensation as I hope you will consider sufficient."
Mark gladly agreed to the proposal. Such a tour was above all things
such as he desired, and which, indeed, he had himself contemplated
taking at his own cost. Frank Harvey was an active, intelligent, young
man, exactly the sort of companion Mark would have chosen. Having
concluded all their arrangements, they lost no time in setting out.
Having visited the English, Scotch, and Welsh coal districts, numbering
in all about fifteen, they bent their steps--after seeing the iron and
lead mines in the south of Scotland, and the north and centre of
England--towards Cornwall, to explore its tin and copper mines; after
which they intended to cross the Channel to visit the more remarkable
ones of Europe.
Their first halting-place was at Redruth, near which is the lofty hill
called Cairn Brea, whence they obtained a view over an extensive mining
district. The country around, covered in many places with enormous
blocks of granite, looked barren and uninviting in the extreme, and no
one would have supposed that any portion of the soil in sight was the
richest in the whole of our island. Within a few miles of the spot
where they stood were, however, numerous copper and tin mines, many of
which had yielded a large profit to their owners. Among them was
Dolcoath, one of the oldest copper mines in Cornwall, 300 fathoms in
depth. Another, Eastpool, a tin and copper mine, from which ores to the
amount of 130,000 pounds have been won, after an original outlay of only
640 pounds. From the former mine native silver, cobalt, and bismuth
have also been obtained. The mineral deposits of Cornwall, it should be
known, are found in granite and grey slate. Those of Derbyshire and the
north of England--lead and iron--in the carboniferous system.