Miner Lannoe had well made his plans, and, after abiding his time, he
had arranged with a confederate to be at the shaft mouth ready to lower
down the cage, when he should give the signal, and draw him up.
On second thoughts he told his confederate to lower down the cage first,
and then to be ready to touch the handles of the engine in due form, and
draw him up.
They had both worked at mines long enough to be quite conversant with
the lowering and raising of a cage, and a promise of half a sovereign
and unlimited beer was quite enough to enlist a man he knew in his
service--a convenient kind of man, who was stupid enough to do what he
was told without asking questions.
But this would necessitate the agreement of the two men who would be on
duty keeping the engine pumping all night, for the mine was still very
wet.
But Lannoe knew how to manage them. A bottle of smuggled brandy, which
he knew how to get, was quite sufficient for the purpose, especially
when drugged with tobacco, and thoroughly fulfilled his wishes, doing
more too than he anticipated for his employer's service.
He was obliged to trust to his confederate, for he had made up his mind
to stay down, but his orders were simple in the extreme. The man had
only to stroll into the engine-house, when he had seen every one off the
premises, with the bottle of brandy under his arm, propose a drink, and
not drink himself.
"If he don't keep all square it will be awkward," thought Lannoe, as he
hung back when the other men left the pit; and, pulling out some bread
and cheese, sat down in the dark and made a hearty meal.
"That'll give a fellow strength," he muttered, when he had done. "Now
let's see what's what? Ugh! it's a gashly job; but a hundred pound's a
big lump, and it may be a hundred and fifty."
He took out a box of matches, lit a lantern, and walked cautiously
towards the foot of the shaft, to find that the cage had been lowered
down since the men went up--Pengelly with the last batch; and from that
he argued that his confederate was on the watch.
To make sure he uttered a low whistle, which went up, seeming to
increase as it rose, and an answer came back.
"That's right," he muttered. "I should stand awkward if he wasn't
there."
He felt a strange sense of hesitation come over him, and a tremor of
dread that made him flinch from his task, till he thought of Pengelly,
and the money that was to be his reward.
"There's nothing to be scared about," he muttered. "If he wasn't there
I could get up the winze, and then up to the next gallery by the
ladders, so I'm all right."
Satisfying himself that he had nothing to fear on his own account, he
turned and went on along the dark galleries, all of which were pretty
familiar to him, till he reached the place where the new workings were
going on, and stopped by the end of the passage where Geoffrey had
marked out the portion that was not to be touched.
The man's face looked very stern and grim as he took out of his pocket
along cartridge, ready for blasting purposes, one which he had filched
from the receptacle, and three fuses, which he tied together, end to
end, so as to make one of extraordinary length.
Laying these upon a ledge ready, he went off to a niche in the rock some
distance off and returned with a miner's tamping-iron, and slipping off
his frock, and turning up the sleeves of his tight jersey shirt, he
paused for a few moments to consider.
As he stood listening, the stillness of the mine was awful, and the
sweat stood out upon his forehead as he glanced timorously round; but,
nerving himself with the thoughts of revenge and reward, he poised the
bar, and the next minute the galleries were echoing to the strokes of
the tamping-iron, while the sparks flew thick and fast from the stone.
He was an old and practised hand, knowing full well how to wield the
implement so as to bore a hole big enough to hold the cartridge, and he
toiled steadily on, forgetting his fear in his work, determined to go in
a certain distance, and then insert the cartridge, light the fuse, and
escape.
He calculated pretty well what the consequences would be. The thin wall
at the end of the gallery would have a goodly piece blown out, and the
water would rush in, flooding the mine beyond possibility of redemption.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, with the sparks flying fast, and once more the
light from his lantern, as in the case of Geoffrey, cast that strange,
weird shadow, as of the evil genius of the mine waving its arms, and
threatening the intruder upon his realms.
Now the man paused and examined the edge of the tool he used, and wiped
his forehead that was bedewed with sweat. Then he worked on again, till
the sparks flew faster and faster, and he grimly laughed as he thought
of what would be the consequences should one reach the cartridge.
"No fear of that," he said, half aloud; and he worked on again for quite
an hour before he stopped to rest.
"It's gashly work all alone here," he muttered, and he stood listening,
but the only sound he heard was the regular thumping beat of the great
pump, and the rushing noise of water, which came to him softened by the
distance through which it travelled.
Another long attack upon the rock, with the tamping-iron going in deeper
and deeper, till, with a grim look of satisfaction, he finished his
work, and wiped and stood the tool aside.
"That's long habit," he said, half aloud. "That tool won't be wanted
any more; and, perhaps, a lad named Lannoe, with a hundred pound in his
pocket, and a place where he can get more if he wants it, may stand
better with old Prawle than a lame, preaching hound as ain't so rich
after all."
"I wonder what time it is," he muttered, with a shiver; and, having now
completed one stage of his work, he hesitated, thinking of his means of
escape; and, taking up his lantern, he went rapidly along to the foot of
the shaft, listened for a few minutes, and then uttered a low whistle,
which went reverberating up the long shaft to the still night air, and
another whistle came back in answer.
"One whistle, make ready; two, draw up," muttered Lannoe; and once more
he threaded his way along the galleries, till he reached the spot where
he had been at work.
Here a shrinking sensation seemed to come over him again, for he took
the cartridge and fingered it about, held the lantern up to the hole he
had made, and asked himself whether he had not better go on and drive it
through to the water, so as to let it run in, though he knew all the
while that a small pump would easily master as much water as forced its
way in through such a hole.
Then he tried the fuse.
Yes, there was plenty of that to burn till he reached the foot of the
shaft. Perhaps he might be up before the charge exploded. There was
nothing to fear, then.
But still he hesitated, and a word or two would have made him give up
his task and escape for his life.
It was not to be: for the thought of the money mastered him. He could
easily force more from his employer, who dare not refuse; and, to make
matters better, he would be having a rich revenge upon Pengelly.
Was it safe to trust his mate about the drawing up?
Bah! What matter! He could escape without his help if he failed; and,
rousing his courage to the sticking-point, he vowed he would wait no
longer.
The rest was done in desperate haste and with his hands trembling. The
tamping was bold, manly work, but he had to deal now with a great
cartridge of gunpowder, he told himself, and he must be careful.
He was careful as he thought, but he would have exercised more care if
he had known that the stolen cartridge was not gunpowder, but formed of
one of the newly-discovered explosives, made by Geoffrey's own hands.
He laid his fuse ready for attachment, and placed the lantern a little
farther back.
But no: that would not do; his shadow was thrown right across the hole,
and he had to change the position of the lantern.
That would do well, and there was no danger; but still he hesitated, and
he drew his arm across his wet forehead.
Of course--yes--he must not forget that. He must not leave his jacket
behind; and, laying down the cartridge once more, he leisurely put on
his frock and cap, hesitated a few minutes longer, and then, with the
thoughts of the yellow gold blinding his eyes, he seemed to nerve
himself to desperation, picking up the cartridge, and trying to fit it
into the hole he had bored.
It went in easily enough for a part of the distance; but the action of
the tool had made the hole slightly funnel-shaped, and the cartridge
would not go in so far as he wished.
True, he might have fired it where it was, but then he would not have
been sure of the result. The wall of rock was comparatively thin, he
knew, but unless the cartridge was well in, a sufficiency might not be
brought down, and his wish was to make so terrible a gap that no pump
ever made, or likely to be made, could keep down the water in the
deluged mine.
How it would rush in, carrying all before it, as soon as the shot was
fired. He had seen dozens of such blastings, and he knew what great
chasms were blown out of the solid rock. Here, where the wall was thin,
the whole side would be blown back into the sea, and then where would
rich Wheal Carnac be?
John Tregenna would say, at all events, that he had well done his work,
he thought; but how was this cartridge to be forced farther in?
He laid it down for a moment, and took up the iron, thinking to enlarge
the hole, but he knew it would be an hour's work, and now he was strung
up he wanted it done.
He tried the cartridge again. It nearly fitted; a good drive with the
back of the tamping-iron would force it in. So, twisting it round and
round, he screwed the paper-covered roll in for so goodly a distance
that it was well placed in the wall, and needed, he thought, but a
slight thrust or two to send it home.
He was ignorant, and blinded by his desire to finish the task he had
undertaken; desperate, too, with the fear that was beginning to master
him; and catching up the iron once more, he hesitated for a moment as he
turned it round, and then, placing the butt end in the hole, he gave the
cartridge a sharp blow.
In the act of striking he moderated the blow, so as not to strike fire
from the rock; but no fire was needed there, the percussion was
sufficient to explode the mighty imprisoned force, and, as that blow
fell, there was one deafening crash, a pause, and then an awful rush of
water that swept off the shattered fragments of the dead miner from the
floor, and wall, and ceiling, and churned them up and bore them along
through the galleries of the ruined mine.
For Lannoe's blast had been a success. He had blown out so great a mass
of the thin wall that the pump had not been invented that could master
such a rush of water as that which poured in to flood the mine.
The explosion was sharp, and it roared through the galleries, but the
rush of water seemed to drown it, so that the noise which reached dead
Lannoe's mate did not startle his drink-confused brain. He only
wondered why Lannoe was so long; and at last, when quite wearied out, he
saw Geoffrey Trethick and Pengelly come, he thought it was a good excuse
for going, and he ran away.