Deep Down, a Tale of the Cornish Mines Part 11

"That's the way we raise tin and copper," said Captain Dan; "now, doctor, we had better return, if you would not be left in darkness, for our candles are getting low."

"Did you ever travel underground in the dark?" inquired Oliver.

"Not often, but I have done it occasionally. Once, in particular, I went down the main shaft in the dark, and gave a miner an awful fright.

I had to go down in haste at the time, and, not having a candle at hand, besides being well acquainted with the way, I hurried down in the dark.

It so chanced that a man named Sampy had got his light put out when about to ascend the shaft, and, as he also was well acquainted with the way, he did not take the trouble to relight. There was a good deal of noise in consequence of the pump being at work. When I had got about half-way down I put my foot on something that felt soft. Instantly there was uttered a tremendous yell, and my legs at the same moment were seized by something from below. My heart almost jumped out of my mouth at this, but as the yell was repeated it flashed across me I must have trod on some one's fingers, so I lifted my foot at once, and then a voice, which I knew to be that of Sampy, began to wail and lament miserably.

"`Hope I haven't hurt 'ee, Sampy?' said I.

"`Aw dear! aw dear! aw, my dear!' was all that poor Sampy could reply.

"`Let us go up, my son,' said I, `and we'll strike a light.'

"So up we went to the next level, where I got hold of the poor lad's candle and lighted it.

"`Aw, my dear!' said Sampy, looking at his fingers with a rueful countenance; `thee have scat 'em all in jowds.'"

"Pray," interrupted Oliver, "what may be the meaning of `scat 'em all in jowds'?

"Broke 'em all in pieces," replied Captain Dan; "but he was wrong, for no bones were broken, and the fingers were all right again in the course of a few days. Sampy got a tremendous fright, however, and he was never known to travel underground without a light after that."

Continuing to retrace their steps, Captain Dan and Oliver made for the main shaft. On the way they came to another of those immense empty s.p.a.ces where a large lode had been worked away, and nothing left in the dark narrow void but the short beams which had supported the working stages of the men. Here Oliver, looking down through a hole at his feet, saw several men far below him. They were at work on the "end" in three successive tiers--above each other's heads.

"You've seen two of these men before," said Captain Dan.

"Have I?"

"Yes, they are local preachers. The last time you saw the upper one,"

said Captain Dan with a smile, "you were seated in the Wesleyan chapel, and he was in the pulpit dressed like a gentleman, and preaching as eloquently as if he had been educated at college and trained for the ministry."

"I should like very much to go down and visit them," said Oliver.

"'Tis a difficult descent. There are no ladders. Will your head stand stepping from beam to beam, and can you lower yourself by a chain?"

"I'll try," said Oliver.

Without more words Captain Dan left the platform on which they had been walking, and, descending through a hole, led his companion by the most rugged way he had yet attempted. Sometimes they slid on their heels down places that Oliver would not have dreamed of attempting without a guide; at other times they stepped from beam to beam, with unknown depths below them.

"Have a care here, sir," said the captain, pausing before a very steep place. "I will go first and wait for you."

So saying, he seized a piece of old rusty chain that was fastened into the rock, and swung himself down. Then, looking up, he called to Oliver to follow.

The young doctor did so, and, having cautiously lowered himself a few yards, he reached a beam, where he found the captain holding up his candle, and regarding him with some anxiety. Captain Dan appeared as if suspended in mid-air. Opposite to him, in the distance, the two "local preachers" were hard at work with hammer and chisel, while far below, a miner could be seen coming along the next level, and pushing an iron truck full of ore before him.

A few more steps and slides, and then a short ascent, and Oliver stood beside the man who had preached the previous Sunday. He worked with another miner, and was red, ragged, and half-clad, like all the rest, and the perspiration was pouring over his face, which was streaked with slime. Very unlike was he at that time to the gentlemanly youth who had held forth from the pulpit. Oliver had a long chat with him, and found that he aspired to enter the ministry, and had already pa.s.sed some severe examinations. He was self-taught, having procured the loan of books from his minister and some friends who were interested in him.

His language and manners were those of a gentleman, yet he had had no advantages beyond his fellows.

"My friend there, sir, also hopes to enter the ministry," said the miner, pointing, as he spoke, to a gap between the boards on which he stood.

Oliver looked down, and there beheld a stalwart young man, about a couple of yards under his feet, wielding a hammer with tremendous vigour. His light linen coat was open, displaying his bared and muscular bosom.

"What! is _he_ a local preacher also?"

"He is, sir," said the miner, with a smile.

Oliver immediately descended to the stage below, and had a chat with this man also, after which he left them at their work, wondering very much at the intelligence and learning displayed by them; for he remembered that in their sermons they had, without notes, without hesitation, and without a grammatical error, entered into the most subtle metaphysical reasoning (rather too much of it indeed!), and had preached with impa.s.sioned (perhaps too impa.s.sioned) eloquence, quoting poets and prose writers, ancient and modern, with the facility of good scholars--while they urged men and women to repent and flee to Christ, with all the fervour of men thoroughly in earnest. On the other hand, he knew that their opportunities for self-education were not great, and that they had to toil in the meantime for daily bread, at the rate of about 3 pounds a month!

Following Captain Dan, Oliver soon reached the ladder-way.

While slowly and in silence ascending the ladders; they heard a sound of music above them.

"Men coming down to work, singing," said the captain, as they stood on a cross-beam to listen.

The sounds at first were very faint and inexpressibly sweet. By degrees they became more distinct, and Oliver could distinguish several voices singing in harmony, keeping time to the slow measured tread of their descending steps. There seemed a novelty, and yet a strange familiarity, in the strains as they were wafted softly down upon his ear, until they drew near, and the star-like candles of the miners became visible. Their manly voices then poured forth in full strength the glorious psalm-tune called "French," which is usually sung in Scotland to the beautiful psalm beginning, "I to the hills will lift mine eyes."

The men stopped abruptly on encountering their captain and the stranger.

Exchanging a few words with the former, they stood aside on the beams to let them pa.s.s. A little boy came last. His small limbs were as active as those of his more stalwart comrades, and he exhibited no signs of fatigue. His treble voice, too, was heard high and tuneful among the others as they continued their descent and resumed the psalm. The sweet strains retired gradually, and faded in the depths below as they had first stolen on the senses from above; and the pleasant memory of them still remained with the young doctor when he emerged from the mine through the hole at the head of the shaft, and stood once more in the blessed sunshine!

Note 1. Reader, allow us to remark that this is a fact. Indeed, we may say here, once for all, that all the _important_ statements and incidents in this tale are facts, or founded on facts, with considerable modification, but without intentional exaggeration.

Note 2. It has been stated to us recently by a volunteer officer, that at battalion parade, when companies were equalised in numbers, the companies formed by the men of St. Just required about four paces more s.p.a.ce to stand upon than the other volunteers. No one who visits a St.

Just miner at his underground toil will require to ask the reason why.

CHAPTER NINE.

TREATS OF DIFFICULTIES TO BE OVERCOME.

One afternoon a council--we may appropriately say of war--was held in St. Just. The scene of the council was the shop of Maggot, the blacksmith, and the members of it were a number of miners, the president being the worthy smith himself, who, with a sledge-hammer under his arm in the position of a short crutch, occupied the chair, if we may be allowed so to designate the raised hearth of the forge.

The war with poverty had not been very successfully waged of late, and, at the time of which we write, the enemy had apparently given the miners a severe check, in the way of putting what appeared to be an insuperable obstacle in their path.

"Now, lads," said Maggot, with a slap on the leathern ap.r.o.n that covered his knees, "this is the way on it, an' do 'ee be quiet and hould yer tongues while I do spaik."

The other men, of whom there were nearly a dozen, nodded and said, "Go on, booy; thee's knaw tin, sure;" by which expression they affirmed their belief that the blacksmith was a very knowing fellow.

"You do tell me that you've come so close to water that you're 'fraid to go on? Is that so?"

"Iss, iss," responded the others.

"Well, I'll hole into the house, ef you do agree to give un a good pitch," said Maggot.

"Agreed, one and all," cried the miners.

In order that the reader may understand the drift of this conversation, it is necessary to explain that the indefatigable miner, David Trevarrow, whom we have already introduced in his submarine workshop, had, according to his plan, changed his ground, and transferred his labour to a more hopeful part of the mine.