Personal Reminiscences In Book Making, And Some Short Stories Part 5

As my visit, however, was paid chiefly for the purpose of investigating the mines, I will not touch on fish here. Having obtained introduction to the managers of Botallack--the most famous of the Cornish Mines--I was led through miles of subterranean tunnels and to depths profound, by the obliging, amiable, and anecdotal Captain Jan--one of the "Captains"

or overseers of the mine.

He was quite an original, this Captain Jan; a man who knew the forty miles of underground workings in Botallack as well, I suppose, as a postman knows his beat; a man who dived into the bowels of the earth with the vigour and confidence of a mole and the simple-minded serenity of a seraph.

The land at this part of Cornwall is not picturesque, except at the sea-cliffs, which rise somewhere about three hundred feet sheer out of deep water, where there is usually no strip of beach to break the rush of the great Atlantic billows that grind the rocks incessantly.

The most prominent objects elsewhere are ma.s.ses of debris; huge pieces of worn-out machinery; tall chimneys and old engine-houses, with big ungainly beams, or "bobs," projecting from them. These "bobs" are attached to pumps which work continually to keep the mines dry. They move up and down very slowly, with a pause between each stroke, as if they were seriously considering whether it was worth while continuing the dreary work any longer, and could not make up their minds on the point. Their slow motions, however, give evidence of life and toil below the surface. Other "bobs" standing idle tell of disappointed hopes and broken fortunes. There are not a few such landmarks at the Land's End--stern monitors, warning wild and wicked speculators to beware.

One day--it might have been night as far as our gloomy surroundings indicated--Captain Jan and I were stumbling along one of the levels of Botallack, I know not how many fathoms down. We wore miners' hats with a candle stuck in front of each by means of a piece of clay. The hats were thicker than a fireman's helmet, though by no means as elegant.

You might have plunged upon them head first without causing a dint.

Captain Jan stopped beside some fallen rocks. We had been walking for more than an hour in these subterranean labyrinths and felt inclined to rest.

"You were asking about the word _wheal_," said the captain, sticking his candle against the wall of the level and sitting down on a ledge, "it do signify a mine, as Wheal Frances, Wheal Owles, Wheal Edwards, and the like. When Cornishmen do see a London Company start a mine on a grand scale, with a deal of fuss and superficial show, and an imposing staff of directors, etcetera, while, down in the mine itself, where the real work ought to be done, perhaps only two men and a boy are known to be at work, they shake their heads and b.u.t.ton up their pockets; perhaps they call the affair wheal _Do-em_, and when that mine stops, (becomes what we call a 'knacked bal') it may be styled wheal _Donem_!"

A traveller chanced to pa.s.s a water-wheel not long ago, near Saint Just.

"What's that?" he said to a miner who sat smoking his pipe beside it.

"That, sur? why, that's a pump, that is."

"What does it pump?" asked the traveller.

"Pump, sur?" replied the man with a grim smile, "why, et do pump gold out o' the Londoners!"

There have been too many wheal _Do-ems_ in Cornwall.

Botallack mine is not, I need scarcely say, a wheal Do-em. It is a grand old mine--grand because its beginning is enveloped in the mists of antiquity; because it affords now, and has afforded for ages back, sustenance to hundreds of miners and their families, besides enriching the country; because its situation on the wild cliffs is unusually picturesque, and because its dark shafts and levels not only descend to an immense depth below the surface, but extend far out under the bottom of the sea. Its engine-houses and machinery are perched upon the edge of a steep cliff, and scattered over its face and down among its dark chasms in places where one would imagine that only a sea-gull would dare to venture.

Underground there exists a vast region of shafts and levels, or tunnels--mostly low, narrow, and crooked places--in which men have to stoop and walk with caution, and where they work by candlelight--a region which is measured to the inch, and has all its parts mapped out and named as carefully as are the fields above. Some idea of the extent of this mine may be gathered from the fact that it is 245 fathoms, (1470 feet), deep, and that all the levels put together form an amount of cutting through almost solid granite equal to nearly 40 miles in extent.

The deepest part of the mine is that which lies under the bottom of the sea, three-quarters of a mile from the sh.o.r.e; and, strange to say, that is also the _driest_ part of the mine. The Great Eastern would find depth of water sufficient to permit of her anchoring and floating securely in places where miners are at work, blowing up the solid rock, 1470 feet below her keel--a depth so profound that the wildest waves that ever burst upon the sh.o.r.e, or the loudest thunder that ever reverberated among the cliffs, could not send down the faintest echo of a sound.

The ladder-way by which the men descend to their work is 1230 feet deep.

It takes half an hour to descend and an hour to climb to the surface.

It was a bright morning in May when I walked over from Saint Just with Captain Jan to pay my first underground visit to Botallack.

Arrayed in the red-stained canvas coat and trousers of the mine, with a candle stuck in the front of our very strong hats and three spare ones each hung at our b.r.e.a.s.t.s, we proceeded to the ladder-way. This was a small platform with a hole in it just big enough to admit a man, out of which projected the head of a strong ladder. Before descending Captain Jan glanced down the hole and listened to a distant, regular, clicking sound--like the ticking of a clock. "A man coming up," said he, "we'll wait a minute."

I looked down, and, in the profound abyss, saw the twinkling of, apparently, a little star. The steady click of the miner's nailed shoes on the iron rounds of the ladder continued, and the star advanced, until, by its feeble light I saw the hat to which it was attached.

Presently a man emerged from the hole, and raising himself erect, gave vent to a long, deep-drawn sigh. It was, I may say, a suggestive sigh, for there was a sense of intense relief conveyed by it. The man had just completed an hour of steady, continuous climbing up the ladders, after eight hours of night-work in impure atmosphere, and the first great draught of the fresh air of heaven must have seemed like nectar to his soul! His red garments were soaking, perspiration streamed from every pore in his body, and washed the red earth in streaks down his pale countenance. Although pale, however, the miner was strong and in the prime of life. Chills and bad air, (the two great demons of the mines), had not yet smitten his st.u.r.dy frame with "miner's complaint."

He looked tired, but not exhausted, and bestowed a grave glance on me and a quiet nod on Captain Jan as he walked away to change his dress in the drying-house. My contemplation of the retiring miner was interrupted by Captain Jan saying--"I'll go first, sir, to catch you if you should fall." This remark reminded me of many stories I had heard of men "falling away from the ladders;" of beams breaking and letting them tumble into awful gulfs; of stones giving way and coming down the shafts like grape or cannon-shot, and the like. However, I stepped on the ladder and prepared to follow my guide into the regions of unchanging night! A few fathoms' descent brought us into twilight and to a small platform on which the foot of the first ladder rested.

Through a hole in this the head of the second ladder appeared.

Here we lighted the candles, for the next ladder--a longer one, 50 feet or so--would have landed us in midnight darkness. Half way down it, I looked up and saw the hole at the top like a large white star. At the foot I looked up again, the star was gone, and I felt that we were at last in a region where, (from the time of creation), sunlight had never shone. Down, down, ever _downwards_, was the uppermost idea in my mind for some time after that. Other thoughts there were, of course, but that one of never-ending descent outweighed them all for a time. As we got lower the temperature increased; then perspiration broke out. Never having practised on the treadmill, my muscles ere long began to feel the unwonted exercise, and I thought to myself, "If you are in this state so soon, what will you be when you get to the bottom, and how will you get up again?"

At this point we reached the foot of another ladder, and Captain Jan said, "We'll walk a bit in the level here and then go down the pump-shaft." The change of posture and action in the level we had now entered was agreeable, but the path was not a good one. It was an old, low, and irregular level, with a rugged floor full of holes with water in them, and with projections in the roof that rendered frequent stooping necessary. The difficulty of one's progress in such places is that, while you are looking out for your head, you stumble into the holes, and when the holes claim attention you run your head against the roof; but, thanks to the miner's hat, no evil follows.

We were now in a region of profound _silence_! When we paused for a minute to rest, it felt as if the silence of the tomb itself had surrounded us--for not the faintest echo reached us from the world above, and the miners at work below us were still far down out of ear-shot. In a few seconds we came to a yawning hole in the path, bridged by a single plank. Captain Jan crossed. "How deep is it?" I asked, preparing to follow. "About 60 feet," said he, "it's a winze, and goes down to the next level!"

I held my breath and crossed with caution.

"Are there many winzes, Captain Jan?"

"Yes, dozens of 'em. There are nigh 40 miles of levels and lots of winzes everywhere!"

The possibility of anything happening to Captain Jan, and my light getting blown out occurred to me, but I said nothing. When we had walked a quarter of a mile in this level, we came to the point where it entered the pump-shaft. The shaft itself was narrow--about 8 or 10 feet in diameter--but everything in it was ponderous and gigantic. The engine that drove the pump was 70 horse power; the pump-rod was a succession of wooden beams, each like the ridge-pole of a house, jointed together--a rugged affair, with iron bolts, and nuts, and projections at the joints. In this shaft the kibbles were worked. These kibbles are iron buckets by which ore is conveyed to the surface. Two are worked together by a chain--one going up full while the other comes down empty.

Both are free to clatter about the shaft and bang against each other in pa.s.sing, but they are prevented from damaging the pump-rod by a wooden part.i.tion. Between this part.i.tion and the pump was the ladder we had now to descend, with just s.p.a.ce for a man to pa.s.s.

Captain Jan got upon it, and as he did so the pump went up, (a sweep of 10 or 12 feet), with a deep watery gurgle, as if a giant were being throttled. As I got upon the ladder the pump came down with another gurgle, close to my shoulder in pa.s.sing. To avoid this I kept close to the planks on the other side, but at that moment I heard a noise as if of distant thunder. "It's only the kibbles," said Captain Jan.

Up came one and down went the other, pa.s.sing each other with a dire crash, not far from where we stood, and causing me to shrink into the smallest possible s.p.a.ce. "There's no danger," said the Captain encouragingly, "if you only keep cool and hold on." Water was coursing freely down the shaft and spirting over us in fine spray, so that, ere long, we were as wet and dirty as any miner in Botallack. At last we reached the 120 fathom level, 720 feet from "gra.s.s."

Here the Captain told me men were at work not far off and he wished to visit them. "Would I wait where I was until he returned?"

"What!" said I, "wait in a draughty level with an extinguishable candle close to the main shaft, with 30 or 40 miles of levels around, and no end of winzes? No, no, Captain Jan, go on; I'll stick to you _now_ through thick and thin like your own shadow!"

With one of his benignant smiles the captain resumed his progress. In a few minutes I heard the clink of hammers, and, soon after, came to a singular cavern. It was a place where the lode had been very wide and rich. Years before it had been all cut away from level to level, leaving a void s.p.a.ce so high and deep that the rays of our candles were lost in obscurity. We walked through it in mid-air, as it were, supported on cross beams with planks laid thereon. Beyond this we came to a spot where a number of miners were at work in various places and positions.

One, a big, broad-shouldered man named Dan, was seated on a wooden box hammering at the rock with tremendous energy. With him Captain Jan conversed a few minutes on the appearance of the lode, and then whispered to me, "A good specimen of a man that, sir, and he's got an uncommon large family,"--then, turning to the man--"I say, Dan, you've got a biggish family, haven't you?"

"Iss, a'w iss, Cap'n Jan, I've a braave lot o' child'n."

"How many have you had altogether, Dan?"

"I've had seventeen, sur, but ten of 'em's gone dead--only seven left.

My brother Jim, though, he's had more than me."

After a few more words we left this man, and, in another place, found this brother Jim, working in the roof of the level with several others.

They had cut so high up in a slanting direction that they appeared to be in another chamber, which was brilliantly lighted with their candles.

Jim, stripped naked to the waist, stood on the end of a plank, hammering violently. Looking up into his curious burrow, Captain Jan shouted--"Hallo! Jim!"

"Hallo, Captain Jan."

"Here's a gentleman wants to know how many children you've had."

"How many child'n, say 'ee? Why, I've had nineteen, sur, but there's eleven of 'em gone dead. Seven of 'em did come in three years and a half--_three doubles and a single_--but there's only eight of 'em alive now!"

I afterwards found that, although this man and his brother were exceptions, the miners generally had very large families.

While we were talking, a number of shots were heard going off in various directions. This was explained by Captain Jan. All the forenoon the miners employ their time in boring and charging the blast-holes. About mid-day they fire them and then hasten to a clear part of the mine to eat luncheon and smoke their pipes while the gunpowder smoke clears away. This it does very slowly, taking sometimes more than an hour to clear sufficiently so as to let the men resume work.

Immediately after the shots were heard, the men began to a.s.semble. They emerged from the gloom on all sides like red hobgoblins--wet and perspiring. Some walked out of darkness from either end of the level; some stalked out from diverging levels; others slid, feet first, from holes in the roof and sides, and some rose, head-foremost, from yawning gulfs in the floor. They all saluted Captain Jan as they came up, and each stuck his candle against the wall and sat down on a heap of wet rubbish, to lunch. Some had Cornish pasty, and others a species of heavy cake--so heavy that the fact of their being able to carry it at all said much for their digestive organs--but most of them ate plain bread, and all of them drank water which had been carried down from the realms of light in little canteens. Frugal though the fare was, it sufficed to brace them for the rest of the day's work.

After a short talk with these men Captain Jan and I continued our descent of the ladders--down we went, ever downwards, until at last we reached the very bottom of that part of the mine--1230 feet below the surface.

Here we found only two men at work, with whom Captain Jan conversed for a time while we rested, and then proceeded to ascend "to gra.s.s" by the same ladder-ways. If I felt that the descent was like never getting to the bottom, much more did the ascent seem like never getting to the top!

I may remark here that the bottom which we had reached was not the bottom under the sea. At another time Captain Jan took me to that submarine cavern where, as I have said, no sound ever reaches the ear from the world above. There is, however, a level close under the sea where the roar of Ocean is distinctly heard. It is in a part of Botallack Mine named Wheal c.o.c.k. It was very rich in copper ore, and the miners worked at the roof of it so vigorously, that they began to fear it would give way. One of them, therefore, in order to ascertain what thickness of solid rock still lay between them and the sea, bored a small hole upwards, and advanced about three feet or so before the water rushed in. Of course they had a wooden plug ready and stopped up the hole. But, as it was dangerous to cut away any more of the roof, they were finally obliged unwillingly to forsake that part of the mine.