CHAPTER FOUR.
AT WORK UNDER THE SEA.
Chip, chip, chip--down in the dusky mine! Oh, but the rock at which theminer chipped was hard, and the bit of rock on which he sat was hard,and the muscles with which he toiled were hard from prolonged labour;and the lot of the man seemed hard, as he sat there in the hot, heavyatmosphere, hour after hour, from morn till eve, with the sweat pouringdown his brow and over his naked shoulders, toiling and moiling withhammer and chisel.
But stout David Trevarrow did not think his lot peculiarly hard. Hisworkshop was a low narrow tunnel deep down under the surface of theearth--ay, and deep under the bottom of the sea! His daily sun was atallow candle, which rose regularly at seven in the morning and set atthree in the afternoon. His atmosphere was sadly deficient inlife-giving oxygen, and much vitiated by gunpowder smoke. His workingcostume consisted only of a pair of linen trousers; his colour from topto toe was red as brick-dust, owing to the iron ore around him; his foodwas a slice of bread, with, perchance, when he was unusually luxurious,the addition of a Cornish pasty; and his drink was water. To aninexperienced eye the man's work would have appeared not only hard buthopeless, for although his hammer was heavy, his arm strong, and hischisel sharp and tempered well, each blow produced an apparentlyinsignificant effect on the flinty rock. Frequently a spark of fire wasall that resulted from a blow, and seldom did more than a series oflittle chips fly off, although the man was of herculean mould, andworked "with a will," as was evident from the kind of gasp or sternexpulsion of the breath with which each blow was accompanied. Unaidedhuman strength he knew could not achieve much in such a process, so hedirected his energies chiefly to the boring of blast-holes, and left itto the mighty power of gunpowder to do the hard work of rending the richore from the bowels of the unwilling earth. Yes, the work was veryhard, probably the hardest that human muscles are ever called on toperform in this toiling world; but again we say that David Trevarrow didnot think so, for he had been born to the work and bred to it, and wasblissfully ignorant of work of a lighter kind, so that, although hisbrows frowned at the obstinate rock, his compressed lips smiled, for histhoughts were pleasant and far away. The unfettered mind was aboveground roaming in fields of light, basking in sunshine, and holdingconverse with the birds, as he sat there chip, chip, chipping, down inthe dusky mine.
Stopping at last, the miner wiped his brow, and, rising, stood for a fewmoments silently regarding the result of his day's work.
"Now, David," said he to himself, "the question is, what shall us do--shall us keep on, or shall us knack?"
He paused, as if unable to answer the question. After a time hemuttered, "Keep on; it don't look promisin', sure 'nuff, an' it's poorpay; but it won't do to give in yet."
Poor pay it was indeed, for the man's earnings during the past month hadbeen barely ten shillings. But David Trevarrow had neither wife, child,nor mother to support, so he could afford to toil for poor pay, and,being of a remarkably hopeful and cheery disposition, he returned homethat afternoon resolved to persevere in his unproductive toil, in thehope that at last he should discover a good "bunch of copper," or a"keenly lode of tin."
David was what his friends and the world styled unfortunate. In earlymanhood he had been a somewhat wild and reckless fellow--a notedwrestler, and an adept in all manly sports and games. But adisappointment in love had taught him very bitterly that life is not allsunshine; and this, coupled with a physical injury which was the resultof his own folly, crushed his spirit so much that his comrades believedhim to be a "lost man."
The injury referred to was the bursting of a blood-vessel in the lungs.It was, and still is, the custom of the youthful miners of Cornwall totest their strength by racing up the almost interminable ladders bywhich the mines are reached. This tremendous exertion after a day ofsevere toil affected them of course very severely, and in some casesseriously. Many an able-bodied man has by this means brought himself toa premature end. Among others, David Trevarrow excelled and suffered.No one could beat him in running up the ladders; but one day, onreaching the surface, blood issued from his mouth, and thenceforth hisracing and wrestling days were ended, and his spirit was broken. A longillness succeeded. Then he began to mend. Slowly and by degrees hisstrength returned, but not his joyous spirit. Still it was some comfortto feel able for work again, and he "went underground" with some degreeof his old vigour, though not with the light heart or light step offormer days; but bad fortune seemed to follow him everywhere. Whenothers among his comrades were fortunate in finding copper or tin, Davidwas most unaccountably unsuccessful. Accidents, too, from falls andexplosions, laid him up more than once, and he not only acquired thecharacter of an unlucky man from his friends, but despite a naturallysanguine temperament, he began himself to believe that he was one of theunluckiest fellows in the world.
About this time the followers of that noble Christian, John Wesley,began to make an impression on Cornwall, and to exert an influence whichcreated a mighty change in the hearts and manners of the people, and theblessed effects of which are abundantly evident at the present day--tothe rejoicing of every Christian soul. One of those ministers of ourLord happened to meet with David Trevarrow, and was the means of openinghis eyes to many great and previously unknown truths. Among others, heconvinced him that "God's ways are not as man's ways;" that He often,though not always, leads His people by thorny paths that they know notof, but does it in love and with His own glory in their happiness as theend in view; that the Lord Jesus Christ must be to a man "the chiefestamong ten thousand, and altogether lovely," else He is to him nothing atall, and that he could be convinced of all these truths only by the HolySpirit.
It were vain to attempt to tell all that this good man said to theunhappy miner, but certain it is that from that time forth David becamehimself again--and yet not himself. The desire to wrestle and fight andrace returned in a new form. He began to wrestle with principalitiesand powers, to fight the good fight of faith, and to run the race setbefore him in the gospel. The old hearty smile and laugh and cheerydisposition also returned, and the hopeful spirit, and so much of theold robust health and strength, that it seemed as if none of the evileffects of the ruptured blood-vessel remained. So David Trevarrow went,as of old, daily to the mine. It is true that riches did not flow inupon him any faster than before, but he did not mind that much, for hehad discovered another mine, in which he toiled at nights after theday's toil was over, and whence he extracted treasure of greater valuethan copper or tin, or even gold--treasure which he scattered in aSabbath school with liberal hand, and found himself all the richer forhis prodigality.
Occasionally, after prolonged labour in confined and bad air, a fainttrace of the old complaint showed itself when he reached the top of theladders, but he was not now depressed by that circumstance as he used tobe. He was past his prime at the period of which we write, and aconfirmed bachelor.
To return from this digression: David Trevarrow made up his mind, as wehave said, to "go on," and, being a man of resolute purpose, he went on;seized his hammer and chisel, and continued perseveringly to smite theflinty rock, surrounded by thick darkness, which was not dispelled butonly rendered visible by the feeble light of the tallow candle thatflared at his side.
Over his head rolled the billows of the Atlantic; the whistling windhowled among the wild cliffs of the Cornish coast, but they did notbreak the deep silence of the miner's place of midnight toil. Heaven'sartillery was rending the sky, and causing the hearts of men to beatslow with awe. The great boulders ground the pebbles into sand as theycrashed to and fro above him, but he heard them not--or if he did, thesound reached him as a deep-toned mysterious murmur, for, being in oneof the low levels, with many fathoms of solid rock between him and thebottom of the superincumbent sea, he was beyond the reach of suchdisturbing influences, tremendous though they were.
The miner was making a final effort at his unproductive piece of rock,and had prolonged his toil far into the night.
Hour after hour he wrought almost without a moment's respite, save forthe purpose, now and then, of trimming his candle. When his right armgrew tired, he passed the hammer swiftly to his left hand, and, turningthe borer with his right, continued to work with renewed vigour.
At last he paused, and looking over his shoulder called out--"Zackey,booy."
The sound died away in a hollow echo through the retiring galleries ofthe mine, but there was no reply.
"Zackey, booy, are 'ee slaipin'?" he repeated.
A small reddish-coloured bundle, which lay in a recess close at hand,uncoiled itself like a hedgehog, and, yawning vociferously, sat up,revealing the fact that the bundle was a boy.
"Ded 'ee call, uncle?" asked the boy in a sleepy tone.
"Iss did I," said the man; "fetch me the powder an' fuse, my son."
The lad rose, and, fetching out of a dark corner the articles required,assisted in charging the hole which his uncle had just finished boring.This was the last hole which the man intended to blast that night. Forweeks past he had laboured day after day--sometimes, as on the presentoccasion, at night--and had removed many tons of rock, without procuringeither tin or copper sufficient to repay him for his toil, so that heresolved to give it up and remove to a more hopeful part of the mine, orbetake himself to another mine altogether. He had now bored his lasthole, and was about to blast it. Applying his candle to the end of thefuse, he hastened along the level to a sufficient distance to affordsecurity, warning his nephew as he passed.
Zackey leaped up, and, scrambling over the debris with which the bottomof the level was covered, made good his retreat. About a minute theywaited in expectancy. Suddenly there was a bright blinding flash, whichlit up the rugged sides of the mine, and revealed its cavernousramifications and black depths. This was accompanied by a dullsmothered report and a crash of falling rock, together with a shower ofdebris. Instantly the whole place was in profound darkness.
"Aw, booy," exclaimed the miner; "we was too near. It have knacked usin the dark."
"So't have, uncle; I'll go an' search for the box."
"Do, my son," said David.
In those days lucifer matches had not been invented, and light had to bestruck by means of flint, steel, and tinder. The process was tediouscompared with the rapid action of congreves and vestas in the presentday. The man chipped away for full three minutes before he succeeded inrelighting his candle. This done, the rock was examined.
"Bad still, Uncle David?" inquired the boy.
"Iss, Zackey Maggot, so we'll knack'n, and try the higher mineto-morrow." Having come to this conclusion Uncle David threw down themass of rock which he held in his brawny hands, and, picking up hisimplements, said, "Get the tools, booy, and lev us go to grass."
Zackey, who had been in the mine all day, and was tired, tied his toolsat each end of a rope, so that they might be slung over his shoulder andleave his hands free. Trevarrow treated his in the same way, and,removing his candle from the wall, fixed it on the front of his hat bythe simple process of sticking thereto the lump of clay to which it wasattached. Zackey having fixed his candle in the same manner, both ofthem put on their red-stained flannel shirts and linen coats, andtraversed the level until they reached the bottom of the ladder-shaft.Here they paused for a few moments before commencing the long wearisomeascent of almost perpendicular ladders by which the miners descended totheir work or returned "to grass," as they termed the act of returningto the surface.
It cost them more than half an hour of steady climbing before theyreached the upper part of the shaft and became aware that a storm wasraging in the regions above. On emerging from the mouth of the shaft or"ladder road," man and boy were in a profuse perspiration, and the sharpgale warned them to hasten to the moor-house at full speed.
Moor-houses were little buildings in which miners were wont to changetheir wet underground garments for dry clothes. Some of these used tobe at a considerable distance from the shafts, and the men were ofteninjured while going to them from the mine, by being exposed in anoverheated state to cutting winds. Many a stout able-bodied miner hashad a chill given him in this way which has resulted in premature death.Moor-houses have now been replaced by large drying-houses, near themouths of shafts, where every convenience is provided for the men dryingtheir wet garments and washing their persons on coming to the surface.
Having changed their clothes, uncle and nephew hastened to St. Just,where they dwelt in the cottage of Maggot, the blacksmith. This man,who has already been introduced to the reader, was brother-in-law toDavid, and father to Zackey.
When David Trevarrow entered his brother-in-law's cottage, and told himof his bad fortune, and of his resolution to try his luck next day inthe higher mine, little did he imagine that his change of purpose was tobe the first step in a succession of causes which were destined toresult, at no very distant period, in great changes of fortune to someof his friends in St. Just, as well as to many others in the county.
Deep Down, a Tale of the Cornish Mines Page 4