CHAPTER TEN.
SHOWS HOW MAGGOT MADE A DESPERATE VENTURE, AND WHAT FLOWED FROM IT.
"A wilful man must have his way" is a proverb the truth of which wasillustrated by the blacksmith on the following day.
David Trevarrow again attempted to dissuade him from his purpose, andreiterated his offer to go in his stead, but he failed to move him.Mrs Maggot essayed, and added tears to her suasion, as also did littleGrace; but they failed too--the obdurate man would not give way. Theonly one of his household who did not attempt to dissuade him(excepting, of course, the baby, who cared nothing whatever about thematter) was Zackey. That urchin not only rejoiced in the failure of theothers to turn his father from his purpose, but pleaded hard to beallowed to go with him, and share his danger as well as glory. This,however, was peremptorily denied to the young aspirant to fame and apremature death by drowning in a dark hole.
Early in the forenoon Maggot and his friends proceeded to the shore,where they found a number of miners and others assembled near the aditmouth--among them our hero Oliver Trembath, Mr Donnithorne, and MrCornish, at that time the purser and manager of Botallack mine.
The latter gentleman accosted Maggot as he came forward, and advised himto be cautious. Of course the smith gave every assurance that wasrequired of him, and immediately prepared himself to make the dangerousexperiment.
Supplying himself with a number of tallow candles, a mining hammer, andother tools, Maggot stripped to the waist, and jestingly bidding hisfriends farewell, entered the mouth of the tunnel, and disappeared. Theadit level, or tunnel, through which he had to pass to the scene of hisoperations, was, as we have said, about a quarter of a mile in length,about six feet high, and two and a half feet wide. It varied indimensions here and there, however, and was rough and irregularthroughout.
For the first hundred yards or so Maggot could see well enough to gropehis way by the daylight which streamed in at the entrance of the adit,but beyond this point all was intense darkness; so here he stopped, and,striking a light by means of flint, steel, and tinder, lit one of hiscandles. This he attached to a piece of wet clay in the usual fashion,except that he placed the clay at the lower end of the candle instead ofround the middle of it. He then stuck it against the rock a littleabove the level of his head. Lighting another candle he advanced withit in his hand. Walking, or rather wading onward (for the stream wasankle-deep) far enough to be almost beyond the influence of the firstcandle, he stopped again and stuck up another. Thus, at intervals, heplaced candles along the entire length of the adit, so that he mighthave light to guide him in his race from the water which he hoped to setfree. This precaution was necessary, because, although he meant tocarry a candle in his hat all the time, there was a possibility--nay, astrong probability--that it would be blown or drowned out.
Little more than a quarter of an hour brought him to the scene of hisintended adventure. Here he found the water spirting out all round,much more violently than it had been the day before. He did not wastemuch time in consideration, having made up his mind on the previousvisit as to which part of the rock he would drive the hole through.Sticking his last candle, therefore, against the driest part of the wallthat could be found, he seized his tools and commenced work.
We have already said that Maggot was a strong man. As he stood there,naked to the waist, holding the borer with his left hand, and plying thehammer with all his might with the other, his great breadth of shoulderand development of muscle were finely displayed by the candlelight,which fell in brilliant gleams on parts of his frame, while the rest ofhim was thrown into shadow, so deep that it would have appeared black,but for the deeper shade by which it was surrounded--the whole scenepresenting a grand Rembrandt effect.
It is unnecessary to say that Maggot wrought with might and main.Excited somewhat by the novelty and danger of his undertaking, he feltrelieved by the violence of his exertion. He knew, besides, that thecandles which were to light him on his return were slowly but surelyburning down. Blow after blow resounded through the place incessantly.When the smith's right arm felt a very little wearied--it was toopowerful to be soon or greatly exhausted--he shifted the hammer to hisleft hand, and so the work went on. Suddenly and unexpectedly the borerwas driven to its head into the hole by a tremendous blow. The rockbehind it had given way. Almost at the same instant a large mass ofrock burst outwards, followed by a stream of water so thick and violentthat it went straight at the opposite side of the cavern, against whichit burst in white foam. This, rebounding back and around, rushedagainst roof and sides with such force that the whole place was at oncedeluged.
Maggot was knocked down at the first gush, but leaped up and turned tofly. Of course both candles--that in his hat as well as that which hehad affixed to the wall--were extinguished, and he was at once plungedin total darkness, for the rays of the next light, although visible,were too feeble to penetrate with any effect to the extremity of theadit. Blinded by rushing water and confused by his fall, the smithmistook his direction, and ran against the side of the level with suchviolence that he fell again, but his sturdy frame withstood the shock,and once more he sprang to his feet and leaped along the narrow tunnelwith all the energy of desperation.
Well was it for Maggot at that hour that his heart was bold and hisfaculties cool and collected, else then and there his career had ended.Bending forward and stooping low, he bounded away like a hunted deer,but the rush of water was so great that it rapidly gained on him, and,by concealing the uneven places in the path, caused him to stumble. Hisrelay of candles served him in good stead; nevertheless, despite theirlight and his own caution, he more than once narrowly missed dashing outhis brains on the low roof. On came the water after the fugitive, amighty, hissing, vaulting torrent, filling the level behind, and leapingup on the man higher and higher as he struggled and floundered on forlife. Quickly, and before quarter of the distance to the adit mouth wastraversed, it gurgled up to his waist, swept him off his legs, andhurled him against projecting rocks. Once and again did he succeed inregaining his foothold, but in a moment or two the rising flood swepthim down and hurled him violently onward, sporting with him on itsfoaming crest until it disgorged him at last, and cast him, stunned,bruised, and bleeding, on the seashore.
Of course the unfortunate man's friends had waited for him with someimpatience, and great was their anxiety when the first of the flood madeits appearance. When, immediately after, the battered form of theircomrade was flung on the beach, they ran forward and bore him out of thestream.
Oliver Trembath being on the spot, Maggot wae at once attended to, andhis wounds bound up.
"He'll do; he's all right," said Oliver, on completing the work--"onlygot a few cuts and bruises, and lost a little blood, but that won't harmhim."
The expression of anxiety that had appeared on the faces of those whostood around at once vanished on hearing these reassuring words.
"I knaw'd it," said John Cock energetically. "I knaw'd he couldn't bekilled--not he."
"I trust that you may be right, Oliver," said old Mr Donnithorne,looking with much concern on the pale countenance of the poor smith, whostill lay stretched out, with only a slight motion of the chest to provethat the vital spark had not been altogether extinguished.
"No fear of him, he's sure to come round," replied Oliver; "come, lads,up with him on your backs."
He raised the smith's shoulder as he spoke. Three tall and powerfulminers promptly lent their aid, and Maggot was raised shoulder-high, andconveyed up the steep, winding path that led to the top of the cliff.
"It would never do to lose Maggot," murmured Mr Donnithorne, as ifspeaking to himself while he followed the procession beside Mr Cornish;"he's far too good a--"
"A smuggler--eh?" interrupted the purser, with a laugh.
"Eh, ah! did I say smuggler?" cried Mr Donnithorne; "surely not, for ofall vices that of smuggling is one of the worst, unless it be anoverfondness for the bottle. I meant to have said that he is toovaluab
le a man for St. Just to lose--in many ways; and you know, MrCornish, that he is a famous wrestler--a man of whom St. Just may bejustly proud."
Mr Donnithorne cast a sly glance at his companion, whom he knew to bepartial to the ancient Cornish pastime of wrestling. Indeed, if reportsaid truly, the worthy purser had himself in his youthful days been acelebrated amateur wrestler, one who had never been thrown, evenalthough he had on more than one occasion been induced in a frolic toenter the public ring and measure his strength with the best men thatcould be brought against him. He was long past the time of life whenmen indulge in such rough play, but his tall commanding figure and hugechest and shoulders were quite sufficient to warrant the belief thatwhat was said of him was possible, while the expression of his finemassive countenance, and the humorous glance of his clear, black eye,bore evidence that it was highly probable.
"'Twould be foul injustice," said the purser with a quiet laugh, "if Iwere to deny that Maggot is a good man and true, in the matter ofwrestling; nevertheless he is an arrant rogue, and defrauds the revenuewoefully. But, after all he is only the cat's-paw; those who employ himare the real sinners--eh, Mr Donnithorne?"
"Surely, surely," replied the old gentleman with much gravity; "and itis to be hoped that this accident will have the effect of turning Maggotfrom his evil ways."
The purser could not refrain from a laugh at the hypocritical solemnityof the old gentleman, who was, he well knew, one of the very sinnerswhom he condemned with such righteous indignation, but their arrival atMaggot's cottage prevented further conversation on the subject at thattime.
Mrs Maggot, although a good deal agitated when her husband's almostinanimate and bloody form was carried in and laid on the bed, was by nomeans overcome with alarm. She, like the wives of St. Just minersgenerally, was too well accustomed to hear of accidents and to see theirresults, to give way to wild fears before she had learned the extent ofher calamity; so, when she found that it was not serious, she dried hereyes, and busied herself in attending to all the little duties which theoccasion required. Little Grace, too, although terribly frightened, andvery pale, was quite self-possessed, and went about the house assistingher mother ably, despite the tendency to sob, which she found it verydifficult to overcome. But the baby behaved in the most shameful andoutrageous manner. His naughtiness is almost indescribable. Theinstant the door opened, and his father's bloody face was presented toview, baby set up a roar so tremendous that a number of dogs in theneighbourhood struck in with a loud chorus, and the black kitten,startled out of an innocent slumber, rushed incontinently under the bed,faced about, and fuffed in impotent dismay!
But not only did baby roar--he also fell on the floor and kicked,thereby rendering his noise exasperating, besides exposing his fatperson to the risk of being trod upon. Zackey was therefore told off asa detachment to keep this enemy in check, a duty which he performednobly, until his worthy father was comfortably put to bed, after whichthe friends retired, and left the smith to the tender care of his ownfamily.
"He has done good service anyhow," observed Mr Donnithorne to hisnephew, as he parted from him that evening; "for he has cleared the mineof water that it would have cost hundreds of pounds and many months topump out."
Deep Down, a Tale of the Cornish Mines Page 10