Deep Down, a Tale of the Cornish Mines

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  DESCRIBES "HOLING TO A HOUSE OF WATER" AND ITS TERRIBLE CONSEQUENCES.

  One morning, about seven o'clock, George and James, the two fair-hairedsons of poor John Batten of Botallack, started for their work as usual.They were in high spirits, having obtained a good "pitch" on lastsetting-day, and things were looking well.

  They put on their underground clothing at the changing-house, and withseveral spare candles attached to buttons on the breasts of their coats,and their tools slung over their shoulders, walked towards the head ofthe ladder-shaft. At the mouth of the shaft they paused for a momentand glanced round. The sky was bright, the landscape green, and the sunlit up many a distant sail on the Atlantic.

  "I do wish," said the younger with a slight sigh, "that our work wasmore in the sunshine?"

  "You'll never be a true miner, Jimmy, if 'ee go hankerin' after the sunlike that," said his brother with a laugh, as he stepped on the ladderand began to descend.

  Jimmy took a last look at the rising sun, and followed him close withoutreplying. The lads were soon beyond the reach of daylight.

  This was the last they ever saw of earthly sunshine. In a few minutesthere came a low soft sound up the shaft; it was the lads singing one ofWesley's beautiful hymns. They had been taught to sing these by theirmother from their infancy, and usually beguiled the tedium of the longdescent of the ladders by singing one or two of them.

  Arrived at their place of work the brothers threw down their tools,fixed their candles against the walls of the level, and began the labourof the day.

  Other men were in that part of the mine at the time, and the brothersfound that a message had been sent to one of the captains requesting himto come and examine the place, as the men were becoming uneasy at theincreasing flow of water from the walls. One miner, named John Nicols,was "driving an end," that is, extending the level lengthwise, and twoothers were "stopeing," or cutting up into the roof in pursuit of apromising little lode. They were using hammer and pick in soft groundwhen the water trickled through to them.

  It was well known that they were approaching an old part of the minewhich had not been worked for thirty years. The drainage of the groundwas not, however, accurately known, therefore questions had been put toexperienced miners as to the probable condition of this "untapped land."The answer was that, as far as was known, the old mine was full of"deads," that is, of rubbish, and that there was therefore, in allprobability, no gathering of water in it.

  Just at that moment one of the captains entered the level, accompaniedby Oliver Trembath. The latter had been called to see a patient nearthe mine, and chanced to be with the captain when he was summoned.Being anxious to see the place, and the nature of the danger thatthreatened, he had descended along with him.

  Before the captain had time to put a question, and while the men werestill picking cautiously at the soft ground, the flow of water suddenlyincreased. Recognising probable danger, a lad named Oats called to hisfather, who was at the "end" of the level with Nicols. At the samemoment the water forced a gap in the wall three feet long by about halfa foot wide, and burst in upon them with terrific violence. All turnedand fled. Oats and his son, with the captain and Nicols, made for thenearest shaft--which was about eighty yards distant--and escaped, butthe brothers Batten and Oliver were thrown down and swept away. Onedesperate effort was made by Oliver to outstrip the rushing stream; butthe candles had been blown out, and, not stooping sufficiently low, hedashed his head against an overhanging rock, and fell. He retainedsufficient consciousness, however, to be aware that a desperate strugglefor life must be made, and, without knowing what he did, or at what heaimed, he fought with the strength of a giant in thick darkness againstthe chaotic flood; but his strength soon gave way, and in a few secondshe became insensible.

  That a terrible catastrophe had occurred was at once known to all themen in the mine by the roar of the rushing water. In order that thereader may clearly understand the situation, it is necessary to explainthat the accident occurred in one of the _upper_ levels, at or near itsextremity. At the same depth there were many of these undergroundpassages, running in various directions, and several miles in extent,some of them being worked, but most of them old and used up--all the orehaving been extracted from them. At various depths below this levelother levels had been cut--also running in various directions, and ofseveral miles' extent. These successive levels were not only connectedand communicated with by the main shafts of the mine, but by "winzes" orsmaller shafts which connected level with level in many places. Some ofthese were used as ladder-ways, but others had been cut merely for thepurpose of securing ventilation. In many parts of these lower levelsminers were at work--some, in following the course of promising lodes,"stopeing," or cutting overhead, some cutting downwards, some "drivingends" or extending the levels, and others sinking winzes to keep up theventilation as they pushed further and further from the shafts orthroats, down which flowed the life-giving air.

  By all of these men the dreaded sounds above--which reached theprofounder depths with the muffled but deep-toned roar of a distantstorm--were well understood and well heard, for the pent-up waters, intheir irresistible fury, carried before them the pent-up atmosphere, andsent it through the low and narrow levels as if through the circlingtubes of a monster trumpet, which, mingled with the crash of hurlingtimbers, rocks, and debris, created a mighty roar that excelled inhideous grandeur the prolonged peals of loud thunder.

  Every man dropped his tools, and ran to the nearest shaft for his life.It was not, indeed, probable that the flood would fill all thewide-extended ramifications of the vast mine, but no one knew forcertain where the catastrophe had occurred, or how near the danger mightbe to the spot where he laboured. Enough for each that death wasdealing terrible destruction somewhere _overhead_, and that, unlessevery muscle were strained to the uttermost, the pathway might be filledup, and his retreat cut off. The rush was swiftly but not easily made.Those who have never traversed the levels of a Cornish mine may perhapsfancy, on hearing of levels six feet high, and about two and a half feetbroad, on the average, that the flight might resemble the rush of menthrough the windings and turnings of the intricate passages in astupendous old castle. But it was far otherwise. The roofs, walls, andfloors of these levels were irregular, not only in direction, but inheight and form. There was no levelling or polishing-off anywhere. Itwas tunnelling of the roughest kind. Angles and projections remained asthe chisel, the pick, and the blasting-powder had left them. Here, thefoot tripped over a lump, or plunged into a hollow; there, the headnarrowly missed a depending mass of rock, or the shoulder grazed aprojecting one. Elsewhere, pools of water lay in the path, and atintervals the yawning chasm of a winze appeared, with one or two brokenplanks to bridge the gulf, of twenty, forty, or sixty feet, thatdescended to the levels below. Sometimes it was possible to run withthe head stooped a little; generally the back had to be bent low--oftendouble; and occasionally progress could only be made on hands andknees,--this, too, with a candle to be guarded from blasts of air ordripping water, and trimmed, lest it should go out and leave the placein total darkness.

  But long-continued habit and practice had made the men so familiar withthe place, and so nimble in their movements, that they traversed thelevels with wonderful rapidity, and most of them ascended the shaft ofthe mine in safety.

  Some, however, escaped with the utmost difficulty, and a few therewere--chiefly among those who had been near to or immediately below thescene of the outbreak--who perished miserably.

  At the first rush the water had almost filled the level where itoccurred, and, sweeping onward about eight fathoms to a winze, plungeddown and partly over it. The greater part, however, went down to theeighty-five fathom level. East of this a man named Anguin, with his twosons, William and James--youths of about twenty years of age--were atwork. They heard the roar of the approaching torrent, and the fatherand younger son James rushed towards the winze, intending to asc
end theladder. Before they reached it the flood was pouring down withdeafening noise. The least harmful part of the cataract was the water,for the current now carried along with it stones, pieces of timber, andrubbish. To encounter all this might have caused the stoutest hearts toquail, but miners can never calculate the probable extent of aninundation. They might, indeed, by remaining in the roof of the level,escape; but, on the other hand, if the flood should be great enough tofill the place, they would certainly be drowned. Father and son,therefore, preferred to make a desperate effort to save their lives.They dashed into the flood and made a grasp at the ladder, but beforetheir hands touched the first round they were beaten down and swept awaydead corpses. William, on the other hand, climbed to a cross-piece oftimber, where he remained until the water abated, which it did in a veryshort time, for events of this kind are for the most part awfully suddenand brief as well as fatal. Then, descending, he groped his way in thedark over the very spot where his father and brother lay dead--fearfullymutilated and covered with rubbish--and escaped up the shaft.

  In a still lower level two brothers were at work. Miners usually workin couples--sometimes in larger numbers--and brothers frequently gotogether. They were in a winze about thirty fathoms from theengine-shaft. Being overtaken by the flood they were washed _down_, tothe next level, and along it nearly to the shaft. As the torrent torepast this place, bearing splintered timber, stones, and rubbish alongwith it, an iron wagon was caught up and flung across the level. Thisformed a barricade, against which the brothers were dashed. The elderof these brothers was afterwards found alive here, and carried to thesurface; but he was speechless, and died twenty minutes after beingbrought up. When the dead body of the younger and weaker brother wasrecovered, it was found to be dreadfully shattered, nearly every bonebeing crushed.

  In the same level, two men--John Paul and Andrew Teague--hearing therush of the advancing torrent above their head, made for a shaft, wentup it against a heavy fall of water, and escaped.

  A man named Richard--a powerful man and a cool experienced miner, whohad faced death in almost every form--was at work in one of the lowestlevels with his son William, a youth of twenty-one, and his nephew, alad of seventeen, who was the sole support of a widowed mother with sixchildren. They were thirty fathoms from one of the winzes down whichthe water streamed. On hearing the roar Richard cautioned the youngermen to be prompt, but collected. No time was to be lost, but rash hastemight prove as fatal as delay. He sent them on in front of him, andthey rushed under and past the winze, where they were nearly crushed bythe falling water, and where, of course, their candles wereextinguished, leaving them in midnight darkness. This last was not soserious a matter to the elder Richard as, at first sight, it mightappear. He knew every foot of the ground they had to traverse, with allits turnings, yawning chasms, and plank bridges, and could have led theway blindfold almost as easily as with a light. As they neared theshaft he passed the younger men, and led the way to prevent them fallinginto it. At this time the water raged round them as high as theirwaists. The nephew, who was weak, in consequence of a fever from whichhe had not quite recovered, fell, and, passing the others unobserved,went down the shaft and was lost. The escape of Richard and his son wasmost wonderful. William was a stout fellow, but the father much moreso. They were driven at first into the shaft, but there the fall ofwater was so great that they could do nothing more than cling to theladder. By this cataract they were beaten back into the level, but herethe water rose around them so quickly and with such force as to obligethem to make another effort to ascend.

  There was a crevice in the roof of the level here, in which the fatherhad left part of his supply of candles and a tinder-box. He succeededin reaching these, and in striking a light, which revealed to them thefull horrors of their situation. It was with difficulty that the candlecould be kept burning by holding it close to the roof under a projectingpiece of rock which sheltered it partially from the dashing spray.

  "Let us try again!" shouted the father.

  The noise was so great that it was with difficulty they could make eachother hear.

  "It's all over with we," cried the son; "let us pray, faither."

  The father urged his son, however, to make another effort, as the waterhad risen nearly to their waists, and prevailed on him to do so, gettingon the ladder himself first, in order to bear the brunt of the fallingwater and thus break its force to his son. As the water below was nowrising swiftly William only held the light long enough to enable hisfather to obtain a secure footing on the ladder, when he dropped it andfollowed him. So anxious was the youth to escape from the danger thatmenaced him from below, that he pressed eagerly up against his father.In doing so, he over-reached the rounds of the ladder on which hisfather trod, and, almost at every step, the latter unwittingly plantedhis heavy-nailed boots on the son's hands, lacerating them terribly. Toavoid this was impossible. So heavy was the descending flood, that itwas only his unusually great strength which enabled the father toadvance slowly up against it. The son, being partially sheltered by hisfather's body, knew not the power against which he had to contend, and,being anxious to go up faster, pressed too closely on him, regardless,in his alarm, of the painful consequences. Masses of stone, wood, andrubbish, dashed down the shaft and grazed their shoulders, butprovidentially none struck them severely. Thus, slowly and painfully,did they ascend to a height of eighty-four feet, and were saved.

  In another part of the mine, below the level where the accidentoccurred, James Penrose, whom we have already introduced to the reader,was at work with John Cock. The latter having taken a fancy to trymining for a time instead of smuggling--just by way of a change--hadjoined the former in working a "pitch" in Botallack mine. These menwere peculiarly situated. They were in a level which the water entered,not by flowing along or descending, but, by rising up through a winze.On hearing the noise they ran to this winze, and, looking down, saw thewater boiling and roaring far below. They were about to pass on to theshaft when Penrose observed a dark object moving on the ladder. It cameslowly up.

  "Hallo! John," cried Penrose, "stay a bit; here's some one on theladder."

  John Cock returned, and they both stooped to afford help. In anothermoment Oliver Trembath, drenched and bleeding, and covered with mud,stood, or rather reeled, before them. It was evident that he was onlyhalf conscious, and scarcely able to stand. But they had no time tospeak--scarcely to think--for the water was already boiling up throughthe winze like a huge fountain, and filling the level. They seizedOliver by the arms and dragged him hastily towards the nearest winzethat led upward. Here they found water pouring down like rain, andheard its thunders above them, but the stream was not sufficient toretard their progress up the winze, which they ascended with comparativeease. Penrose and Cock were surprised at this, but the small quantityof water was soon accounted for by the fact that the hatch or trap-doorof the winze had been closed; and thus, while it prevented the greatbody of water above from descending, also effectually shut off the onlyway of escape. They were therefore compelled to descend again to thelevel, in which the water was now rising rapidly.

  Oliver leaned against the rock, and stood in apathetic silence. Penrosetried to rouse him, but failed. His injuries had rendered him almost incapable of coherent speech, and his replies showed that his mind wasrambling on the necessity of making haste and struggling hard.

  James Penrose, who was a "class-leader" and a local preacher among theWesleyans, and mentally much superior to his comrades, now proved beyonda doubt that his God was to him "a very present help in trouble." Bothhe and Cock knew, or at least believed, that death was certain toovertake them in a few minutes, for both before and behind retreat wascut off, and the water was increasing with frightful rapidity.Observing that Cock looked anxious, Penrose turned and saidearnestly,--"John, you and I shall be dead in a few minutes.

  "For myself I have no fear, for my peace is already made with God,through Jesus Christ--blessed
be His name--but, oh! John, you do knowthat it is not so with you. Turn, John, turn, even now, to the Lord,who tells you that `though thy sins be as scarlet they shall be as whiteas snow,' and that `_now_ is the day of salvation,' if you will onlyrepent, and believe on Him!"

  "Pray for un, James," said Cock, whose face betrayed his fears.

  Penrose at once clasped his hands, and, closing his eyes, prayed for hiscomrade with such fervour that his voice rose loud and strong above theturmoil of the flood. He was still engaged in prayer when the waterdrove them from the level, and compelled them to re-ascend the winze.Here John Cock began to pray for himself in agonising tones. By thistime Oliver had partially recovered, and suggested that they shouldascend the winze to the top. Penrose assured him that it was useless todo so; but, while he was still speaking, he observed that the waterceased to rise, and began quickly to abate. In fact, all that we havetaken so long to describe--from the outburst to the termination of thegreat rush--took place within half an hour.

  The noise overhead now grew less and less, until it almost ceased. Theythen ascended to the trap-door and tried to force it open, but failed.They shouted, however, and were heard, ere long, by those who hadescaped and had returned to the mine to search for their less fortunatecompanions. The trap-door was opened, strong and willing hands werethrust down the dark winze to the rescue, and in a few seconds the threemen were saved.

  The danger was past--but several lives had been lost in the terriblecatastrophe.