Stephen bobbed his head. “I will do my best, sir.”
He meant it. He felt very lucky to be a guide rather than a field hand, or even a carriage driver or house servant, who were much more respected than slaves who worked outdoors. He did not intend to fail at his job.
In the morning, after breakfast, the visitors were ready for their descent into the cave. Mr. Miller led the chattering group down the hill to the entrance.
Stephen was waiting by the top of the rocky stairs. He wore his new clothing: striped pants, a brown jacket, and a slouch hat. On his feet were the sturdy shoes Mr. Gorin had provided.
Miller introduced him to the travelers.
“This is our boy, Stephen. I trained him myself, and he knows all the trails in the cave. You may feel safe and secure in his presence.”
Stephen bowed to the two young ladies. One was tall and strong-looking, the other smaller and more delicate. The smaller woman held the arm of one of the gentlemen.
“I trust you all read the tour rules posted at the inn,” Miller went on. “Most important of all is, do not lose sight of your guide. If you feel the need to rest, please inform Stephen. The group must stay together at all times. There is no danger in the cave, and no one has ever been injured on a tour. But if you stop, or try to examine something off the trail, it is possible to be left behind by accident.”
The ladies whispered to each other. The taller one looked rather excited, but the other was pale.
“Stephen will carry provisions for your visit,” Miller went on. He pointed to a large wicker basket covered with cloth. “You will refresh yourself in most unusual surroundings!”
Stephen handed a lantern and a canteen to each of the men on the tour. The taller woman was smiling and seemed ready to go. She twitched her long skirt up to her ankles and proceeded down the rocky stairs.
“Tread carefully, Elizabeth!” the younger woman called. She held back from the steps. “I don’t think I am capable of this, Willis,” she said to the young man who stood with her.
“I will take perfect care of you. What else is a husband for?” The man gave her a little hug. “Come, Minetta, it will be such fun!”
Archibald Miller said nothing. He glanced at Stephen as if to say, “How can you convince her?”
Stephen thought quickly. He remembered his own first impressions of the cave. Perhaps the lady was afraid of the dark.
“It is most amazing the way one’s eyes adjust to the interior of the cave, madam,” he said quietly to the woman and her husband, as the others headed down the stairs. “In each large room I build a fire, so that you may see more of the grand surroundings. In the passageways, our lanterns will be quite sufficient to light the way. There is no danger of becoming lost.”
The young man looked hopeful. “What do you think, Minetta?” he said. “I do so want to see the cave.”
Stephen thought of something else Archibald Miller had told him, about travelers from Europe. “We receive many visitors from the Continent,” he said. “They have begun to call this cavern one of the wonders of the world.”
The lady smiled, just a little. “Then we must see it, so that we may describe it to our friends in Nashville.” She looked at Stephen. “Lead on, guide.”
Stephen’s heart leaped. He had not lost a customer! Archibald Miller nodded to him and turned to go. Stephen was on his own.
Stephen led many tours in the weeks that followed. As spring turned to summer, the weather grew hot and humid. A steady stream of visitors arrived to spend a few days at the inn, relaxing in the cool shade of the oak and maple trees. And almost every visitor paid to enter the cave.
The hotel provided them with special outfits to cover their better clothing. They were not attractive. But because the tours involved climbing ladders, pushing through dusty passageways, and getting muddy, many people chose to wear the clothing.
On every tour, Stephen began his talk while the visitors filled their canteens. He told them that the temperature inside Mammoth stayed the same all year round—about fifty-four degrees. His visitors always asked about the curious wind from the cave mouth. Stephen told them that it always blew outward when the outside air was warmer than the air inside the cave. On winter days, when the air inside the cave was warmer than the air outside, the wind blew into the cave. His visitors murmured with interest.
Stephen enjoyed answering their many questions. He had taken to carrying his lantern on the end of a long wooden stick so that he could hold it out to light objects a short distance away.
“What are these wooden pipes?” one gentleman inquired, pointing to the ground inside the Narrows.
Stephen explained that the pipes had carried water to the mining operations inside during the War of 1812. He pointed out the ruts left in the passage floor by oxcarts.
“The slaves who worked here left the cave every night, but the oxen could not climb the rocks,” he told them. “They stayed inside for months. Yet they lived in perfect health. Farther on I will show you the corncobs still scattered around where the animals used to eat.”
The tours seemed to go well. Even visitors who started out being nervous, like the young lady Stephen led on his very first day, enjoyed themselves as they gazed upon the vast Rotunda and the passageways beyond.
He had taken to carrying his lantern on the end of a long wooden stick so that he could hold it out to light objects a short distance away.
And Stephen got very good at telling his stories. He got plenty of practice!
Beyond the Church, Stephen led his tours past an enormous slab of broken stone named Steamboat Rock. One end of this rock came to a point, making it look like a miniature river steamboat without the big paddlewheels.
Steamboat Rock was almost three times as tall as Stephen himself. Behind it was an opening in the cave wall that led to the Wooden Bowl Room. Often Stephen took visitors down the narrow passageway in order to tell them about Mammoth’s famous mummy, Fawn Hoof.
“White men were not the first to enter Mammoth Cave,” he said to one group, as they followed him down a low tunnel. “Long, long ago, the Indians came inside. Here’s how they found their way.”
In the Wooden Bowl Room, Stephen showed his customers what the Indians had left behind: short bundles of dried reeds, tied together at one end and burned away at the other. “These are the remains of torches made out of the same cane that grows along Green River today,” he said. “The Indians must have burned these to light their way.” He showed the visitors other items as well. There were some crude woven mats, a bowl made from a dried-out gourd, and some sticks that were worn on one end, as if they had been used for digging.
And then Stephen told them the story of Fawn Hoof.
“It is unfortunate that you did not visit the cave just a few short years ago,” he said. “At that time, you would have seen the famous mummy called Fawn Hoof. Miners digging for saltpeter found her burial place.”
The tour customers whispered to each other. The dark cave was a spooky place to be hearing about dead bodies!
Stephen lowered his voice to make the story sound even more mysterious. “They found her mummified body sitting upright in a hole lined with stones,” he told the visitors. “She must have been there for a very long time, because her body was all dried out. But she had been buried with loving care. She was wrapped in a deerskin decorated with beads and feathers. Around her neck, on a leather string, hung the hoof of a young deer. And that is how Fawn Hoof received her name.”
For a while the mummy was displayed in Mammoth Cave, he told the customers, but later her body was taken away and displayed at curiosity shows around the country.
As the tour moved on, Stephen wondered once again why the Indians came so far into the darkness with only a few flimsy torches for light. What had they been seeking? His customers would talk for a while about the mystery as the
y followed him out of the Wooden Bowl Room.
A rocky natural staircase leading down from the Wooden Bowl Room was called the Steps of Time. Beyond that was a series of rooms called the Deserted Chambers. Stephen warned the visitors to beware as he showed them Side-Saddle Pit, Covered Pit, and finally, the most frightening chasm of all, Bottomless Pit.
As they approached it, Stephen told his customers to stand still and wait for instructions. Then he held his lantern high. Now they could see that the rocky passageway they were following ended at a steep drop-off. Around the drop-off, walls rose steeply to a high ceiling. Those visitors who were brave enough to creep up to the edge of the drop-off could see no bottom below.
Stephen threw a rock down into Bottomless Pit. The visitors counted while it skipped and clattered down into the darkness. It always took quite a while for the sound to die away, but no one ever heard the rock splash into water below or land on a stony bottom. No one knew how deep the pit really was.
Bottomless Pit was much too wide to jump, and Stephen could see no way down its steep sides. But on the other side of the chasm, the passageway continued. It headed up a gentle slope, then over a rise and out of sight.
Stephen often gazed across the opening, wondering what was on the other side. He had a great urge to explore more of Mammoth Cave. Bottomless Pit was uncrossable for now, but he had another spot in mind.
On Sundays, most slaves were allowed to rest from their labors. Those who wished could attend church and listen to Sunday service from the back of the room. Others cultivated their garden plots or went hunting in the woods. Squirrel, woodchuck, and rabbit made a welcome addition to the bacon, cornmeal, and molasses the slaves were given to eat.
Stephen sometimes went swimming in Green River, which was down the hill from Mammoth Cave. Or he walked the long miles to Glasgow to see his mother and brother. But this Sunday he had a different plan.
He asked Nita for some cornbread and beans for his lunch, filled a lantern with oil, and took plenty of matches. Then, all by himself, he slipped off to the cave.
By now the trails were easy for him. Stephen moved briskly down the Grand Gallery. He kept the lantern light very low, just bright enough that he wouldn’t trip over a rock.
He had never been alone in the cave before, but he wasn’t afraid. Somehow he felt welcome in that enormous place.
Very soon he reached Steamboat Rock. He passed through the Wooden Bowl Room and the Deserted Chambers. Just before the Bottomless Pit lay the object of his quest. Stephen knelt down beside it, his heart beating fast.
Right here, a crack in the floor led down to a lower level called the Labyrinth. Archibald Miller had taken Stephen this way just once. He had told Stephen that “labyrinth” means a confusing maze. The tunnels on the lower level turned and twisted. It was easy to get lost, and that was why the tours never came this way.
Stephen eased his way down into the narrow opening. He moved carefully. If he dropped the lantern, it might break, and he had no other. It would be a long, dark journey back to the mouth of the cave.
But he felt like a real explorer, and he was determined not to be afraid. He had the feeling that some thrilling sight was just waiting to be discovered. He wanted to be the one to discover it.
He eased down out of the crack and found himself standing in a high, narrow passageway. He tried to remember where Archibald Miller had taken him. In one direction lay Bottomless Pit, but there was no way to cross it on this level, either. What was in the other direction?
Stephen thought for a moment. He dared not lose his way. Only Nita knew he was in the cave, and she had no idea where he was exploring. If Stephen got lost, no one would know where to find him.
He had tucked a few candles in with his lunch. He dug one out and lit it from the lantern flame. Then he stuck it into a crack between the rocks on the floor and watched to see if it would blow out.
But this deep inside the cave, there was no wind at all. The little flame burned steadily. With it to mark the place where he had entered the Labyrinth, Stephen felt safe to explore further.
He moved down the tunnel cautiously, making sure to watch the floor in front of him. Now the main tunnel began to branch off in many directions. Stephen ventured a little way down one passageway, but quickly returned. All these rocky pathways looked the same. Now he understood why this place was called the Labyrinth.
Then he had an idea.
He lit another candle stub. This time he used the smoke from the candle flame to burn a crude arrow onto the wall of the cave. It pointed back the way he had come.
As long as he marked his way back, he would be safe. He went on, holding his lantern high.
The tunnels twisted and turned, but Stephen kept to as straight a path as he could manage. At each intersection he was careful to smoke an arrow pointing back along his trail.
He came to a place where a dome rose overhead, and remembered that Archibald Miller had shown this to him. Beyond the dome, a steep slope rose up in front of them, and they had decided to turn back.
Now Stephen took another look at this slope. He held his lantern high and walked back and forth. He thought he could see a shadow just under the ceiling. Was there another passageway up above?
Stephen set down his lantern and tried to scramble up the steep slope. The rock was very slippery, and he quickly slid back down. The second time, he looked for handholds and footholds. He climbed partway up, but had to give up when there was nothing else to grab on the smooth wall.
He wouldn’t give up. There was another passage up there, he could feel it.
Once again he started up, moving crablike back and forth across the slippery slope. Slowly, slowly, he climbed. The lantern light cast strange wavering shadows on the wall.
This time Stephen was successful. And he was rewarded—for there was another passageway ahead of him!
Stephen’s lantern still burned down below. He dared not try to climb up here with it; it could easily break. So he pulled out his last candle stub and lit it.
It gave a meager light. Stephen peered into the darkness. He moved forward slowly, making sure that the candle lit the ground ahead of him. There might be cracks or holes in the floor.
Soon he was glad of his caution. He came to a shallow pit. He might have broken his leg if he had walked into it. Then he would have been trapped, maybe to be discovered someday just like Fawn Hoof.
He slid carefully down into the pit. There was an opening in the right-hand wall, almost like a window. Stephen thrust his candle into the blackness. What he saw made his eyes widen.
He was looking into a huge vertical shaft. It was like looking up into a wide, rocky tunnel. Stephen’s light was not bright enough to show either a roof or a floor. But straight across from him was a beautiful sight.
Most of the walls in Mammoth Cave were of gray stone. But this shaftway was beautifully colored. It looked as though an enormous yellow-and-white candle had melted down the curved walls. Streaks of red and black added even more color.
Water dripped across the wall from some unseen source overhead. The wet rock gleamed in the dim light from Stephen’s candle.
Stephen was thrilled. Was he the first person ever to see this sight? He would not be the last, that was certain. It had not been so difficult to get here from the upper level. Ladders could be built at the steepest parts of the trail so that other visitors could make the journey.
He headed home to tell Mr. Gorin that his cave held a wonderful new tourist attraction.
Across the Bottomless Pit
Franklin Gorin wanted to see Stephen’s discovery for himself. It had been a long time since anything new was found inside Mammoth. On September 5, 1838, he told Stephen to lead the way back into the cave.
Archibald Miller and George Tapscott, the carpenter, came along as well. Stephen had told them about the slippery climb up the slope, so
the men brought a wooden ladder along. They also brought a length of strong rope.
When they reached the Labyrinth, Stephen started forward. Behind him, the others hesitated as they looked at the confusing maze of passages. Then Stephen showed them his arrow markings.
“Very smart, Stephen,” Gorin said. He seemed very pleased.
The men carried the ladder to the steep wall that Stephen had worked so hard to climb. Now it was easy to reach the new level. Gorin and the others gazed into the “window” for a look at the new shaft. Archibald Miller had brought some balls of oil-soaked cotton. He lit one and threw it into the pit.
As the burning cotton drifted slowly downward, the glowing flame revealed even more beautiful details of the shaft. Down, down it fell, until it hit a pool of water at the bottom.
“I’d guess sixty, seventy feet deep,” Miller said. “And look how high up it goes!”
“It’s beautiful. I’m calling it Gorin’s Dome,” the cave’s owner said proudly.
It wasn’t fair, Stephen thought to himself. Everyone would believe that Mr. Gorin had made the discovery. There was nothing Stephen could do about it. Mr. Gorin owned the cave. And Mr. Gorin owned him. So Stephen kept quiet.
The four men ventured on. They found a second window overlooking the beautiful shaft. Beyond that the passageway seemed to hit a dead end.
Hanging from the roof of the cave was a beautiful stone curtain so wide that it walled off the pathway. The men paused to regard it.
By now Stephen had learned that the stalactites were formed by water dripping down from the surface above the cave. The water dissolved the rock bit by bit. Over hundreds and thousands of years, the dripping water formed stalactites, draperies, and other formations from the dissolved rock.
Journey to the Bottomless Pit Page 3