LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2163, 31 January 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MIKE BY THE SEA.

["Temple Bar."J

A stbahge sight in a coal mine. Wonderfully picturesque with its streets and lanes and alleys, its unending eonidors and cnnntless chambers of the dead The men there, with blackened faces and scanty attire, seem of another race from those above ground, and the feeble lights gleaming in the midst of the darkness gave a weird, unreal aspect to the scene.

The only sounds heard are those of the coal waggons slowly pushed along by bo; s towards the mouth of the pit, and in the narrow passages, where the men are at work, the olang of their pickaxes as they cleave their way through the great rocks of coal. Men are cot the only beings litre. There are horses tbat have not seen the daylight for many a year, to draw the waggons in the broader passages, and sometimes if the light of the lamp is turned toward the ground, the bright little eyes |of rats (how they come to that under-world I don't know) may be seen peering out of nooks among the walls. There is an almost fearful sombreneos about the place. Thoughts that the daylight wculd at once dispel seemed to haunt the air, and the voices of the men as they wandered about, each one, Gideon-like, with his lamp and pickaxe, have a deeper, hollower tone than above ground. For two days a storm, long remembered on the coast, had been raging ; but the men in the mine, accustomed as they wera to hearing the roar of the waves above their heads, paid little heed to the increased noise. George Heimers alone had noticed it, and eaoh day had spent more time than usnal in examining the supports of the roof. It was now night time, and he had been superintending some rather dangerous work in the lower levels, of blasting with gunpowder, which, much against his advice, the owner had ordered. This being do e, leaving further orders for work with the men, George turned away and walked alone in the direction of the pit's moutb, carrying in one band a large canister containing the gunpowder; in the other his lamp and the heavy stick that, on account of his lameness, was his constant companion. Even in the imperfect light it might have been seen that a great change had passed over his face. It was haggard and pinohed looking ; there was a strange restless glitter in his eyes, and now and then his lips parted with involuntary, quivering movements, quickly pressed together again with that stern, set expression that was now habitual to them.

Instead of leaving tho mine, a sudden thought seemed to strike him half-way, and he turned aside and entered a part of the mine long deserted on account of working too near the bottom cf the sea. but which recently had been opened again ; and though George had many times warned the owner of the danger of weakening the supports of the roof, large quantities of ooal had been taken from itAll was still as he advanced through the narrow passages, but soon these widened into a more open rpace, and as he entered the noise of the tnmultuous waters ovtrhead was fearfully loud. A cold draught of air smote on him and made him shiver. The place was known to the colliers as the 'Boggart's Hole,' or the 'Ghost's Hole.' It is an immense low-rocfed hall, one of those natural caverns that exist beneath the sea and land ; and in the centre was an abyss, into whose depths no human being had ever penetrated. The workings had been carried on along the Bides and a rude pathway led half-way round, abruptly stopping above the great chasm. The poor light which George had illumined only a narrow circle round him, but he knew the place well, and cautiously stepping along reached the part where the last workings had been made, and which was so low that he could touch with his hand the black slimy roof, to which gigantic loathsome fungi clnng. As he stood there wild fancies Btole over him. Loud above sounded the thunderous boom of the surf, and beneath him lay, wrapped in eternal darkness, the great mine stretching for miles into the depths o£ tbe earth. He seated himself on a pre jesting rock, the canister of powder on the ground at his sido, and the lamp held betv/aen his knees.

What were, his thoughts just then ? I know not at all—but thero was one fiercer than the clamor of the waves above, more terrible than the abyss beneath him—he had lost all, all! He looked buck upon his life —all had gone wrong from the beginning, and now when at last the cup of sweetness had seemed to be bo near his lips he had seen it dashed away. He ground his teeth with rage, and then his pas»ion took another form—his breast heaved, and a groat sobbing cry rose to his lips.

'lf she only knew how I love her! He love I A moment of the Jove I could give her would be more than a lifetime of his. But I know that never, never—let me make an end of it.

' Ah, and Jim Maasey, too; a light to thisr powder, and there'd be no victory to any one—the sea wonld cover us too cloie for that! But the others ?

'Pojhlit's only dying a little sooner; and what is life to stupid, toiling drudges like them ?"

A terrible smile passed over his face-; he plaoed the lamp by h!s side and bent over the canister. Cnly a light to the powder, and the rocks above would be riven, and with a mighty burst the sea would rash in and whelm them all ! He took out bis knife and prooeeded to open the lid of the canister, which, by some means had been fastened down too tightly. But hark ! Oloae bf side him, jußt beyond the ending of the path, he heard a rustling, cracking sound, then a crash, and a huge fragment of reck rolled cown and he waa only just in time to leap aeide before the place whore he ha 1 ! stood was covered with shivered portions of it as it descended, and, leaping from le.ige to ledge, at last, with sullen roar, was lost in the depth below. Still he listened, for another and more dreadful sound caught his ear—the low, swishing sound of falling water. He crept as near as he could aiong the narrow pathway, and as he did so h>'s face was sprinkled with the cold epray if the torrent. He held out hi* hand, and then, touching his lip, tasted the water. It was salt!

Still aad breathless as a statue he stood for & moment; the next, holding the lamp before him, he was rushing with wild speed down the broken pathway away from the place. As he approached the entrance he stopped, and for a moment looked around in bewilderment—he had mistaken the road, and instead of taking that by which he had come, had followed another, whioh abruptly stopped—a mass of coal had fallen and broken It off. He had no time to turn back. He threw his lamp down, and, as fortune would have it, it was not broken, but only fallen on one side about ten feet below ; the■ drawing in his breath, he prepared for the leap. He did not know the ground—the lamp had gone out. If he leaped he might fall into some deep fissure; but there was no time to hesitate. Be took the leap and fell; the firm ground was beneath him. His arm was braised and his ankle sprained, but he hardly felt it. Re-lighting his lamp, he dashed along through the narrow passages towards the main where the men were at work.

At last he met a boy slowly draggingalong a small coal waggon. He caught the lad by the shoulder and shouted to him. ' Can you run, Will?' 'Ay of can,' answered the boy.. ' Then run your hardest, Will. Tell them in the lower main the water's coming in, and in an hour it'll be fl >oded.'

' Fayther's there!? the boy cried, ami without another word rushed off.

Other boys were sent to the other parts of the mine, forced by George's stern voice to obey, as he told them he wonld not let one man leave the pit till they were all there.

_ Then he waited. And if any oni had seen his face aa he stood alone, a strange change would have been noticed in it. There was a look of ench triumphant gladness as for many a. year had not rested there. He stretched out his hands like one who had just ended some weary labcr. Then his band sank on his bosom, and he mattered : 'O God! Saved! Saved! Thou hast kept me from it, and I may yet save them all."

Quickly he recovered himself and went into a small office where he kept his books and instruments. He took from a box a small revolver and some matches and went out again. He then set light to a heap of shavings and dry wood lying near the door, and this soon blazed up, illuminating the whole place. And again he wai'ed Soon troop after troop of the men, flying at their utmost speed, reached the pit's mouth, and a fearful sight it was to see the struggling macs of men, each one. with maddened shouts and blows, striving tooome nearer to the basket. But George Heimere' voice was beard load above all — " The first that touches that basket before I toll him, I'll shoot that man !'

They saw the levelled barrel of the revolver and drew back. ' Those that are married stand here.'

And in sileDce the men obeyed him. He then signalled to a certain number of them to enter the basket. Not an instant was lost, and they were hoisted out of sight. The others strained their eyes to watch the ascending mass, calculating bow soon it would return to rescue them. Some of the men who had their suns with them clasped them tight in their arms, whispering, messages to be given if they were lost, for in nearly every case the fathers chose that the boys should go in their place ; some sank to the ground muttering prayers that they had never spoken since childhood, and others listened to George Helmers as he told them there was ttili hope if they would obey him.

Jim Massey had been In one of tbe moat distant workings, and was one of the last to reach the pic'a mouth, and now he stood by the wall apart, with eyes bent down on something he held in his hand—a lock of Bgnes's hair tr*',t she had given him the night before. More than half the numb r of men were now safe; and the basket, whirled up by those who knew just how much depended upni their work, had just left when Ueorge, in the calm voice with which he had spokenbefore, said—' Men, who's to go next ?' There were only about twenty left, men-and boys, whom George had many a time helped, by words and deeds; they remembered this,, and all cried at once—'Next turn's, thine,, master—we'll come after !'

' Thank you, my lads,' he answered quietly ; ' I'm not going this time, but I want to send some one in my place. Will. you let me V Rot so eagerly this time—but still the tnsuer. 'Ay, master !'was given. 'Jim, come here,'George shouted * Toutake my place when it comes again. Nay, lad, you must Bemember, Agues wants. you, Jim, you'll be good to her, won't you? And tell her sometimes the last words I tried to say were—" God bless both of you !" ' Once more the basket descended, the few that were chosen leaped into it, the ropewas shaken as the signal to hoist up, andwith one tight hand grip George sent Jim on. his way. *nd as they parted Jim looked ac the other's face, and never to his dying; day did he forget what he taw there—the bitterness of death had passed away, and a strange peace was shining forth from biseyes. It was the last freight. George already had heard the distant thunder of .the waters bursting in full flood into the mine. He knew the end was come, and when the basket was ascending he turned away down a side, passage that he might net see the agony of the poor men when they found it too late.

Jnet as the basket reached the level of the upper ground, where hundreds were waiting anxionsly to watch the arrival of each company- that waa saved, a tremendous black cloud rolled up the pit's mouth, bursting up with a fearful roar high into mid air, and when it had cleared away the man peered down the shaft, far away in the darkness btneath they could hoar the dash of the waves, and aonutimeß thought they could dieoerri their white gleam as they leaped up the sides of ihe shaft. Jim Massey and several others volunteered to go dewn and seek for any who be btill struggling in tho water. It was too late when they reached the place, and only a few of the dead bodies were ever recovered.

7he mice is now deserted, and its buildings are in ruins. come time after 'ihe disaster a part of tbe> cliff above it, probably undermined by the action of the waves, fell down one ctcimynight, and now thero is a great cavern. waudeHng away in dark paesag<s under the cliff whero part of the coal mice had bees.

It is ewy to penetrate beneath these gloomy atches in a boat during fine weather, and many times in a'ter days, Agneß—then a happy wife and mother—would come there with her children on summer days, and tell them the story of how their father's life had been aaved. And when she had ended and leaaeil back in the boat as they floated on through that silent gloom as of twilight, the large toars would gather in her eyes for him who lay in that unknown tomb of Hs Sax below, in some dark oarem at the sea.