LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2185, 25 February 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MINE BY THE SEA. [Concluded.) Ab he ttood tliero wild fancies stole over him. I.rnd above sounded the thunderous boom of the surf, aDd beneath him lay, wrapped in eternal darkness, the great mine, stretching for miles into the depths of the earth. He seated himself on a projecting rock, the canister of powder on the ground at his side, and the lamp held between his knees.

What were his thoughts just then ? I know not all—but there was one, fiercer than the clamour of the waves above, more terrible than the abyss beneath him—he had lost all, all!

He looked back upon his life—all had gone wroDg from the beginning, and now, when at last the cup of sweetness had seemed to bo so near his lips, he had seen it dashed away. He ground his teeth with rage, and then his pusion took another form his breast heaved, and a great sobbing cry rose to his lips. •If she only knew how I loved her ! He love ! A moment of the lovo I could give her would be more than a lifetime of hia. But I know that never, never—let me make an end of it.

' Ah, and Jim Massy, too; a light to his powder, and there'd be no victory to anyone —the sea would cov?r us too close for that I But the others ? Pooh 1 it's only dying a little sooner ; and what is life to stupid, toiling drudges like them ?' A terrible smile passed over his face ; he placed the lamp by his side and bant over the canister. Only a light to the powder, and the rocks would be riven, and with a mighty burst the sea would rush in and whelm them all 1 He took out his knife and proceeded to open the canister, which by some means had been fastened down too tightly. Bnt, hark! Close behind him, just beyond the ending of the path he heard a rustling, crackling sound, then a crash, and a huge fragment of rock rolled down, and he was only just in time to leap aside beforo the place where he had stood was covered v. ith shivered portions of it as it descended, and leaping from ledge to ledge, at last, with sullen roar, was lost in the depth below. Still he listened, for another and more dreadful Bound caught his ear—the low, swishing sound of falling water. He crept as near as he could along the narrow pathway, and as he did so his face was sprinkled with the cold spray of the torrent. He held out his hand, and then, touching his lips, tested the water. It was salt! Still and breathleis as a statue he stood for a 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, which 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 abont ten feet below; then, drawing 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. He took the leap and fell; the firm ground was beneath him. His arm was braised and his ankle sprained, but he hardly felt it. Relighting his lamp, he dashed along through the narrow passages towards the main where the men were at work.

At laßt he met a boy slowly dragging along a small waggon. He caught the lad by the shoulder and shouted to him : ' Can you run, Will ?' 'Ay, oi 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 all be flooded.'

* Fayther's there!' the boy cried, and without another word rushed off.

Other boys were sent 1 1 the other parts of the mine, forced by George's stern voioe to obey, as he told them he would not let one man leave the pit till they were all there. Then he waited. And if anyone had Been his face as he stood alcne, a strange change wonld have been noticed In it. There was now a look of such triumphant gladness as for many a year had not rested there. He stretched ont his arms like one who had just ended some weary labor. Then his head sank on his bosom, and he mattered :

'O God! Saved! saved 1 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 waited. Soon troop after troop of the men, flying at their utmost speed, reached the pit's mouth, and a fearfnl sight it was to see the straggling mass of men, each one, with maddened shouts and blows, striving to oome nearer to the basket. But George Heimers' voice was heard loud above it all—- ' The first that tonches that basket before I tell him, I'll shoot that man !' They saw the levelled barrel of the revolver, and drew back, ' Thoae that are married stand here.' And in silence the men obeyed him. He then signalled to a certain number of tbem 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 how soon it would return to rescue them. gome of the men who had their son& 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 places. Some Bank to the ground muttering prayers that tbey had never spoken since childhood, and others listened to George Heimers as he told them there was still hope if they would obey him. Jim Massey had been in one of the most distant workings, and was one of the last to reach the pit's mouth, and now he stood by the wall apart, with eyes bent down on something he held in his hand—a lock of Agneß's hair that she had given him the night before. More than half the number of men were now safe ; and the basket, whirled up by those who knew just how much depended upon their work, had just left when George, in the calm voice with which he had spoken before, said—- * Men, who's to go next ?' There were only about twenty left, men and boya, 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 1'

' Thank yon, my lada,' he answered quietly. ' I'm not going this time, but I want to send someone in my place. Will yon let me ?' Not so eagerly this time—but still the answer, * Ay, master !' was given. ' Jim, come here,' Goorge shouted. ' You take my place when it comes again. Nay, lad, you must. Remember, Agnes wants yon, Jim. Yon'll be good to her, won't yon ? 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 leapt into it, the rope was shaken as the signal to hoist up, and with one tight hand grip George sent Jim on his way. And as they parted Jim looked at the other's face, and never to his dying day did he forget what he saw there—the bitterness of death had passed away, and a strange peace was shining forth from his eyes, Thiß was the last freight. George already had heard the distant thunder of the waters bursting in full flood into the mine. Ho knew the end was come, and when the basket was ascending he turned away down a side passage that he might not see the agony of the poor men when they found it was too late. Just as the basket reached the level of the upper ground, where hundreds were waiting anxiously to watch the arrival of each company that was caved, a tremendous black cloud rolled np the pit's month, burst ing up with a fearful roar high into mid air, and when it had cleared away and the men peered down the shaft, far away in the darkness beneath they could hear the dash

of the waves, and sometimes thought they oonld discern their white gleam as they leaped to the sides of the shaft. Jim Msssey and several other volunteered to go down and seek for any who might be BtlH straggling in the water. It was too late when they reached the place, and only a few of tin dead bodies were ever recovered. • ***#»«

The mine is now deserted, and its buildings are in ruins. Some time after the disaster a part of the cliff above it, probably undermined by the action of the waves, fell down one stormy night, and now there is a groat cavern wandering away in dark passages under the cliff where part of the coal mine had been. It is easy to penetrate beneath theso gloomy arches in a boat du'ing fiue weather, and many times in after days, Agnes—then a happy wife and mother—would come there with her children on summer days, and tell them the story of how their father',* life had been saved. And when she had and leaned back in the boat a* they floated on through that silent gloom as of twilight, the large t- ars would gather in her eyes for him who lay in that unknown tomb of his, fa* below, in some dark cavern of the sea.