THE NOVELIST.

Mt Benger Mail, Volume I, Issue 51, 20 April 1881, Page 2

THE NOVELIST.

THE MINE BY THE SEA.

Chaptee 11.

A strange sight is a coal mine. Wonderfully picturesque with its streets and lanes and alleys, its unending corridors and countless chambers of the dead. The men there, with black faces and scanty attire, seem of another race from those above ground, and the feeble lights gleaming in the midst of the darkness give a weird unreal aspect to the scene. The only sounds heard are those of the coal waggons slowly pushed along by boys towards the mouth of the pit, and in the narrow passages, where the men are at work,, the clang of their pickaxes as they cleave their way through the great rocks of coal. Men are not the only beings here. There are horses, that 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 came to that under world I don't know) may be seen peering out of nooks among the walls. There is an almost fearful sombreness about the place. Thoughts that the daylight would at once dispel seem to haunt the air, and the voices of the men as they wander about, each one, Gideon-like, with the lamp and pickaxe, have a deeper hollower tone than above ground. Two days had passed; and during the time a storm, long remembered on the coast, had been raging ; but the men in the mine, accustomed as they were to hearing the roar of the waves above their heads, paid little heed to the increased noi&e. George Heiraers j alone had noticed it, and each day had ! spent more time than usual 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 done, leaving further orders for work with the men, George turned away and walked alone in the direction I of the pit's mouth, cairying in one hand 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 that imperfect light it might have been seen that a great change had passed over bis face ; it was haggard, pinched-looking ; there was a strange restless glitter in his eyes, and now and then his lips parted with an involuntary quivering movement, qnickly pressed together again with that stern set expression that was now habitual to them.

Instead of leaving the 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 the danger of working too near the bottom of 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 coal had been taken from it. All was still as he advanced through the narrow passages, but soon these widened into a mere open space, and as he entered, the noise of the tumultuous waters overheard 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-roofed hall, one of those natural caverns that exist between the sea and the 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 sides, and a rude path--, way led halfway rsund, abruptly stopping above the great chasm. The poor light which George held illuminated 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 lungi clung.

As he stood there, wild fancies stole over him. Loud above sounded the thundrous boom of the surf, and be« neath him lay, wrapt 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 6ide, and the lamp held between his knees.

What were his thoughts just then 1 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 wrong from the beginning, and now, when at last the cup of sweetness had seemed to be so near his lips he had seen it dashed away. He ground h;s teeth with rage, and then his passion took another form—his breast heaved, and a great sobbing cry rose to his lips. " If she only knew how 1 love her ! He love ! A moment of the love 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 Massey, too; a light to this powder, and there'd be no victory to any one—the sea would cover us too close for that! But the others ?

11 Pooh! 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 bent over the canister. Ocly a light to the powder, and the rocks above would be riven, and with a mighty burst the sea would rush in and whelm them all! He took out his knife and proceeded to open the lid of the canister, which by some means had been fastened down too tightly. But, hark ! Close beside hiin, just beyond the ending of the path, he heard a rustling cracking sound, and then a crash, and a huge fragment of rock rolled down, and he was only just in time to leap aside before the place where he had stood was covargLrVith ,shh r erod portions of it a3 it descfnae*), and, leaping from ledge to ]n "go, at last, with sullen roar, was lost in the depths below. Still he listened, for another and more dreadful sound caught his ear—the low swishing sound of fallen 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, tasted the water. It was salt!

Still and breathless 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 he 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 about ten feet below ; then, 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. He took the leap and fell; the firm ground was beneath him. His arm was bruised and his ankle was sprained, but he hardly felt it. Kelighting his lamp he dashed along through the narrow passages toward the main where the men were at work.

At last he met a boy dragging along a small coal 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 to the other parts of the mine, forced by George's stern voice to obey, as ho told thorn ho

would not let one man leave the pit till they were all there. Then he waited. And if any one had seen his face as he stood alone, a strange change would 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 out his arms like one who had just ended some weary labour. Then his head s&nk on his bosom, and he muttered. —

" 0 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 it 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 fearful sight it was to see the struggling mass of men, each one, with maddened shouts and blows, striving to come nearer to the basket But George Heiraer's voice was heard loud above it all: '• The first that touches that basket before I tell 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 silence 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 how soon it would return to rescue them. Some of the men who had their sons with them clasped them tight in- their arms, whispering messages to be given if they were lost, for in nearly every case the father 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 Hemiers as he told ! them there was still hopeaf they wouldlj obey him. v \ t]

Jim Massey had been in oue 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 ho held in his hand—a lock of Agnes'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 boy.", 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 ?" Not so eagerly this time—but still the answer, " Ay, master !" was given. " Jim come here !" George shouted " You take my place when it comes again. Nay, lad, you must I Re. member, Agnes wants you, Jim, you'll be good to her, won't you 1 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 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 did he forget what he saw there—the bitterness of death had passed away, and a strange peace was shining forth from his eyes. 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 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 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 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 could discern their white gleam as they leaped up the sides of the shaft. Jim Massey and several others volunteered to go down and seek for any who might be still struggling in the water. It was too late when they reached the place, and only a few of the dead bodies were ever recovered. The mine is now deserted, and its buildings are in ruius. 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 great cavern wandering away in dark passages under the cliff where part of the coal mine had been. It is easy to penetrate beneath these gloomy arches in a boat during fine 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's life had been saved. And when she had ended, and leaned back in the boat as they floated on through that silent gloom as of twilight, the large tears would gather in her eyes for him who lay in that unknown tomb of his, far below in some dark cavern of the sea.—' Temple Bar.'