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Sappers and Miners; The Flood beneath the Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 16. An Attack Of Heroes |
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_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN. AN ATTACK OF HEROES "That was a topper for him, Ydoll," said Joe, as they stood outside. "Phew! what a hot, stuffy place it is!" "We were the first there, Joe," said Gwyn, who had not heard his companion's words. "But what was he going to do?" "Who going to do--that chap?" "Yes. I'm sure he meant mischief of some kind. I'll speak to father. He won't interfere with the people coming to-day, because it's like a sight, this beginning: but afterwards he'll have to give orders for no one but the work-people to be about." "Hullo, what's this?" cried Joe. For a shout arose, and a man stood forward from the crowd, making signals. "I know: they want the steam turned on." Gwyn stepped back to the mouth of the temporary engine-house, told the driver, and he connected a band with the shaft; this started another long band, and the power was communicated to the pump, with the result that a huge wheel began to turn, a massive rod was set in motion, and a burst of cheers arose; for, with a steady, heavy, clanking sound, the first gallons of water were raised, to fall gushing into the cistern-like box, and then begin to flow steadily along the adit; the boys, after a glance or two down the deep shaft, now one intricacy of upright ladder and platform, hurrying off to where a series of ladders had been affixed to the face of the cliff, down which they went, to reach a strongly-built platform at the mouth of the adit. It was rather different from the spot on which Gwyn had knelt a few months before, waiting for help to come and rescue him from his perilous position, and he thought of it, as he descended the carefully-secured ladders, connected with the rock face by means of strong iron stanchions. "I say, Joe," he cried, as they descended, "better than hanging at the end of a rope. Why, it's safe as safe." "So long as you don't let go," was the reply from above him. "Well, don't you let go, or you'll be knocking me off. I say, I wonder what the birds think of it all." "Don't seem to mind it much," replied Joe. "But I suppose we sha'n't leave these ladders here when the mine-shaft is all right." "No, because we shall go along the adit, that way. Father says Sam Hardock wants the gallery widened a little, so that a tramway can be laid down, and then he'll run trucks along it, and tilt all the rubbish into the sea." "Yes, young gentlemen, that's the way," said a voice below them. "So you're coming down to have a look?" "I say, Sam, you startled me," cried Gwyn. "Well, how does the pump work?" "Splendidly, sir; here's a regular stream of water coming along, and running into the sea like a cascade, as they call it. Only ten more steps, sir. That's it! Mind how you come there. None too much room. We must have a strong rail all round here, or there'll be some accident. Two more steps, Mr Joe. That's the way! Now then, sir, don't this look business-like?" The boys were standing now on the platform, whose struts were sloping to the rock below, and through an opening between them and the mouth of the adit the water came running out, bright and clear, to plunge down the face of the cliff in a volume, which promised well for draining the mine. "Why, it won't take long to empty the place at this rate," cried Joe, as he knelt upon the platform and gazed down at the falling water, which dropped sheer for about twenty feet, then struck the rock, glanced off, and fell the rest of the way in a broken sheet of foam, which rapidly changed into a heavy rain. "No, sir, it won't take very long," said Hardock. "A few weeks, I suppose; because, as it lowers, we shall have to put down fresh machinery to reach it, and so on, right to the sumph at the bottom." "Oh, not a few weeks," said Gwyn, in a tone of doubt. "Well, say months, then, sir. Nobody can tell. If you gave me a plan of the mine on paper, with the number and size of the galleries, I could tell you pretty exactly; but, of course, we don't know. There may be miles of workings at different levels; and, on the other hand, there may be not-- only the shaft, and that we can soon master." "But suppose that there's a hole into it from the sea," said Joe, looking up from where he knelt, with a droll look of inquiry in his eyes. "Why, then we shall want more pumps, and a fresh place to put the water in," cried Gwyn, laughing. "Rather too big a job for you, that, Sam Hardock." "Oh, I don't know, sir. We might p'r'aps find out where the gashly hole was, and put a big cork in it. But let's try first and see. What do you say to coming through to the shaft, and having a look whether the water's beginning to lower?" "But we shall get out feet so wet." "Bah! what's a drop o' water, my lad, when there's a big bit o' business on? Have off your shoes and stockings, then. I've got a light." "Will you come, Joe?" "Of course, if you're going," said the boy, sturdily, as if it were a matter beyond question. "But you haven't told Sam about the engine-house." "What about it?" said the man, anxiously. "What!" he continued, on hearing what they had noticed. "That's bad, my lads, that's bad, and they mean mischief. But I don't see what harm he could have done to the fire, only burnt himself--and sarve him right. Wanted to see, perhaps, how our bylers was set. I know that chap, though--met him more than once, when I've been here and there in different towns, talking to folk of a night over a pipe--when I was looking for work, you know. One of those chaps, he seemed to be, as is always hanging about with both ears wide open to see what they can ketch. I fancy he had something to do with the two gents as came over to buy the mine. I aren't sure, but I think that's it." "I feel quite sure," said Gwyn, emphatically. "Very well, then, sir; what we've got to do is to keep him off our premises, so that he don't get picking up our notions of working the old mine. He's after something, or he wouldn't be here to-day. Regular old mining hand, he is; and I daresay he was squinting over our machinery, and he wants to see the pumping come to naught. Just please him. But look at this; isn't it fine?" He pointed to the steady stream of clear water rushing toward them, and falling downward, glittering in the sunshine. "Ready to go in with me?" For answer the two boys took off their boots and socks, and stood them in a niche in the rock, while Hardock passed in through the mouth of the adit; and directly after he had disappeared in the darkness, he re-appeared in the midst of a glow of light produced by a lanthorn he had placed behind a piece of rock. "Come on, my lads," he cried, and the two boys stepped in, with the cold water gurgling about their feet, and stooping to avoid striking their heads against the roof of the low gallery. "One o' the first things I mean to have done is to set the men to cut a gully along here for the water to run in, for I daresay we shall always have to keep the pump going. Then the water can keep to itself, and we shall have a dry place for the trucks to run along." "But this place won't be used much," said Gwyn, as he followed the man, and kept on thinking about his strange feelings, as he crept along there in the darkness toward the light, after his terrible fall. "I don't know so much about that, my lad. Don't you see, it will be splendid for getting rid of our rubbish? The trucks can be tilted, and away it will go; but what's to prevent us from loading ships with ore out below there in fine weather? But we shall see." It was a strange experience to pass out of the brilliant sunshine into the black, cold tunnel through the rock, with the water bubbling about their feet, and a creepy, gurgling whispering sound coming toward them in company with a heavy dull clanking, as the huge pump worked steadily on. Try how they would to be firm, and forcing themselves to fall back upon the knowledge of what was taking place, there was still the feeling that this little stream of water was only the advance guard of a deluge, and that at any moment it might increase to a rushing flood, which would sweep them away, dashing them out headlong from the mouth of the gallery to fall into the sea. But there in front was the black outline of Hardock's stooping figure, with the lanthorn held before him, and making the water flash and sparkle, while from time to time the man held up the lanthorn, and pointed to a glittering appearance in the roof, or on the walls. "Ore," he said, with a chuckle. "I didn't come to your father, Master Gwyn, with empty hands, did I? Well, I'm glad he woke up to what it's all worth. Here we are." He stopped short, for they had come to the shaft, and his light showed up the strong beams and wet iron ties which held the machinery in place. There were a couple of men here, too, with lanthorns hanging from what seemed to be a cross-beam. On their right, was a wet-looking ladder, whose rounds glistened, and this ran up into darkness, where a great beam had been fixed, with a square hole where the top of the ladder rested, the light from above being almost entirely cut off. The men said something to Hardock, but their words were almost inaudible in the rattle and clank of the great pump, and the wash and rush of the water as it was drawn into a huge trough, and rushed from it into the adit. Hardock gave them a nod in reply, and then signed to the boys as he swung his lanthorn. "Come and look here," he shouted; and, with their bare feet slipping on the wet planks that were just loosely laid across the beams fitted into the old holes, cut no one knew when, in the sides of the shaft, they went down to where Hardock dropped on his knees and held the lanthorn through an opening, so that the light was reflected from the water, whose level was about a foot below where they now stood. "See that?" he shouted, so as to make his voice heard. "What, the water?" cried Gwyn. "Yes." "No, no; my mark that I made in the wall with a pick?" "Oh, yes; the granite looks quite white," said Gwyn, as he looked at the roughly-cut notch some six inches long. "How far is the water below it?" cried Hardock. "About seven inches, eh, Joe?" "Nearly eight." "Then you may go up and tell your father the good news. He'll like to hear it from you. Tell him that we've lowered the water seven inches since the pump started, and if nothing goes wrong, we shall soon be making a stage lower down." "But what should go wrong?" cried Joe, who looked full of excitement. "A hundred things, my lad. Machinery's a ticklish thing, and as for a mine, you never know what's going to happen from one hour to another. Go on, up with you both, my lads; it's news they'll be glad to hear, and you ought to be proud to take it." "We are," cried Gwyn, heartily. "It's splendid, Sam. You have done well." "Tidy, my lad, tidy. Will you go up the ladder here?" "No," said Gwyn, "we've left our shoes and stockings outside." "Very well; go that way, then." "Yes," said Joe, "it's better than going up the shaft; the ladders look so wet, and the water drops upon you. I saw it dripping yesterday. Come on." He stepped into the adit, and Gwyn followed. "Don't want a light, I s'pose?" said Hardock. "Oh, no; we shall see the sunshine directly," said Gwyn; and the two boys retraced their wet steps, soon caught sight of the light shining in, and made their way out to the platform, where they sat down in the sunshine to wipe their feet with their handkerchiefs, and then put on socks and boots, each giving his feet a stamp as he rose erect. "Isn't the water cold! My feet are like ice," said Joe. "They'll soon get warm climbing up these ladders," said Gwyn. "But steady! Don't jump about; this platform doesn't seem any too safe. I'll ask father to have the stout rail put round. Shall I go first?" "No; you came down first," said Joe. "My turn now. But I say, I'd a deal rather go up and down in a bucket. What a height it seems." "Well, make it less," said Gwyn. "Up with you! don't stand looking at it. I want to be at the top." "So do I," said Joe, as he stood holding on by one of the rounds of the ladder, they two and the platform looking wonderfully small on the face of that immense cliff; the platform bearing a striking resemblance to some little bracket nailed against a wall, and occupied by two sparrows. Then, uttering a low sigh, Joe began to mount steadily, and as soon as he was a dozen feet up, Gwyn followed him. "It doesn't do to look upwards, does it?" said Joe, suddenly, when they had been climbing for about half-a-minute. "Well, don't think about it, then. And don't talk. You want all your breath for a job like this." Joe was silent, and the only sounds heard were the scraping of their boots on the wooden spells, and the crying of the gulls squabbling over some wave-tossed weed far below. Then, all at once, when he was about half-way up, Joe suddenly stopped short, but Gwyn did not notice it till his cap was within a few inches of the other's boots. "Well, go on," he cried cheerily. "What's the matter--out of breath?" "No." "Eh? What is it--what's the matter?" said Gwyn, for he was startled by the tone in which the word was uttered. "I--I don't know," came back in a hoarse whisper, which sent a shudder through Gwyn, as he involuntarily glanced down at the awful depth beneath him. "It's the cold water, I think. One of my feet has gone dead, and the other's getting numb. Gwyn! Gwyn! Here, quick! I don't know what I'm--Quick!--help! I'm going to fall!" _ |
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