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Sappers and Miners; The Flood beneath the Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 23. Grip Takes An Interest |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. GRIP TAKES AN INTEREST "Now, Joe, this ought to be a big day," said Gwyn, one bright morning. "Father's all in a fidget, and he looked as queer at breakfast as if he hadn't slept all night." "Wasn't any as if," replied Joe; "my father says he didn't sleep a wink for thinking about the mine." "Oh, but people often say they haven't slept a wink when they've been snoring all the night. See how the fellows used to say it at Worksop. I never believed them." "But when father says it you may believe him, for when he has fits of the old jungle fever come back, I'm obliged to give him his doses to make him sleep." "Well I woke ever so many times wondering whether it was time to get up. Once the moon was shining over the sea, and it was lovely. It would have been a time to have gone off to Pen Ree Rocks congering." "Ugh, the beasts!" exclaimed Joe. "But, I say, what a thing it will be if the place turns out no good after all this trouble and expense." "Don't talk about it," said Gwyn. "But Sam says it's right enough." "And Tom Dinass shakes his head and says--as if he didn't believe it could be--that he hopes it may turn out all right, but he doubts it." "Tom Dinass is a miserable old frog croaker. Sam knows. He says there's no doubt about it. The mine's rich, and it must have been worked in the old days in their rough way, without proper machinery, till the water got the better of them, and they had to give it up." "I hope it is so," said Joe, with a sigh. "But, I say, what about going down?" "Your father won't go down." "Oh, yes, he will. He says he shall go in the skep if your father does." "Oh, my father will go, of course; but he said I'd better not go till the mine was more dry, and the man-engine had been made and fitted." "Hurrah! Glad of it!" "What do you mean by that?" cried Gwyn, angrily. "What I say! I don't see why you should be allowed to go, and me stay up at grass." "Humph! Just the place for you," said Gwyn. "And what do you mean by that?" cried Joe, angrily in turn. "Proper place for a donkey where there's plenty of grass." "Ah, now you've got one of your nasty disagreeable fits on. Just like a Cornishman--I mean boy." "Better be a Cornish chap than a Frenchy." "Frenchy! We've been long enough in England to be English now," cried Joe. "But it's too hard for us not to go." "Regular shame!" said Gwyn. "I've been longing for this day so as to have a regular examination. It must be a wonderful place, Joe. Quite a maze." "Oh, I don't know," said Joe, superciliously; "just a long hole, and when you've seen one bit you've seen all." "That's what the fox said to the grapes," said Gwyn, with a laugh. "No, he didn't; he said they were sour." "Never mind; it's just your way. The place will be wonderful. There are sure to be plenty of crystals and stalactites and wonderful caverns and places. Oh, I do wish we were going down." "I don't know that I do now--the place will be horribly damp." "Fox again." "Look here, Gwyn Pendarve, if you wish to quarrel, say so, and I'll go somewhere else." "But I don't want to quarrel, Joseph Jollivet, Esquire," said Gwyn, imitating the other's stilted way of speaking. "What's the good of quarrelling with you?" Joe picked up a stone and threw it as far as he could, so as to get rid of some of his irritability; and Grip, who had been sitting watching the boys, wondering what was the matter, went off helter-skelter, found the stone, and brought it back crackling against his sharp white teeth, dropped it at Joe's feet, and began to dance about and make leaps from the ground, barking, as if saying, "Throw it again--throw it again!" "Lie down, you old stupid!" cried Gwyn. "Let him have a run," said Joe, picking up the stone and jerking it as far as he could over the short grassy down, the dog tearing off again. "Ugh! Look at your hand," said Gwyn, "all wet with the dog's 'serlimer,' as the showman called it." "Oh, that's clean enough," said Joe; but he gave his hand a rub on the grass all the same. The dog came back panting, and Joe picked up the stone to give it another jerk, but, looking round for a fresh direction in which to throw it, he dropped the piece of granite. "Come on!" he shouted, as he started off; "they're going to the shaft." Gwyn glanced in the direction of the mine, and started after Joe, raced up to him, and they ran along to the building over the mouth, getting there just at the same time as the Colonel and Major Jollivet, the dog coming frantically behind. "Well, boys," cried the Colonel, "here we are, you see. Wish us luck." "Of course I do, father," said Gwyn. "But you'd better let us come, too." "No, no, no, no," said the Colonel, "better wait a bit. Besides, you are not dressed for it. We are, you see." He smilingly drew attention to their shooting caps and boots and long mackintoshes. "Yes," said the Major, laughing, "we're ready for a wet campaign." Gwyn was not in the habit of arguing with his father, whose quietest words always carried with them a military decision which meant a great deal, so he was silent, and contented himself with a glance at Joe, who took his cue from him and remained quiet. Several of the men were there standing about the square iron-bound box attached by a wire rope to a wheel overhead, and known as the skep, which, with another, would be the conveyances of the ore that was to be found, from deep down in the mine to the surface, or, as the miners termed it, to grass; and until the man-engine was finished this was the ordinary way up and down. There was Sam Hardock, muffled up in flannel garments, and wearing a leather cap like a helmet, with a brim, in front of which was his feather represented by a thick tallow candle. He was armed with a stout pick in his belt, and the Colonel and Major both carried large geological hammers. Tom Dinass was there, too, in charge with the engineer of the skep, to ensure a safe descent. Then there were lanthorns, and Hardock, in addition, bore by a strap over his shoulder what looked like a large cartouche box, but its contents were to re-load the lanthorns, being thick tallow candles. "Got plenty of matches, Hardock?" said Gwyn, eagerly. "Oh yes, sir, two tin boxes full." "We have each a supply of wax matches, too, my boy," said the Colonel. "All ready, I think," he continued, turning to the Major, who nodded, and then said to him in a low tone of voice, overheard by the boys in addition to him for whom it was addressed,-- "If anybody had told me six months ago that I should do this, I should have called him mad." "Never mind, old fellow," said the Colonel, laughingly; "better than vegetating as we were, and doing nothing. It sets my old blood dancing in my veins again to have something like an adventure. Well," he said aloud, "we may as well make a start. By the way, have you any lunch to take down?" "Oh, yes," said the Major, tapping a sandwich-box in his coat pocket; "too old a campaigner to forget my rations." "Right," said the Colonel, tapping his own breast. "Well, boys, if we get lost and don't come up again by some time next week, you will have to organise a search-party, and come down and find us." "Better let us come with you, father, to take care of you both." The Colonel laughed, and shook his head. "Now, Major," he cried, "forward!" The Major stepped into the great wooden bucket, the Colonel followed, and then Sam Hardock took his place beside them. "All ready!" cried the Colonel. "Now, Hardock, give the word." The mining captain obeyed, there was a sharp, clicking noise, as the engineer touched the brake, and the wheel overhead began to revolve; then the skep dropped quickly and silently down through the square hole in the rough plank floor formed over the great open shaft, the pump being now still. Then, all at once, as the boys caught at the stout railing about the opening and looked down, the lanthorns taken began to glow softly and grew brighter for a time; then the light decreased, growing more and more feeble till it was almost invisible, and Gwyn drew a deep breath and looked up at the revolving wheel. "Seems precious venturesome, doesn't it?" observed Joe. "Not half so bad as going down with a rope round you, and feeling it coming undone," said Gwyn. "No, but you did have water to fall into," said Joe. "If the wire rope breaks, they'll fall on the stone bottom and be smashed." "Ah, yes," said Dinass, in solemn tones. "Be a sad business that." "Will you be quiet, Tom Dinass!" cried Gwyn, irritably. "You're always croaking about the mine." "Nay, sir, not me," replied the man. "It were Mr Joe here as begun talking about the rope breaking and their coming down squelch." "Well, don't let anybody talk about such things," said Gwyn, who spoke as if he had been running hard. "Nearly down now, aren't they?" "About half, sir," said the engineer. "Oh, I don't want to talk," said Dinass; "only one can't help thinking it's queer work for two gents to do. It's a job for chaps like me. Howsoever, I hope they won't come to no harm." Grip growled at something, as if, in fact, he were resenting the man's words, but it might have only been that he was being troubled by the flea which he had several times that morning tried to scratch out of his thick coat. "You'd better not let them come to harm. I say, mind they don't come down bang at the bottom," said Gwyn, after what seemed to be a long time. "He'll see to that, sir," said the man, nodding his head in the direction of the engineer. "Yes, young gentlemen, that's all right. I've got the depth to an inch, and they'll come down as if on to a spring." "I say, how deep it seems," said Joe, who also was rather breathless. "Deep, sir!" said Dinass, with a laugh; "you don't call this deep? Why, it's nothing to some of the pits out Saint Just way--is it, mate?" "Nothing at all," said the engineer. "This is a baby." "Rather an old baby," said Gwyn, smiling. "Why, this must be the oldest mine in Cornwall." "Dessay it is, sir," said the man; and he checked the wheel as he spoke, just as an empty skep of the same size as that which had descended made its appearance and came to a standstill. "Right!" came up from below, in a hollow whisper, and Gwyn drew a deep breath. "You two ought to have gone with 'em," said Dinass, "and had a look round." "Oh, don't bother," cried Gwyn, petulantly. "I suppose we shall have our turn." "No offence meant, sir," said the man. "Better let me go down with you. Dessay I can show you a lot about the mine." "I suppose it will be all one long passage from the bottom," said Joe. "Not it, sir," said Dinass, holding out his bare arm, and spreading his fingers. "It'll go like that. Lode runs along for a bit like my wrist, and then spreads out like my fingers here, or more like the root of a tree, and they pick along there to get the stuff where it runs richest. But you'll see. We don't know yet; but, judging from the water pumped out, this mine must wander a very long way. There's no knowing how far." "I say, how long will they stop down?" said Joe. "Oh, I don't know," replied Gwyn. "Hours, I daresay." "Plenty of time for you young gents to take a boat and have half-a-day with the bass. There's been lots jumping out of the water against Ydoll Point. I should say they'd be well on the feed." "That's likely!" said Gwyn. "You don't suppose we shall leave here till they come up?" "Oh, I didn't know, sir. Makes no difference to me; only it'll be rather dull waiting." Grip uttered a low, uneasy growl again, and looked up at his master, and then went to the opening and peeped down. "Like us to send him down in the skep, sir?" said Dinass, grinning. "Better not, p'r'aps, as he might lose his way." "No fear of Grip losing his way--eh, Joe?" Joe shook his head. "He'd find his way back from anywhere if he had walked over the ground. Wouldn't you, Grip?" The dog gave a sharp bark as he turned his head, and then looked down again, whining and uneasy. "What's the matter, old boy?" said Gwyn. "It's all right, old man, they've gone down. Will you go with me?" The dog uttered a volley of barks, then turned to Dinass and growled. "Quiet, sir!" cried Gwyn. "Look here, Tom Dinass, you must tease him, or he wouldn't be so disagreeable to you." "Me? Me tease him, sir! Not me." "Well, take my advice," said Gwyn, "don't. He's a splendid dog to his friends; so you make good friends with him as soon as you can." _ |
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