“Well, Mr. Starr, here it never rains. But I needn’t describe to you
all the advantages, which you know as well as myself. Here we are at the
cottage. That is the chief thing, and I again say you are welcome, sir.”
Simon Ford, followed by Harry, ushered their guest into the dwelling.
James Starr found himself in a large room lighted by numerous lamps, one
hanging from the colored beams of the roof.
“The soup is ready, wife,” said Ford, “and it mustn’t be kept waiting
any more than Mr. Starr. He is as hungry as a miner, and he shall
see that our boy doesn’t let us want for anything in the cottage!
By-the-bye, Harry,” added the old overman, turning to his son, “Jack
Ryan came here to see you.”
“I know, father. We met him in the Yarrow shaft.”
“He’s an honest and a merry fellow,” said Ford; “but he seems to be
quite happy above ground. He hasn’t the true miner’s blood in his veins.
Sit down, Mr. Starr, and have a good dinner, for we may not sup till
late.”
As the engineer and his hosts were taking their places:
“One moment, Simon,” said James Starr. “Do you want me to eat with a
good appetite?”
“It will be doing us all possible honor, Mr. Starr,” answered Ford.
“Well, in order to eat heartily, I must not be at all anxious. Now I
have two questions to put to you.”
“Go on, sir.”
“Your letter told me of a communication which was to be of an
interesting nature.”
“It is very interesting indeed.”
“To you?”
“To you and to me, Mr. Starr. But I do not want to tell it you until
after dinner, and on the very spot itself. Without that you would not
believe me.”
“Simon,” resumed the engineer, “look me straight in the face. An
interesting communication? Yes. Good! I will not ask more,” he added, as
if he had read the reply in the old overman’s eyes.
“And the second question?” asked the latter.
“Do you know, Simon, who the person is who can have written this?”
answered the engineer, handing him the anonymous letter.
Ford took the letter and read it attentively. Then giving it to his son,
“Do you know the writing?” he asked.
“No, father,” replied Harry.
“And had this letter the Aberfoyle postmark?” inquired Simon Ford.
“Yes, like yours,” replied James Starr.
“What do you think of that, Harry?” said his father, his brow darkening.
“I think, father,” returned Harry, “that someone has had some interest
in trying to prevent Mr. Starr from coming to the place where you
invited him.”
“But who,” exclaimed the old miner, “who could have possibly guessed
enough of my secret?” And Simon fell into a reverie, from which he was
aroused by his wife.
“Let us begin, Mr. Starr,” she said. “The soup is already getting cold.
Don’t think any more of that letter just now.”
On the old woman’s invitation, each drew in his chair, James Starr
opposite to Madge--to do him honor--the father and son opposite to each
other. It was a good Scotch dinner. First they ate “hotchpotch,” soup
with the meat swimming in capital broth. As old Simon said, his wife
knew no rival in the art of preparing hotchpotch. It was the same with
the “cockyleeky,” a cock stewed with leeks, which merited high praise.
The whole was washed down with excellent ale, obtained from the best
brewery in Edinburgh.
But the principal dish consisted of a “haggis,” the national pudding,
made of meat and barley meal. This remarkable dish, which inspired the
poet Burns with one of his best odes, shared the fate of all the good
things in this world--it passed away like a dream.
Madge received the sincere compliments of her guest. The dinner
ended with cheese and oatcake, accompanied by a few small glasses of
“usquebaugh,” capital whisky, five and twenty years old--just Harry’s
age. The repast lasted a good hour. James Starr and Simon Ford had not
only eaten much, but talked much too, chiefly of their past life in the
old Aberfoyle mine.
Harry had been rather silent. Twice he had left the table, and even the
house. He evidently felt uneasy since the incident of the stone, and
wished to examine the environs of the cottage. The anonymous letter had
not contributed to reassure him.
Whilst he was absent, the engineer observed to Ford and his wife,
“That’s a fine lad you have there, my friends.”
“Yes, Mr. Starr, he is a good and affectionate son,” replied the old
overman earnestly.
“Is he happy with you in the cottage?”
“He would not wish to leave us.”
“Don’t you think of finding him a wife, some day?”
“A wife for Harry,” exclaimed Ford. “And who would it be? A girl from up
yonder, who would love merry-makings and dancing, who would prefer her
clan to our mine! Harry wouldn’t do it!”
“Simon,” said Madge, “you would not forbid that Harry should take a
wife.”
“I would forbid nothing,” returned the old miner, “but there’s no hurry
about that. Who knows but we may find one for him--”
Harry re-entered at that moment, and Simon Ford was silent.
When Madge rose from the table, all followed her example, and seated
themselves at the door of the cottage. “Well, Simon,” said the engineer,
“I am ready to hear you.”
“Mr. Starr,” responded Ford, “I do not need your ears, but your legs.
Are you quite rested?”
“Quite rested and quite refreshed, Simon. I am ready to go with you
wherever you like.”
“Harry,” said Simon Ford, turning to his son, “light our safety lamps.”
“Are you going to take safety lamps!” exclaimed James Starr, in
amazement, knowing that there was no fear of explosions of fire-damp in
a pit quite empty of coal.
“Yes, Mr. Starr, it will be prudent.”
“My good Simon, won’t you propose next to put me in a miner’s dress?”
“Not just yet, sir, not just yet!” returned the old overman, his
deep-set eyes gleaming strangely.
Harry soon reappeared, carrying three safety lamps. He handed one of
these to the engineer, the other to his father, and kept the third
hanging from his left hand, whilst his right was armed with a long
stick.
“Forward!” said Simon Ford, taking up a strong pick, which was leaning
against the wall of the cottage.
“Forward!” echoed the engineer. “Good-by, Madge.”
“GOD speed you!” responded the good woman.
“A good supper, wife, do you hear?” exclaimed Ford. “We shall be hungry
when we come back, and will do it justice!”
CHAPTER V. SOME STRANGE PHENOMENA
MANY superstitious beliefs exist both in the Highlands and Lowlands of
Scotland. Of course the mining population must furnish its contingent
of legends and fables to this mythological repertory. If the fields are
peopled with imaginary beings, either good or bad, with much more reason
must the dark mines be haunted to their lowest depths. Who shakes the
seam during tempestuous nights? who puts the miners on the track of an
as yet unworked vein? who lights the fire-damp, and presides over the
terrible explosions? who but some spirit of the mine? This, at least,
was the opinion commonly spread among the superstitious Scotch.
In the first rank of the believers in the supernatural in the Dochart
pit figured Jack Ryan, Harry’s friend. He was the great partisan of
all these superstitions. All these wild stories were turned by him into
songs, which earned him great applause in the winter evenings.
But Jack Ryan was not alone in his belief. His comrades affirmed, no
less strongly, that the Aberfoyle pits were haunted, and that certain
strange beings were seen there frequently, just as in the Highlands. To
hear them talk, it would have been more extraordinary if nothing of the
kind appeared. Could there indeed be a better place than a dark and deep
coal mine for the freaks of fairies, elves, goblins, and other actors
in the fantastical dramas? The scenery was all ready, why should not the
supernatural personages come there to play their parts?
So reasoned Jack Ryan and his comrades in the Aberfoyle mines. We have
said that the different pits communicated with each other by means of
long subterranean galleries. Thus there existed beneath the county of
Stirling a vast tract, full of burrows, tunnels, bored with caves,
and perforated with shafts, a subterranean labyrinth, which might be
compared to an enormous ant-hill.
Miners, though belonging to different pits, often met, when going to or
returning from their work. Consequently there was a constant opportunity
of exchanging talk, and circulating the stories which had their origin
in the mine, from one pit to another. These accounts were transmitted
with marvelous rapidity, passing from mouth to mouth, and gaining in
wonder as they went.
Two men, however, better educated and with more practical minds than the
rest, had always resisted this temptation. They in no degree believed
in the intervention of spirits, elves, or goblins. These two were Simon
Ford and his son. And they proved it by continuing to inhabit the dismal
crypt, after the desertion of the Dochart pit. Perhaps good Madge, like
every Highland woman, had some leaning towards the supernatural. But
she had to repeat all these stories to herself, and so she did, most
conscientiously, so as not to let the old traditions be lost.
Even had Simon and Harry Ford been as credulous as their companions,
they would not have abandoned the mine to the imps and fairies. For ten
years, without missing a single day, obstinate and immovable in their
convictions, the father and son took their picks, their sticks, and
their lamps. They went about searching, sounding the rock with a sharp
blow, listening if it would return a favor-able sound. So long as the
soundings had not been pushed to the granite of the primary formation,
the Fords were agreed that the search, unsuccessful to-day, might
succeed to-morrow, and that it ought to be resumed. They spent their
whole life in endeavoring to bring Aberfoyle back to its former
prosperity. If the father died before the hour of success, the son was
to go on with the task alone.
It was during these excursions that Harry was more particularly struck
by certain phenomena, which he vainly sought to explain. Several times,
while walking along some narrow cross-alley, he seemed to hear sounds
similar to those which would be produced by violent blows of a pickax
against the wall.
Harry hastened to seek the cause of this mysterious work. The tunnel
was empty. The light from the young miner’s lamp, thrown on the wall,
revealed no trace of any recent work with pick or crowbar. Harry would
then ask himself if it was not the effect of some acoustic illusion, or
some strange and fantastic echo. At other times, on suddenly throwing a
bright light into a suspicious-looking cleft in the rock, he thought he
saw a shadow. He rushed forward. Nothing, and there was no opening to
permit a human being to evade his pursuit!
Twice in one month, Harry, whilst visiting the west end of the pit,
distinctly heard distant reports, as if some miner had exploded a charge
of dynamite. The second time, after many careful researches, he found
that a pillar had just been blown up.
By the light of his lamp, Harry carefully examined the place attacked
by the explosion. It had not been made in a simple embankment of stones,
but in a mass of schist, which had penetrated to this depth in the coal
stratum. Had the object of the explosion been to discover a new vein? Or
had someone wished simply to destroy this portion of the mine? Thus
he questioned, and when he made known this occurrence to his father,
neither could the old overman nor he himself answer the question in a
satisfactory way.
“It is very queer,” Harry often repeated. “The presence of an unknown
being in the mine seems impossible, and yet there can be no doubt
about it. Does someone besides ourselves wish to find out if a seam
yet exists? Or, rather, has he attempted to destroy what remains of the
Aberfoyle mines? But for what reason? I will find that out, if it should
cost me my life!”
A fortnight before the day on which Harry Ford guided the engineer
through the labyrinth of the Dochart pit, he had been on the point of
attaining the object of his search. He was going over the southwest end
of the mine, with a large lantern in his hand. All at once, it seemed
to him that a light was suddenly extinguished, some hundred feet before
him, at the end of a narrow passage cut obliquely through the rock. He
darted forward.
His search was in vain. As Harry would not admit a supernatural
explanation for a physical occurrence, he concluded that certainly
some strange being prowled about in the pit. But whatever he could do,
searching with the greatest care, scrutinizing every crevice in the
gallery, he found nothing for his trouble.
If Jack Ryan and the other superstitious fellows in the mine had seen
these lights, they would, without fail, have called them supernatural,
but Harry did not dream of doing so, nor did his father. And when they
talked over these phenomena, evidently due to a physical cause, “My
lad,” the old man would say, “we must wait. It will all be explained
some day.”
However, it must be observed that, hitherto, neither Harry nor his
father had ever been exposed to any act of violence. If the stone which
had fallen at the feet of James Starr had been thrown by the hand
of some ill-disposed person, it was the first criminal act of that
description.
James Starr was of opinion that the stone had become detached from
the roof of the gallery; but Harry would not admit of such a simple
explanation. According to him, the stone had not fallen, it had been
thrown; for otherwise, without rebounding, it could never have described
a trajectory as it did.
Harry saw in it a direct attempt against himself and his father, or even
against the engineer.
CHAPTER VI. SIMON FORD’S EXPERIMENT
THE old clock in the cottage struck one as James Starr and his two
companions went out. A dim light penetrated through the ventilating
shaft into the glade. Harry’s lamp was not necessary here, but it
would very soon be of use, for the old overman was about to conduct the
engineer to the very end of the Dochart pit.
After following the principal gallery for a distance of two miles,
the three explorers--for, as will be seen, this was a regular
exploration--arrived at the entrance of a narrow tunnel. It was like a
nave, the roof of which rested on woodwork, covered with white moss. It
followed very nearly the line traced by the course of the river Forth,
fifteen hundred feet above.
“So we are going to the end of the last vein?” said James Starr.
“Ay! You know the mine well still.”
“Well, Simon,” returned the engineer, “it will be difficult to go
further than that, if I don’t mistake.”
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Starr. That was where our picks tore out the last bit
of coal in the seam. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I myself
gave that last blow, and it re-echoed in my heart more dismally than on
the rock. Only sandstone and schist were round us after that, and when
the truck rolled towards the shaft, I followed, with my heart as full as
though it were a funeral. It seemed to me that the soul of the mine was
going with it.”
The gravity with which the old man uttered these words impressed the
engineer, who was not far from sharing his sentiments. They were those
of the sailor who leaves his disabled vessel--of the proprietor who sees
the house of his ancestors pulled down. He pressed Ford’s hand; but now
the latter seized that of the engineer, and, wringing it:
“That day we were all of us mistaken,” he exclaimed. “No! The old mine
was not dead. It was not a corpse that the miners abandoned; and I dare
to assert, Mr. Starr, that its heart beats still.”
“Speak, Ford! Have you discovered a new vein?” cried the engineer,
unable to contain himself. “I know you have! Your letter could mean
nothing else.”
“Mr. Starr,” said Simon Ford, “I did not wish to tell any man but
yourself.”
“And you did quite right, Ford. But tell me how, by what signs, are you
sure?”
“Listen, sir!” resumed Simon. “It is not a seam that I have found.”
“What is it, then?”
“Only positive proof that such a seam exists.”
“And the proof?”
“Could fire-damp issue from the bowels of the earth if coal was not
there to produce it?”
“No, certainly not!” replied the engineer. “No coal, no fire-damp. No
effects without a cause.”
“Just as no smoke without fire.”
“And have you recognized the presence of light carburetted hydrogen?”
“An old miner could not be deceived,” answered Ford. “I have met with
our old enemy, the fire-damp!”
“But suppose it was another gas,” said Starr. “Firedamp is almost
without smell, and colorless. It only really betrays its presence by an
explosion.”
“Mr. Starr,” said Simon Ford, “will you let me tell you what I have
done? Harry had once or twice observed something remarkable in his
excursions to the west end of the mine. Fire, which suddenly went out,
sometimes appeared along the face of the rock or on the embankment of
the further galleries. How those flames were lighted, I could not and
cannot say. But they were evidently owing to the presence of fire-damp,
and to me fire-damp means a vein of coal.”
“Did not these fires cause any explosion?” asked the engineer quickly.
“Yes, little partial explosions,” replied Ford, “such as I used to cause
myself when I wished to ascertain the presence of fire-damp. Do you
remember how formerly it was the custom to try to prevent explosions
before our good genius, Humphry Davy, invented his safety-lamp?”
“Yes,” replied James Starr. “You mean what the ‘monk,’ as the men called
him, used to do. But I have never seen him in the exercise of his duty.”
“Indeed, Mr. Starr, you are too young, in spite of your five-and-fifty
years, to have seen that. But I, ten years older, often saw the last
‘monk’ working in the mine. He was called so because he wore a long robe
like a monk. His proper name was the ‘fireman.’ At that time there was
no other means of destroying the bad gas but by dispersing it in little
explosions, before its buoyancy had collected it in too great quantities
in the heights of the galleries. The monk, as we called him, with his
face masked, his head muffled up, all his body tightly wrapped in a
thick felt cloak, crawled along the ground. He could breathe down there,
when the air was pure; and with his right hand he waved above his head
a blazing torch. When the firedamp had accumulated in the air, so as to
form a detonating mixture, the explosion occurred without being fatal,
and, by often renewing this operation, catastrophes were prevented.
Sometimes the ‘monk’ was injured or killed in his work, then another
took his place. This was done in all mines until the Davy lamp was
universally adopted. But I knew the plan, and by its means I discovered
the presence of firedamp and consequently that of a new seam of coal in
the Dochart pit.”
All that the old overman had related of the so-called “monk” or
“fireman” was perfectly true. The air in the galleries of mines was
formerly always purified in the way described.
Fire-damp, marsh-gas, or carburetted hydrogen, is colorless, almost
scentless; it burns with a blue flame, and makes respiration impossible.
The miner could not live in a place filled with this injurious gas, any
more than one could live in a gasometer full of common gas. Moreover,
fire-damp, as well as the latter, a mixture of inflammable gases, forms
a detonating mixture as soon as the air unites with it in a proportion
of eight, and perhaps even five to the hundred. When this mixture is
lighted by any cause, there is an explosion, almost always followed by a
frightful catastrophe.
As they walked on, Simon Ford told the engineer all that he had done
to attain his object; how he was sure that the escape of fire-damp
took place at the very end of the farthest gallery in its western part,
because he had provoked small and partial explosions, or rather little
flames, enough to show the nature of the gas, which escaped in a small
jet, but with a continuous flow.
An hour after leaving the cottage, James Starr and his two companions
had gone a distance of four miles. The engineer, urged by anxiety and
hope, walked on without noticing the length of the way. He pondered
over all that the old miner had told him, and mentally weighed all the
arguments which the latter had given in support of his belief. He agreed
with him in thinking that the continued emission of carburetted hydrogen
certainly showed the existence of a new coal-seam. If it had been merely
a sort of pocket, full of gas, as it is sometimes found amongst the
rock, it would soon have been empty, and the phenomenon have ceased.
But far from that. According to Simon Ford, the fire-damp escaped
incessantly, and from that fact the existence of an important vein might
be considered certain. Consequently, the riches of the Dochart pit were
not entirely exhausted. The chief question now was, whether this was
merely a vein which would yield comparatively little, or a bed occupying
a large extent.
Harry, who preceded his father and the engineer, stopped.
“Here we are!” exclaimed the old miner. “At last, thank Heaven! you
are here, Mr. Starr, and we shall soon know.” The old overman’s voice
trembled slightly.
“Be calm, my man!” said the engineer. “I am as excited as you are, but
we must not lose time.”
The gallery at this end of the pit widened into a sort of dark cave.
No shaft had been pierced in this part, and the gallery, bored into the
bowels of the earth, had no direct communication with the surface of the
earth.
James Starr, with intense interest, examined the place in which they
were standing. On the walls of the cavern the marks of the pick could
still be seen, and even holes in which the rock had been blasted, near
the termination of the working. The schist was excessively hard, and it
had not been necessary to bank up the end of the tunnel where the works
had come to an end. There the vein had failed, between the schist and
the tertiary sandstone. From this very place had been extracted the last
piece of coal from the Dochart pit.
“We must attack the dyke,” said Ford, raising his pick; “for at the
other side of the break, at more or less depth, we shall assuredly find
the vein, the existence of which I assert.”
“And was it on the surface of these rocks that you found out the
fire-damp?” asked James Starr.
“Just there, sir,” returned Ford, “and I was able to light it only by
bringing my lamp near to the cracks in the rock. Harry has done it as
well as I.”
“At what height?” asked Starr.
“Ten feet from the ground,” replied Harry.
James Starr had seated himself on a rock. After critically inhaling the
air of the cavern, he gazed at the two miners, almost as if doubting
their words, decided as they were. In fact, carburetted hydrogen is not
completely scentless, and the engineer, whose sense of smell was very
keen, was astonished that it had not revealed the presence of the
explosive gas. At any rate, if the gas had mingled at all with the
surrounding air, it could only be in a very small stream. There was no
danger of an explosion, and they might without fear open the safety lamp
to try the experiment, just as the old miner had done before.
What troubled James Starr was, not lest too much gas mingled with the
air, but lest there should be little or none.
“Could they have been mistaken?” he murmured. “No: these men know what
they are about. And yet--”
He waited, not without some anxiety, until Simon Ford’s phenomenon
should have taken place. But just then it seemed that Harry, like
himself, had remarked the absence of the characteristic odor of
fire-damp; for he exclaimed in an altered voice, “Father, I should say
the gas was no longer escaping through the cracks!”
“No longer!” cried the old miner--and, pressing his lips tight together,
he snuffed the air several times.
Then, all at once, with a sudden movement, “Hand me your lamp, Harry,”
he said.
Ford took the lamp with a trembling hand. He drew off the wire gauze
case which surrounded the wick, and the flame burned in the open air.
As they had expected, there was no explosion, but, what was more
serious, there was not even the slight crackling which indicates the
presence of a small quantity of firedamp. Simon took the stick which
Harry was holding, fixed his lamp to the end of it, and raised it high
above his head, up to where the gas, by reason of its buoyancy, would
naturally accumulate. The flame of the lamp, burning straight and clear,
revealed no trace of the carburetted hydrogen.
“Close to the wall,” said the engineer.
“Yes,” responded Ford, carrying the lamp to that part of the wall at
which he and his son had, the evening before, proved the escape of gas.
The old miner’s arm trembled whilst he tried to hoist the lamp up. “Take
my place, Harry,” said he.
Harry took the stick, and successively presented the lamp to the
different fissures in the rock; but he shook his head, for of that
slight crackling peculiar to escaping fire-damp he heard nothing. There
was no flame. Evidently not a particle of gas was escaping through the
rock.
“Nothing!” cried Ford, clenching his fist with a gesture rather of anger
than disappointment.
A cry escaped Harry.
“What’s the matter?” asked Starr quickly.
“Someone has stopped up the cracks in the schist!”
“Is that true?” exclaimed the old miner.
“Look, father!” Harry was not mistaken. The obstruction of the fissures
was clearly visible by the light of the lamp. It had been recently done
with lime, leaving on the rock a long whitish mark, badly concealed with
coal dust.
“It’s he!” exclaimed Harry. “It can only be he!”
“He?” repeated James Starr in amazement.
“Yes!” returned the young man, “that mysterious being who haunts our
domain, for whom I have watched a hundred times without being able to
get at him--the author, we may now be certain, of that letter which was
intended to hinder you from coming to see my father, Mr. Starr, and who
finally threw that stone at us in the gallery of the Yarrow shaft! Ah!
there’s no doubt about it; there is a man’s hand in all that!”
Harry spoke with such energy that conviction came instantly and fully
to the engineer’s mind. As to the old overman, he was already convinced.
Besides, there they were in the presence of an undeniable fact--the
stopping-up of cracks through which gas had escaped freely the night
before.
“Take your pick, Harry,” cried Ford; “mount on my shoulders, my lad!
I am still strong enough to bear you!” The young man understood in an
instant. His father propped himself up against the rock. Harry got upon
his shoulders, so that with his pick he could reach the line of the
fissure. Then with quick sharp blows he attacked it. Almost directly
afterwards a slight sound was heard, like champagne escaping from a
bottle--a sound commonly expressed by the word “puff.”
Harry again seized his lamp, and held it to the opening. There was
a slight report; and a little red flame, rather blue at its outline,
flickered over the rock like a Will-o’-the-Wisp.
Harry leaped to the ground, and the old overman, unable to contain his
joy, grasped the engineer’s hands, exclaiming, “Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
Mr. Starr. The fire-damp burns! the vein is there!”
CHAPTER VII. NEW ABERFOYLE
THE old overman’s experiment had succeeded. Firedamp, it is well known,
is only generated in coal seams; therefore the existence of a vein of
precious combustible could no longer be doubted. As to its size and
quality, that must be determined later.
“Yes,” thought James Starr, “behind that wall lies a carboniferous bed,
undiscovered by our soundings. It is vexatious that all the apparatus
of the mine, deserted for ten years, must be set up anew. Never mind. We
have found the vein which was thought to be exhausted, and this time it
shall be worked to the end!”
“Well, Mr. Starr,” asked Ford, “what do you think of our discovery? Was
I wrong to trouble you? Are you sorry to have paid this visit to the
Dochart pit?”
“No, no, my old friend!” answered Starr. “We have not lost our time;
but we shall be losing it now, if we do not return immediately to the
cottage. To-morrow we will come back here. We will blast this wall
with dynamite. We will lay open the new vein, and after a series of
soundings, if the seam appears to be large, I will form a new Aberfoyle
Company, to the great satisfaction of the old shareholders. Before three
months have passed, the first corves full of coal will have been taken
from the new vein.”
“Well said, sir!” cried Simon Ford. “The old mine will grow young again,
like a widow who remarries! The bustle of the old days will soon begin
with the blows of the pick, and mattock, blasts of powder, rumbling of
wagons, neighing of horses, creaking of machines! I shall see it all
again! I hope, Mr. Starr, that you will not think me too old to resume
my duties of overman?”
“No, Simon, no indeed! You wear better than I do, my old friend!”
“And, sir, you shall be our viewer again. May the new working last
for many years, and pray Heaven I shall have the consolation of dying
without seeing the end of it!”
The old miner was overflowing with joy. James Starr fully entered into
it; but he let Ford rave for them both. Harry alone remained thoughtful.
To his memory recurred the succession of singular, inexplicable
circumstances attending the discovery of the new bed. It made him uneasy
about the future.
An hour afterwards, James Starr and his two companions were back in
the cottage. The engineer supped with good appetite, listening with
satisfaction to all the plans unfolded by the old overman; and had it
not been for his excitement about the next day’s work, he would never
have slept better than in the perfect stillness of the cottage.
The following day, after a substantial breakfast, James Starr, Simon
Ford, Harry, and even Madge herself, took the road already traversed
the day before. All looked like regular miners. They carried different
tools, and some dynamite with which to blast the rock. Harry, besides a
large lantern, took a safety lamp, which would burn for twelve hours.
It was more than was necessary for the journey there and back, including
the time for the working--supposing a working was possible.
“To work! to work!” shouted Ford, when the party reached the further end
of the passage; and he grasped a heavy crowbar and brandished it.
“Stop one instant,” said Starr. “Let us see if any change has taken
place, and if the fire-damp still escapes through the crevices.”
“You are right, Mr. Starr,” said Harry. “Whoever stopped it up yesterday
may have done it again to-day!”
Madge, seated on a rock, carefully observed the excavation, and the wall
which was to be blasted.
It was found that everything was just as they left it. The crevices
had undergone no alteration; the carburetted hydrogen still filtered
through, though in a small stream, which was no doubt because it had had
a free passage since the day before. As the quantity was so small, it
could not have formed an explosive mixture with the air inside. James
Starr and his companions could therefore proceed in security. Besides,
the air grew purer by rising to the heights of the Dochart pit; and the
fire-damp, spreading through the atmosphere, would not be strong enough
to make any explosion.
“To work, then!” repeated Ford; and soon the rock flew in splinters
under his skillful blows. The break was chiefly composed of
pudding-stone, interspersed with sandstone and schist, such as is most
often met with between the coal veins. James Starr picked up some of the
pieces, and examined them carefully, hoping to discover some trace of
coal.
Starr having chosen the place where the holes were to be drilled, they
were rapidly bored by Harry. Some cartridges of dynamite were put into
them. As soon as the long, tarred safety match was laid, it was lighted
on a level with the ground. James Starr and his companions then went off
to some distance.
“Oh! Mr. Starr,” said Simon Ford, a prey to agitation, which he did not
attempt to conceal, “never, no, never has my old heart beaten so quick
before! I am longing to get at the vein!”
“Patience, Simon!” responded the engineer. “You don’t mean to say that
you think you are going to find a passage all ready open behind that
dyke?”
“Excuse me, sir,” answered the old overman; “but of course I think so!
If there was good luck in the way Harry and I discovered this place, why
shouldn’t the good luck go on?”
As he spoke, came the explosion. A sound as of thunder rolled through
the labyrinth of subterranean galleries. Starr, Madge, Harry, and Simon
Ford hastened towards the spot.
“Mr. Starr! Mr. Starr!” shouted the overman. “Look! the door is broken
open!”
Ford’s comparison was justified by the appearance of an excavation,
the depth of which could not be calculated. Harry was about to spring
through the opening; but the engineer, though excessively surprised to
find this cavity, held him back. “Allow time for the air in there to get
pure,” said he.
“Yes! beware of the foul air!” said Simon.
A quarter of an hour was passed in anxious waiting. The lantern was then
fastened to the end of a stick, and introduced into the cave, where it
continued to burn with unaltered brilliancy. “Now then, Harry, go,” said
Starr, “and we will follow you.”
The opening made by the dynamite was sufficiently large to allow a
man to pass through. Harry, lamp in hand, entered unhesitatingly, and
disappeared in the darkness. His father, mother, and James Starr waited
in silence. A minute--which seemed to them much longer--passed. Harry
did not reappear, did not call. Gazing into the opening, James
Starr could not even see the light of his lamp, which ought to have
illuminated the dark cavern.
Had the ground suddenly given way under Harry’s feet? Had the young
miner fallen into some crevice? Could his voice no longer reach his
companions?
The old overman, dead to their remonstrances, was about to enter the
opening, when a light appeared, dim at first, but gradually growing
brighter, and Harry’s voice was heard shouting, “Come, Mr. Starr! come,
father! The road to New Aberfoyle is open!”
If, by some superhuman power, engineers could have raised in a block,
a thousand feet thick, all that portion of the terrestrial crust which
supports the lakes, rivers, gulfs, and territories of the counties of
Stirling, Dumbarton, and Renfrew, they would have found, under that
enormous lid, an immense excavation, to which but one other in the
world can be compared--the celebrated Mammoth caves of Kentucky. This
excavation was composed of several hundred divisions of all sizes and
shapes. It might be called a hive with numberless ranges of cells,
capriciously arranged, but a hive on a vast scale, and which, instead
of bees, might have lodged all the ichthyosauri, megatheriums, and
pterodactyles of the geological epoch.
A labyrinth of galleries, some higher than the most lofty cathedrals,
others like cloisters, narrow and winding--these following a
horizontal line, those on an incline or running obliquely in all
directions--connected the caverns and allowed free communication between
them.
The pillars sustaining the vaulted roofs, whose curves allowed of every
style, the massive walls between the passages, the naves themselves
in this layer of secondary formation, were composed of sandstone and
schistous rocks. But tightly packed between these useless strata ran
valuable veins of coal, as if the black blood of this strange mine had
circulated through their tangled network. These fields extended forty
miles north and south, and stretched even under the Caledonian
Canal. The importance of this bed could not be calculated until
after soundings, but it would certainly surpass those of Cardiff and
Newcastle.
We may add that the working of this mine would be singularly facilitated
by the fantastic dispositions of the secondary earths; for by an
unaccountable retreat of the mineral matter at the geological epoch,
when the mass was solidifying, nature had already multiplied the
galleries and tunnels of New Aberfoyle.
Yes, nature alone! It might at first have been supposed that some works
abandoned for centuries had been discovered afresh. Nothing of the sort.
No one would have deserted such riches. Human termites had never gnawed
away this part of the Scottish subsoil; nature herself had done it
all. But, we repeat, it could be compared to nothing but the celebrated
Mammoth caves, which, in an extent of more than twenty miles, contain
two hundred and twenty-six avenues, eleven lakes, seven rivers, eight
cataracts, thirty-two unfathomable wells, and fifty-seven domes, some
of which are more than four hundred and fifty feet in height. Like
these caves, New Aberfoyle was not the work of men, but the work of the
Creator.
Such was this new domain, of matchless wealth, the discovery of which
belonged entirely to the old overman. Ten years’ sojourn in the deserted
mine, an uncommon pertinacity in research, perfect faith, sustained by
a marvelous mining instinct--all these qualities together led him to
succeed where so many others had failed. Why had the soundings made
under the direction of James Starr during the last years of the working
stopped just at that limit, on the very frontier of the new mine? That
was all chance, which takes great part in researches of this kind.
However that might be, there was, under the Scottish subsoil, what might
be called a subterranean county, which, to be habitable, needed only the
rays of the sun, or, for want of that, the light of a special planet.
Water had collected in various hollows, forming vast ponds, or rather
lakes larger than Loch Katrine, lying just above them. Of course the
waters of these lakes had no movement of currents or tides; no old
castle was reflected there; no birch or oak trees waved on their banks.
And yet these deep lakes, whose mirror-like surface was never ruffled by
a breeze, would not be without charm by the light of some electric star,
and, connected by a string of canals, would well complete the geography
of this strange domain.
Although unfit for any vegetable production, the place could be
inhabited by a whole population. And who knows but that in this steady
temperature, in the depths of the mines of Aberfoyle, as well as in
those of Newcastle, Alloa, or Cardiff--when their contents shall have
been exhausted--who knows but that the poorer classes of Great Britain
will some day find a refuge?
CHAPTER VIII. EXPLORING
AT Harry’s call, James Starr, Madge, and Simon Ford entered through the
narrow orifice which put the Dochart pit in communication with the
new mine. They found themselves at the beginning of a tolerably wide
gallery. One might well believe that it had been pierced by the hand of
man, that the pick and mattock had emptied it in the working of a new
vein. The explorers question whether, by a strange chance, they had not
been transported into some ancient mine, of the existence of which even
the oldest miners in the county had ever known.
No! It was merely that the geological layers had left this passage when
the secondary earths were in course of formation. Perhaps some torrent
had formerly dashed through it; but now it was as dry as if it had been
cut some thousand feet lower, through granite rocks. At the same time,
the air circulated freely, which showed that certain natural vents
placed it in communication with the exterior atmosphere.
This observation, made by the engineer, was correct, and it was evident
that the ventilation of the new mine would be easily managed. As to the
fire-damp which had lately filtered through the schist, it seemed to
have been contained in a pocket now empty, and it was certain that
the atmosphere of the gallery was quite free from it. However, Harry
prudently carried only the safety lamp, which would insure light for
twelve hours.
James Starr and his companions now felt perfectly happy. All their
wishes were satisfied. There was nothing but coal around them. A sort
of emotion kept them silent; even Simon Ford restrained himself. His joy
overflowed, not in long phrases, but in short ejaculations.
It was perhaps imprudent to venture so far into the crypt. Pooh! they
never thought of how they were to get back.
The gallery was practicable, not very winding. They met with no noxious
exhalations, nor did any chasm bar the path. There was no reason for
stopping for a whole hour; James Starr, Madge, Harry, and Simon Ford
walked on, though there was nothing to show them what was the exact
direction of this unknown tunnel.
And they would no doubt have gone farther still, if they had not
suddenly come to the end of the wide road which they had followed since
their entrance into the mine.
The gallery ended in an enormous cavern, neither the height nor depth
of which could be calculated. At what altitude arched the roof of this
excavation--at what distance was its opposite wall--the darkness totally
concealed; but by the light of the lamp the explorers could discover
that its dome covered a vast extent of still water--pond or lake--whose
picturesque rocky banks were lost in obscurity.
“Halt!” exclaimed Ford, stopping suddenly. “Another step, and perhaps we
shall fall into some fathomless pit.”
“Let us rest awhile, then, my friends,” returned the engineer. “Besides,
we ought to be thinking of returning to the cottage.”
“Our lamp will give light for another ten hours, sir,” said Harry.
“Well, let us make a halt,” replied Starr; “I confess my legs have need
of a rest. And you, Madge, don’t you feel tired after so long a walk?”
“Not over much, Mr. Starr,” replied the sturdy Scotchwoman; “we have
been accustomed to explore the old Aberfoyle mine for whole days
together.”
“Tired? nonsense!” interrupted Simon Ford; “Madge could go ten times
as far, if necessary. But once more, Mr. Starr, wasn’t my communication
worth your trouble in coming to hear it? Just dare to say no, Mr. Starr,
dare to say no!”
“Well, my old friend, I haven’t felt so happy for a long while!” replied
the engineer; “the small part of this marvelous mine that we have
explored seems to show that its extent is very considerable, at least in
length.”
“In width and in depth, too, Mr. Starr!” returned Simon Ford.
“That we shall know later.”
“And I can answer for it! Trust to the instinct of an old miner! It has
never deceived me!”
“I wish to believe you, Simon,” replied the engineer, smiling. “As far
as I can judge from this short exploration, we possess the elements of a
working which will last for centuries!”
“Centuries!” exclaimed Simon Ford; “I believe you, sir! A thousand years
and more will pass before the last bit of coal is taken out of our new
mine!”
“Heaven grant it!” returned Starr. “As to the quality of the coal which
crops out of these walls?”
“Superb! Mr. Starr, superb!” answered Ford; “just look at it yourself!”
And so saying, with his pick he struck off a fragment of the black rock.
“Look! look!” he repeated, holding it close to his lamp; “the surface of
this piece of coal is shining! We have here fat coal, rich in bituminous
matter; and see how it comes in pieces, almost without dust! Ah, Mr.
Starr! twenty years ago this seam would have entered into a strong
competition with Swansea and Cardiff! Well, stokers will quarrel for it
still, and if it costs little to extract it from the mine, it will not
sell at a less price outside.”
“Indeed,” said Madge, who had taken the fragment of coal and was
examining it with the air of a connoisseur; “that’s good quality of
coal. Carry it home, Simon, carry it back to the cottage! I want this
first piece of coal to burn under our kettle.”
“Well said, wife!” answered the old overman, “and you shall see that I
am not mistaken.”
“Mr. Starr,” asked Harry, “have you any idea of the probable direction
of this long passage which we have been following since our entrance
into the new mine?”
“No, my lad,” replied the engineer; “with a compass I could perhaps find
out its general bearing; but without a compass I am here like a sailor
in open sea, in the midst of fogs, when there is no sun by which to
calculate his position.”
“No doubt, Mr. Starr,” replied Ford; “but pray don’t compare our
position with that of the sailor, who has everywhere and always an abyss
under his feet! We are on firm ground here, and need never be afraid of
foundering.”
“I won’t tease you, then, old Simon,” answered James Starr. “Far be it
from me even in jest to depreciate the New Aberfoyle mine by an unjust
comparison! I only meant to say one thing, and that is that we don’t
know where we are.”
“We are in the subsoil of the county of Stirling, Mr. Starr,” replied
Simon Ford; “and that I assert as if--”
“Listen!” said Harry, interrupting the old man. All listened, as the
young miner was doing. His ears, which were very sharp, had caught
a dull sound, like a distant murmur. His companions were not long in
hearing it themselves. It was above their heads, a sort of rolling
sound, in which though it was so feeble, the successive CRESCENDO and
DIMINUENDO could be distinctly heard.
All four stood for some minutes, their ears on the stretch, without
uttering a word. All at once Simon Ford exclaimed, “Well, I declare! Are
trucks already running on the rails of New Aberfoyle?”
“Father,” replied Harry, “it sounds to me just like the noise made by
waves rolling on the sea shore.”
“We can’t be under the sea though!” cried the old overman.
“No,” said the engineer, “but it is not impossible that we should be
under Loch Katrine.”
“The roof cannot have much thickness just here, if the noise of the
water is perceptible.”
“Very little indeed,” answered James Starr, “and that is the reason this
cavern is so huge.”
“You must be right, Mr. Starr,” said Harry.
“Besides, the weather is so bad outside,” resumed Starr, “that the
waters of the loch must be as rough as those of the Firth of Forth.”
“Well! what does it matter after all?” returned Simon Ford; “the seam
won’t be any the worse because it is under a loch. It would not be
the first time that coal has been looked for under the very bed of the
ocean! When we have to work under the bottom of the Caledonian Canal,
where will be the harm?”
“Well said, Simon,” cried the engineer, who could not restrain a smile
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000