with me,” Ross suggested. “But perhaps you no longer care for such adventure—in that attire.”
Francis's flush became deeper. “Of course I’ll come,” he said shortly. “Give me an old suit of your father's.”
“There's no need. I’ll go another day.”
Francis handed his horse to Jud, who had just come down from the field. “We can talk on the way. It will be of interest to me.”
They went indoors, and Ross searched among such of his father's belongings as the Paynters had not sold. When suitable things had been found, Francis stripped off his fine clothes and put them on.
They left the house, and to overcome the restraint Ross forced himself to talk of his experiences in America, where he had been sent as a raw ensign after only a month with his regiment in Ireland; of those hectic first three months under Lord Cornwallis when almost all the fighting he had seen had taken place, of the advance towards Ports mouth and the sudden attack by the French while they were crossing the James River, of the routing of Lafayette; of a musket ball in the ankle and his being drafted to New York as a result, so escaping the siege of Yorktown; of a bayonet cut in the face during a local skirmish while the articles of the preliminary peace were being signed.
They reached the mine and the engine house, and Ross poked about among the tall gorse for some minutes; then he went over to his cousin, who was peering down the shaft.
“How deep did they drive it?” Francis asked.
“No more than thirty fathoms, I believe; and most of that will be under water. But I have heard my father say that most of the old Trevorgie working drained itself.”
“We have begun an eighty-fathom level at Grambler, and it promises big things. How long since this ladder was used?”
“Ten years, I suppose. Shelter me, will you.”
The strong breeze hindered the lighting of the hempen candles. With one candle in the front of each hard hat they began to descend the ladder. Francis would have gone first, but Ross stopped him.
“Wait. I’ll try it out.”
The first dozen rungs seemed stout enough, and Francis began to follow. This was a fairly wide shaft, the ladder nailed to the side and supported with wooden platforms at intervals. Some of the pumping gear was still in position, but farther down it had fallen away. As they left the daylight, the strong dank smell of stagnant water rose to meet them.
The first level was reached without incident. By the smoky flickering light on his hat, Ross peered into the narrow opening of the tunnel; he decided to try for the next level. He called this up to the man above him and they went on down. Once Francis dislodged a stone, and it clattered on the next platform and fell with a sleek plop into the unseen water below.
Now the rungs began to prove treacherous. Several had to be missed altogether, and then one gave just as Ross put his full weight on it. His foot caught in the next rung, which was sound.
“If ever I open a mine,” he called up, his voice echoing round the confìned space, “I shall put iron ladders down the main shaft.”
“When times are better, we intend to do that at Grambler. Bartle's father was lost that way.”
Ross's feet went cold. He bent his head to peer at the dark, oily water which barred his way. The height of the water had dropped during the last months, for all round him the walls were covered with green slime. His breath rose steamily to join the smoke from the candle. Beside him, some two feet deep in water, was the opening of the second level. This was the lowest part of the old Trevorgie Mine.
He took two more steps down until the water was above his knees, then stepped off the ladder into the tunnel.
“Faugh! what a stench,” came from Francis. “I wonder how many unwanted brats have been dropped down here.”
“I think,” said Ross, “that this level runs east under the valley in the direction of Mingoose.”
He moved off into the tunnel. A
Francis's flush became deeper. “Of course I’ll come,” he said shortly. “Give me an old suit of your father's.”
“There's no need. I’ll go another day.”
Francis handed his horse to Jud, who had just come down from the field. “We can talk on the way. It will be of interest to me.”
They went indoors, and Ross searched among such of his father's belongings as the Paynters had not sold. When suitable things had been found, Francis stripped off his fine clothes and put them on.
They left the house, and to overcome the restraint Ross forced himself to talk of his experiences in America, where he had been sent as a raw ensign after only a month with his regiment in Ireland; of those hectic first three months under Lord Cornwallis when almost all the fighting he had seen had taken place, of the advance towards Ports mouth and the sudden attack by the French while they were crossing the James River, of the routing of Lafayette; of a musket ball in the ankle and his being drafted to New York as a result, so escaping the siege of Yorktown; of a bayonet cut in the face during a local skirmish while the articles of the preliminary peace were being signed.
They reached the mine and the engine house, and Ross poked about among the tall gorse for some minutes; then he went over to his cousin, who was peering down the shaft.
“How deep did they drive it?” Francis asked.
“No more than thirty fathoms, I believe; and most of that will be under water. But I have heard my father say that most of the old Trevorgie working drained itself.”
“We have begun an eighty-fathom level at Grambler, and it promises big things. How long since this ladder was used?”
“Ten years, I suppose. Shelter me, will you.”
The strong breeze hindered the lighting of the hempen candles. With one candle in the front of each hard hat they began to descend the ladder. Francis would have gone first, but Ross stopped him.
“Wait. I’ll try it out.”
The first dozen rungs seemed stout enough, and Francis began to follow. This was a fairly wide shaft, the ladder nailed to the side and supported with wooden platforms at intervals. Some of the pumping gear was still in position, but farther down it had fallen away. As they left the daylight, the strong dank smell of stagnant water rose to meet them.
The first level was reached without incident. By the smoky flickering light on his hat, Ross peered into the narrow opening of the tunnel; he decided to try for the next level. He called this up to the man above him and they went on down. Once Francis dislodged a stone, and it clattered on the next platform and fell with a sleek plop into the unseen water below.
Now the rungs began to prove treacherous. Several had to be missed altogether, and then one gave just as Ross put his full weight on it. His foot caught in the next rung, which was sound.
“If ever I open a mine,” he called up, his voice echoing round the confìned space, “I shall put iron ladders down the main shaft.”
“When times are better, we intend to do that at Grambler. Bartle's father was lost that way.”
Ross's feet went cold. He bent his head to peer at the dark, oily water which barred his way. The height of the water had dropped during the last months, for all round him the walls were covered with green slime. His breath rose steamily to join the smoke from the candle. Beside him, some two feet deep in water, was the opening of the second level. This was the lowest part of the old Trevorgie Mine.
He took two more steps down until the water was above his knees, then stepped off the ladder into the tunnel.
“Faugh! what a stench,” came from Francis. “I wonder how many unwanted brats have been dropped down here.”
“I think,” said Ross, “that this level runs east under the valley in the direction of Mingoose.”
He moved off into the tunnel. A
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