Success and How He Won It

by E. Werner

It was he who had made the ladder-way inaccessible, who had caused the machinery to be tampered with, so that all help had been delayed for more than an hour; his father was below with the rest, lost, perhaps, through his doing--it was a thing of course that he would rush unhesitatingly forwards to face a risk which none would willingly share with him. But when the master led the way, the proud, delicately-nurtured man, who had never set foot in his own mines while they were comparatively safe, when, now that destruction impended, he pressed forward, all were ready to follow.

The next to volunteer were the three miners who had meddled with the machinery in the morning; they went down under the conduct of an engineer. Then more and more helpers came forward; there was no need to appeal for, no need to require, assistance. Soon the chief-engineer was obliged to turn back applicants, as only a certain number could admitted to the work of deliverance.

Hour after hour passed by, the sun had long since reached its meridian, had long since sunk below it, and still, down below in the very bowels of the earth, the mind of man and the will of man were struggling to snatch their prey from the revolted elements. It was a more terrible fight than any fought in the light of day. In order to advance at all, every foot of earth had to be conquered, every step forward to be painfully won at the risk of their lives, yet they did advance; and it seemed as if such incredible exertions would be rewarded by results equally incredible.

Communication with the unfortunate prisoners had been established; it was hoped they might yet be saved, now that it was found they, or at least some of them, were still living. A happy chance, the finding of two lanterns which had been lost thrown away in the hurried flight, had led to the right track. The explosion seemed to have only partially destroyed the upper shaft, and the miners had apparently had time to take refuge in the side-galleries, where the fire-damp had not reached them, but where they were blocked up and completely walled in by a fall of earth in the outer chambers.

The question was how to work a way through to them, how to find a passage in which the liberating party would at least be able to draw breath, and so to carry out the prompt and efficient plan which had been conceived for their rescue.

"If the whole earth lay on them we must get through!" Ulric had cried when the first traces were found, and that had become the rallying word repeated by every man to his fellow.

Not one fell back, not one tried to evade the perilous duty of his post, yet the strength of many among them could not keep pace with their zeal, and, to avoid increasing the number of sacrifices, several of the workers had to be sent to the surface and their places filled by fresh volunteers.

Two only of the party never flagged and never wearied; Ulric Hartmann with his iron frame, and Arthur Berkow with his iron will, which steeled the nerves of the delicate, slightly-built man, and gave him power to endure on under circumstances, and in the midst of dangers, to which so many stronger than he succumbed. These two held on; side by side they pressed forward, and always in the van.

Ulric's giant strength worked marvels and overcame obstacles which seemed too great to be conquered by human hands: as for the master, it was sufficient that he should be there at their head, that he should be there at all. He could, indeed, do no more than encourage the others in their labours, but in doing this, he rendered better service than by toiling with his arms.

Three times already the hand of his more experienced companion had pulled him back, when, unacquainted with the dangers of the mine, he had exposed himself imprudently; already the engineers had entreated him to turn back, now that there were workers enough and officials enough to lead and direct. Arthur refused each time most resolutely. He felt how much depended upon his remaining among these men who had so suddenly turned from open, violent revolt, to aid and succour in the present distress.