I may remark here that the bottom which we had reached was not the bottom under the sea. At another time Captain Jan took me to that submarine cavern where, as I have said, no sound ever reaches the ear from the world above. There is, however, a level close under the sea where the roar of Ocean is distinctly heard. It is in a part of Botallack Mine named Wheal Cock. It was very rich in copper ore, and the miners worked at the roof of it so vigorously, that they began to fear it would give way. One of them, therefore, in order to ascertain what thickness of solid rock still lay between them and the sea, bored a small hole upwards, and advanced about three feet or so before the water rushed in. Of course they had a wooden plug ready and stopped up the hole. But, as it was dangerous to cut away any more of the roof, they were finally obliged unwillingly to forsake that part of the mine.
This occurred some thirty years before my visit, yet when I went to see the place, I found the wooden plug still hard and fast in the hole and quite immoveable. As I stood and listened I could well understand the anxiety of the miners, for at the upward rush of each wave, I could hear the rattle of the boulders overhead, like monster cannon balls, and a repetition of the thunder when the waves retreated.
On our way up the ladders we stopped several times to rest. At such times Captain Jan related various anecdotes illustrative of mining life.
“This is a place,” said he, on one occasion, “which reminds me of a man who was always ready to go in for dangerous work. His name was Old Maggot. He was not really old, but he had a son named after himself, and his friends had to distinguish him from the young Maggot.”
So saying, Captain Jan trimmed his candle with nature’s own pair of snuffers—the finger and thumb—and proceeded as follows:
“Some time ago the miners in Botallack came to an old deserted mine that was full of water—this is what miners call a ‘house of water.’ The ore there was rich, but the men were afraid to work it lest they should come suddenly on the old mine and break a hole through to it—in other words ‘hole to that house of water.’ They stopped working at last, and no one seemed willing to run the risk of driving the hole and letting out the water. In this difficulty they appealed to Old Maggot, who at once agreed to do it. The old mine was about three-quarters of a mile back from the sea-shore, but at that time it could only be got at by entering the adit level from the shore. It was through this level that the water would have to escape. At the mouth of it a number of men assembled to see Old Maggot go in. In he went, alone, with a bunch of candles, and, as he walked along, he stuck a lighted candle every here and there against the wall to light him out,—for he expected to have to run for it.
“When he came to the place, the water was spirting out everywhere. But Old Maggot didn’t mind. He grasped his hammer and borer and began. The work was done sooner than he had expected! Suddenly the rock gave way and the water burst upon him, putting out his candle and turning him heels over head. He jumped up and tried to run, but the flood rose on him, carried him off his legs, swept him right through the level, and hurled him through the adit-mouth at last, upon the sea-shore! He was stunned a little, but soon recovered, and, beyond a few bruises and a wetting, was nothing the worse of his adventure.
“That,” said Captain Jan, pointing to the rock beside us, “was the place where Old Maggot holed to the house of water, and this was the level through which he was washed and through part of which I will now conduct you.”
Accordingly, we traversed the level, and, coming to another shaft, continued our upward progress.
While we were slowly toiling up, step by step, we were suddenly arrested by the sound of voices singing in the far distance above us. The music was slow and solemn. Coming as it did so unexpectedly in such a strange place, it sounded quite magical and inexpressibly sweet.