Lives of the Engineers / The Locomotive. George and Robert Stephenson

by Samuel Smiles

It was natural that George Stephenson should devote his attention to the causes of these deplorable accidents, and to the means by which they might if possible be prevented.

His daily occupation led him to think much and deeply on the subject. As engine-wright of a colliery so extensive as that of Killingworth, where there were nearly 160 miles of gallery excavation, in which he personally superintended the working of the inclined planes along which the coals were sent to the pit entrance, he was necessarily very often underground, and brought face to face with the dangers of fire-damp. From fissures in the roofs of the galleries, carburetted hydrogen gas was constantly flowing; in some of the more dangerous places it might be heard escaping from the crevices of the coal with a hissing noise. Ventilation, firing, and all conceivable modes of drawing out the foul air had been adopted, and the more dangerous parts of the galleries were built up. Still the danger could not be wholly prevented. The miners must necessarily guide their steps through the extensive underground ways with lighted lamps or candles, the naked flame of which, coming in contact with the inflammable air, daily exposed them and their fellow-workers in the pit to the risk of death in one of its most dreadful forms.

One day, in 1814, a workman hurried into Stephenson’s cottage with the startling information that the deepest main of the colliery was on fire! He immediately hastened to the pit-head, about a hundred yards off, whither the women and children of the colliery were running, with wildness and terror depicted in every face. In a commanding voice Stephenson ordered the engineman to lower him down the shaft in the corve. There was peril, it might be death, before him, but he must go.

He was soon at the bottom, and in the midst of the men, who were paralysed by the danger which threatened the lives of all in the pit. Leaping from the corve on its touching the ground, he called out; “Are there six men among you who have courage to follow me? If so, come, and we will put the fire out.” The Killingworth pitmen had the most perfect confidence in their engine-wright, and they readily volunteered to follow him.

Silence succeeded the frantic tumult of the previous minute, and the men set to work with a will. In every mine, bricks, mortar, and tools enough are at hand, and by Stephenson’s direction the materials were forthwith carried to the required spot, where, in a very short time a wall was raised at the entrance to the main, he himself taking the most active part in the work. The atmospheric air was by this means excluded, the fire was extinguished, the people were saved from death, and the mine was preserved.

This anecdote of Stephenson was related to the writer, near the pit-mouth, by one of the men who had been present and helped to build up the brick wall by which the fire was stayed, though several workmen were suffocated. He related that, when down the pit some days after, seeking out the dead bodies, the cause of the accident was the subject of conversation, and Stephenson was asked, “Can nothing be done to prevent such awful occurrences?” His reply was that he thought something might be done.

“Then,” said the other, “the sooner you start the better; for the price of coal-mining now is pitmen’s lives.”

Fifty years since, many of the best pits were so full of the inflammable gas given forth by the coal, that they could not be worked without the greatest danger; and for this reason some were altogether abandoned, The rudest possible methods were adopted of producing light sufficient to enable the pitmen to work by. The phosphorescence of decayed fish-skins was tried; but this, though safe, was very inefficient. The most common method employed was what was called a steel mill, the notched wheel of which, being made to revolve against a flint, struck a succession of sparks, which scarcely served to do more than make the darkness visible. A boy carried the apparatus after the miner, working the wheel, and by the imperfect light thus given forth he plied his dangerous trade. Candles were only used in those parts of the pit where gas was not abundant. Under this rude system not more than one-third of the coal could be worked; and two-thirds were left.