The remainder of the party now left, and I, in company with the superintendent, clothing myself in a miner’s suit, to keep off the water and mud, descended to the bottom of the mine, one thousand feet and more from the surface.
We went down ladder after ladder, along gallery after gallery, through chambers like great churches in size, and others in which we could not stand erect, down steps cut in the rock, and so slippery with dripping water and soft clay, as to compel us to use an iron-shod staff to support ourselves, and through many a winding turning, until we stood at the bottom of the tiro, wet through with perspiration, and trembling with exhaustion.
At the bottom of the tiro is a great pond of water, the reservoir into which all the drainings of the mine are gathered, and the buckets on the great cables, worked by the malacates at the top, were constantly coming and going between it and the end of the tunnel six hundred feet above. These buckets will hold three to four hogsheads of water, and are made of rawhide, in the form of an ordinary Mexican water jar. An iron ring distends the mouth of the bucket, and when the vessel descends, the wet hide flattening down allows the water to rush in, and as the lifting commences, it falls back into its original form, filled to the brim with the dirty fluid. When the bucket reaches the level of the tunnel, it is hauled into the opening, and as the cable is slackened up, it flattens down again, and the water, escaping over the rim, runs off down the side of the tunnel.
But there are still lower depths. We went down nearly two hundred feet more, and at the bottom of the last level, found men at work taking out ore. The dripping of the water at this point is very considerable, and two plans are made use of to get rid of it. A part of the water is carried up to the reservoir in pig skins on the backs of naked and sweating Indians, and a part—the larger part—is pumped up to that point by hand.
PRIMITIVE APPLIANCES FOR MINING.
The pumps are mere straight logs, thirty feet long, with a bore of three inches, and a piston and bucket, pulled and pushed, back and forth, by two stalwart Indians sitting on either side, working by main strength, without even a lever purchase to help them along. There are stations or reservoirs at the end of each pump, and all must be kept continually working, night and day. The Indian pumpers sit down to their work upon the wet rock, and are as naked as when born; the great heat and want of ventilation at this depth, rendering clothing, if they had it, a superfluity.
They get fifty cents each, per day, and work twelve hours at a shift. In all my mining experience, I have never seen such a waste of power, and such thoroughly primitive appliances for mining.
I went through many of the galleries and drifts, and examined the vein carefully. The main vein is five to twelve feet wide, quite irregular, and runs in a generally southwestern and northeastern direction, dipping to the southwestward as it descends.
It carries metal in a very unequal degree in different portions, and though presenting rich specimens, and bunches of almost pure silver in spots, is not generally very rich.
In one chamber, I saw a number of mules and horses feeding, a thousand feet below the surface. These poor creatures are let down in slings, from the surface, through the tiro, and never go out again alive. They turned their glazing eyes upon us with evident pain as we passed with lighted torches, and appeared to regard us with mournful interest, as in some way connected with the world above, of which they still retained some dim recollection, but which they were never to look upon again.