CHAPTER III
HEROES OF THE UNDERGROUND
Knowing that his father had spent many years on Tillamook Rock, Eric waseager to see every nook and cranny of the building, and he importunedhis uncle to go with him over the structure. But, although the inspectorand the light-keeper were brothers, the trip was an official one, andhis uncle deputed one of the assistant light-keepers to show the ladaround.
Eric was not slow in making use of his time. He climbed up to thelantern and saw for himself close at hand the lens he had so often hearddescribed, astonishing his guide with all sorts of questions. Most ofthese showed an extraordinary knowledge of lights and lighthouses, inwhich a mass of information was combined with utter ignorance of detail.This was due to the boy's long acquaintance with the Lighthouse Servicethrough the several members of his family who had served in it.
"You know," said Eric, "I had the idea that Tillamook Rock would seem alot higher, when one was on top of it. When you look at it from thesea, it stands up so sheer and straight that it seems almost like amountain."
"Well, lad," the assistant-keeper answered, "it is tolerable high. It'snigh a hundred feet to the level o' the rock, an' the light's anotherforty. It's none too high, at that."
"Why? The sea can't hurt you much, this high up!" said Eric, leaningover the railing of the gallery around the light and looking down. "Evena twenty-foot wave's a big one, and you're six or seven times as high upas that."
"You think we're sort o' peacefully floatin' in a zone o' quiet up here?You've got to revise your notion o' the Pacific quite a much! Neptooncan put up a better article of fight right around this same spot herethan anywheres else I know. Maybe you didn' hear o' the time the seawhittled off a slice o' rock weighin' a ton or so and sort o' chucked itat the light?"
"No," said Eric, "I never heard a word about it. When was it?"
"Nigh about twelve years ago," the light-keeper said reminiscently. "Itwas the winter I got sick, an' I've got that night stuck good an' fastin my think-bank. There was a howlin' nor'wester comin' down. She'dbeen blowin' plenty fresh for a couple o' weeks, but instead o' lettingup, the sea kep' on gettin' more wicked. The way some o' the big oneswould come dashin' in an' shinnin' up the rock as if they were a-goin'to snatch the buildin' down, was sure wearin' on the nerves. Thatwinter, there was more'n once I thought the sea was goin' to nip off thelighthouse like a ball takin' off the last pin in a bowlin' frame."
"Dashing up against the lighthouse!" exclaimed the boy. "Aren't youputting that on a bit? Why you're over a hundred feet above sea level."
"In 'most any big storm the surf dashes up to the top o' the rock. Buton this day I'm talkin' of, there was one gee-whopper of a sea. It brokeoff a chunk of rock weighin' every ounce o' half a ton, the way you'dbite off a piece o' candy, an' just chucked that rock at the lantern,breakin' a pane of glass, clear at the top of the tower."
The boy whistled incredulously.
"It's a dead cold fact," the other confirmed. "If you think I'mstretchin' it a bit, you read the Annual Report an' you'll find it'sso."
"What did you do?"
"We put in a new glass," said the keeper.
"During the storm?"
"We haven't got any business to worry about storms, we've only got tokeep the light goin'," was the reply. "If the End o' the World wasscheduled to come off in the middle of the night, you can bet it wouldfind the Tillamook Rock Light burnin'! Storm! Takes a sight more than asixty mile gale an' a ragin' sea to stop a Lighthouse crowd. You knowthat yourself, or you oughter, with your folks. No, sir! There's nostorm ever invented that can crimp the Service. We had that broken glassout and a new one in place, in just exactly eighteen minutes. It wassome job, too! The chaps workin' on the outside had to be lashed on tothe platform."
"Why, because of the wind?"
"Just the wind. That little breeze would have picked up atwo-hundred-pound man like a feather."
"Weren't you scared?"
"No," said the light-keeper, "didn't have time to think of it. Cookiewas scared, all right."
"Have you a cook on the rock?" said Eric in surprise, "I thought you alltook turns to cook."
"The men do, in most o' the lighthouses," was the reply, "butTillamook's so cut off from everything that we've five men on thepost. That means quite a bit o' cookin', an' so we have a chef all ourown. Didn't you ever hear the story o' Cookie?"
SLIDING DOWN TO WORK.
Lighthouse-builders on cableway from top of cliff to platform besidereef, unapproachable by boats.]
"Never," said the boy, "go ahead!"
"Quite a while ago," the light-keeper began, "the Service hired a cookfor Tillamook. He was a jim-dandy of a cook an' could get good moneyashore. But he'd been crossed in love, or he'd lost his money, orsomething, I don't remember what, an' so he wanted to forget his sorrowsin isolation."
"Sort of hermit style?" suggested Eric.
"That's it, exactly. Well, Cookie took the job, an' the tender tried toland him here. Three times the tender came out, an' each trip the seawas kickin' up didoes so that he couldn't land. He got scared right downto his toes an' they couldn't make him get into the boat. But each timehe went back to town, after having renigged that way, his friends usedto josh the life out of him.
"So, one day, when it was fairly calm, he said he would go. He'd beenteased into it. The captain o' the tender chuckled, for he knew therewas quite a sea running outside, but they started all right. Sureenough, soon as they rounded the cape, the sea was runnin' a bit. Itdidn't look so worse from the deck o' the tender, an' Breuger--that wasthe cook's name--was telling the first officer how the world was goingto lose the marvelous cookin' that he alone could do.
"But, as soon as Tillamook Rock come in sight, Cookie's courage began toooze. He talked less of his cookin' and more o' what he called 'theperils of the sea.' As soon as the tender come close to the rock, hefell silent. The boat was swung out an' Cookie was told to get in. Asbefore, he refused.
"'That's all right,' said the skipper, who had been expectin' him toback out. 'We'll help you. It's a bit hard climbing with therheumatism.'"
"Did he have rheumatism?" asked the boy, grinning in anticipation.
"You couldn't prove he didn't have it!" responded the light-keeper withan answering flicker of a smile. "The captain turned to a couple ofsailors. 'Give him a hand,' he said, 'he needs it.'
"Two husky A.B.'s chucked Breuger into the boat, an' before Cookierealized what was happenin', the boat was in the water an' cast off fromthe side o' the tender. But he had some sense, after all, for he sawthere was no use makin' a fuss then. It was a bad landin' that day,four or five times worse than this afternoon, an' I guess it lookeddangerous enough to a landsman to be a bit scarin'. One of the men wentup with him, holdin' on to him, so he wouldn't get frightened an' drop,an' in a minute or two he was swung in to the landin'-place.
"There was one of our fellows here who was as funny as a goat, an' wehad an awful time to keep him from raggin' Cookie. But we knew thatBreuger was goin' to fix our grub for quite a spell and keepin' him in agood humor was a wise move. Anyway, when you're goin' to live inquarters as small as a lighthouse, you can't afford to have anyquarrelin'. A funny man's all right, but he needs lots of room.
"So, instead of hazin' him for showin' the white feather so often, Ipraised Cookie for having made so brave a landin' on such an awful day.Quick as a wink, his manner changed. He just strutted. He slappedhimself on the chest an' boasted of his line of warlikeancestors--seemed to go back to somewhere about the time of Adam. Itnever once struck him that every one else on the rock had had to make alandin' there, too. He gave himself the airs of bein' the sole hero onTillamook. There were days when this was a bit tryin', but we forgavehim. He could cook. Shades of a sea-gull! How he could cook! We used tothreaten to put an extra padlock on the lens, lest he should try tofricassee it!"
"Easy there!" protested Eric.
"Well," said the other, "you know the big Arctic gull they call
theBurgomaster?"
"Yes, I've seen it in winter once or twice."
"Breuger could cook that oily bird so's it would taste like a pet squab.He used to take a pride in it, too, an' he liked best the men who atemost. Now I was real popular with Cookie. Those were the days for eats!"and the light-keeper sighed regretfully.
"How long did he stay?" queried the boy.
"That's just the point," the other answered. "He never went back."
"Never?"
"Not alive," responded the light-keeper. "He'd had one experience oflandin' an' he'd never risk another. He stayed on Tillamook for overeighteen years, never leavin' it, even for a day. An' he died here."
"Well," the boy commented, "this is where I'm going to differ fromCookie, for there's Father coming down." He looked over the edge. "Itwould make a great dive," he said, "if it weren't for the surf."
"It'd be your last," was the response. "Nobody could get out alive fromthat poundin'. More'n one good man's been drowned there. The first manthat ever tried to build a lighthouse on this rock got washed off. Thatwas the end of him."
"Tell me about it?" pleaded the boy. "There's just time enough!"
"Ask your dad," said the other; "he's got the early history o' Tillamookby heart. Meantime, I wish you all sorts of luck, lad, an' if everyou're in a Coast Guard vessel on this coast and see Tillamook flashin',don't forget the boys that never let a light go out!"
"Father," said Eric, a little later, when they had boarded thelighthouse-tender and got into dry clothes, "tell me the story of thebuilding of Tillamook Lighthouse. They told me, over there, that youknew all about it."
"I ought to," the inspector replied, "I helped build it. And it was ajob! I suppose Tillamook would be classed among the dozen hardestlighthouse-building jobs of the world."
"What would be the others?"
"Well, in America, on the Pacific Coast there's St. George's Reef.Spectacle Reef in the Great Lakes, and Minot's Ledge off Boston, werebad. There are a lot around England and Scotland, like Eddystone, WolfRock, the Long Ships, and Bell Rock--that's the old 'Inchcape Rock' youread about in school--and there was a particularly bad one calledOr-Mar, in the Bay of Biscay. It took the engineer one year and a weekbefore he could make the first landing on Or-Mar."
"Over a year!"
"A year and a week," the inspector repeated. "And Tillamook wasn't muchbetter. It was in December 1878 that we got orders for a preliminarysurvey of the reef for the purpose of choosing a lighthouse site. Aftera dozen or more attempts, the engineer returned baffled. In thefollowing June, six months later, the rock was still unviolated. Nohuman foot had ever trodden it.
"Then the Department began to make demands. Washington got insistent.Urgent orders were issued that the rock would have to be scaled. Theengineer was instructed to make a landing. Fortunately, toward the endof the month there came a spell of calm weather."
"Like the calm to-day?"
"Just about. That's as calm as Tillamook ever gets. After several moreattempts, lasting nearly a week, the boat was run close to the rocks andtwo sailors got ashore. A line was to be thrown to them. No sooner werethey ashore than the boat backed away, to keep from being stove in.Remembering that it had been six months before the boat had a chance ofgetting as near the rock as it had the minute before, the two sailorsbecame panicky at seeing the boat back away. Both being powerfulswimmers, they threw themselves into the sea and the boat managed topick them up before the surf caught them.
"This had been enough to show that landing was not impossible. With theevidence that two sailors had ventured, the engineer could not withdraw.He was a bold and daring fellow himself. Two days later, although thesea was not nearly as calm, the boat was brought up to the rock again,and at almost the same landing-place as before, he succeeded in gettingashore.
"One of the things that makes Tillamook so dangerous is that you cannever tell when it is suddenly going to change from its ordinarywildness to a pitch of really savage fury. A ground swell, hardlyperceptible on the surface of the sea, will kick up no end of a smotheron the rock. The engineer lost no time in his survey. He had alreadymade a study of the rock from every point of the sea around it, so thathe was able to do his actual survey ashore quickly. Less than an hourwas enough. By that time he had every detail needed for his report.
"But when he was ready to go, Tillamook was less ready to loose hercapture. The waves were dashing over the landing place and the sky wasrapidly becoming beclouded. Yet, for the engineer, there was no questionof choice! To stay there meant being marooned, death from exposure andstarvation. There was nothing to do but dare. The engineer, beckoningfor the boat to come in as near the rock as possible, cast himself intothe sea. It was touch and go, but we picked him up, although he wasnearly done for when we got him. The report was duly sent intoWashington and approved.
"The next thing was to arrange about the actual building. For this a manof skill and experience was needed. John W. Trewavas, a famouslighthouse expert, one of the constructors of the Wolf Rock Light offthe English Coast, came to America to pit his knowledge and hisstrength against the Pacific Ocean. Although it was summer weather, hehung around Tillamook for a month before there was even a chance to makea landing. Then, on September 18, 1879--I was steering the boat--Mr.Trewavas thought he saw his opportunity. I took the boat right in, sothat her nose almost touched the rock. He leaped ashore, and, at thesame instant, with a tremendous back-water stroke, the oarsmen jumpedthe surf-boat back out of danger. One second's--yes, half asecond's--delay, and the boat would have been in splinters.
"The slope on which Trewavas had landed was wet and covered withslippery seaweed. Experienced and cautious, he waited for a moment tomake sure of his foothold, well knowing the dangers of slipping. Perilwas nearer him than he knew. A roller came breaking in, sending a spurtof water right over the spot where he was standing. So precarious washis footing that he did not dare move away quickly. Trewavas had justshuffled his feet a few inches further on that slippery slope when acomber heaved its great length along the rock. Almost without a curl itstruck just below the landing and a boiling torrent of spume and sprayhid the daring man from sight. Just for a second, but when the wavereceded, he was gone. The rock was empty."
"Couldn't you pick him up, Father?"
"We never even saw him again, in that whirlpool of currents. Theundertow dragged him down immediately and he never came to the surface.The body was never found."
"Who was the next to land?" asked Eric.
"I was," his father said, "and I landed on exactly the same spot. I hadtaken off my boots, but even so, the seaweed was slippery and dangerous.Remembering poor Trewavas' fate, in a jiffy I was off the slope and onthe level platform of the rock. They threw me a line from the boat, andI pulled ashore some tools and supplies. With a rope to help them,several of the men joined me. That was the beginning of the conquest ofTillamook."
"And did that sort of business last all through?" queried the boy.
"Pretty much. Once, when the lighthouse was about half built, theschooner on which the men lived, and which was anchored a littledistance off the rock, was blown from her moorings. A revenue cutterpicked her up and brought her back. I tell you the men who were still onthe rock had a sure-enough scare when they saw the schooner gone. Theymade sure they were marooned and done for. I had a job to keep them atwork.
"Then there was another time, just when we were finishing the house, aterrific storm came up and the seas washed clear over the lower part ofthe rock. In the middle of the night there was an awful crash. Some ofthe men wanted to rush out to see what it was. I had to stand by thedoor with a revolver and threaten to shoot the first man who left."
"Why?"
"If they'd gone out, it's more than likely that some of them would havebeen washed or blown away, and I was responsible. In the morning wefound that one of the tool-houses had been blown in. I watched those menlike a hen does her chickens, and we didn't have a single accident inthe building of Tillamook Rock
Light after the work of actualconstruction was begun."
"You're sorry to say good-by to the old light, Father," said the boysympathetically.
The old inspector roused himself from a reverie into which he hadfallen.
"Yes," he admitted, "I am. But what the Commissioner says, goes! Ofcourse it's always interesting to face new problems, and I'll have afreer hand on the Lakes. It'll be easier for you to get home from theEast, too, when you're at the Academy."
"That's providing I get there all right," agreed Eric. "Winning into theCoast Guard is just about the one thing I want most in the world."
"And like everything else in the world that's worth getting, you've gotto work for it," his father added. "Well, here we are at the wharfagain. This is probably the last time you'll smell the old Pacific,Eric, for in another week it'll be a case of 'Go East, young man, goEast!'"
"I hope it isn't going to be too cold for Mother," the boy suggested.
"It'll be cold enough, don't you worry about that," the other answered,"I've heard enough about the Great Lakes. But it's a clear cold, notdamp like it is out here. The cold won't hurt you, anyway. It'll giveyou a chance to harden up."
When, ten days later, Eric helped the family to settle in its new homein Detroit, the headquarters of the Eleventh Lighthouse District, hethought his fears of cold would be unfounded. The unusual beauty of thecity of Detroit in the haze of an autumn afternoon, gave no sense of arigorous winter. This feeling received a jolt, however, when,strolling along the river front next day, he came across two of the hugeice-breaker car ferries, awaiting their call to defy Jack Frost. He wasstanding watching them, and trying to picture 'the Dardanelles ofAmerica' under the grip of ice, when a boy about his own age, with onearm in a sling, slapped him on the shoulder.
THE DEFIER OF THE PACIFIC.
Tillamook Rock, against which six thousand miles of ocean surges beat invain.
Courtesy of U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses.]
"Ed!" exclaimed Eric. "Who'd have thought of seeing you here!"
"Why not, old man?" said the other laughing, "I live here."
"Do you? Bully! So do I. The folks moved here yesterday."
"Your father, too?"
"Sure."
"I thought he'd never leave the Coast."
"He didn't want to," said Eric, "but he was appointed inspector incharge of this district, so he had to come. But what's happened to you,"the lad continued, "what have you been doing with yourself?"
"Got my arm broken in a mine rescue," the other said.
"What kind of a mine rescue? An accident?"
"Coal-mine explosion."
"But what are you doing with coal mines?"
"I'm trying to qualify as a mining expert. You're not the only one whothinks Uncle Sam's the best boss there is. I'm going into thegovernment, too."
"You are? In the Geological Survey?"
"Bureau of Mines," the other answered. "How about you? Still thinking ofthe Revenue Cutter Service--no, Coast Guard it is now, isn't it?"
"Yes, Coast Guard," Eric agreed. "You bet I'm going in, if I can makeit. But the exams are the stiffest things you ever saw! I'm going tocram for them this whole winter."
"Isn't that great! I'm doing special work here, too. What's your end?Mathematics and navigation, I suppose?"
"Mostly mathematics," Eric replied. "What's yours?"
"Mineralogy and chemistry," his friend replied. "I'm going to try tospecialize on the prevention of accidents in mines. I've got a goodreason to remember my subject." He nodded with a certain grim humor tohis bandaged arm.
"How did you do it?"
"I was down with a rescue party," said the older lad, "and we gotcaught. That was all."
With his characteristic impetuosity, Eric took hold of his friend'sunbandaged arm and led him to a seat in Owen Park, just facing BelleIsle, the most beautiful island park in the United States. With his loveof lighthouses, the Light at the northeast corner seemed to Eric like anold friend.
"There," he said. "Now you're going to sit right there, Ed, and tell meall about it. I've only had two or three letters from you since you left'Frisco, and we were in First-Year High together."
"That's so," his friend agreed. "All right, if you've got to have theyarn, here goes." He leaned back on the bench, and began his story.
"You remember that Father was interested in mines?"
"Of course," Eric answered; "he showed me that little model of acolliery he kept in his study."
"You do remember that," the other said, his eyes kindling. "I helped himmake it. It was a lot of fun. Dad was a crank on conservation. He wasone of the first men in America to take it up. You know it was hisinfluence that swung Washington into line? The waste in coal really usedto worry him. He was always afraid of a coal famine, and he spent a lotof time doping out ways to stop the waste in mining. He was just daffyabout it, then."
"I can remember that, too," the boy said reminiscently. "He had picturesshowing how quickly the coal was being used up, and how much coal everyperson in the United States was consuming, and all that sort of stuff.It was always mighty interesting to me. Your dad and I got along finelytogether."
"You did," his friend agreed. "Well, after a while, Dad decided to drophis business in 'Frisco and go mining. He'd always kept close tabs onthe coal question, so that, when he got ready to start, nothing wouldsatisfy him but small holdings in half a dozen parts of the country."
"What for?"
"You see, Dad wasn't trying to make a pile of money out of mining; hewanted to experiment with all sorts of coal and find some way to use itso that there wouldn't be so much waste. The locomotive, for instance,only converts about thirty per cent. of the coal into power. The otherseventy per cent. goes up the smokestack. Same thing with an oceanliner."
"I know," said the boy.
"All right. So Dad bought a mine in Illinois, and one in Manitoba, andtook a half-share in some Minnesota mines and another in a Michiganmine. Then he joined a company in Pennsylvania, and I don't know whatall. Anyhow, he's got stuff all over the place. It was out of thequestion for the rest of us to be traveling from mine to mine all thetime, the way Dad jumps around, and so we settled here. It's sort ofcentral for him.
"Being mixed up in such a lot of mines, Dad had a chance to work outsome of his pet schemes. He'd always been enthusiastic over thegovernment's relations with the miners, and when it started rescue work,he was one of the first to equip a rescue car and ask some of theexperts to come out and instruct his miners how to handle it. You knowDad--everything he does, every one else has got to do?"
"He always was like that," Eric agreed.
"He's that way still. So, of course, I was elected to that first-aidbusiness right away. I had to know it all! There's nothing half-wayabout Dad. Caesar's Ghost! How I slaved over that stuff! Luckily for me,they sent out a cracker-jack from Washington, and it was such good sportworking with him that I soon picked it up. The next move was that Ishould go from one to another of Dad's mines and organize the rescuework. I've been doing that for the last year."
"I should think that was bully!" exclaimed Eric. "But how do you do it?"
"It's easy enough to start." The young fellow laughed. "I'm a regularrescue 'fan' now. I usually get two or three teams together and have amatch. Talk about your kids on a baseball diamond in a vacant lot! Thoseminers' rescue teams have the youngsters skinned a mile for excitementwhen there's a rival test."
"But I don't see how you could have a fire-rescue match," said Eric,puzzled, "you can't set a mine on fire just to have a drill!"
"Scarcely! At least, you can't set a whole mine on fire. Once in awhile, though, you can use an old mine shaft. But we generally do it inthe field. There the entries and rooms are outlined with ropes onstakes. Across the entrances of these supposed rooms crossbars are laid,just the height of a mine gallery.
"The contest is to find out how good the men are, individually, and toteach them team work. Each man has a breathing apparatus, a
nd a safetyand electric lamp, while each crew has a canary bird."
"A what?"
"A canary bird!"
"What kind of a machine is that?" asked Eric, thinking the other wasreferring to some name for a piece of rescue apparatus.
"A canary bird? It's a yellow machine with feathers, and sings," saidEd, laughing.
"You mean a real canary bird?"
"Yes, a live one."
"But what the crickets do they need a canary bird for?"
"To give them a pointer as to when the air is bad. You see, Eric,there's all sorts of different kinds of poisonous gases in coal mines.Some you can spot right off, but there's others you can't."
"I thought gas was just gas," Eric answered, "'damp,' don't they callit?"
"There's several different 'damps.' Take 'fire damp' or just plain 'gas'as the miners call it. That's really methane, marsh gas, the same stuffthat makes the will-o'-the-wisp you can see dancing around over a marsh.It'll explode, all right, but there's got to be a lot of it aroundbefore much damage'll be done. 'Fire damp' is like a rattlesnake, he's agentleman."
"How do you mean?" queried the boy.
"Well, just the same way that a rattler'll never strike before givingyou warning, 'fire damp' always gives you a chance ahead of time."
"How?"
"You know every miner carries a safety lamp?"
"Yes."
"'Fire damp' makes a sort of little cap over the flame of the lamp, likea small sugar-loaf hat. As soon as a miner sees this, he knows thatthere's enough 'gas' around to make it dangerous. As it's a gas that itdoesn't do much harm to breathe, you see he can always make a get-away.Isn't that being a gentleman, all right?"
"Yes, I guess it is."
"Then there's 'black damp.' That's ordinary carbon dioxide, or carbonicacid gas."
"Isn't that just the stuff we breathe out?" questioned Eric.
"Exactly," his former schoolmate replied. "In an old mine, though,you've got to remember, nearly all the oxygen is absorbed by the coal.That gives a lot less chance for a leak of carbonic acid gas to mix withenough oxygen to keep the air pure. For 'black damp' though, the lamp'sa good guide again. When a miner sees that his lamp is beginning toburn dim, it's a sign the air's short of oxygen."
"Of course," said Eric, "we used to have that experiment in our highschool chemistry."
"We did. But do you remember just how much oxygen a lamp has to have?"
"No," the boy was forced to admit, "I've plumb forgot."
"A safety lamp will go right out with less than seventeen per cent. ofoxygen, while a man can live fairly comfortably on fifteen or sixteenper cent. So the flickering out of a lamp is a sure sign that the dangerline's not far off."
"It's a gentleman, too, then," said Eric with a laugh.
"Yes," the other assented dubiously, "but there's less margin. Now,'white damp,' or carbon monoxide, is a horse of a different color.That's the real danger, Eric. Pretty nearly all the cases of poisoningin mines are due to 'white damp.' Just the other day, in Pennsylvania,two hundred men were killed--whouf!--just like blowing out a match. But'white damp' hasn't got any effect on the flame of a safety lamp. Ifanything, it may hit it up even a trifle brighter. So the lamp isn'tany good. That's where the mice come in."
"Mice? I thought you said canaries!"
"We use both mice and canaries. When you haven't got a canary, take amouse."
"Which is the better?"
"Canary! 'White damp' catches him quicker. That means he gives anearlier warning. A canary will fall off his perch in four minutes whenthe air's only got one-fifth of one per cent, of 'white damp.'"
"And how long could a fellow stand that much of the gas?"
"About ten minutes, without being really put to the bad, though twentyminutes of it would make him mighty sick. You see, that gives a partysix minutes clear before any harm's done. Any time a canary gives awarning, if the miners turn back right then and there, nobody'd be hurt.Isn't that a great little alarm, though?"
"It is that," Eric agreed. "But what happens to the canary?"
"Oh, he comes around again in about five minutes. If a bird gets toomuch 'white damp,' though, he loses some of his value, because he getsimmune and can stand almost ten minutes. So you see, Eric, the 'yellowmachine with feathers' can be a real help sometimes."
A BEACON MASKED IN ICE.
Racine Reef Light, in the Great Lakes, where navigation has perilsunknown to the open sea.
Courtesy of U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses.]
"Great!" said Eric, "I'll always look at a canary with respect afterthis. But I've been taking you away from the yarn, Ed, with all myquestions. You were telling about the drill."
"So I was. Well, as soon as all the men are fitted up and the teams areready, a signal is given. All the men are examined for their generalhealth, their heart, pulse, breathing and all that sort of thing, andthen they are made to get into the special helmet and sent into asmoke-house filled with the worst kind of fumes. They have to be thereten minutes. When they come out, the doctor examines them again. If anyman shows poor condition, his team is penalized.
"Then all the lights are fixed up and examined, and there's a sureenough penalty if any one slips up on the lamp test. After that, a teamis sent on the run to fetch a miner who is supposed to be lyingunconscious in a working. No one knows where he is. The team to find himquickest and bring him back counts one point. Then the unconscious manis supposed to be revived. The team that does that best gets anotherpoint and so on."
"Real first-aid stuff," said Eric.
"You bet. We question the miners swiftly on accidents and they have toknow bandaging and everything else. Running stretchers in a workingthat's only three feet or three feet six high isn't any joke."
"Are the galleries as small as that?" said Eric in surprise. "How canyou stand up?"
"You can't. In lots of mines the men work all day long and never get achance to straighten their backs. Then, in a really big drill, a mineris supposed to be imprisoned by a fall of roof. The team has to findhim, to inspect the roof, to show how it should be timbered, and to putout a supposed fire in one of the workings. I tell you, a man who has acertificate from the Bureau of Mines as a trained mine-rescue man istrained all right. It was in one of those drills that I got hurt."
"Oh," cried Eric, disappointed, "I thought it was a real accident!"
"It was," his friend answered. "I said it was during a drill, not atone. It was in Central Pennsylvania. The contest was going ahead in goodshape, when a chap came tearing down the road in a wagon, his horses onthe gallop.
"'Explosion in the Eglinton, Shaft Three!' he called as soon as he gotwithin hearing. 'There's hundreds of men caught!'
"Everybody looked at me. I wasn't a government man, and I was only therebecause I had trained most of the teams. I'm willing enough to be thewhole thing, but after all I've got some gumption, and I wasn't going totake hold of something that needed an experienced man's handling. Therewas one old operator there, on one of the judging committees. He'd beenwatching me closely. 'Mr. Barnett,' I said hurriedly, 'will you takecharge?'
"I tell you, Eric, you should have seen his face change! He jumpedforward with a cheer. With a word here, an order there, in two minutes'time he had that wagon off again with two rescue teams fully equipped,himself leading, and I was heading all the rest of the men on a steadydog-trot to the place. Old man Barnett was a leader, all right!
"When we got to the mine shaft, it was surrounded by women, some crying,but most of them silent. The two rescue crews had been working likefiends, and work was needed, too.
"I didn't see how I could be much use, anyway. The miners were 'wayahead of me. I haven't had enough experience underground. Just the same,as soon as Barnett saw me, he shouted,
"'Down with you, boy!' and down I had to go.
"As I passed him, I said,
"'Mr. Barnett, I don't know much about the practical end of this!'
"'I know ye don't,' he answered gr
imly, 'ye don't have to. But menalways need a leader. Get on down!'
"As soon as the bucket rattled me to the bottom of the shaft, I fixed onmy apparatus, ready to start with the rest of my team. I'd been throughthat mine once and the comment I'd heard at the pit mouth had told mewhere the trouble was, so we started off boldly.
"We went 'way in and met one of the parties coming out with a stretcher.We were near enough to make signs to them, just visible in the dullgloom of dimly burning safety lamps when, woof! down came a mass ofroof. I saw it coming and dodged back, but not quite in time, for achunk of coal caught my shoulder. It twisted me round so that I fellwith my left arm stretched out, and then a big chunk rolled full on me,just above the wrist."
"Broke it?"
"Yes, quite a nasty smash,--a comminuted fracture, the doctor called it.My boys snaked that coal off and got me up in a hurry, but the partywith the stretcher was cut off. That fall of the roof had choked up thepassage solid. The men were already at work at it, using their pickaxeslike demons. Seeing I couldn't do any good with a broken arm, I ran backfor reenforcements."
"Didn't your arm hurt like blazes?"
"I suppose it did, but I don't remember noticing it much at the time. Igot back to the mine entrance and steered another gang to where thecave-in had occurred. But what do you suppose I found when we gotthere?"
"What?" called Eric, excitedly.
"My men were poisoned!"
"How?"
"White damp."
"You mean they were dead?" exclaimed the boy, horror-stricken.
"No, they were all at work," said the other, "but they were pickaxingthe rock in a listless sort of way that I recognized at once. You see,I'd done quite a bit of reading along those lines--Dad was so keen onit--so I could tell at once that they'd had a dose of carbon monoxide,and a bad dose at that.
"'Come back, boys!' I cried. 'Come back! The place is full of 'whitedamp'!
"But they were a plucky lot of fellows. Their comrades were entombed onthe other side of the cave-in and they wouldn't quit. And all the whilethey were breathing in the fumes."
"So were you!" exclaimed Eric.
"Yes, but I wasn't working. I couldn't do much, with my arm all smashedup, and so I wasn't breathing in as deeply and taking in as much of thatstuff as they were. I urged them to come back, but they were Americans,and wouldn't give in as long as there was any hope of rescue.
"Then I ordered them back. I think they thought I was crazy. I picked upa shovel and threatened to smash it across the face of the first man whodidn't follow orders. They grumbled, but, after all, they'd been welltrained and they knew that they had to do what the leader ordered. Thesecond gang that had come up had its own leader, you see, and he toldthem to go on. That made my men all the harder to handle, but I broughtthem back.
"Just as we got near the mine entrance, one of the men collapsed. Thatgave me an awful scare. I sent one of the men up to tell Barnett, whileI ran back into the workings."
"What for?"
"To try to get that second gang back, anyway."
"But wasn't it an awful chance to take, to go back into that stuff?"
"Who bothers about chances?" exclaimed the other. "But I took thecanary!"
"Well?"
"I wasn't more than half-way to the gang when the bird began to quiverand just as I reached them, it fell off the perch. I held out the cage.That was all the proof I needed."
"'Guess the kid's right,' the foreman of the gang said. 'Go back, boys.'
"They raised a howl with him the same way that my own men did with me.But he was an old-timer, and without wasting any words, he smashed theforemost of the workers across the jaw. Under a torrent of abuse, themen fell back. I was half-way to the entrance when everything turnedblack before me. Next thing I knew, I was in the Mine Superintendent'shouse with a trained nurse."
"White damp?" queried Eric.
"That's what the doctor said."
"What happened to the imprisoned bunch?"
"Old Man Barnett had just reached the entrance to the working with alarge rescue party all equipped with breathing apparatus, when Icollapsed. He got the trapped men out."
"I should think they'd have been poisoned for fair," said Eric.
"Not a bit of it," his friend replied. "The leak of white damp had allcome on the outside of the roof-fall, and there was hardly any of it onthe other side. Some of the men were pretty weak from lack of air andthat sort of thing, but not seriously hurt. It was the rescuers whosuffered."
"How was that, Ed?"
"Three of the five men who were in my gang died," said the othermournfully.
"Great guns! Died?"
"Yes," the young miner said, "poor fellows, they went under. Another manand I were the only ones who got over it."
"Died in saving others! That's sure tough!" There was a pause, and Ericadded, "What got you two clear?"
"The other chap had been lying full length on the ground, whileworking, and as white damp rises, he had breathed less of the gas thanthe others. I wasn't able to work, so I didn't have to breathe deep." Helooked down at his broken arm. "It's a queer thing," he said, "but itwas breaking my arm that saved my life."