and the lad, and the others is starving. I tell you,Miss, I never cried so bitter in all my life, as when I heard themknockings!"
Thus by one mode of egress, all that mortal man could do, was beingtried. But scientific men who were present, were too wise to neglectany plan for rescue. It was thought possible, that by means of divers,the imprisoned men might be reached through the water; accordingly twovery experienced divers were telegraphed for from a well-known Londonfirm, and as quickly as they could, they answered the summons. I didnot know at the time, though I have learned something since, of thedangers these men underwent in this attempt to rescue human life.Having learned, I should like to say a little about them here, for Ithink no men stood higher in that band of heroes. So great was theirdanger, that not a gentleman in the neighbourhood would undertake theresponsibility of sending them down into the mine, and some evencounselled them not to undertake so hopeless a task. But both meninstantly replied, that they would never return to their firm withoutmaking the attempt, and that they would take all responsibility onthemselves. They had never been in a mine before, and very differentwould be the diving through this black and stagnant water, full ofturnings of which they knew nothing, and of obstacles too great to beovercome, from any work they had hitherto undertaken. Indeed, so greatwas their danger, that those who saw them enter that inky sea, neverexpected to see them return again; but nothing daunted, the brave menclosed their helmets, and commenced the impossible task. Mother and I,with many other women, and children, stood on the pit bank, and as theman who held the line, called out at intervals "fifty feet," "eightyfeet," "a hundred feet," what echoes of hope and longing were awakenedin beating hearts! I had one arm round mother's waist, Nan held myother hand, and when at last "five hundred feet" was called, and thiswas known to be within about two hundred and fifty feet of the stallwhere the prisoners were confined, simultaneously we went on our knees.The hope, the brilliant hope was too dazzling. Dazzling! it seemed tohave come. Mother and I had David once more; little Nan, her brother;the under-viewer's wife, her husband. But; alas! it was only thelightning flash in the dark cloud, for at length, after a long period ofsilence, came the hopeless words, "They are coming back!" Yes, thebrave divers had done their best, but were unsuccessful. To reach theprisoners by this means was a failure. As they said themselves, "We arevery sorry, we found it was impossible to get on further, owing topieces of wood in the water, the broken road, mud, and the strength ofthe swell."
When they appeared again, and had stumbled exhausted to the ground,their helmets, new when they entered, were battered as though they hadseen twenty years' service--a convincing proof of the dangers they hadundergone.
Yes, this attempt was a failure; but still hope did not die, still bravemen toiled, and day after day the coal was cut away so perseveringly, sounceasingly, that at last on the seventh day after the inundation,shouts were made to the entombed men, and--oh! with what thankfulnesswas the faint answering response hailed. That weak cry, low anddeath-like, would have given the necessary spur had such been needed.All this time pumps were used, without ceasing, to reduce the water inthe workings.
Meanwhile, as day after day went by, each day filled with more ofdespair, and less of hope, what had become of Owen? He had said on thatevening, some days back now, that he would rescue David or die, butstill the manager of the mine was not present. At this critical time hehad deserted his post, and the control and direction of all that wasdone, rested with strangers. Suspicion was grave against my brother, hehad, to say the least of it, worked the mine recklessly. Though, withthe utmost care, water inundations were sometimes impossible to avert,yet in this particular instance, it seemed that with ordinary foresight,by seeing that Pride's Pit was properly drained, or at least by avoidingthe working of this particular coal vein, the present accident mightnever have taken place. Thus, things looked grave for Owen, and he wasnot at his post. Yes, I knew all this, I heard ugly words about aninquest, by and by; but strange as it may seem, never since his return,had my heart felt so at rest about Owen. I had a feeling, almost aninstinct, that Owen had not really deserted his post, that among thevolunteers in the mine he might be found, that amongst the bravest ofthe rescuers he might be numbered. When, with my sisters in this deepdeep trouble, I stood for long hours of every day by the pit bank, I sawonce amongst the smoke-begrimed and blackened men, who rose after theirherculean toil to the surface, a face and form which in their outlineresembled his--any other recognition was impossible; but so sure was Ithat this man was Owen, that I began gradually to watch for him alone.But watch as I would, I only saw him once. I was told afterwards, onquestioning eagerly, that this miner slept below, that he refused tocome to the surface at all, until the work for death or life was done,and that he appeared to work with the strength and energy of ten othermen.
"His name!" I breathlessly demanded.
"Nobody knew his name, he was a volunteer, a stranger it seemed, butthere were many such present; he was a plucky fellow, worth a greatdeal," this was all in this awful and grim conflict his fellow-workerscared for. I told mother of Owen's visit to me that night. I think mynarrative comforted her, she asked very few questions; but I think _her_eye too, though she said nothing, had rested on the face and form of thestrange miner, and that she too had an idea, and a hope, that Owen wasworking in the mine. I believe, I feel sure, nothing kept up mother'sheart and mine, so much as this hope. Was it possible that we were thenlearning the truth of that great saying from the lips of the Master--"Hethat loseth his life for My sake, shall find it?" Ay, for My sake,though _I_ reveal myself through a brother's love.
About Wednesday night, the eighth of the men's imprisonment, thirty-twoyards out of the thirty-eight of coal had been cut away. There were nowonly six yards of coal between the prisoners and freedom, and on the menbeing shouted to, the joyful news was brought to mother and me from thepit bank, that David's voice was heard above the rest; but, alas! sorrowcame to many, while relief and thankfulness to is: there were only fivemen in the stall, four were now given up for lost. Between these fivemen and life and liberty, there seemed to me to be but a step, it couldnot take long, surely, to cut through the remaining six yards of coal,and to release the entombed from a lining grave. I showed my ignorance,my hope was wrong, the trial of my faith was not yet over. Nay, I thinkthe faith that was to be tried by fire was put to the proof during thenext two days, in every heart at Ffynon. The experienced colliers saidthat the real danger had now but begun. The water in the mine was onlykept back from the imprisoned men by a very strong pressure of air,beyond this air-tight atmosphere it could not come; five or six feetaway from the imprisoned men, it stood like an inky wall, but once breakthrough with the slightest blow of the mandril, the wall of coal at oneside, and the confined air would find vent, and the water, no longerimpeded, would rush forward, sweeping into certain destruction bothcaptives and rescuers. Unless the water could be pumped away, or theair in some way exhausted, there seemed to be no hope. All the pumps inthe neighbourhood were lent, and were plied without intermission, andscientific men put their heads together and agreed to raise air-tightdoors, so as to keep back the full rush of the imprisoned atmosphere,when the coal was broken through. But, alas! how faint and sick grewall our hearts, for nothing could now be done rashly, and was itpossible that the men could live many hours longer without food?
On the eighth night, food was attempted to be passed through a tube, butthis proved a failure, the rush of air through the opening was soterrible, that it was found necessary to plug the hole. The roar of airwas as loud as that of a blast furnace, and twice the force of theimprisoned air dashed out the plug, which could only be replaced byefforts almost superhuman.
On the ninth day, I was passing through Gwen's room; she had been in alow fever, brought on by pain, and the violent shock her whole systemhad undergone. I used to avoid Gwen, dreading her questions, fearing totell her what had happened. She was taken care of by a clever andexperienced nurse,
and I thought it kinder to leave her to her care; buton this day she heard my step, opened her eyes, and called me to herside.
"Gwladys."
"Yes, dear Gwen."
"Have they buried the baby yet?"
"Yes, Gwen, he is lying in a little grave in the churchyard close by; hewas buried last Saturday."
"Eh! dear, dear, I'd like to have seen his blessed little face first,but never mind! Oh! Gwladys, ain't the Lord good to the little 'uns?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Dear, my maid, and h'all this fiery trial upon you, and not to know.Dear, dear, haven't I bin lying here for days and learnin' h'all aboutit. Seems to me I never knew _what_ the Lord Jesus Christ was likebefore. Haven't He that baby in His arms now;