CHAPTER SIX.
TREATS OF THE MINER'S COTTAGE, WORK, AND COSTUME.
Maggot's home was a disordered one when he reached it, for his youngestbaby, a fat little boy, had been seized with convulsions, and his wifeand little daughter Grace, and son Zackey, and brother-in-law DavidTrevarrow, besides his next neighbour Mrs Penrose, with her sixteenchildren, were all in the room, doing their best by means of useless orhurtful applications, equally useless advice, and intolerable noise andconfusion, to cure, if not to kill, the baby.
Maggot's cottage was a poor one, his furniture was mean, and there wasnot much of it; nevertheless its inmates were proud of it, for theylived in comparative comfort there. Mrs Maggot was a kind-hearted,active woman, and her husband--despite his smuggling propensities--wasan affectionate father. Usually the cottage was kept in a most orderlycondition; but on the present occasion it was, as we have said, in astate of great confusion.
"Fetch me a bit of rag, Grace," cried Mrs Maggot, just as her husbandentered.
"Here's a bit, old 'ooman," said Maggot, handing her the linen cloth inwhich the jewels had been wrapped up, and which he had unconsciouslyretained in his hands on quitting Mr Donnithorne--"Run, my dear man,"he added, turning to John Cock, "an' fetch the noo doctor."
John darted away, and in a quarter of an hour returned with OliverTrembath, who found that the baby had weathered the storm by the forceof its own constitution, despite the adverse influences that were aroundit. He therefore contented himself with clearing the place ofintruders, and prescribing some simple medicine.
"Are you going to work?" inquired Oliver of David Trevarrow, observingthat the man was about to quit the cottage.
"Iss, sur--to Botallack."
"Then I will accompany you. Captain Dan is going to show me over partof the mine to-day. Good-morning, Mrs Maggot, and remember mydirections if this should happen to the little fellow again."
Leaving the cottage the two proceeded through the town to the north endof it, accompanied by Maggot, who said he was going to the forge to do abit of work, and who parted from them at the outskirts of the town.
"Times are bad with you at the mines just now, I find," said Oliver asthey walked along.
"Iss sur, they are," replied Trevarrow, in the quiet tone that waspeculiar to him; "but, thank God, we do manage to live, though there aresome of us with a lot o' child'n as finds it hard work. The Bal [Themine] ain't so good as she once was."
"I suppose that you have frequent changes of fortune?" said Oliver.
The miner admitted that this was the case, for that sometimes a manworked underground for several weeks without getting enough to keep hisfamily, while at other times he might come on a bunch of copper or tinwhich would enable him to clear 50 pounds or more in a month.
"If report says truly," observed Oliver, "you have hit upon a `keenlylode,' as you call it, not many days ago."
"A do look very well now, sur," replied the miner, "but wan can nevertell. I did work for weeks in the level under the say without success,so I guv it up an went to Wheal Hazard, and on the back o' thefifty-fathom level I did strike 'pon a small lode of tin 'bout so thickas my finger. It may get better, or it may take the bit in its teethand disappear; we cannot tell."
"Well, I wish you good luck," said Oliver; "and here comes Captain Dan,so I'll bid you good-morning."
"Good-morning, sur," said the stout-limbed and stout-hearted man, with asmile and a nod, as he turned off towards the moor-house to put on hismining garments.
Towards this house a number of men had been converging while Oliver andhis companion approached it, and the former observed, that whatevercolour the men might be on entering it, they invariably came out lightred, like lobsters emerging from a boiling pot.
In Botallack mine a large quantity of iron is mingled with the tin ore.This colours everything in and around the mine, including men's clothes,hands, and faces, with a light rusty-red. The streams, of course, arealso coloured with it, and the various pits and ponds for collecting thefluid mud of tin ore seem as if filled with that nauseous compound knownby the name of "Gregory's Mixture."
In the moor-house there were rows of pegs with red garments hung thereonto dry, and there were numerous broad-shouldered men dressing andundressing--in every stage of the process; while in a corner two orthree were washing their bodies in a tank of water. These last were menwho had been at work all night, and were cleansing themselves beforeputting on what we may term their home-going clothes.
The mining dress is a very simple, and often a very ragged affair. Itconsists of a flannel shirt, a pair of linen trousers, a short coat ofthe same, and a hat in the form of a stiff wide-awake, but made so thickas to serve the purpose of a helmet to guard the head from the rocks,etcetera. Clumsy ankle-boots complete the costume. As each man issuedfrom the house, he went to a group of wooden chests which lay scatteredabout outside, and, opening his own, took from it a bag of powder, someblasting fuse, several iron tools, which he tied to a rope so as to beslung over his shoulder, a small wooden canteen of water, and a bunch oftallow candles. These last he fastened to a button on his breast,having previously affixed one of them to the front of his hat.
Thus accoutred, they proceeded to a small platform close at hand, with asquare hole in it, out of which protruded the head of a ladder. Thiswas the "ladder road." Through the hole these red men descended one byone, chatting and laughing as they went, and disappeared, leaving themoor-house and all around it a place of solitude.
Captain Dan now prepared to descend this ladder road with OliverTrembath.