TALES OF ADVENTURE

Auckland Star, Volume LVI, Issue 180, 1 August 1925, Page 27

TALES OF ADVENTURE

(Br W. CHARNLEY.)

While battling round the West Australian goldfields some few years ago, I happened to drop in at a mine where the company, after a long period of idleness, was repairing its plant with a view to resuming mining operations. Seeking out the underground boss, 1 applied for and was promptly given a job as general helper. The mine had a pretentious name, but very little else. Holding a large area of land, the company, although on the fringe of the famous "Golden. Mile," never found a pennyweight of gold inside its lease-pegs. Prospects had been bright in the early 'nineties when the main shaft had been sunk to six hundred feet, with cross-cutting tunnels driven every two hundred feet to the nearest boundary. But the lodes from the Golden Mile slanted the other way, and, finding no gold, the company suspended mining operations and allowed the shaft to remain water-logged for many years. At length the last available month of exemption expired, and the West Australian Mines Department issued an ultimatum that work must be resumed on the mine, otherwise the leases would be forfeited. Then the rusted engines and boilers were overhauled and got into working condition, and the forbid-ding-looking, water-logged shaft saw life again. And a cranky old shaft it was! The original engineer had allowed it to deviate several feet from the perpendicular in the six hundred feet, with the result that a plump-bob suspended dead in the centre of the shaft at the surface rented on the Xo. 6 "plat" (landing).

This drawback did not matter much so long as all traffic in the shaft was done by means of square cages or baling tanks; these fitted the shaft pretty accurately, and, being equipped with U-shaped shoes, which ran on four-inch-square Oregon pine skids, travelled up and down without anyone observing that the shaft was crooked. When sinking was resumed, however, and it became necessary to use big iron baskets or "kibbles," this deviation from* the perpendicular was very noticeable, and led directly to the alarming adventure which I am about to describe.

The condition of the skids running from the top to the bottom of the shaft was very bad. In some places, where the shaft "kinked," the four-inch planking had worn to just about half that thickness, while at other points, where new lengths of full-sized timber had replaced absolutely worn-out sections, the jolts and bumps made riding up and down quite an adventure.

Riding a "kibble" in a six-hundred? foot shaft, I suppose, would be reckoned an adventure at any time by a great number of people, but it didn't worry us miners much. We did not get inside the "kibble"; usually it was too small, being of less than fifty gallons capacity. We just stood on the thin rim and held with one hand to the greasy rope, while with the other we fended ourselves off the sides of the rather narrow shaft. Brought up to such tasks from boyhood, we stepped lightly on our precarious perch, with never a thought of the gulf which yawned beneath, shouted "Bight!" to the engine-driver, and down we went.

I One night my mate, Jim. Cahill, and I | started donwards to prepare the mine for the oncoming day shift. It was Sunday midnight and as work had been suspended since ten o'clock on the Saturday night we knew that the shaft would contain at least fifteen feet of water. This water we had to bail and pump to the surface before Monday morning. The modus operandi was simple. Jim Cahill worked on the No. 7 "plat," tipping the kibble full of water, which the engine driver hauled up the shaft, into a big sink from which a powerful compressedair pump lifted it thirty feet to a large dam on No. 6 "plat." From No. 6 it was again pumped two hundred feet to No. 5, and so on up to the top. One of my jobs was to keep these pumps working, and it was to get them started that I accompanied Jim down below that Sunday night.

Stopping at No. 2, a. few jerks with a handle started the pump there goin», and, chatting pleasantly, we went on our way downwards till at length we reached No. 4.

"It's a wonder to mc," remarked Jim, as he waited while I adjusted the pump' "that the 'monkey' doesn't hang up and jump off the skids; they're in an awful state." (The "monkey," I should explain, was a heavy frame of wood and

DOWN THE SHAFT.

iron which rode on the shackle of the rope just above our heads. Being fitted with shoes made to travel on the skids or guides at the sides of the shaft it served to keep the kibble somewhere near the centre and fairly steady.)

"I suppose it will some day," I replied. I was not particularly interested at the moment, for the stubborn pump demanded all my attention.

I realised to the full, however, the danger of a' hung-up "monkey." It might jam on the skids and remain suspended there while the kibble continued on for hundreds of feet below, until at last the swaying of the' rope dislodged, the "monkey" and it slid downwards with the velocity of lightning. Being slung on the rope, although riding loosely, after the headlong rush down it inevitably smashed to pieces on the big iron shackle, and either killed or disabled anyone riding on the kibble or else fell in a death-dealing shower of debris on the miners far below.

Having got the pump going all right we started to descend again. We were slipping down at a fair speed when suddenly the kibhle bumped the timber. This was nothing unusual, but a succession of bumps, which quickly followed the first, caused mc to look upwards. The "monkey" was not there!

"Jim," I cried, "try and grab the knocker-line and stop the engine. The 'monkey's' hung up!"

The knocker-line, which communicated with the engineer, ran down one corner of the shaft, and Jim was making desperate clutches 'at it when, with a terrific crash, the kibble came to a momentary stop, turned half oi'er, slipped off some obstruction, and then continued downwards again. The terrific jolt jerked my feet clear of the kibble, but being on the upper side when it canted over, I was able to retain my hand-grip, although I found myself inside, instead of on its edge, when it righted again.

My unfortunate mate, however, did not fare so well, and a despairing yell which echoed up the shaft told mc that he had lost his grip and fallen the hundred and thirty feet to the water below. But I had little time to think about him at the moment, for the kibble, in inky darkness, went bumping on its way downwards. At last—after what seemed a long time, but was really only a few seconds—it came to a stop at what, I guessed, was our original destination, the Xo. 7 plat.

I was in total darkness, my candle having been jerked from my hand at the moment when the kibble stuck, but, reaching cautiously forwards, 1 felt the familiar timbering of the plat and stepped into safety. Fortunately I had some matches with mc, and I hoped to find some candle ends lying about. I did indeed find a couple, but the wicks were so soaked with salt water as to be quite useless. Nor could'l find anything else that would burn and give mc a light. It took mc only a. few seconds to discover this fact, and I determined to husband my precious matches and do the best I could in the dark. How dark it was no. one who has not been down a mine can comprehend. Upon the surface, even on the blackest night, there are always some light rays, but she hundred feet underground it is not possible to see an inch ahead.

Meanwhile my unfortunate mate was somewhere in the gulf below, quite possibly dead from his fall, or unconscious and drowning in the icy water. If the "monkey" had been in place and running I might have gone down in the kibble, taking a chance of being lowered into the water; but with the "monkey" stuck somewhere up the shaft, like a suspended sword of Damocles, and the knocker-line all coiled up and tied to the top of the plat—as was the custom, to prevent it tangling the baling kibbles—l scarcely knew what to do. However, a long, light ladder, made of thin wire rope with wooden rungs, lay coiled up on one side—the emergency ladder which the mining regulations demand shall be kept by all shaft-sinking parties to be used by the men at fhe bottom in the event of an engine breakdown.

The feel of this ladder gave mc the idea of descending to the water-level in the darkness to find out what had become of my mate. Going down that ladder candle in. hand would have been a mere trifle—we often did it—but the thought of doing it in inky darkness made mc pause for a moment. However, I had

tnlt my way up and down straight wooden ladders more than once, and bo long as no rungs were missing I felt sure I could manage this one. '■

On the sill of the plat was hinged a heavy half-door. This worked with a pulley and counter-weight and could be lowered so as to half close the shaft, its purpose being to tip the water-filled kibble when baling operations were on.

Lowering this door across tho empty compartment of the shaft, I slipped tbe rope ladder over and allowed it to run down to its full length. It was firmly secured to iron staples let into the rock, and feeling my way over the brink, I set my feet on the wooden rungs and started downwards.

A rope ladder, I suppose, is about the most cantankerous article in the world to deal with. It twists and squirms continually beneath one's weight, so that, as often as not, one's foot is thrusting into open space instead of finding a gripping-place on the rungs. In addition I had to contend with the inky darkness and a heavy shower of stinging salt water which hereabouts poured through the shaft timbers. But my arms were strong, and I could practically descend hand-under-hand. So, with the ladder swaying and swinging, I kept on until my legs plunged into the ice cold water.

''Jim! Jim!" I shouted, but no answer came.

I tben endavoured to strike a light— no easy matter amid that deluge of water. Luckily T had a brass match box with a striking plate inside —a watertight affair specially designed for use in "wet mines." Huddling close beneath my oilskin coat, I managed to strike a vesta and take a quick glance round before a falling drop of water plunged mc into darkness again. But the hasty glance had been enough to enable mc to locate my mate, floating face downwards within reach of my hands.

Stretching out, I felt for and gripped him, raising his head out of the water. Whether he was alive or dead I could not at that moment tell. I might state here, in passing, that the reason why he floated was because the impact with the water had stunned him, so that he lay like a log; also, the water being a saturated brine, many times salter than the sea, it bore him up just as the Dead Sea does those who try to swim therein.

Having drawn him to the foot of the ladder, the problem was to get him up. Pulling him closer, I felt for the strong leather belt which all miners wear, ana, unbuckling it, slipped it through one side of the wire ladder, afterwards fastening it tighly round him again. He was now strapped to the ladder at the waist, and with my own belt I fastened him even more securely round the shoulders, so that he hung in a standing position, with his head well clear of the water. This buckling business was rather difficult to accomplish in the dark, but the maddening part of it was the torrent of water which poured upon mc from overhead, so salt that it stung my eyes like acid.

Jim securely fastened, I climbed the; ladder again—a much easier proceeding with his weight steadying the bottom. Standing on the half door, I then drew him up hand-over-hand, carefully feeling for each rung in turn. He was not a heavy man—probably no more than ten stone —and although the long ladder at first added a good deal to the weight, I was able to manage it. I pulled in steadily until I felt his body bump against the door under my feet, and then, after a fairly hard struggle, I managed to get him on to the plat. He felt cold and lifeless, but, hampered as I was by the darkness and wet, I could do nothing for him.

I spent another precious match locating and untying the signal line; then, slowly and deliberately, I rung the acci dent signal —"thirteen knocks."

The kibble, which all this time had been hanging loosely in the shaft, moved at once. The engine driver far overhead had evidently been anxiously waiting, probably wondering what had happened to us and why we were so long giving him a signal.

I could not, of course, see the kibble ascend, but I could hear it, as, dangling at the end of close on six hundred feet of rope, without its guiding "monkey," it bumped and crashed against the timbers of the shaft. It had just passed the No. 6 plat, thirty feet up, when what I had anticipated occurred. The "monkey" jammed somewhere up near Xo. 4, became dislodged, and with a whistling shriek, came flying down the greasy rope.

The smash came exactly as old miners had described. The hundredweight or so of wood and iron plates came crashing down on the big iron shackle of the ascending kibble. The shackle, being of heavy steel, held firmly, but the "monkey" was shattered to pieces. Every bolt burst simultaneously, and the tangled mass of wooden splinters and iron plates went hurtling down to the bottom. I heard the impact with the water far below.

The engine driver, of course, felt the tremendous jolt on the rope and stopped hoisting at once, but I gave him another signal and heard the kibble go bump, bump, all the way to the top.

In the meantime I did what I could for my unfortunate mate, turning him on his side so that his tongue should not interfere with his breathing if he rallied. I also squeezed some of the water from his sodden clothing.

Help, however, was not long in coming. The engine-driver discovered the loss of the "monkey" immediately the kibble reached the surface, and, sounding his siren, roused the underground boss.

The boss, arriving in his pyjamas, quickly sized up the situation, and soon had the kibble and " monkey " from the other shaft fitted. When this came down the boss was on it with—thank Heaven !—a light. He was an expert in first-aid, and worked over my halfdrowned mate for a full hour before he succeeded in discovering a flicker of life. During that anxious time I went up to the surface and brought down blankets and brandy. Then, going up once more, with the help of the engine-driver, I took the kibble off the rope and rigged the big iron cage. It was no small job, working in sodden clothes and witli only a hurricane lamp to give us light, but we managed it, and I was thankful indeed when I stood in the comparatively roomy cage aud rattled downwards again.

We lashed my mate to a plank, lifted him into the cage and held him upright between us—the only safe way to bring an injured man up a narrow shaft.

Poor Jim lay in hospital for many months, his body being bruised and cut all over where he had struck the sides of the shaft, to say nothing of the impact with the dense water. His recollection of his fall was very vivid, and night after night he would" startle the other patients with a fearful scream, as, in his dreams, he went hurtling downwards again.

After about a year, however, he fully recovered, and is now a farmer in the West Australian wheat country.