EPIC IN BATTLE OF ARGONAUT MEN.

Manawatu Standard, Volume XLIV, Issue 669, 31 March 1923, Page 10

EPIC IN BATTLE OF ARGONAUT MEN.

i fi-'WB*c' : —— FIGHT OF 47 TRAPPED MINERS. VAIN STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. There is no doubt that men will tell in days to come how 47 miners died in the Argonaut gold mine to save the lives of underground workers all over the United States (wrote-Fred R. Bechdolt to the New York Times from Jackson, California). For the tragedy has taught the necessity of a second exit for every mine, which shall bo an exit in fact as well as in name. Already officials of the United States Bureau of Mines arc being quoted to the effect that such a law should stand on the statute books.

Miners said that same thing long ago on Jackson’s streets. Now that their words are beginning to get official sanction, it is interesting to speculate on what might have happened if the Muldoon shaft had been equipped with hoisting machinery instead of being nothing more Useful than an air vent. As the law stands, the owners of the Argonaut complied with it in full. It specifies two exits, and there is no doubt thdt if a man took time enough and had the strength lie could climb to the surface through the Muldoon shaft—provided the fans were not going and provided also that there Was no gas to catch him during the hours of his slow and toilsome progress, 1 But as it was—in the light of what took place down there nearly a mile under the ground— Olio is justified in wondering what thoughts may have crossed the minds of the slowly suffocating men who happened to remember the existence of that Muldoon shaft; and the present laW on tiie subject of mine exits. It is not a pleasant subject, but sometimes unpleasant contemplations are well worth while. They are not only worth while, but they are bound to intrude themselves at times like this. Miners are not demonstrative men as n rule, and the nature of their calling makes them take many things with a quiet fatalism where other men would show considerable feeling. But since the fire and tragedy in the Argonaut’s shaft, miners have been using some very ugly language concerning the socalled second exit. It is natural, of course, that they were the first to realise. Now, however, the realisation, as lias been said, lias spread to officials of the Government,* who state that California’s somewhat futile law on this matter is one of the most stringent in America and point to the necessity oi legislation commanding hoisting machinery. So, after all, there is a little ray of brightness in this gloom. It is quite possible that other lives may get more safeguards in the future than mere vague words.

BULKHEADS TELL OF FIGHT

FOR LIFE

There is another ray of brightness, and that is in the knowledge of how those men died. The three bulkheads down there in the 4350 ft level—the last of them but part way completed—tell more vividly than any words how they retained their self-possession.' and went on calmly Working, lighting to' the very last. To one who lias been underground it is not hard to picture n great deal ot what was going on in those depths tin that night in late August. It was all done in the shadow of a groat silence, the stillness of the underground passages. The 47 were scattered through the three lower levels of the mine, two or three of them in a stop—one of those caverns which- are as large as it good-sized ballroom, with places overhead where the rock roof vanishes among the shadows—wedging in a set of timbers j a pair off at the end of a drift working with jigger drills, whose noise awakens distant echoes; others shovelling at a damp pile of muck, loading the stuff into iron wheelbarrows, Suihe one had occasion to go to the shaft; as likely ns not he Was a helper after new lengths of steel, or perhaps a labourer after some wedges for the timbering. A solitary man, walking through a long passageway, whose sides are lined with rows of huge, thick timbers. He passes at intervals where these plumb posts cease and there is nothing about him but the naked rock, whose irregular surface glistens dullv, reflecting the rays from the carbide lamp over his forehead. Then more timbers, and always the, silence. It is an tangible as if it were, a sound. Mis footfalls make a great disturbance. He is a lean-faced man, wit.i arms bare to' the elbow, clad lightly in denim, for it is sticky hot down there—like a superheated cellar. He is walking unconcernedly enough until he nears the station. Hero, where the passageway has been enlarged, there should be light sinning right against the three shaft entrances. But the lamp is out. He hastens his pace when he perceives that, and as he reaches the spacions room with its piles of steel and Wooden wedges on either side his sharponed senses tell him a 'truth that hits him between the eyes. The slnjift is dead! The life of air and the vibrations, which are never hardly so much ns audible —vet their lack leaves an appalling void—these things which should tell of the straining cables and the moving skips have gone!

THINK OF COMRADES FIRST. Now he gets the faint, first whiff bf wood smoke and ho knows what it is that ho facos. So turns and ho retraces his footsteps. And as ho runs ho goes over in his mind the number of his companions on this level. They got off at the station witji him when ho came down in the skip. He remembers the places where he left them, the passages into which they turned aside. He seeks them out and he tells them, and the little group takes counsel, comparing notes. The mine is afire. There is no doubt <is to what to do. And that is not to seek safety, not yet. “There’s 20 down on the 4000. Two of the hoys are working in the face of the drifts. I’ll go and toll them.” “Better you two lads go along with him.” That was something the way it wont. And so on right through. No great amount of talking about it, either. Just a few terse words and Tony sets off with his two companions from tlio last group to hunt out another, and yon who read this can depend on it that there was no hurrying away to safety, no fleeing nor waste of effort in any direction which would hinder the warning of every man within those lower three levels. There are some traditions which comp down with hazardous trades, traditions which men do not speak about, and they are carried on through the years simply by a common understanding. And with the minors this is one—get the word to the other fellows and hunt for safety afterward. When you come to consider the value of a few minutes and the store which a man sets on his own life, that unvoiced tradition seems pretty fine. You can imagine down in the 4600 ft

level !i conversation something like this,: “All right, hoys. To the manway and get a move on you. There’s a fel-low-by the name of Miller tip there oil tlio 4350 who was in the Anaconda fire at Butte in 1911 when 30 of ’em was killed. He says he can get us through.”

FIGHTING FIRE AND GAS. And so they climb up olle nmfiway, 200 ft of ladders, and then on through the next narrow hole for 150 ft, round after round of weary going, alid When they find men there one greets theft! With, “Hustle some timber, you lads, we’re going to bulkhead ourselves in, they toil there in the long passageway nortr its end where two others take off at right angles. Some have found wheelbarrows ahd come with them laden high with lagging. Others toil in twos and throes carrying enormous timbers. They hasten back add forth to the ends of distant drifts and slopes and they toil in silence in the sticky, moist heat until at last they have raised a barrier to the roof.

The air is already getting had. And now they sot to Work upon a second bulkhead 30ft Or so hack of the first one, hut they know that the time is getting short. “There’s a little spring back there in the drift,” one tells his companions as they are, rolling a boulder over between thorn. “Ought to be water enough to last us through.” “And air in the Jong drift,” the other says. But even as he answers he knows that he is getting drowsier. “Gas is coming thick, hoys,” someone announces. They strive the harder and then -the leaders who have materialised in this crisis bid them strip off their clothes. “Plug up those cracks and plug them tight”—that is the order. It was some time nCaf midnight when that lone worker discovered that the I.ght was out in the station. Inside of lour hours the naked men have ceased their toil at the third bulkhead which they are building. The shaft is pouring down the deadly carbon monoxide into the lower levels just as water is emptied from a cup. “Gas is getting had, 3 o’clock”— oiio of them wrote tiie words on the timbers With the smoko from his lamp, You can see him there, perhaps, a white shape in the hull light. And you can see him as lie lies down beside the others. It is known that some of them lay down in pairs, brothers, perhaps, or maybe buddies.