The Killer Mine

A cold wind blew in from the sea. It was damp and chill under the cliffs. I sat up. The waves thundered in long lines of broken surf. The water sucked and gurgled in the rocks. The moon had set, but there was still light enough in the clear sky to see the outline of Kenidjack Castle hunched against the stars. I looked at Kitty. She was breathing heavily and her teeth chattered. Her slip clung close to her body, emphasising her strong build. Her breasts rose and fell. I reached out and took her hand. She smiled, but didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. We'd been lucky — damned lucky.

I suddenly remembered those three men going up the shaft in the gig. I struggled to my feet. God I was weary! 'Come on,' I said. 'You'll get cold here. And we must see if we can do anything about the gig.'

She nodded and rose to her feet. 'You don't think the water will reach them there, do you?'

'I don't know,' I said. 'Depends how high the water level was in Come Lucky. Has it been wet here during the past week?'

'Yes,' she said, 'very wet. And Come Lucky's a big mine, much bigger than Wheal Garth.

'Only that one adit to drain Wheal Garth?' I asked.

'Yes, that's the only one.'

'Come on then,' I said. 'We must hurry. That water will rise fast.'

We went along the beach, climbed a shoulder of rock and then struggled up a long, grassy slope to a path that led to the rock crest of the headland. At the top we passed an old rifle range and then reached the first of the ruined engine houses. Kitty struck away to the right up the slope of the worked hillside to another track. A few minutes later the huddled shape of the sheds at the top of Wheal Garth rose up out of the darkness.

We went straight into the hoisting shed. I forced open the doors and peered down the sloping shaft. Far below a glow of light outlined the top of the gig. And out of the shaft came the sound of men singing. They were singing 'Good King Wenceslas.' It was a strange choice. Dave was leading them. His voice came floating up the shaft, clear as a bell. He had a nice voice. I shouted down to them, but they went on singing. I waited until they came to the end of a verse and then called down to them again. The singing started up again and then subsided. I called again.

A voice answered. It was very faint. I called down, 'What do you need?' The answer came floating back up the shaft. The words were indeterminate. I think they said that the water was rising, but I couldn't be sure. I turned to Kitty. 'Is there some rope here?' I shouted.

'Yes,' she said. 'In the stone shed. I'll get it.'

I followed her. There were tools, too. I took two saws and an axe and with a coil of rope over my shoulders, ran back to the shaft. I lowered the tools on the end of the rope, but the shaft was at an angle and they kept on getting caught on ledges of rock and on the timber framework of the hoist. The men below started shouting and banging on the wooden cage of the gig. Then one of them began to scream. It was a horrible sound. It ceased suddenly and Dave's voice began to sing 'Jerusalem'. The sound of the lovely hymn floated up the shaft with a thousand distorting echoes so that it sounded like a choir singing in a cathedral.

Then suddenly the sound tailed off and vanished. A man's voice began to shout. It rose to a scream and then vanished in a gurgle as though he had been throttled. Leaning out, peering down the shaft, I saw the light had faded to a faint glow. Then it was suddenly snuffed out like a candle. I called, but there was no answering cry from the black depths of the shaft. I stood up then and closed the wire mesh gates. 'We'd better go up to the house now,' I said.

Kitty nodded. She seemed dazed with the horror of listening to those men being drowned by the rising water. I took her arm and we went out into the cool, salt wind.

The house was in darkness as we topped the rise. It was just a black shadow sprawling there in the blackness of the night. I felt the girl's body tense as she saw it. God, how she must loathe the place! Cripples' Ease! It was a name that suited it. It must have been a bitter and cynical landlord who called it that in the days when the miners from Botallack used it as a pub.

We came to the track and started across it to the front door of the house. And then I stopped. The door was wide open and a figure moved in the darkness of the passage. It vanished. We crossed the track, close to the desolate little garden that had once flowered under my mother's hands. A light showed in the passage. We both stopped then, rooted to the spot. It was old Manack. He held a lamp in his hands and was gazing out of the doorway towards us, his mouth open and a wild look of horror in his eyes.

I started to move forward. 'No,' he screamed. 'No.' He leapt back and the door swung to, blotting out the light. There was the rattle of a chain and then the bolts were shot home.

I turned to Kitty. 'Maybe he thought we were ghosts,' I said.

She was trembling. She looked like a ghost, her hair hanging in sodden strands over her pale face and the slip clinging like a white shroud to her body. 'Come on,' I said. 'We need dry clothes. Then we'll go.'

'Go?' she said. 'Where to?'

'Italy,' I said. 'Didn't you get my message? I asked Captain Manack to tell you I was leaving on the Arisaig tonight and to ask you whether you would come with me. Remember?'

'Yes, I — " She stood very still as though petrified. 'I — Oh, Jim, I don't know what to say. I can't stay here, I know that. But — Italy! It seems so far. Couldn't we stay somewhere in Cornwall?'

'Don't forget I'm still a deserter,' I said. 'And the police are looking for me. The Arisaig will be off Wheal Garth — " I looked at my watch. It was still going. The time was just after three. 'In less than an hour. It's my only hope.' I took her by the shoulders. 'I've got to be on that ship,' I said. 'It's my one way out of the country. I don't want to go back to Italy. But I'd rather do that than serve a sentence for desertion, and possibly get involved with what's happened here. They might hang me.'

'No. They wouldn't do that. You haven't done anything.'

'True. But there's only my word for that. Don't forget, four revenue officers lost their lives. I've got to go, Kitty. Say you'll come. It wouldn't be so bad with you.'

She hesitated. Then she raised her head. Her eyes looked into mine in the gloom. 'You'll not desert me, Jim.'

'Of course not,' I said.

'Promise.'

'I promise.'

'All right. Then I'll come.'

I kissed her gently on the forehead. 'Soon as we can find a ship we'll go to Canada. I can always get work in the mines.'

We went round to the back of the house and entered by the kitchen. Old Mrs Brynd was seated in her usual chair by the fire. She started up as we entered. 'What's happened?' she asked in a quavering voice. 'I know something terrible has happened. What is it? T'edn't no use lyin' to me. I can tell from the looks of 'ee that something's happened.'

'It's all right, Mrs Brynd,' Kitty said.

The old woman sat down in her chair again. 'The Master's come back,' she muttered. 'In a dreadful state, he was.'

'Now, don't you fret,' Kitty said.

'Better get some dry clothes on,' I told Kitty. 'Anything you want to take bundle into an oilskin. We'll have to swim for it, unless there's some place where a boat can come in.'

'Not with the wind in the sou'-west,' she answered. 'I'll do as you say. What about you? I'll get you some of old Mr Manack's clothes.'