Success and How He Won It Part 46

It was he who had made the ladder-way inaccessible, who had caused the machinery to be tampered with, so that all help had been delayed for more than an hour; his father was below with the rest, lost, perhaps, through his doing--it was a thing of course that he would rush unhesitatingly forwards to face a risk which none would willingly share with him. But when the master led the way, the proud, delicately-nurtured man, who had never set foot in his own mines while they were comparatively safe, when, now that destruction impended, he pressed forward, all were ready to follow.

The next to volunteer were the three miners who had meddled with the machinery in the morning; they went down under the conduct of an engineer. Then more and more helpers came forward; there was no need to appeal for, no need to require, a.s.sistance. Soon the chief-engineer was obliged to turn back applicants, as only a certain number could admitted to the work of deliverance.

Hour after hour pa.s.sed by, the sun had long since reached its meridian, had long since sunk below it, and still, down below in the very bowels of the earth, the mind of man and the will of man were struggling to s.n.a.t.c.h their prey from the revolted elements. It was a more terrible fight than any fought in the light of day. In order to advance at all, every foot of earth had to be conquered, every step forward to be painfully won at the risk of their lives, yet they did advance; and it seemed as if such incredible exertions would be rewarded by results equally incredible.

Communication with the unfortunate prisoners had been established; it was hoped they might yet be saved, now that it was found they, or at least some of them, were still living. A happy chance, the finding of two lanterns which had been lost thrown away in the hurried flight, had led to the right track. The explosion seemed to have only partially destroyed the upper shaft, and the miners had apparently had time to take refuge in the side-galleries, where the fire-damp had not reached them, but where they were blocked up and completely walled in by a fall of earth in the outer chambers.

The question was how to work a way through to them, how to find a pa.s.sage in which the liberating party would at least be able to draw breath, and so to carry out the prompt and efficient plan which had been conceived for their rescue.

"If the whole earth lay on them we must get through!" Ulric had cried when the first traces were found, and that had become the rallying word repeated by every man to his fellow.

Not one fell back, not one tried to evade the perilous duty of his post, yet the strength of many among them could not keep pace with their zeal, and, to avoid increasing the number of sacrifices, several of the workers had to be sent to the surface and their places filled by fresh volunteers.

Two only of the party never flagged and never wearied; Ulric Hartmann with his iron frame, and Arthur Berkow with his iron will, which steeled the nerves of the delicate, slightly-built man, and gave him power to endure on under circ.u.mstances, and in the midst of dangers, to which so many stronger than he succ.u.mbed. These two held on; side by side they pressed forward, and always in the van.

Ulric's giant strength worked marvels and overcame obstacles which seemed too great to be conquered by human hands: as for the master, it was sufficient that he should be there at their head, that he should be there at all. He could, indeed, do no more than encourage the others in their labours, but in doing this, he rendered better service than by toiling with his arms.

Three times already the hand of his more experienced companion had pulled him back, when, unacquainted with the dangers of the mine, he had exposed himself imprudently; already the engineers had entreated him to turn back, now that there were workers enough and officials enough to lead and direct. Arthur refused each time most resolutely. He felt how much depended upon his remaining among these men who had so suddenly turned from open, violent revolt, to aid and succour in the present distress.

Now all looks were on the master, who, since he had reached independence, had ever stood opposed to them, who, now for the first time, was in their midst, facing danger and death, ready to expose his life like the least among them, and, like them too, leaving above ground a young wife in the throes of a horrible suspense.

In these hours of a common work and common peril he won for himself at last that which had so long and so persistently been refused to the son and heir of a Berkow, their full trust and confidence. There, in the rocky mine below, the old hatred and the old discord were buried, there the strife came to an end.

Arthur knew that for him more was involved than a mere temporary risk, which any one in his place might have run; he knew that, by staying on to the last, he was a.s.suring the future of his works and a future for himself, and the thought of this induced him still to leave Eugenie alone in her anxiety, and to remain at his post.

So they worked on with unabated activity and endurance, advancing slowly, it is true, and step by step, but still advancing, until at last the malevolent powers which dwell below yielded to man's potent will, and a path was opened down to the fellow-men beneath.

As the sun up above sank to its setting, the way to them was found, the rescued miners were lifted to the light of day, injured, half suffocated, stupified by fright and by the fear of death, but still living, and following them came the deliverers, worn out in their turn and half dead with exhaustion. The two who had been first in the bold undertaking were also the last to leave the field of action. They would not stir until every man was in safety.

"I can't think what is the reason that Herr Berkow and Hartmann are delaying so down below," said the chief-engineer, uneasily, to the officials round him. "They were close to the opening of the shaft when the last of the men came up, and Hartmann knows the dangers of the mines well enough not to wait a minute longer than is necessary. The cage is still below, they have given no signal, and they do not reply to ours. What can it mean?"

"I trust no misfortune has happened at the last moment," said Wilberg anxiously. "There was such a strange noise down in the shaft just as the last load came up. The distance was too great, and the noise of the engines too loud, for me to distinguish clearly what it was, but the whole ground seemed to tremble. Suppose there should have been an afterfall."

"G.o.d forbid! but you may be right," cried the chief-engineer. "Give the signal once more as loudly as possible. If that is not answered, we must make the descent again and see what is the cause of it."

But before he or the others could carry out this resolution the signal for drawing up was given below sharply and quickly. The men above ground breathed more freely and drew near to the shaft's mouth.

After a few minutes' waiting the cage appeared. Ulric stood in it, his face disfigured and blackened by perspiration and dust, his clothes torn to rags, and covered with earth and fragments of rock and stone, while blood poured from his brow and temples. As at the time of the descent, he was supporting the young master, but now Arthur was not merely staggering; his head rested on his companion's shoulder, his eyes were closed, and he lay motionless and deadly pale in Hartmann's arms, which seemed to be exerting all their strength to hold him upright.

A cry of fear resounded on all sides. Before the engine had well come to a stop, twenty arms were outstretched to receive the unconscious man and to carry him to his wife, who, like all the rest, had never once stirred from the scene of the calamity. Every one pressed round the two, help was called for, the doctor summoned, and in the general confusion no one paid attention to Ulric, who had stood strangely quiet and pa.s.sive, and suffered his burthen to be taken from him.

He did not spring out of the cage with his usual rapid movement; slowly, painfully he got out, catching twice at the chains to keep himself from falling. No sound escaped him, but his teeth were tightly set as in an extremity of pain, and the blood gushed forth more violently from his wound; under that thick layer of dust it could not be seen that his face rivalled that of the master in pallor. He advanced a few paces with an unsteady gait, then he stopped all at once; grasping convulsively with both hands at the pillars before the engine-house, he managed to support himself by them.

"Make your mind easy, my lady," consolingly said the doctor, who had been in attendance on the sufferers, and had at once hastened to the spot. "I do not find that Herr Berkow has sustained the slightest injury. He will recover."

Eugenie took no comfort from his words. She only saw that white face with its closed lids, that p.r.o.ne inanimate form. There had been a time when, as a bride, but a few hours after her wedding, she had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from peril by the hand of a stranger, and, being in uncertainty as to her husband's fate, she had coolly and quietly turned to her deliverer and said, "Pray look to Herr Berkow!"

For such cold disdain as this she had more than atoned by the torture of the last few hours. They had taught her what it is to tremble for a loved, one without having power to help, without even being near and sharing the danger. Now she would have no one at his side but herself, now, like any other wife in her anguish and distress, she was on her knees beside her husband, calling piteously on his name,

"Arthur!"

At the sound of this pa.s.sionate despairing cry a great quiver pa.s.sed through the miner's frame as he still stood leaning against the pillars, and he drew himself up erect. He turned his mournful blue eyes once more on those two, but there was nothing of the old defiance and hatred in his look, nothing but a dumb profound sorrow. Then all grew cloudy before him, he raised his hand, not to his bleeding brow, but to his breast where no external hurt was to be seen, as though the greater pain were there, and at the very moment that Arthur, still supported by his wife's arms, re-opened his eyes, Ulric fell heavily to the ground behind them.

Though the last man had now been brought to the surface, an uneasy silence still reigned among the a.s.sembled crowd. There were no demonstrations of joy; the sight of the sufferers forbade all rejoicing, for as yet it could not be told whether life was really saved, or whether Death would not after all come in and claim the victims who had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from him at the cost of so much toil and labour.

The master had recovered from his fainting fit more quickly than had been expected. He and his companion had really been overtaken by an afterfall of earth, rudely shaken and dislodged by the recent explosion, but, marvellous to say, Arthur had escaped unhurt. Supported by his wife's arm he could stand up already, though wan still and weak, and he was trying to collect his thoughts so as to answer Eugenie's questions.

"We were close to the opening of the shaft. Hartmann was on in advance and in perfect safety. Something must have shown him what was coming. I saw him suddenly rush back to me, he seized my arm, but it was too late; all was giving way around us. I only felt that he pulled me with him to the ground, felt that with his own body he s.h.i.+elded me from the avalanche which was coming down upon us, then I lost consciousness."

Eugenie made no answer. She had feared this man so intensely, had been a prey to such unutterable alarm ever since she heard that Arthur had undertaken the dangerous task in his company, and now it was to this man's presence alone she owed her husband's life and rescue.

The chief-engineer came up to them. His face was very grave and his voice sounded almost solemn as he said:

"The doctor says they will all be saved, all but one; for Hartmann no help can avail! The efforts he made down in the mine to-day were too much even for his strength, and the wound has done the rest. How, in such a state as that he could possibly have worked a way for himself and you through the ruins, have raised you into the cage and held you until you were in safety, is almost incomprehensible. No one but himself could have done it; he has succeeded, but he will pay for it with his life."

Arthur looked at his wife. Their eyes met, and they understood each other. In spite of his exhaustion, he shook himself together, took Eugenie's hand and drew her with him to the spot where prompt aid and attention were being lavished on the sufferers. Only one, the last, had been carried to one side. Ulric lay stretched on the ground; his father was still unconscious and knew nothing of his son's state, but he was not therefore left alone or altogether dependent on the help of strangers.

At his side a girl was kneeling, holding the dying man's head in her arms, and gazing into his face with a look of heart-breaking anguish: she paid no heed to her lover, who was standing on the other side holding his friend's hand, now rapidly growing cold Ulric saw neither of them, perhaps no longer knew that they were there. His eyes were wide open and fixed on the flaming sky, on the setting sun, as if he would drink in one last ray of the external light and carry it with him down into the shades of the long dark night.

Arthur put a question in an undertone to the doctor standing by; he answered with a silent shake of the head. The master knew enough. He left his wife's hand free, whispered a few words in her ear, and then stepped back, while Eugenie bent over Ulric and spoke his name.

Then life leapt up within him again, flas.h.i.+ng one last gleam through the mists of death. Perfectly conscious now, he turned upon her a look in which all the glow and pa.s.sion of former days were for one moment concentrated. She put a timid low question.

"Hartmann, are you badly wounded?"

His face quivered with the old pain, and he answered in low broken tones, but quietly,

"Why do you ask about me? You have _him_, why should I live on? I told you before, it should be he or I.... I meant it differently, but that was what came into my head when the wall fell in. I thought of you and your grief .... I remembered that he had held out his hand to me when no one else would .... and then .... then I threw myself over him."

He sank back, that last bright spark quenched in the effort of speaking; the life, which had been so full of fire and of wild restlessness, now ebbed gently away without struggle or pain; the man, whose whole existence had been pa.s.sed in hatred of and rebellion against those set over him by fate, had come to his death in the act of rescuing his enemy.

So was the presentiment fulfilled, which had been borne in upon him yesterday as he listened to the murmuring water; from the inner depths of the earth the stream had brought Death's greeting to his victim.

Ulric, truly, had no need to look beyond the morrow, shrouded from him by the impenetrable veil; all had indeed come to an end for him with that "morrow"--all and everything!

From the high-road out yonder sounded the regular march of an advancing troop, with now and again a word of command or the clas.h.i.+ng of arms; the help, which had been requested and expected from the town, had arrived. As soon as he reached the first outlying houses of the settlement the officer in command learned what had happened. Drawing up his men in the road, he himself, accompanied by a slight escort, went over to the scene of the accident, and asked to speak to the proprietor.

Arthur went forward to meet him.

"I thank you, Captain," he said quietly and gravely, "but you have come too late. I do not need your help now. For the last ten hours we have fought together, my people and I, for the lives of some of us who were in danger, and during that time we have made peace--I trust for ever."

CHAPTER XXVI.

Summer had come again. Once more mountains and valleys lay bathed in suns.h.i.+ne and verdant with beauty, and down in the Berkow settlement there was busy life and movement as in the old days, only freer and more cheerful than it had ever been before. There was an atmosphere of liberty and happy contentedness about the works now; extensive as ever, they had gained all that had previously been wanting, but this had not come about in weeks or even in months. Years had been needed, and those following the catastrophe had not been years of ease. When work had been resumed, a heavy load still rested on the young master's shoulders. He had, it is true, made peace with his people, but he stood on the brink of ruin. The crisis was past, the moment of danger when personal courage and personal sacrifices could suffice to restrain the excesses of a rebellious mult.i.tude; but now came a time harder to bear, a time of constant arduous toil, of struggling, often desperate, against the force of circ.u.mstances by which Arthur was well nigh crushed. But in the first trial he had learnt to test his strength, in the second he knew how to use it.

For more than a year it remained doubtful whether the works could be kept on under their then owner, and even when this critical period had been tided over, there were still dangers and losses enough to be faced. Even during the last years of the elder Berkow's lifetime the position had been seriously shaken, the fortune impaired by his wild speculation, his lavish expenditure, and, above all, by that unscrupulous system of working which only aimed at great and immediate profits and eventually recoiled on the employer himself.