Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short SketchesFenn, George Manville
General
Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short Sketches
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction; Short stories
At last a candle was lit and attached to a piece of wire, the wire to a
string, and then it was lowered so fast that before it had attained to
two-thirds of the depth it was out.
"Ah," said Mr Bore, wagging his head sagely; "werry foul indeed, sir;
werry foul. We shall have to burn it out."
This, I found, was accomplished by throwing down a quantity of straw,
which was afterwards ignited by sending after it shovelfuls of hot
cinders from the kitchen fire, and so making a blaze and a great deal of
smoke; while this day passed over and no further progress was made.
The next morning I was out in good time, to the great disgust of Mr
Bore, and by ten o'clock I had the satisfaction of seeing the water out
once more.
"I 'spose one o' my men can get a candle in the kitchen, sir," said Mr
Bore.
I signified assent, and then had the satisfaction of seeing the testing
process gone through: the light going out before it reached the bottom,
which I could not believe was from mephitic gas, though sworn to by Mr
Bore, who proceeded to make another bonfire on the top of my wife's
watch, when I was called away, and did not go out again till half-past
two, when I found that a man armed with a shovel had just stepped into
one of the buckets, and the other man, who had a very red face, began,
with the assistance of his master, to let him down.
"Is it all right, Dick?" said Mr Bore, when the man was about half
down.
"Ah!" was the response, in a hollow voice; and then he was lowered,
further and further, till he must have been near the bottom, when the
rope shook; there was an evident loss of the load at the end; and I must
confess to a shudder of horror going through me, as a dull, plashing
thud came from the depths of the well.
Bore looked at me, and I at him, for a few seconds in silence, when the
other man spun round the now light windlass till the other bucket rose.
"Here, lay hold o' this here," he cried to me; and from the readiness to
obey felt by all in an emergency, I seized the windlass and assisted his
master to let him down, as he thrust one leg through the pail-handle and
was soon out of sight, for we lowered him down as fast as was possible.
"I'm blowed if there won't be a coroner's inquess over this job," panted
Mr Bore, as he turned away at his handle; "I know'd it warn't safe,
only he would go."
"For goodness sake, turn quicker man," I cried; and at last, after what
seemed ten minutes at least, the empty bucket rose.
"Now, then," I shouted down the well, "tie the rope round him, quick,
and then hang on."
No answer.
"Do you hear there?" I cried again, with a horrid dread coming over me
that the catastrophe was to be doubled; but at last a dull, "All right,"
came echoing up.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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