The ExplorerMaugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
General
The Explorer
Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
British -- Africa -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
He just caught the train and in the afternoon found himself at the mouth
of the pit. There was a little crowd around it of weeping women. All
efforts to save the wretched men appeared to be useless. Many had been
injured, and the manager's house had been converted into a hospital.
Alec found everyone stunned by the disaster, and the attempts at rescue
had been carried on feebly. He set himself to work at once. He put heart
into the despairing women. He brought up everyone who could be of the
least use and inspired them with his own resourceful courage. The day
was drawing to a close, but no time could be lost; and all night they
toiled. Alec, in his shirt sleeves, laboured as heartily as the
strongest miner; he seemed to want neither rest nor food. With clenched
teeth, silently, he fought a battle with death, and the prize was thirty
living men. In the morning he refreshed himself with a bath, paid a
hurried visit to the injured, and returned to the pit mouth.
He had no time to think of other things. He did not know that on this
very morning another letter appeared in the _Daily Mail_, filling in the
details of the case against him, adding one damning piece of evidence to
another; he did not know that the papers, amazed and indignant at his
silence, now were unanimous in their condemnation. It was made a party
matter, and the radical organs used the scandal as a stick to beat the
dying donkey which was then in power. A question was put down to be
asked in the House.
Alec waged his good fight and neither knew nor cared that the bubble of
his glory was pricked. Still the miners lived in the tomb, and
forty-eight hours passed. Hope was failing in the stout hearts of those
who laboured by his side, but Alec urged them to greater endeavours. And
now nothing was needed but a dogged perseverance. His tremendous
strength stood him in good stead, and he was able to work twenty hours
on end. He did not spare himself. And he seemed able to call prodigies
of endurance out of those who helped him; with that example it seemed
easier to endure. And still they toiled unrestingly. But their hope was
growing faint. Behind that wall thirty men were lying, hopeless,
starving; and some perhaps were dead already. And it was terrible to
think of the horrors that assailed them, the horror of rising water,
the horror of darkness, and the gnawing pangs of hunger. Among them was
a boy of fourteen. Alec had spoken to him by chance on one of the days
he had recently spent there, and had been amused by his cheeky
brightness. He was a blue-eyed lad with a laughing mouth. It was pitiful
to think that all that joy of life should have been crushed by a blind,
stupid disaster. His father had been killed, and his body, charred and
disfigured, lay in the mortuary. The boy was imprisoned with his
brother, a man older than himself, married, and the father of children.
With angry vehemence Alec set to again. He would not be beaten.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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