All a Hero – a tale of the Margaret

ALL A HERO
A TALE OF THE MARGARET
JIM AND BILL AND THE BOOTS.
by “CROSSCUT”

The world is full of heroes whose gallant deeds are fated to pass unrecognised and unheard of. The dizzy heights of fame are not for them, no blatant trumpet blares the bitter story of their glorious achievements down the echoing aisles of posthumous reputation, and no crown of laurel adorns their placid brows. Unhonoured and unsung they go their unpretentious way through life, and the manly satisfaction of having lived not unworthily is the only reward they find, or look for, in their own simple hearts.

All honour to these submerged demigods. The world is a better place because of them, and not the less that their quiet worth and unostentatious merit remain undiscovered and unsuspected until the end of time. The courageous rescue by two of these unhaloed heroes of a mate in peril on the mine recently, is a case in point and brings to mind a pathetic story of unassuming pluck and noble renunciation of the tinselled gods of public adulation which is merely set down here as an example of that which I have written above, and even the name of the grand specimen of self-sacrificing manhood whose gallant act is now for the first time given to the public shall remain secret — for such is his desire.

Thus is intrinsic merit often overshadowed by the unconquerable modesty of sterling worth. Bill and Jjm (the names are fictitious ones) were mates on the Youraliar Mine in the ‘Margaret’ district, years ago. Like all “mates” worthy of the name they had had their little tiffs and little grievances accordingly as the luck of things had gone up or down with them, and, paradoxical as it may appear, it was when the brightest side of the metal was showing that the little disagreements generally outcropped along the line of reef.

In other words, when things were good with both of them, the unwritten law which binds fellows together in adversity became lax and flexible, and no undue exertion of forbearance to each other’s, foibles seemed particularly necessary.

On the other hand when “things were going crook ” — in their own expressive vernacular— the true spirit of mateships triumphed over all petty annoyances,

and at such times the more than brotherly love which unaccountably, but certainly exists between men who have “battled” together was shown in the thousand and one little rugged ways in which the true sons of toil make evident that their hearts are in the right place. When the “creep” occurred in the Youraliar Mine, Bill and Jim were working on different shifts and Jim was called from his bed a few hours after he had returned from having finished his night’s work by an excited boy who in frightened accents told him that the old show had fallen in and

they didn’t know ‘ow many, was urted”.

Jim hastily pulled on his boots and ran to the scene of the accident. Already the whole population of the little township were gathered round the brace, and he gathered from one and another a disjointed and circumstantial account of the catastrophe. The “creep” it appeared, had been a serious one — in fact it amounted to an almost total collapse of the underground workings and one level, it seemed, had suffered in a particularly violent manner. Pallid faced women were clinging round the necks of those of the miners who had reached the surface. Children whimpered, strong men were silent and unnerved, and even the very dogs seemed to know that something was wrong and whined tremulously at intervals with that wonderful animal instinct which, is as sensitive to untoward influence as the strings of a harp.

Jim looked stolidly on as a cage full of miners glided swiftly to the surface and discharged its living freights upon the brace. They had been working strenuously for the past hour — so strenuously and fiercely that, short as their spell had been they were looking fagged and wearied. For they had been on rescue work. A small party of men were entombed somewhere in the No. 2 level, and the timbers of the drive had been crushed together by the super incumbent weight of the mullocked stopes. A fresh shift of courageous men took the place of the rescue party in the cage, and Shift Boss McMurtrie, catching Jim’s eye as he stood amongst the foremost of the crowd, sung out “Coming down, Jim ?”

“Nar! ” said Jim, “Bin just working night shift” A woman standing by looked round upon him contemptuously, but he only smiled in a tired sort of way and filled his pipe from a two-ounce tin of Havelock. “Plenty fresher men than me” he grinned, lighting his pipe, “an’ there’s whips of time yet.”

Cur ! ” she whispered the woman fiercely — and turned away from him.

“Maybe!” said Jim. Eighty minutes of awful, pulsating silence rendered horrible by the suppressed convulsive sobbing of a woman whose “man” was one of those in “No. 2”.  Again the cage ascends, and cheer after cheer bursts from the crowd when it is seen that in it are three men rescued from the verge of the very grave  itself. “Are all out ?” is asked anxiously of the rescue party. “All but one,” answers the Shift Boss, “and he was bogging out in an end when the, smash came. There’s a lot of stuff between , us and his — body, for I’m afraid there’s no chance of getting  the poor bastard alive! We’re going down again to try though, right now. Who’s coming?” Jim was just turning away with the uninjured rescued men in the direction of the hotel when the woman brushed past him clinging to her man.

“Go and get drunk,” she said contemptuously, “and leave your mate to perish!”

Jim paused as if stricken by a thunderbolt. “My God” he gasped, “I thought Bill was up long ago.” He turned and dashed through the crowd till he reached the cage. “McMurtrie, Mac, stop, for God’s sake stop — it’s my mate below.”  The cage was on the point of descending, but the shift boss signalled to the driver, and in another second it was speeding to the depths below. The story of how Jim worked is talked of with bated breath around camp fires in portions of the Margaret yet. Of how he dashed at the mass of shattered, rock and twisted timbers that separated him from his mate. Of how regardless of McMurtrie’s warnings, and the wreckage, torn by his reckless attack upon jagged diorite and flinty quartz, heedless of the awful, sudden crashes and groaning of over strained timbers in distant portions of the mine he fought on, naked to the waist, regardless of death – and seemingly tireless.  He even taunted the brave men who were with him

for what he called “their womanish precautions,”

and fought on single handed when, wearied out by their Titanic efforts, his comrades retired to give place to a gang of fresh men. How long he laboured none can exactly say. Certain it is that several times the shift was changed while he still fought on to reach his mate. At last, and almost suddenly it appeared to those who worked, a breach was made in the hitherto solid wall of debris which divided them from the end they sought. The man who had taken McMurtrie’s place in charge of the operations stepped to the opening and held his candle above his head to try and pierce the darkness.

His trained eye caught sight of something that sent him back shuddering. “Back, men – Back for your lives! ” he shouted, the whole back of the stope will fall !” Jim looked at the little group of yellow faces livid in the yellow light of the candles. ” Back? ” he yelled derisively, “He’s not back— he’s THERE !” and before a hand could be raised to stop him he had dashed daringly into the cavernous recess. “Bill,” they heard him call frantically, “Bill, are you there? ” and then with a crash that sounded as though every level in the mine had crunched together, a mighty mass of stone and mullock descended like the harbinger of doom between the man who had recklessly, but so gloriously offered up his life as a sacrifice for that of his mate, and the horror-stricken comrades who shrank appalled at the heart searing catastrophe.

But neither Jim nor Bill were dead. By the merciful guidance of Providence the latter had found the one spot, in that terrible place where it was possible to avoid being crushed to a mere mass of matter, and there Jim stumbled upon him, insensible from a blow on the head, but otherwise uninjured, just as the roof fell in. And in a hollow formed by two great boulders of quartz — — — he lay by the side of his unconscious mate and waited for the rescue which he knew  would certainly come — if it were only not too late. And that he lived to modestly tell the tale is proof that it was not.

Twenty-four hours later a road was opened through to the hero and the man who had almost flung away his life to save. And who shall speak of the delirious excitement at the brace when Bill was gently laid upon a stretcher awaiting him, and smiled contentedly at the crowd and lovingly on Jim, who, shaken and knocked about as he was, knelt down beside his mate and gently commenced to remove his boots.

“See how he cares for him,” murmured the crowd, “he looks after him like his own mother, he’s taking his boots off for him.”

The woman who had called Jim a cur stepped up to him, her eyes misty with unshed tears. “Jim Smith,” she said, “I made a mistake. You are not a coward — you are a hero !” Jim looked surprised. Young man,” said the visiting clergyman taking his hand between both of his and speaking tremulously, “Greater love hath no man than this, that he giveth his life for his friend.”

Jim looked bewildered. “Rats!” he said. Jim’s particular friends crowded round him to shake hands with him. “My oath,” they said, ” you’re goin’ to get the Royal Humane Society’s medal for this — and it’s fair up to you — wot say, boys ?” “My oath ! said the boys. “Medal” stammered Jim. “Royal Society’s .. . .” what the ‘ell are you all talkin’ about. Wot should I git a medal for?”

“Why, for risking your life to save Bill, of course.” The look of bewilderment on Jim’s face gradually faded away, comprehension, amusement, scorn, rapidly taking its place. He spat emphatically over his left elbow. Strike me.” he said disgustedly. “De ye think I’d risk  me life to save ‘THAT’ cove?” There was a pause of puzzled silence among the throng. “What did you do it for, then,” they asked amazedly. “Why,” said Jim, ” he ‘ad me new boots on to stretch em for me — and I gave twelve and a tanner for ’em only last week in Laverton! ” (He said with a slight smile) —– 😊