Classic Poem

I was standing at the windlass on the claim at Bendigo,
When I heard my old mate calling, it was his shift down below.
And I slowly started winding but I found the bag was light,
So I stopped and looked believing every thing could not be right.
So I spragged the windlass handle letting rope and bucket go,
As I knelt upon the landing calling down the shaft “below.”
But I didn't catch the answer and on looking down the shaft
I felt something like a fellow who had suddenly gone daft.
Then I saw his ghastly features turned up to the narrow space,
And I called to him in terror, “Go, for God's sake to the face.”
For the ground was all a tremble, and poor Jack was in the drive,
While the sides were slowly meeting that would bury him alive.
When I saw his ghastly features turned up to the narrow space,
Then with all my strength I shouted: “Back for God's sake to the face.”
Then I sprang into the paddock to the fan wheel, calling loud,
And the topmen all came running in a frightened little crowd.
I was like a man demented when I thought about my mate,
He was such a quiet fellow, and too good for such a fate.
And how little he expected, when he went into the drive,
That his own grave he was digging to be buried in alive.
And his eyes, oh, God Almighty, they were terrible to see,
As in mute appeal he turned them as if asking help from me.
Then I thought that I was sinking, sinking downward through the air,
And I heard some voices talking, but I couldn't make out where.
Then I heard old Billy Cover say as I was coming to,
Don't you know no one can tell us where the face is, only you!
So I pulled myself together and I showed them where we were,
Working out toward the boundary putting in a drive for air.
Then they fixed a rope and windlass quickly on the other shaft;
And before another minute Geordie Bob had got to graft.
By this time the boys had stepped in it was ten feet to the face
Where the other men had left it one was with us, Jimmy Grace.
And he said that in the chamber there was room to stow the dirt,
And the water in the bottom wasn't anything to hurt;
And they hadn't drawn the timber, so the shaft and roof were snug,
And as safe as hands could make it, with the best of slabs and pug.
Next to Bob came Jimmy Preddy, he was waiting down below,
And we knew when he was ready that the dirt would have to go.
Short the shift, and each was done up with the strain to reach the face;
For each one worked like the devil till another took his place.
Not a dry stitch had they on them, as they landed on the top,
But we had the hot stuff ready, and dry flannels from the shop.
But the whole time they were straining every nerve to reach the place,
I was wondering if he heard me when I called, “Go to the face.”
If he got there I was certain that he had a decent show,
For the air compressed would keep him many hours alive below.
Some had hope from start to finish, others had no hope at all.
Some would raise my heart, and others with a word would make it fall.
Don't you think, said Tommy Doran, as we're coming near the face,
That you hadn't better go down, you're the best judge of the place.
Yes, I answered, as I caught and put my foot into the rope,
Lower me down boys; somehow, blow me I begin to think there's hope.
So I went, and Brown, the parson, knocked off to make room for me.
And I felt as sure as could be that my old mate I would see,
But I hadn't long been working when I thought I heard a sound,
Just as if someone was driving close beside me underground.
But I didn't stop to listen, there was no time to be lost.
Then I heard old Harry Withers just behind me say “Holy Frost!”
Then I knew that he had heard it, and I tore away the ground,
Till I broke through and I found him; found the old boy safe and sound.
And by George, before we got him, hauled into the outer drive,
We could hear the top man bawling, “Roll up boys, e's found, ‘alive.’”