Ballads of Brave Deeds By H. D. Rawnsley. With a Frontispiece and Preface by G. F. Watts |
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The Falling Star
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 | Ballads of Brave Deeds |  |
The Falling Star
BRAVE JOHN WAYE, THE OVERMAN
A shaft accident which happened at the Naval Colliery, Penycraig, on Thursday night, December 14, 1893, will long be remembered for the heroism displayed by a collier who lost his life in the attempt to save his comrades. Six men had descended in the cage to put in position a rope which had just been lowered after having been brought to bank and spliced. As they were going down, the rope, which was hanging in the shaft, struck against the side of the cage and slightly tilted it over. Almost immediately the ascending cage struck it, and three men were jerked out, and falling to the pit's bottom, were instantly killed. There still remained in the now blocked cage the overman (John Waye), the rope inspector (Thomas Isaacs), and a lad named Ivor Foster, aged 16. Seeing their perilous position, Waye said he would go down by the guide rope, get through the pit to the upcast shaft, and so obtain help. Isaacs and his mate could see Waye descend safely for about 150 yards. Then he called out to some hauliers on the four-foot landing, “How far am I from the bottom?” They replied, “Not far.” Thereupon he was heard to mumble something, and then to cry out, “O dear, I am done for now.” The friction had probably become too great for him to hold on longer. He let go, and was hurled like a flash past the hauliers in the landing, dashed against the pit's bottom, and instantly killed.— Daily Paper.
And grime of coal is on the ground,
The grass is smitten as with plague,
The pit-head wheel goes moaning round,
And moan it will for many a day—
We've lost our overman, John Waye.
He held for friends his life so cheap—
One of the ordinary crew
Who, toiling in earth's central deep,
Strike still a deeper lode, and find
In work done well the heavenly mind.
Three mates, and Isaacs, “Ive,” and I;
We knew not as we left the day
That four of us were doomed to die.
Away we went; with cheer and shout
They paid the new-spliced cable out.
From blue to black; our lamps outshone;
Beside us still the rope ran true
And changed from hiss to humming tone
Till, where the iron serpent swung,
We touched—and bitterly it stung.
Tilted, and sudden from below,
Its fellow swept with shock and stayed,
We heard a cry, and well might know
That three of us were cast to death
Abysmal, and we gasped for breath.
Back to the heart from startled brain,
Its colour—heard his voice speak plain:
“Mates, for your sake, whate'er betide
I'll dare the pit-shaft by ‘the guide!’”
His mouth was set for weal or woe;
We cried, and crying seemed to choke,
“God help us! Nay, if one must go,
Our road from earth to heaven is small,
We fall together if we fall!”
He doffed the coat from off his back,
He swathed his hands in woollen braid—
Poor hands we found so charred and black!
Hung at his girth the lamp of hope,
And clutched the grey steel guiding-rope.
Flash out and pale as on he sped.
“He goes to where the dead men are!”
We prayed “God keep him from the dead.”
Then the light faded, all was still,
The trembling guide-rope ceased to thrill.
Those hauliers in the landing seam,
Will never quite forget the glow
Of that star's heart; they caught the gleam,
They heard a cry from out the star
Call “Mates, is bottom near or far?”
A prayer as of a warrior soul,
That felt he had no longer choice,
But needs must face the final goal.
They saw his saviour arms extend,
They heard a crash—they knew the end.
And grime of coal is on the ground,
The grass is smitten as with plague,
But one bright flower may there be found—
The flower of love, to bloom for aye
Above thy resting, brave John Waye!
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