Deep Down

Deep Down, a Tale of the
Cornish Mines, by

R.M. Ballantyne This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no
cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give
it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
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Title: Deep Down, a Tale of the Cornish Mines
Author: R.M. Ballantyne
Release Date: June 7, 2007 [EBook #21726]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

DEEP DOWN, A TALE OF THE CORNISH MINES, BY R.M.
BALLANTYNE.
CHAPTER ONE.
BEGINS THE STORY WITH A PECULIAR MEETING.

Necessity is the mother of invention. This is undoubtedly true, but it is
equally true that invention is not the only member of necessity's large
family. Change of scene and circumstance are also among her children.
It was necessity that gave birth to the resolve to travel to the end of the
earth--of English earth at all events--in search of fortune, which swelled
the bosom of yonder tall, well-favoured youth, who, seated
uncomfortably on the top of that clumsy public conveyance, drives up
Market-Jew Street in the ancient town of Penzance. Yes,
necessity--stern necessity, as she is sometimes called--drove that youth
into Cornwall, and thus was the originating cause of that wonderful
series of events which ultimately led to his attaining--but hold! Let us
begin at the beginning.
It was a beautiful morning in June, in that period of the world's history
which is ambiguously styled "Once-upon-a-time," when the
"Kittereen"--the clumsy vehicle above referred to--rumbled up to the
Star Inn and stopped there. The tall, well-favoured youth leapt at once
to the ground, and entered the inn with the air of a man who owned at
least the half of the county, although his much-worn grey shooting
costume and single unpretentious portmanteau did not indicate either
unusual wealth or exalted station.
In an off-hand hearty way, he announced to landlord, waiters,
chambermaids, and hangers-on, to all, indeed, who might choose to
listen, that the weather was glorious, that coaches of all kinds,
especially Kittereens, were detestable machines of torture, and that he
meant to perform the remainder of his journey on foot.
He inquired the way to the town of St. Just, ordered his luggage to be
forwarded by coach or cart, and, with nothing but a stout oaken cudgel
to encumber him, set out on his walk of about seven miles, with the
determination of compensating himself for previous hours of forced
inaction and constraint by ignoring roads and crossing the country like
an Irish fox-hunter.
Acting on the presumptuous belief that he could find his way to any
part of the world with the smallest amount of direction, he naturally
missed the right road at the outset, and instead of taking the road to St.

Just, pursued that which leads to the Land's End.
The youth, as we have observed, was well-favoured. Tall,
broad-shouldered, deep-chested, and athletic, with an active step, erect
gait, and clear laughing eye, he was one whom a recruiting-sergeant in
the Guards would have looked upon with a covetous sigh. Smooth fair
cheeks and chin told that boyhood was scarce out of sight behind, and
an undeniable some thing on the upper lip declared that manhood was
not far in advance.
Like most people in what may be termed an uncertain stage of
existence, our hero exhibited a variety of apparent contradictions. His
great size and muscular strength and deep bass voice were those of a
man, while the smooth skin, the soft curling hair, and the rollicking
gladsome look were all indicative of the boy. His countenance, too,
might have perplexed a fortune-teller. Sometimes it was grave almost
to sternness, at other times it sparkled with delight, exhibiting now an
expression that would have befitted a sage on whose decisions hung the
fate of kingdoms, and anon displaying a dash of mischief worthy of the
wildest boy in a village school.
Some of the youth's varied, not to say extravagant, actions and
expressions, were perhaps due to the exhilarating brilliancy of the
morning, or to the appearance of those splendid castles which his mind
was actively engaged in building in the air.
The country through which he travelled was at first varied with trees
and bushes clothed in rich foliage; but soon its aspect changed, and ere
long he pursued a path which led over a wide extent of wild moorland
covered with purple heath and gorse in golden-yellow bloom. The
ground, too, became so rough that the youth was fain to confine himself
to the highroad; but being of an explorative disposition, he quickly
diverged into the lanes, which in that part of Cornwall