like sticks, and the roots of some were
branching up into the air. Below, on either
side of the mass, were gangs of brave, daring
men—the navvie is a bold fellow when
danger is to be faced—endeavouring to work
their way through it. Day and night, for
one-and-twenty days, these labours
unremittingly continued, until at length the body
of the last victim was found.

George Hatley, having got on with his
studies, informed Frazer, who was little
better than no scholar at all, of his new
capabilities. With the jealousy peculiar to
ignorance, Frazer had never been able to
tolerate the idea of having a well-dressed
or well-educated clerk in his employment,
and his sphere of operations had for that
reason been limited to works under his own
supervision. Now, however, he felt that if he
could get another contract on some other
portion of the line, George could be safely
put in charge of it. Frazer accordingly put
in for, and obtained a contract to carry a
portion of the drift through Northchurch
tunnel; over this job he appointed George
his gaffer, and George then got me to be
appointed his assistant and time-keeper. So
to Northchurch tunnel we went, early in
October; and, under the directions of the
engineers, opened the drift at the north end
of the tunnel; sinking a shaft about midway
on our length, which was, I think, about
one hundred and fifty yards. By the middle
of November we had six gang of navvies at
work—each from thirty to forty strong;
and Frazer, who came down twice a week to
give directions and watch progress, never
before, as I believe, had felt himself so great
a man. He purchased a new suit of clothes,
displayed a watch-guard; and, but for his
vulgar mind and manners, would have passed
for a gentleman.

The men at Northchurch were, if
possible, a more desperate and licentious set
than those whom I had known at Watford
tunnel. They had just come off a job
on the Birmingham canal, and at first called
themselves muck-shifters and navigators,
holding the abbreviation "navvie" in
contempt. They were not lodged in shanties,
but in surrounding villages and in the
neighbouring town of Great Berkhampstead.

The soil through which we were carrying
the drift of Northchurch tunnel was of a most
treacherous character, and caused many
disasters. Despite every precaution, the
earth would at times fall in, and that, too,
when and where we least expected. Thus,
in the fifth week of our contract,
notwithstanding that our shoring was of extra
strength and well strutted, an immense mass
of earth suddenly came down upon us. This
came from the tapping of a quicksand. One
stroke of a pick did it. The vein was shelving
and the sand, finding a vent, ran like so
much water into the open drift; which was
of course speedily choked up. George Hatley
was at once on the spot; and, under his directions
efforts were promptly made to clear away
the sand, so that the shoring should be re-
strengthened if possible before the earth
above (deprived of the support afforded by
the sand) should collapse. The most strenuous
efforts were made in vain. There came a
low rumbling, like the distant booming of
artillery, then followed crashes louder than the
thunder, startling us from our labour; and,
while we were hurrying away, down came
the whole mass of earth, masonry, timber,
and sand, crushing five men under it.

Of these men three were dug out alive, and
removed—terribly mangled—to the West
Herts Infirmary; the other two were found
dead. They belonged to a gang, of which
one Hicks or Bungerbo, was ganger. I
have described Frazer as a man
terribly profane, but Hicks was in this
matter his master. These were the first
lives lost in Northchurch tunnel, and
Hicks was overjoyed to think that they
belonged to his own gang. He looked
forward to the funeral; and, having organised a
subscription of a shilling per head throughout
all the gangs in the tunnel—which
subscription realised twenty pounds—five pounds
were set apart to pay for burial of the dead,
and the rest was reserved to be spent in
rioting and drunkenness.

The funerals took place on the afternoon of
the Sunday following the disaster, in the
churchyard of Northchurch parish. The
procession was headed by Hicks, who
walked before the coffins; behind
followed about fifty navvies, all more or less
drunk, and the rear was brought up by a
host of stragglers, and country girls, the
companions of the navvies. There were no real
mourners; the unfortunate men being
strangers in the district, and the residences
of their friends unknown. It was about half-
past two o'clock when the train reached the
gates of the churchyard. At the church-door
the officiating minister, observing the condition
of the men, wisely ordered the church
to be closed, and proceeded to lead the way
to the grave. Hicks took umbrage at this,
and threatened to break the door open; but
as this was not seconded among his men, he
told them to put the coffins on the ground,
and let the parson do all the business himself.
But the men hesitated, the sexton protested,
and at length the grave was reached. Here
Hicks found fresh cause for offence. It was
a single grave, and he said (which was
untrue) that separate graves had been paid
for. When this was disproved, he objected
that the one grave was not deep enough, and
ordered two of his men to jump in and dig it
to Hell. The men jumped in as ordered, one
had the sexton's pickaxe, the other the spade,
and in little more than ten minutes the grave
was ten feet deeper. Still the men dug on,
and continued their labour, till they could
no longer throw the earth to the surface.