The Coalmine problem (1)

The Happy Island coalmine was once the biggest off-mainland mine in the whole kingdom, employing hundreds of miners and support staff.

 

Alas, after decades of lucrative industry producing millions of tons of coal, the coal ran out nearly twenty-five years ago. The miners and other workers all left, since when Happy Island had become a normal, isolated, long-forgotten island with just the two residents and no distinguishing features. 

 

However, Alun never gave up hope of finding a new seam of coal and reopening the mine. Although the best engineers and geologists had declared the mine spent, Alun was convinced that there was more coal to be found, which is why he built a house at the bottom of the mineshaft, and spent several hours every day scouring every corner of the mine seeking evidence of an overlooked seam of coal.

 

I had almost forgotten about the mine, after all it was just one of the bizarre things that Alun got up to every day, like hunting aliens, his dry fusion experiments and his regular attempts to breed an invisible tomato. So I was most surprised to be woken at just after six a.m. one morning to find Alun dressed in his miner’s outfit, complete with miners helmet and Coal Not Dole T-shirt.

 

“I’ve found coal,” Jed, he said.

 

“Coal,” I said, “are you sure?” It seemed unlikely, as the geologists and scientists had tested the area carefully, finding nothing of interest (their report, Happy Island – Nothing of Interest, remains to this day the best-selling book about our island).

 

“Yes Jed, come with me and I’ll show you.”

 

I hastily donned my coalmining gear (I’d never been able to bring myself to throw it away) and we set off.

 

It was a long time since I’d been in the mine, and we walked for a long way, over two hours in total, before Alun showed any sign of having reached his destination. Eventually, however, we stopped at a distant corner of the mine, that only someone who knew the mine as well as Alun would ever have been able to find.

 

“So, I take it you’ve found coal,” I said.

 

“No Jed,” Alun said, “I haven’t yet.”

 

I stared at him for a long time, unable to find the words, before they eventually came. “Then what the hull are we doing here?”

 

“Don’t get angry Jed, I haven’t found coal, but I’ve found evidence of coal.”

 

“Evidence? What are you, the coal detective?”

 

“Don’t be silly Jed, I mean firedamp.”

 

“Firedamp? Surely not,” I said. Firedamp, which only occurs when coal is present, is carburetted hydrogen, the poisonous (and explosive) gas that’s a major hazard in coalmines, and the reason miners used to carry canaries.  Its presence would be undisputable evidence of a seam of coal.  

 

“It’s true, Jed,” I recognised the smell of firedamp when I passed down this passage yesterday, and when I tested it by lighting it, it fizzed and popped the way only firedamp fizzes and pops.

 

Though setting fire to an explosive gas may sound a hazardous way of ‘testing’ for it, the gas usually leaks out of the rocks in small pockets and is only dangerous when it collects into a larger cloud – an experienced miner can tell by the smell the size of a gas pocket. At one time setting fire to the gas was the only way to get rid of it. 

 

 

“Even so,” I said, “it might have been an isolated pocket of gas that was long-sealed away.”

 

“I’ll soon prove you wrong, Jed, by relighting the gas. He took out an extended taper, which he used to light the gas emitting from the walls. Or at least that’s what he tried to do. There was no flame, meaning there was no gas.

 

“You see,” I said, “there is no coal and there’s no firedamp. You should have known, we couldn’t smell it.”

 

“Someone must have been here and sealed up the holes in the walls the firedamp was escaping through, Jed.”

 

“Hmm, yes, possibly someone’s climbed down an isolated, long-abandoned mine, found in a few minutes the seam it had taken you 25 years to locate, and blocked up the holes the gas was emitting from with the sealant they’d happened to bring with them.”

“You may mock, Jed, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

 

“Well, there’s the ‘There isn’t any coal’ explanation. That one seems to work quite well.”

 

“I’ve always said there’s someone else living in this mine, Jed. Many’s the time I’ve heard the sound of a distant pick or footstep, or the flutter of wings.”

 

“You think someone’s been mining a used-up mine, and when, twentyfive years later, they do find coal, they seal it up. Someone, I might add, with wings, which in itself a tad unusual.”

 

“There is coal there Jed, I’ll prove it to you. Stand back.” Alun had brought his pick with him and took a long hard swing at the wall we were facing. The wall was solid rock, long since robbed of the last fleck of coal, yet as he chiselled his way through the outer surface there came a distinct smell I recognised.

 

“Fire damp!” I said.

“You see Jed, I was right, not only is there a massive seam of coal, there’s also some villain hiding somewhere in the mine trying to stop us finding it.”

 

The evidence seemed undeniable, even if somewhat unlikely. I always say that real life is stranger than most fiction, and surely not even the craziest writer would come up with a plot like this one.

 

Alun was in a good mood, and enthused brightly about the mine being reopened and a return to the glory days when Happy Island was a major industrial outpost, with bars, restaurants and cafés where wealthy miners would pay up to four mainland pounds for a coffee and still have money left over to tip the waitress.

 

We agreed to come back the next day to extend our search, to try and identify the scale of the seam.

 

However, an incident occurred that put an end to our cheer. As we were walking through the tunnel, guided by the light of the lamp Alun was carrying, we were suddenly assaulted by a shadow swooping down on us, like a giant bat, which scooped the lamp out of Alun’s hand and dropped it, smashing in onto the ground where it lay useless and dead.

 

“Ne’er mind, Jed,” Alun said, “I know this mine well enough to lead us back in the dark.” So saying he marched on confidently, whistling so that I would be able to follow his lead. But alas, just a few metres further on the passage came to an end.

 

“It’s blocked, Jed,” he said.

 

“You mean you’ve taken a wrong turning and we’re lost in the dark.”

 

“No Jed, worse than that, I mean that someone’s sealed up the passage. There’s no way back, we’re trapped down here forever.”