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Have you ever in person seen or even held a watchman’s clock so old very few museums have one? I have, and I own it, too. See, I’m a watchman, a person who works in a mine. I don’t dig in the mine, I’m the one who tells the time. You know, lunch time, quitting time, break time, and when break time ends. “Finally it’s time to get out of that hot, smelly, and sweaty mine,” said one of the miners as the quitting time whistle (or bell) blew.
Why am I the one with a watch and not the miners? Good question! Because it’s the 1800s and not all of them have watches. “I’m one of the very few people with a clock, because they’re so expensive,” said the watchman as a mine cart loaded with rocks, dirt, twigs and a few leaves went by. Did I mention the emergency bell? It’s used during fires, cave-ins, and floods.
I remember one time, it was raining so bad that the timbers (poles to keep the cave from collapsing) got so wet and saturated with water that it collapsed in shaft 19. Every miner feared for their lives. Dust and smoke were everywhere. As the miners tried to dig out, one miner said, “It’s no use; we can’t see where we are digging.” Then they gave up except for one miner. His name was Ben. He kept digging until he hit a soft spot and was able to break away loose rock with his pickax. About 30 men ran like the wind out of that mine to shaft 18 (including Ben).
When Ben died 20 years later the miners honored him by burying the
actual timber that cracked in shaft 19. “No miner wants that to happen,”
said the watchman. That is what a watchman's clock is and does in any kind of mine. |
