Crockerville at present is decidedly short of hands. The number on the
books, all told, black and white, is only sixty-two: when the whole
property comes to be worked, divided and sub-divided, it will require
between a thousand and fifteen hundred. The hands are mostly country
people, including a few gangs employed to sink shafts. One gang lately
deserted, for the following reason. Two men were below charging the shots
from a heap of loose powder, whilst their friends overhead were quietly
smoking their pipes. A 'fire-'tick,' thrown across the shaft, burnt a
fellow's fingers, and he at once dropped it upon his brethren underground;
they were badly scorched, and none of the gang has been seen since. I
mention this accident as proving how difficult it is to manage the black
miner. The strictest regulations are issued to prevent the fatuous nigger
killing himself, but all in vain: he is worse, if possible, than his white
_confrere_. If I had the direction all the powder-work should be done by
responsible Europeans. I would fire by electricity, the battery remaining
in the manager's hands, and no native should be trusted with explosives.
Here I fell amongst old acquaintances, and was only too glad to remain
with them between Friday and Thursday.
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