Redmoor Mine, Callington, Cornwall ((1937)

 Eerie Noises at Night.

Mine's Ghostly Will-O'-The-Wisp. Strange experience at Callington.

A strange experience which befell three miners working at Redmoor Mine, near Callington, was related to "The Western Morning News" representative yesterday by the men.

The old mine has recently been re-opened, and it is stated that queer noises for which no accountable reason can be given have been heard at the mine at night. The men, Messrs. Roscoe Smith, Lionel Smith, and Fred Scould, of Wadebridge, were on night shift, and were the only miners in the mine at the time.

"I left the levels at 2.30 a.m.," said Mr. Roscoe Smith, "and I made my way to the drying-house. It was a dark night, with no moon or stars, not a breath of wind, even. Just as I reached the drying-house something, I cannot ell what it was or what it looked like, suddenly came out of the drying-house and swished past me. Then I heard a sound, but saw nothing. The thing, whatever it was, made my lamp go out. Presently I lit my lamp again and entered the drying-house, but saw nothing to indicate what it was that had frightened me. Then I heard a loud noise, like stones falling on a galvanized roof. It came from the direction of the mine-sheds. I went towards the place, but the sound shifted and I heard it coming as if from the stamps up above me. My mates came out from the levels just then, and we went to investigate.

"We heard a mysterious thumping and rattling, coming from the old mine-burrows and stack, then from the sheds and blacksmith's shop. Wherever we went in an attempt to locate the cause of the noise it shifted to another region. Once we heard it coming from the direction of some farm buildings about 200 yards away. As a matter of fact, the weird noise came from many angles, at almost regular intervals, but always on the mine or the immediate vicinity. It began at 2.30, and not until daylight, about six o'clock, did it cease."

The other two miners admitted feeling scared at the time. "It's past explaining," Mr Lionel Smith remarked. "I've never heard anything like it. It was really uncanny. I'm not nervous, but I shall never forget my experience. Sometimes I thought it sounded like something scrambling away and making a big noise about it."

Other miners spoke of curious tapping sounds being heard in the levels, reviving the theory, popular in Cornwall, that the spirits of departed miners, known as "knockers," haunt old workings.

Western Morning News, 23rd September 1937.

Blyth, Northumberland, 1930

 Eerie Noises Mystery.

Eerie noises, apparently coming from below the ground, are causing alarm to householders in various parts of Blyth (Northumberland), and people are unable to sleep at nights. It is officially declared that the noises are not due to mine workings.

Minto Colliery, Fife, 1935

Fife Ghosts 3 - by our Special Correspondent.
The Phantom of the Mine.
From the ghost section of Minto Colliery brave men fled in terror.

This is the tale of Fife's most terrifying ghost. It is a ghost two hundred fathoms under the earth. It has shattered the nerves of strong me, causing them months of insomnia. It heralds its visitations with a rending, tearing thunder.

I first heard of the ghost section of the Minto Colliery in West Fife from a haggard-looking man whom I met when walking through one of the mining towns in the early morning. He wanted change to work a cigarette machine. He was rather old, with tired, sunken eyes and a weary, drawn face. I asked him what he was doing out of bed at that hour. He told me he had not slept a wink at night for 18 mongths. "I worked in the ghost section," he said.

He told me he had been through the worst barrages in the Great War without turning a hair. But the ghost section shattered his nerves. "I have found myself running panic-stricken from the section, and clinging to the wall, panting, with my knees absolutely knocking together, wondering whether I could dare to go back or not." Finally his nerves gave way. He had not worked for 18 months. He envied the health of every person he saw. He wondered whether he would eventually go mad from want of sleep.

The full story of the ghost section was afterwards related to me by Mr James Suttie, whose picture you see here. Mr Suttie was for five years the contractor in charge of the ghost section. It is now closed.

Minto Colliery is situated between Bowhill and Lochgelly and the section lies about a mile from the pit bottom. It is 120 yards in length, comprising a winding "road." Working at the "face," the miners knelt under a roof about four and a half feet high. The peculiarity of the section was that the roof above it was sandstone for several fathoms. Herein lay the ghost. Suddenly, without warning, the roof would begin to roar. The roaring was far worse than thunder. Everyone who has worked in the ghost section speaks in awed tones of the tearing, rending thunder of the roof, which went on in diabolical peals sometimes for over an hour. In accompaniment to the terrifying noise, the roof would tear apart and press down with overwhelming force. Props would be driven into the "pavement" or ground.

Yet, curiously enough, the accident rate in the ghost section was not higher than elsewhere. This was due to an uncanny second sight which the miners who worked in it experienced. Mr Suttie told me that while he and his 16 men were at work all along the section they would suddenly realise that the thunder was going to begin. There was no visible warning, no murmuring or movement. They simply knew that in a second's time the roof would be roaring and tearing and heaving. With one accord they crawled feverishly into the bigger road without, and no sooner had they scrambled to their feet than the terrifying noise had begun.

The lights all went out. In darkness terror-stricken men rushed hither and thither to safety. Many ran into each other in the dark in their blind efforts to get away from the section. And, while I tell you this, you must remember that there is no braver class of men than the miners in the country. In all other circumstances they do not flinch from danger. It is their everyday companion. But the ghost section, just at this terrifying stage when the lights black out and the narrow underground roadway is a roaring, heaving, rending mass, struck panic into the hearts of the bravest men.

Once out of the section, the men waited until the thunder had ceased. Usually they were scattered, and the wait was often an anxious one, for one band of men was quite unaware what had happened to another. When the thunder ceased the men made their way back to the ghost section. This alone proved their courage. They would find the props which had held up the roof driven right through the pavement. These props, usually pillars of wood, made specially for the ghost section, were frequently driven down until a length of only two feet was visible, compared with their previous height of four and a half feet. The roof had settled on top of them after driving them down this distance.

The work of clearing up was then begun, and afterwards the normal work of filling the pan runs resumed. Although eight of his men stuck with Mr Suttie throughout his five years in the ghost section, the other half was continually chopping and changing. He told me of some men who had stayed only one shift, and refused to come back.

Dundee Evening Telegraph, Friday 3rd May 1935

Arbury Estate, Nuneaton, Warwickshire (1930s)

Birmingham Daily Post, Monday 13th February 1939
"Red Deeps": A quarry described by George Eliot
Some years ago, an old estate workman at Arbury used to recall seeing, when a youth, a lady in a black silk dress sitting on a low stone wall at Griff Hollows, notebook in hand, sketching or writing. She was George Eliot, visiting a favourite haunt, Griff Hollows or Griff Bottoms, which she depicted in "The Mill on the Floss" as "Red Deeps".
[...]
The canal at "Red Deeps" has an association with Sir Roger Newdigate, the famous antiquary, and fifth baronet, who was depicted by George Eliot - she was born on his estate - as "Sir Christopher Cheverel." Some years before his death Sir Roger cut a canal through his ground to join the Coventry canal, and it was said that he could enter a boat on his estate and go to Venice by water without putting foot on dry land.
Following the canal-side one can understand how Maggie Tulliver held "Red Deeps" in awe, and needed all her confidence in her brother Tom's bravery to reconcile her to an excursion thither, "visions of robbers and fierce animals haunting every hollow." The legends of "visions" at Griff Hollows persist to this day, and a superstition among Warwickshire miners who have to pass through the valley on their way to work is that of the "seven whistlers." The whistlers are seven birds, which are said to fly together at night making a whistling noise and presaging disaster. Many miners, if they think they hear the birds, return home, instead of going on the night shift.
[...]

Kissing your wife

Leeds Mercury, Tuesday 5th April 1932.
Miners' Superstition.
Unlucky not to kiss wife on going to work.

That his wife had left him because he did not kiss her good-bye was stated by Angus Jenkinson, miner, Downs View Avenue, Deal, when summoned at Sheffield, yesterday, for neglecting her. He added: "She told me her father had said it would be unlucky for a miner not to kiss his wife good-bye before going to work."

It was stated the woman had been certified insane and was in a mental institution. The hearing was adjourned sine die on condition that Jenkinson paid 30s. for his wife's maintenance and repayment of relief.

Miners' Superstitions (Northern Ireland)

By R. Walker.

Among some of the most curious superstitions still existing to-day are those to be found in mining districts. In some districts, if a man stumbles on leaving the cage at the bottom of the shaft, it is considered a very bad omen, and he, and perhaps his mates, will at once return to the bank. When a new hand is taken on at a pit, he should never go down with the first shift. If he does he is asked to go up again and come down with the second or, more probably, is sent home till the next day.

In some pits it is the unwritten rule that the lamp must not be carried with the left hand - yet in others the left hand is preferred. It is considered unlucky to lose the card of rules issued to each man, and these pieces of pasteboard are often framed and hung in the cottages to ensure that they are safe.

A white cat walking along a street in a mining village is a sure forerunner of evil - so they believe - and it stands little chance of escaping should some of the mining lads get hold of it.

When a new seam or cutting is started, the first man who strikes his pick into the "face" of the coal is careful to tear a small piece of cloth from his clothing and leave it on the spot. A strange custom, this; one cannot help wondering how it first came about.

Shoud miners hear the crowing of a cock at a distance they regard it as a sure sign that some accident will happen in the workings. Strange noises and voices in the mine are often spoken of. The sound of singing is of good augury, but that of moaning is regarded as sinister. Should miners meet a woman with a squint when on their way to work, they regard it as a sign that some evil is on the way.

In many pits strangers visiting the workings are always accompanied by two of the miners in addition to an official. If this rule is broken, it is said, ill luck is sure to follow. One must never refer to the dangerous character of a miner's work when actually in the workings. Above the ground, however, one can speak of it quite freely without their regarding it as unlucky.

Belfast News-Letter, 4th September 1935.

Cornish Miners' Superstitions (by an ex-miner?)

(By Herbert Richards).
It has been said that Cornish miners are a class very superstitious, and that they take particular notice of tokens, which they say portend good or ill luck. They also affirm that many lives have been saved from disaster by carefully watching signs and tokens. Nearly everyone, however, is more or less superstitious, though most people would deny this. Ninety-nine persons out of a hundred will walk around a ladder rather than under it. How many will refuse to sit thirteen at table, or to embark on some undertaking on the thirteenth of the month. I would like, therefore, to give to readers of the "Cornishman" some of the happenings which were said to have taken place in some of our local tin mines, when mining was in full swing, and the rattle of stamps made music in the valleys.

Miners affirm that they often see little imps or demons underground, and that their presence is a sign of good luck, and that they indicate the presence of lodes of tin, about which they work during the absence of the miners. A miner was once heard to say that he had often seen them, sitting on pieces of timber, or tumbling about in curious attitudes when he went underground to work.

Another story is that miners do not like the form of the Cross made underground. A man on one occasion going through a level made a cross by the side of one, to mark his way back, as he would have to return by himself. But he was compelled to alter it into another form.

If miners see a snail when going to bal in the morning, they drop a piece of tallow candle by its side.

Two miners who worked at Wheal Vor, in Breage, were in the habit of calling out a dog or two and hunt over the Godolphin estate nearby. One morning while they were with the dogs, one of them gave the alarm that a man on horseback was coming down the road. "It's not possible," said the other. "No horse can ever come over that road."
"Yes it is," said the other, "And old Capn. T is on its back," replied the first.
"Hold thy tongue," replied his comrade. "Capn. T died months ago."
"I know that," said the other, "but tes he sure enough."
Both crouched down behind a bush, but the informant, whose father was one of the parties, declared that the appearance of Capt. T on a black horse passed noiselessly down the road immediately before them, but that he did not notice their presence.

Another strange tale comes from Wheal Vor. A man and a boy were engaged in sinking a shaft, when the lad through accident or carelessness, missed in charging a hole, so it was found necessary to pick out the charge. This they proceeded to do, while the man severely repremanded the boy for carelessness. Several miners were on the plat above, chatting with the man and boy. Suddenly the charge exploded, when man and boy were seen to be thrown up in a volume of flame. A party quickly descended, and the remains of the poor fellows were seen to be scorched beyond recognition. A bystander, in order to spare the feelings of the relatives, caught the burning mass on a shovel and threw it into the blazing furnace of Woolf's engine nearby. From that time the engine man declared that numbers of little black dogs continually haunted the place, even when the doors were closed, and it was found very difficult to get an engine-man to work the engine.

On Christmas Eve, in former days, the "small people," known as "Spriggans," met at the bottom of the deepest mines and sang Christmas carols, and the miners during their work could hear melodious voices beyond all earthly voices singing the well-known carol "Noel" and the strains of a deep-toned organ shook the rocks.

It is said that miners often hear with alarm, noises as if other miners were at work deep underground, and at no great distance, the wheeling of barrows, the sound of pickaxes, and the fall of earth, are distinctly heard through the night. This is supposed to be the echo of their own labours, but sometimes the noises continued long after their labours were ended and voices were occasionally intermingled with the sounds.

Midsummer-eve and New Year's Day were holidays with the miners. It is said that they refused to work on those days from superstitious reasons.

I heard recently that just before the accident at Wheal Reath, a few weeks ago, when three miners were trapped by an inflow of water, that a miner had a warning that something was going to happen at the mine, and he did not go underground. The following incident illustrates this belief in warnings. A workman once lodged in a house near Wheal Grey, in Breage. He says the daughter of the person with whom he lodged, came in to her mother crying, "Billy and Jim ben out theer for more than an hour, and I ben chasing them among the banks and they wa'ant let me catch them. As fast as I go to one bank, they go to another."
"Hold your tongue, child," said the mother. "Twas their fore-noon core, an they have both ben in bed these hours..."
"I'm sure I ben chasing them," said the child.
The mother then went upstairs and awoke the lads, telling them the story. One of them at once said: "It is a warning, something will happen in the old end, and I sha'ant go to mine this core."
"Nonsense," said the other. "Don't be so foolish. The child has been playing with some strangers, and it isn't worth while to be spaled (pay cut) for any such foolishness."
"I tell you," replied the other, "I won't go," and as it was useless for one man to go alone, both remained away, and strange as it may seem, in the course of the night a run took place in the end they had been working in, and tens of thousands of kibblefuls (iron buckets) came away. Had they been at work both men would have been buried alive.

At Wheal Vor it has always been believed that the appearance of a white rabbit, or hare, in the engine house presaged a fatal accident, and some of the miners solemnly declare that they have chased hares and rabbits till they were hemmed in apparently without being able to catch one. A white rabbit on one occasion, it was said, ran into a windbore, lying on the ground, and though stopped in it escaped.

Another strange token comes from Wheal Vor. A man on being relieved from his turn as watcher during the night heard a loud noise like the emptying of rubbish in front of the account house, where he was staying; on going out, nothing was to be seen. The poor fellow thinking this strange sound was a bad warning pined away and died within a few weeks.

The following about the knockers is very interesting. These used to be heard in Cornish mines and caused a great deal of discussion as to who or what they were. They are miners say, the ghosts of the Jews that crucified our Lord, and were sent for slaves to work the mines in Cornwall and we find their old smelting houses, which we call Jews' houses, and their blocks at the bottom of the great bogs, which we call Jews' tin.

We used to break into old shafts which they had made, and they say that if a man on a still night works about these shafts he may hear the ghosts of them at work, knocking and picking as clearly as if a man were working in the next level. In some mines these little knockers were known as Buccas, and miners affirm that these sprites have been heard working away in the remote part of a lode of tin repeating the blows of the pick with great precision, and have often indicated to miners where they might find productive lodes.

The following interesting account of the knockers is related: One Saturday night after I had retired to rest and had been some time in bed, I heard a bedroom door open and footsteps moving about on the landing of the stairs, and a movement in the kitchen beneath. This noise continued so long that I feared that one of the children had been taken suddenly ill, and on the Sunday morning when I went down to breakfast, I asked the servant what occasioned the noises during the night. She declared that none of the family had left their bedroom during the night. But one of the family informed me that the house was haunted, and that they often heard strange noises as of miners beating a borer, but I believe they all come from the lode of tin which runs under the house. They were the "knockers" which you heard working upon a lode of tin.

Numerous stories have come from mines in the Lelant and St. Ives district, where the "knockers" have been heard. Since the decline of Cornish mining, very little is known of these things, but in the old mining days it is a fact that all these curious superstitions were believed in.

The Cornishman, 4th March 1937.