Henry Lawson (1867-1922) was a true Australian, whose writing has a direct appeal to the understanding and sympathy of the reader. When the Sun Went Down is a short story about a quarrel between two brothers who are miners. A disaster at the mine almost kills one of them, and does indirectly kill the other.
Jack Drew sat on the edge ot the shaft, with his foot in the loof and one hand on the rope, ready to descend. His elder brother, Tom, stood at one end at the windlass and the third man at the other. Jack paused before swinging off, looked up at his brother, and suddenly held out his hand:
'You're not going to let the sun go down, are you, Tom?'
But Tom kept both hands on the handle of the windlass and said nothing.
'Lower away!'
They lowered him to the bottom, and Tom shouldered his pick in silence and walked off to the tent. He found that tin plate and other things set ready for him on the rough table. The tea was made, the potatoes ready; he set down at the table but could not eat. His brother's quick temper had caused the quarrel that morning; but then Jack had admitted that and apologized. Tom despised himself. He moved around anxiously and tried to smoke. He could not get Jack's last appeal out of his ears: 'You're not going to let the sun go down, are you, Tom?'
Tom find himself glancing at the sun. It was less than two hours from sunset. He thought of the words of the old poet; the author didn't matter, but the words began to hunt him: 'Let not the sun go down upon your wrathful. Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.'
The line contains good advice; for quick-tempered men are often the most sensitive, and when they let the sun go down on their wrath, that is likely to worry them in the night.
Tom started to go to the mine, but checked himself, sat down, and tried to draw comfort from a pipe. He understand his brother thoroughly, but his brother never understood him – that was where the trouble was. Presently he began thinking how Jack would worry about the quarrel and have no enthusiasm for him working. Perhaps he was worrying now, down at the end of the damp dark passage.
Tom had almost made up his mind to go below again, on some excuse, when his friend shouted from the top of the shaft:
'Tom! Tom! For God's sake come here!'
Tom's heart gave a great thump, and he ran like the wind to the shaft. All the diggers within hearing were soon on the spot. They saw at a glance what had happened. It was madness to sink a shaft without wood at the sides in that sort of ground. The sides of the shaft were closing in!
Tom sprang forward and shouted through the crack: 'To the face, Jack! Run to the face! To the end of the passage! Run for your life!'
Tom turned to the diggers. 'To the old workings! Bring the tools. We'll dig him out.'
A few minutes later they were at the old shaft close by and were down in the old passage. Tom knew that they were quite close to the other part of the mine. He kelt in the damp clay before the face and worked like a madman. He refused to give his place to another, and only dropped one tool to use another. He reckoned that he had six, or perhaps eight, feet to drive, and he knew that the air would not last long in there, even if the roof had not already fallen and crushed his brother. Great drops of sweat stood out on Tom's forehead, and his breath came in deep sobs; but he still struck strong, savage blows into the clay before himself, and the drive lengthened quickly. Once he paused a moment to listen, and then distinctly heard a sound as of a tool or stone being struck. Jack was safe!
Tom dug on until the clay suddenly fell away and left a hole about the size of a plate in the face before him.
'Thank God!' said a hoarse voice at the other side.
'All right, Jack?'
'Yes, Tom. You're just in time. I've hardly got room to stand in and I can hardly breathe.' He was crouching against the clay.
Tom fell back against the man behind him. 'Oh, God!' he cried. 'My back!'
Suddenly he struggled to his knees, and then fell forward on his hand and dragged himself close to the hole in the clay.
'Jack!' he gasped. 'Jack!'
'Right, Tom, what's the matter?'
'I've hurt my heart, Jack. Put your hand out – quick! The sun's going down.'
Jack's hand came through the hole. Tom gripped it and then fell with his face in the damp clay.
They half carried, half dragged, him from the passage; for the roof was low and they were obliged to stoop. They took him to the shaft and sent him up, fastened to the rope.
Jack soon escaped from his prison and went to the surface. He knelt on the grass by the body of his brother; the diggers gathered round and took off their hats. And the sun went down.
