about midnight
Some wring their hands over bodies which can never live again till the resurrection morning ; some lovingly tend those who lie racked with agony on their beds , every limb writhing with fiery anguish ; while some poor victims are so scorched and blackened that none can be found to claim them -- one can only be known by his watch-chain , so completely is he burnt out of all remembrance . And what of poor Johnson ? Hour after hour Betty and her mother watched near the pit 's mouth , sick with sorrow and suspense , pressing forward as each fresh tub-load landed its miserable burden , still to be disappointed ; while the wailings , the cries , the tears of those who claimed the dead , the dying , the scorched , on every fresh arrival , only added fuel to their burning grief . At last , about midnight , three men were brought up and laid on the bank , all apparently lifeless . `` Oh , there 's fayther ! '' `` Oh , there 's Thomas ! '' burst from the lips of Betty and her mother .