BATTLING WITH THE RIVER.
Some day, perhaps, the history of that River war will be written. It
can only be suggested in my story.
It was a war of terrific forces waged for a great cause by men as brave
as any who ever fought with weapons that kill.
The attacking force was the Rio Colorado that with power immeasurable
had, through the ages past, carved mile-deep canyons on its course and
with its mountains of silt had built the great delta dam across the
ancient gulf, thus turning back the waters of the sea that sun and wind
might lay bare the floor of the Basin and work the desolation of the
desert.
Using the Seer's open hand for his map of La Palma de la Mano de Dios,
Jose, the Indian, had traced the course of the river along the base of
the fingers flowing toward the gulf which lies between the edge of the
palm and the thumb--this same inner edge of the hand representing
roughly the high ground that shuts out the waters of the sea. The
thousands of acres of The King's Basin lands lie from sea level to
nearly three hundred feet below. The river at the point where the
intake for the system of canals was located is, of course, higher than
sea level, for the waters that pass the intake flow on southward to the
gulf.
It was the river flowing thus on higher ground that made irrigation and
reclamation of the desert possible. It was this also that made possible
the disaster that was now upon the hardy pioneers, who had staked
everything in their effort to realize the vast potential wealth of the
ancient sea-bed. The grade from the river at the intake to the lowest
point in the bottom of the Basin is much steeper than the established
fall of the river from the intake to the gulf. The water in the canals
on this steeper grade was controlled by headings, spillways, gates and
drops, while the structure at the intake, with gates to regulate the
flow into the main canal, prevented the river from leaving its old
channel altogether, pouring its entire volume into the Basin and in
time converting it again into an inland sea.
The dangerously cheap and inadequate character of the vital parts,
built by the Company upon the usual promoter's estimates, had led Abe
Lee to protest against the risk forced upon the settlers and had
finally caused him to resign. Later, as the Company system of canals
was extended and more and more water was needed to supply the rapidly
increasing acreage of cultivated lands, Willard Holmes came to
appreciate the desert-bred surveyor's view of the danger and
insistently urged his employers to supply him with funds to replace the
temporary wooden structures with safe and lasting works of concrete and
steel.
But the hunger of Capital for profits forbade. Some day the work would
be done, the directors promised. In the meantime, without increasing
the original investment by so much as a dollar but with the revenues
derived from the sale of water rights, they were extending the system
to supply the ever increasing fields of the settlers, thus shrewdly
forcing the people, who were ignorant of the terrible risk they were
carrying, to supply the funds to build the canals and ditches that
belonged to the Company; while for the water carried to the ranches the
farmers continued to pay the Company large rentals. The original
investment of the Company was very small compared with the thousands
invested by the pioneers who had been induced to settle in the new
country. And yet from every dollar of the wealth taken from the land
the Company would receive a share.
But the Rio Colorado gave no heed to the decree of the New York
financiers. The forces that had made La Palma de la Mano de Dios are
not ruled by Wall street.
Willard Holmes, who had come to understand that his work was not alone
to safeguard the property of his employers but to protect the interests
of the pioneers as well, had been discharged because he would not
deliver the people wholly into the hands of the Company. A new engineer
out of the East, as faithful to the interests of Capital as he was
unfamiliar with conditions in the new country, was placed in charge.
It was as if the river, in the absence of the man whose constant
readiness had held it in check, saw its opportunity. Swiftly it
mustered its forces from mountain and plain. Hundreds of miles away it
gathered its strength and hurried to the assault. The sources of
information established by Holmes on the tributaries and headwaters
wired their reports: a foot rise on the Gila; three feet coming down
the Little Colorado; two feet rise in the Salt; five feet on the Grand.
The New York office-engineer received the messages with mild interest.
The daily reports from the weather bureau covering the countries
drained by the Rio Colorado lay on his desk unnoticed.
Mr. Burk warned him, but the thoughtful Manager of the Company was not
an engineer. Willard Holmes tried to help him, but Holmes had been
discharged by the Company and the words of discharged men have little
weight with those who succeed to their positions.
The daily reports from the gauge at Rubio City showed an increase in
the river's volume of twenty thousand second feet; then thirty thousand
more; and on top of that came another twenty thousand. The assistants
of the new chief engineer tried to tell him what it meant, but the
assistants were subordinates and friends of Willard Holmes. The man
from New York, who was privileged to write several letters after his
name, was supposed to know his business.
Then the assembled forces of the river reached the intake, and the
trembling wooden structures that stood between the pioneers and ruin,
besieged by the rising flood, battered by the swirling currents,
bombarded by drift, gave way under the strain and the charging waters
plunged through the breach.
Too late the Company's forces were rushed to the scene. Before their
very eyes the roaring waters, as if mad with destructive power,
wrenched and tore at the Company's property, twisting, ripping,
smashing, until not a trestle, plank or stick was left in place and the
terrific current, rushing with ever increasing volume and power through
the opening, plowed into the soft, alluvial soil of the embankment,
undermining and carrying it away until nearly the entire river was
admitted.
As quickly as men and material could be assembled, the Company's chief
engineer began the battle to regain control of the mighty stream. The
warfare thus begun meant life or death to the greatest reclamation
project in the world.
Millions already invested by the settlers in farms and towns and homes
and business enterprises were at stake. Many more millions that were
yet to be realized from the reclaimed lands depended upon the issue of
the fight.
Against the efforts of the engineers and the army of laborers the river
massed from its tributaries in the regions of heavy rains and melting
snows the greatest strength it had assembled in many years.
Five times, with piling and trestles and jetties and embankments, the
men who defended The King's Basin were in sight of victory. Five times
the river summoned fresh strength--twisted out the piling, wrecked the
trestles, undermined the jetties and embankments and swept the nearly
completed structures, smashing, grinding, crashing, away--a twisted,
tangled ruin.
While the engineers and men of the Company were waging this war with
the river, the situation of the pioneers in the Basin grew daily more
perilous. Without a well-defined channel large enough to carry the
incoming stream, the flood spread over a wide territory in the southern
and western portions of the Basin, filling first the old channels and
washes left by the waters ages ago, forming next in the areas of nearly
level or slightly depressed sections shallow pools, lakes and seas, out
of which the higher ground and hummocks rose like new-born islands,
growing smaller and smaller as the rising tide submerged more and more
of their sandy bases. Meanwhile the whole flood, eddying slowly with
winding sluggish currents in the shallow places, moving more swiftly in
the deeper washes and channels, swept always onward toward the north
where, miles away, lay the deepest bottom of the great Basin.
Many of the settlers in the flooded districts were forced to abandon
farms they had won with courage and toil, for the sweeping waters
covered alike fields of alfalfa and grain and barren desert waste. The
towns of Frontera and Kingston were protected from the inundation by
earthen levees, in the building of which men and women toiled in
desperate haste, and night and day these embankments were patrolled by
watchful guards, who frequently summoned the weary, besieged citizens
from their rest to protect or strengthen some threatened point in their
fortifications.
The eastern side of the Basin being higher ground, the settlers in the
South Central District and east of Republic, with the two towns built
by Jefferson Worth, were in no immediate danger, but the old Dry River
channel became a roaring torrent, bank-full; and it was only a question
of time, if the river were not controlled, when every foot of the new
country with its wealth of improvements and its vast possibilities
would be buried deep beneath the surface of an inland sea.
The situation was appalling. The remarkable development of the new
country, the marvelous richness of the reclaimed lands, with the
immense possibilities of the reclamation work as demonstrated by The
King's Basin project had attracted the attention of the nation. The
pioneers in Barbara's Desert were, in fact, leaders in a far greater
work that would add immeasurably to the nation's life--that would,
indeed, be world-wide in its influence. Because of this the attention
of the nation was fixed with peculiar interest upon the disaster that
had fallen upon The King's Basin. Throughout the land civil engineers
watched intently the efforts of the Company men to regain control of
the river and to force it back into its old channel. Many declared
that, because of the alluvial character of the soil, the absence of
anything like a rock floor to build upon and the great volume and
terrific velocity of the current, the feat was an engineering
impossibility. In the eyes of the engineering world The King's Basin
project was doomed. The settlers were advised to abandon the work they
had accomplished and to move out. But those strong ones who had forced
the desert to yield its wealth to their hands did not move. Those whose
farms were in the flooded district were forced to go. There was the
inevitable sifting of the timid-hearted and the weak, but the great
majority stood fast.
Jefferson Worth, in the face of almost certain ruin, went steadily on
with his work on the railroad and continued pushing his other
enterprises toward completion--making improvements, erecting new
buildings, planning further investments and developments with a
confidence and conviction that was startling. Not once throughout that
trying period was he heard to express the slightest doubt as to the
ultimate triumph of the settlers. His business friends and associates
outside urged him to stop--to wait at least until the issue was
certain. He answered calmly that the issue was already certain and went
on with his work.
His confidence and courage were the inspiration that fired the hearts
of that threatened people. Had he given ground, had he weakened and
drawn back it would have started a panic that nothing could have
checked and that would have resulted inevitably in the abandonment of
the cause forever. The King's Basin lands with the wealth of effort
that had already been expended would have been given over to the river,
lost irretrievably to the race.
Hundreds went to him when they felt their courage failing and their
spirits weakening under the strain. And always they returned to their
farms or to their business with renewed strength to go on. As one, who
passed through that ordeal, long afterwards expressed it: "In those
times we all just lived on his nerve."
Through all the Company's war with the river and its repeated defeats
Willard Holmes was forced to stand a mere observer, an idle looker-on.
Foreseeing the catastrophe that was now upon them, he had prepared
himself by careful study of every factor in the problem and by thorough
knowledge of the situation to meet the crisis when it came. With every
means at his command he had planned and worked that he might be ready
and so far as possible equipped for the struggle and now, when war was
declared and the battle being waged, he could only watch the ruin of
the work he loved while a stranger, who ignored his preparatory
efforts, took the place that should have been his.
But the great man of the S. & C., with whom the engineer had many a
counsel in those days, warned him always to be ready for the time
when--as the western man put it--"The Company should throw up its
hands."
The waters moving northward reached the lowest point in the Basin and
there formed an inland sea that, without an outlet and receiving the
full volume of the river, grew ever larger and larger. Flowing towards
the sea the flood developed swift currents in the depressions and
washes that led in the general direction of its course, seeking thus to
make for itself a well-defined channel. The largest of these ancient
washes, scarcely noticeable in the desert, led from the south to
Kingston, passing through the edge of the town, curved slightly to the
west and extended on northward, becoming deeper and more clearly
defined with higher ground on either side as it neared the lowest point
of the Basin. The general lay of the land drew the flood toward this
channel and developed a current that moved with increasing velocity as
the waters, nearing the sea, were concentrated more and more by the
greater depth of the old channel and the steeper grade of the land on
both sides.
Then a new and alarming phase of the river's destructive work developed
and everyone saw that the war at the intake must be forced to a speedy
finish or the cause would be lost. The immense volume of water, flowing
with increased strength and velocity as it defined for itself a more
distinct channel down the steeper grade of the Basin, began cutting in
the soft soil a vertical fall that from the foot of the grade moved
swiftly up-stream; a mighty cataract from fifty to sixty feet in height
and a full quarter of a mile wide, moving at the rate of from one to
three miles a day and leaving as it went a great gorge through which a
new-made river flowed quietly to a new-born and ever-growing sea. The
roar of the plunging waters, the crashing and booming of the falling
masses of earth that were undermined by the roaring torrent were heard
miles away. Acres upon acres of the soft fertile land fell, melted and
were swept away down the gorge as banks of snow fall and melt in the
spring freshets. Day and night, night and day, the immeasurable power
of the canyon-cutting river drove the cataract southward toward the
break at the intake through which, by this time, the entire Colorado at
its highest flood stage was turned.
The imminent danger that threatened the Basin was not the danger from
the ever-rising sea. Long before the waters could fill the old sea-bed,
that mighty cataract, moving ever upstream, would pass the intake; and
with the floor of the river lowered thus some fifty feet it would be
impossible to take the water out for irrigation. The lands reclaimed by
the pioneers would go back to desert years before they would be buried
once more under the surface of the sea.
The complete destruction of all that the settlers had gained and the
utter desolation of the land was now a question of weeks.
The Company town of Kingston was directly in the path of that moving
Niagara. While the Company's men were making a last desperate effort to
close the break, the great falls were eating their way nearer and
nearer the little city. When the roar of the water and the crashing and
booming of the falling banks could be heard on the streets and in the
offices of the Company, the people left their homes, their stores and
their shops; the town realizing that no human power now could avert the
disaster.
Heroic efforts were made to direct the course of the new river away
from the little city, but the waters with savage, resistless power
chose their own way. The pioneers, who built the first town in the
heart of The King's Basin Desert, saw that mighty, thundering cataract
move upon the work of their hands and felt the earth trembling under
their feet as they watched homes, business blocks, the hotel, the opera
house, the bank and finally the Company building undermined and
tumbled, crashing into the deep canyon.
In a few short hours it was over. The falls moved on and where Kingston
had once stood was that great gorge, with a few scattered houses only
remaining on each side.
That same day the last attempt of the Company men to close the break
failed.
With every hour the awful ruin drew nearer the point which, if reached,
would place The King's Basin forever beyond the reclaiming power of
men. Frantic appeals for help were made to the government, but before
the ponderous machinery of state, with its intricate and complicated
wheels within wheels, could unwind a sufficient quantity of red tape
the work of the pioneer citizens would be past saving.
It was at this time that a telegram from Jefferson Worth to the great
man of the Southwestern and Continental brought a special train of
private cars into the Basin. At Deep Well Junction Jefferson Worth, Abe
Lee, the Seer and Willard Holmes boarded the train and entered the car
of the general manager, where the officials representing the highest
authority in the great transcontinental system had gathered to meet
them in consultation.
At Republic the president of The King's Basin Land and Irrigation
Company with his manager and chief engineer joined them, and the train
moved on until, at a word from Holmes, the conductor gave the signal to
stop. From the windows and platform of the car the party could see the
water extending to the south and west mile after mile, and nearer the
huge plunging cataracts with leaping columns of spray, while the roar
of the falls, the crashing and booming of the caving banks shook the
air with heavy vibrations and the earth trembled with the shock of the
plunging waters and the falling masses of earth. Just ahead, where
Kingston had stood, the track ended on the bank of the deep gorge. From
here the party was driven in comfortable spring wagons to the scene of
the Company's defeat.
Save for the camps of the laborers, the boats, pile-drivers, implements
and materials of their warfare and the debris of their wrecked
structures, not a sign of their work remained, while through the
breach--widened now to nearly a quarter of a mile--the great river
poured its hundred and fifty thousand second feet of muddy water with
terrific velocity and solemn, awful power.
When the party had viewed the situation, the railroad men with Mr.
Greenfield retired to the tent of the Company's chief engineer.
A little apart from Jefferson Worth and his two companions, Willard
Holmes stood alone on the brink of the broken embankment looking down
into the swirling muddy waters. He knew that his time had come. He knew
that at that moment the railroad officials were concluding a deal with
The King's Basin Land and Irrigation Company through its president, by
which the S. & C. would assume control of the situation and attempt to
save the reclamation work. His chief had told him to be ready. He was
ready.
In the railroad yards at Rubio City and on every available side-track
for several miles east and west were standing train-loads of ties and
rails. In the yards at the Coast city were cars loaded with machinery,
implements and supplies. In the yards at the harbor were other
train-loads of timber and piling. With the readiness of a perfectly
equipped and organized army the forces of the S. & C., backed by the
resources of that powerful system, waited the word, while every moment
the disaster that threatened the pioneers drew nearer. From the roaring
river at his feet Willard Holmes turned to look toward the tent. Why
were they so slow?
Then his face lighted up and he took an eager step forward as the
private secretary of the general manager came out of the tent and
hurried toward him.
"They want you, Mr. Holmes," said the young man. The engineer went
quickly to answer the call.
When he entered the tent every man in the party turned toward the
engineer. "Holmes," said his chief, "we will attempt to close the
break. You will take charge at once."
Within an hour the forces of The King's Basin Land and Irrigation
Company already on the ground were set to work under the Seer preparing
the grade for a spur-track that would leave the main line near the
river fifteen miles north of the break, and Holmes, with Abe Lee, set
out on horseback for Rubio.
With the return of the general manager and his party to their train,
the movement already planned began. Without hurry but with ready
promptness the orders, voiced by the hundreds of clicking telegraph
instruments covering the district affected by the operations, were
obeyed. Special trains carried Jefferson Worth's force of railroad
builders with teams and equipment to the point at which the spur-track
would connect with the main line where, under Abe Lee, they began
pushing the grade southward to meet the forces that, under the Seer,
were working northward from the front.
Throughout the Basin the call for men and teams was issued by Jefferson
Worth, and the pioneers, answering as the Minute Men of old, were
hurried to the scene where they found trainloads of equipment waiting
ready for their use, while every hour brought reinforcements--laborers
of many nationalities gathered in the cities of the coast by the agents
of the railroad company.
The waiting trains loaded with ties and steel began to move and the
construction gangs followed close on the heels of the graders. And when
the last spike in the track to the scene of the decisive battle was
driven, the track-men with their sledges stepped aside to clear the way
for the panting engines that drew the first train loaded with piling
and timbers for the trestle.
Hour by hour now, without pause or halt, the men under Willard Holmes
working in shifts met the Rio Colorado in a hand-to-hand fight for The
King's Basin lands. By day under the white, semi-tropical sun, by night
in the light of locomotive headlights that gleamed strangely over the
dark swirling floods, the trestles were forced further and further out
into the plunging current that wrenched and twisted and tugged with
terrific strength in a mad wrestle with those who dared attempt to
check its sullen destructive will, while steadily, irresistibly, the
canyon-cutting falls drew nearer and nearer. It was not alone the
magnitude of the task directed by Willard Holmes that made the work
heroic. It was that this seemingly impossible work must be accomplished
against time. In his fight with the river the engineer raced against a
destructive force which, if it reached the scene of the struggle before
the battle was won, would make final defeat certain and place the
Colorado, so far as The King's Basin reclamation was concerned, beyond
control of men.
As the engineer stood on the trestle above the mad, whirling currents,
directing his men in their efforts to drive the piling in thirty feet
of water that--as one veteran expressed it--"ran like the mill tails of
hell," he fancied he could hear above the roar of the river against the
structure, the blows of the heavy driver, the rattle of cable and chain
and windlass, the grinding and squeaking of the straining timbers and
the shouts of the men--the menacing thunder of that moving cataract a
few miles away. While he paced the embankments, studying the set of the
currents, observing the form and action of the eddies or receiving the
hourly reports from the river gauge at Rubio City, and held
consultation with his assistants, he often turned his head
involuntarily to look anxiously away in the direction of the racing
falls.
Only when his exhausted body and wearied brain refused to respond
longer to his will would he throw himself fully dressed upon a cot in
his tent for an hour's sleep. His face grew haggard and deeply lined
with anxious care, his hollow eyes--dark-rimmed--were bloodshot and
burning as if with fever, his jaws were set as if by sheer power of his
will he would beat the river into submission. And he barked his orders
shortly in a hoarse strained voice that told of nerves stretched almost
to the breaking point. In critical moments, when it looked as though
the river in the next instant would reduce their work to a hopeless
wreck, the engineer, standing on the trembling timbers or clinging to
the swaying pile-driver itself, seemed to those who did his bidding to
become the very incarnation of human courage and power.
The Seer and Abe Lee, remembering the man who had come out from the
East to go with them on that preliminary survey, wondered at the
transformation. Then Willard Holmes was the servant of Capital that
used people for its own gain. He saw his work then only as a means to
the end that his Company might make money. Now, though employed still
by a corporation, he was a master who used the power at his command in
behalf of the people. He had come to look upon his work as a service to
the world and through that service only he served his employers. It was
as if in this man, born of the best blood of a nation-building people,
trained by the best of the cultured East--trained as truly by his life
and work in the desert--it was as though, in him, the best spirit of
the age and race found expression.
At last the trestles were pushed across the break, the track was laid
and the gigantic work of filling the channel was begun. In every rock
quarry reached by the S. & C. within two hundred and fifty miles of the
battle, men were drilling and blasting and with steam shovels and
derricks were loading cars with material for the fill. At the word from
Willard Holmes these rock trains steamed swiftly to the front,
everything giving them the right of way. Merchants and manufacturers
east and west cursed the railroad because their shipments were delayed.
Passengers, held for hours on the sidings, complained, scolded,
protested and threatened. It was an outrage! declared the tourists in
their luxurious Pullmans that they should be forced to give up an hour
of their pleasure in order that a train load of rock might make better
time. But, unheeding, the great battleships, each with its fifty cubic
yards of stone, and the flats and gondolas, each with its tons of
material, thundered away to the scene of the struggle. Every five
minutes, night and day, from the moment of the completion of the
trestles until the fill was above the danger point a car of rock was
dumped into the break.
So the task was accomplished; the fight was won. The Rio Colorado was
checked in its work of destruction and beaten back into its old
channel. The thousands of acres of The King's Basin lands that would
have been forever lost to the race through one corporation were saved
by another; and the man, who--without protest--had built for his
employers' gain the inadequate structures that endangered the work of
the pioneers, led the forces that won the victory.
The afternoon of the day on which the break was finally closed three
private cars came in with the rock trains. The passengers were the
general manager and the general superintendent with their wives,
Jefferson Worth and a small party of friends.
Leaving their cars the party walked toward a point below the rock
embankment where they could look down into the now empty gorge. With
this visible evidence of the river's power before them, the visitors
exclaimed with wonder.
When the superintendent had explained the magnitude of the work, the
difficulties encountered and how the task had been accomplished, the
general manager, who--here and there--had added a word, said: "After
all, friends, taking into consideration money, equipment and
everything, the whole question of a work like this, or of any great
enterprise, resolves itself into a question of men. It's up to the _man
on the job_. We have the system, the machinery without which this work
could not have been done. We have the capital to supply material and
labor--but that man up there closed the break."
As he spoke he pointed to a figure standing on the upper trestle above
the fill--outlined against the sky.
Then the party climbed the grade to the tracks again and walked to the
end of the upper trestle. Turning, the engineer saw and came towards
them. Silently they stood to receive him. From boots to Stetson his
khaki trousers and rough shirt were stained with mud and grime, his
eyes were sunken in dark hollows, his worn face was unshaven and his
hair, when he removed his hat, was unkempt. He did not look like a
hero; he looked more like some ruffian just from a prolonged debauch.
But the little party burst into applause.
The engineer smiled as his chief went forward from the group to grasp
him by the hand. For a moment they talked of the work. Then the
official, placing his hand on the engineer's arm, said: "Come, Holmes,
we have some women here who want to meet the man who mastered the
Colorado."
The engineer protested. He was "not presentable."
"Presentable! You're the most presentable man I know of this minute.
Come along, there's my wife making signs to me to hurry right now."
There was nothing for Holmes to do but to go. A moment later he was
face to face with the rest of the party and--with Barbara Worth.