Austin’s understudy
Snow blew about the bridge and the savage wind screamed in the
lattice. The planks laid across the ties were slippery; the flames
from the throbbing blast-lamps slanted, and sometimes all was dark.
Then the white fires leaped up and a dazzling illumination touched the
netted steel. At awkward spots Kit seized Austin’s arm. Bob was not
steady, the planks were narrow, and if one went across the edge one
would plunge to the river.
For a few moments the wind dropped, and the reflections flickered
across the shore end of the bridge. The steep bank was faced by stone,
and broken rock was stacked along the line. To grade the approach to
the bridge was the railroad company’s business, but Kit supposed he
could use their material.
“I think we’ll dump some rock about the shaky pile,” he said.
Austin’s brain was dull and to keep his feet was hard, but he nodded.
“Very well. Send a gang along.”
“You are chief. The order ought to come from you,” Kit remarked.
A few minutes afterwards they met the foreman.
“We’re surely up against it,” said the man. “The outside column’s
sagging. If we could bolt up the truss, we might hold her, but the
straps won’t come across.”
“Turn out a fresh gang,” Austin ordered. “Load up rock and run the
trolleys across the bridge. Then rig a derrick and dump the stuff.”
“A great notion!” said the foreman. “I’ll get busy.”
He vanished in the snow, and Austin leaned against the lattice.
“I’m rattled, Kit, but I think you’ve got it. If the pile sinks, the
lot will go.... But what about dumping some bags of cement?”
“Wheeler’s construction boss, and we don’t know what he’d do,” Kit
replied. “To move the cement might bother him, but, if he wanted, he
could dredge up the broken rock. You, however, ought to be in bed.”
“If I’d gone to bed, I’d acknowledge I ought not to hold my post. I’ve
got to stay with it.”
“Oh, well, your cap will blow off,” said Kit, and pulling down the
oilskin cap, he firmly tied the strings.
At the end of the bridge they stopped. The beam from the lamps did not
travel far, and in front was a dark gap. Twenty feet below, the river
brawled among the piers and its turmoil faintly pierced the scream of
the gale. A ladder went down into the tossing snow, and one heard
chains rattle and hoarse shouts. Then a slanted flame leaped upright,
and platforms and workmen’s figures got distinct. Kit thought Austin
ought not to go down, but Bob was obstinate and he could not force him
back.
He went in front, and where it was possible, steadied the other. By
and by he pulled Austin on to a platform, and bracing himself against
the gale, he looked about. The snow blew obliquely across the bridge
and the light was puzzling. Sometimes shining columns and skeleton
trusses cut the hazy background; sometimes the flames sank and the
netted steel melted in the gloom.
Men, balanced awkwardly on narrow bars, steadied a big steel frame
suspended by wire tackles. Another group hauled on a chain and when
they reached for a fresh hold the platform rocked. Two or three more,
on the beams overhead, turned a screw. The suspended frame did not
altogether span the gap and reach the fastenings on the pillar. To
pull the mass into line looked impossible, but one must try, and the
screws and multiplying tackle were powerful. Kit touched Austin.
“I think she’ll come across, and if we can get the bolts through the
bottom lugs, we ought to fix the top. Anyhow, I’ll go up. Keep the
boys to it.”
He had got Austin’s coat and, in the snow and turmoil, he thought the
men would not know him from Bob; they were much the same height and
build. Jumping for a tie-rod, he went up into the snow, and when a
beam from a lamp searched the spot he reached, the torn slicker was
conspicuous. Underneath were two small platforms and the angry flood.
His hands were numb and his skin smarted, but after all the snow was
wet. Flesh and blood could not labor in the frost that dries the snow
to dust.
He shouted. A straining wire rope groaned and the bottom of the truss
jarred the column. Kit took a bolt from a workman and went down an
inclined rod. A man on the opposite column waved his arms, as if to
indicate that the end was fast, and Kit guided the bored steel strap
to the proper spot. The end moved very slowly, but it did move; the
holes were almost opposite, and although the heavy frame oscillated in
the wind, he thought in a few moments he would push in the bolt. Then
a noise disturbed him and he saw Austin was coming up.
Kit frowned. Bob ought not to risk the climb; but he must concentrate
on guiding the strap to the socket and he could hardly use his stiff
hands. He pushed the bolt through the holes and straightened his back.
The job was not finished, but the worst strain was over. They had put
the truss where it ought to go and the bolts would hold until all was
fast.
Then Kit remembered Austin. Bob had stopped, as if he saw he was not
needed. He turned and pushed his hand along a bar, and Kit thought he
meant to go down. A foreman shouted, and the wire tackles running from
the girder overhead went slack. A big iron pulley dropped a foot or
two and the hook it carried disengaged. Kit doubted if the hook struck
Austin, but it looked as if he heard the noise and tried to avoid the
shock. His boots rattled on the iron and his shoulders went back. Kit
saw he was letting go, and he swung himself down to a fresh support
and put his arm round the other.
“Stick tight!” he said. “I’ll help you to the ladder.”
They reached the ladder, but the effort cost Kit much, and when he saw
Austin take hold he stopped to get his breath.
“If you can reach the platform, we’ll send you up in the skip,” he
gasped.
“I think I can make it,” said Austin, and they went down.
At the platform Kit pushed Austin to a tool-box. Snow blew about, the
lamp’s flame tossed and all was indistinct. The current broke noisily
against the piers and the wind screamed in the bridge. When a foreman
advanced Kit bent his head.
“The boys have rigged the derrick. Shall we start in to dump the
rock?”
Kit nodded, and when the man vanished, touched Austin.
“Don’t talk, Bob. Let me handle things. We’ll soon have all fixed.”
“I don’t want to talk,” said Austin. “I want to lie down.”
Kit waited with some anxiety. Bob was obviously ill, but the men must
not know, and Kit hoped the skip would soon arrive. By and by a big
steel bucket swung across the platform and a load of broken rock
splashed in the river. Austin got into the skip awkwardly, for Kit
dared not help, but when he jumped on the edge and seized the chain,
he called the foreman.
“Keep going! I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
The bucket went up and stopped at the plankway along the bridge. Kit
saw the gang was occupied, and putting his arm round Austin, steered
him to an unloaded trolley. Austin leaned against him and Kit imagined
he did not know where they went. When they got on board he shouted for
two or three men.
“My office! Shove her along!”
The trolley rolled ahead and the tossing fires melted in the snow. The
trees along the track bent in the wind and the noise was like the roar
of the sea. One could not see four yards in front; but at length a
faint glimmer pierced the snow and the trolley stopped. Austin got
down, Kit signalled the others to go back, and when the trolley
vanished guided Austin to the door. When they got inside, Austin
dropped into a chair. His eyes were half shut, he shivered and his
face was gray.
“I expect the pulley hit me, although I didn’t feel the knock,” he
said. “However, I ought not to quit——”
“Since all was straight before you went you needn’t bother,” Kit
replied in a cheerful voice. “But put your feet on the box, I’m going
to pull off your boots.”
Austin gave him a dull, puzzled look.
“You were on the tie-rod? I’ve a notion I came near to letting go; but
I don’t remember much——”
“Oh, well,” said Kit, “it doesn’t matter, and the boys want me. I’ll
help you to bed.”
He pulled off Austin’s clothes and put him in his bunk. Austin said
nothing and after a few minutes Kit thought him asleep. He dared not
stop, and throwing Austin’s torn slicker under some clothes, he got
his own coat and faced the gale.
Some time after daybreak he started for the office. He was exhausted
and the morning was very cold. The wind had dropped, the sky was
clear, and the snow on the planks was hard. Shining icicles hung from
the ironwork and Kit concluded winter had at length arrived. At the
bridge-head a man stopped him.
“Did the pulley hit you, Mr. Carson? I reckoned she was going to knock
you off the frame.”
“I got two or three knocks,” Kit replied with a laugh. “On the whole,
I imagine cooking’s a softer job than running a bridge gang.”
He stopped for a few minutes at the bunkhouse, and then went to the
office. Austin had got up and some color had come back to his skin.
Kit pulled off his long boots and lighted a cigarette. The stove was
red hot, and after the cold and strain he was willing to relax.
“How are you, Bob?” he asked.
Austin said he was shaky, but he expected soon to be better and he
must try to get about. Kit agreed. If it were but for an hour or two,
Bob ought to superintend.
“Jock will send us breakfast in a few minutes,” he said. “When you
have got some food you might take a walk along the girder. Put on your
big coat and skin-cap. The cold is fierce.”
“Your plan’s rather obvious, Kit. However, I expect I must play up;
people indulge you. I don’t know another man who could persuade a camp
cook to serve breakfast when it was not the proper time.”
“Well, you see, I was Jock’s piper. Besides, you’re not forced to
advertise that you’re not very fit. When you were wanted, you were on
the spot.”
“I doubt if I helped much,” said Austin in a thoughtful voice. “When
the boys let go the tackle, you jumped across and helped me down—did
you not? Perhaps it’s strange, but I don’t remember all we did.”
“It isn’t strange,” said Kit. “The wind was savage and the snow was
thick. We were highly strung and I suppose we worked mechanically. All
we knew was, we must get the truss across. Well, before you went the
truss was in place.”
“When did I go?”
“Now I’m beaten! When I stopped I felt as if I’d fought the gale for a
week. Anyhow, it was some time in the morning and the worst strain was
over. I expect you saw we didn’t need you and you went slack.”
“You are a good pal,” Austin remarked in a meaning voice. “Well, I
wonder——”
Kit frowned. He thought he had cheated the workmen, but unless he
cheated Austin he had not gained much. Bob would not allow himself to
be rewarded for another’s efforts. Moreover, he was not a fool and Kit
was tired.
“Sometimes you’re horribly obstinate, but if you’re not satisfied, you
must talk to the boys. They saw you about and they’ll admit they took
your orders. If you study the job, I expect you’ll see the orders were
good.”
Austin’s look was thoughtful, but Kit imagined he was to some extent
convinced, and soon afterwards the cook carried in their breakfast.
After a few days Wheeler arrived and approved all the others had done.
When he had examined their work he called Kit to his office.
“You’ll be glad to hear we have arranged for Austin to take control?”
“I think you have got the proper man, but when we talked about it you
did not agree.”
Wheeler shrugged. “My word goes, but I’m not head boss. At all events,
you didn’t put across your bluff and have got to quit! Now the frost’s
begun, we’ll break the gangs and you can pull out for the workshops.”
“So long as you have given me another post I mustn’t grumble,” Kit
remarked with a smile. “In fact, on the whole, I think my luck is
pretty good. To bluff a big construction company is rash.”
Wheeler gave him a queer look. “Well, I don’t know if you’d hesitate
about bluffing a construction gang! All the same, if you stay with it
at the shops, I’ll send for you when we start up in spring. Now you
had better pack your trunk. A train goes down the line in the
afternoon.”
Kit packed his trunk, and at dusk a locomotive and a row of flat cars
rolled across the old wooden bridge. The cook and a foreman put Kit’s
trunk in the calaboose, and for a few minutes he talked to Austin and
looked about.
The snowy woods shone in the sunset and the broad white plain melted
in ethereal blue; by contrast, the open channel of the river was black
like ink. Two or three faint plumes of smoke went straight up, and
along the bridge a few hammers beat. That was all and Kit felt the
camp was strangely quiet. Winter had arrived. Then somebody signalled
and Austin gave Kit his hand.
“Good luck!” he said. “Stay with it, partner. I think Wheeler bets on
you; he’ll see you get your chance.”
Kit jumped for the step, the bell clanged, and the train steamed away
into the gloom. When a brakesman pulled the door across, Kit sat down
and lighted his pipe. Rob had kept his post and that was something,
but he had given up his and for four or five months his work would be
monotonous and unimportant. He had seen himself triumphant at the
bridge; to copy plans at the drawing office was another thing.
Although he felt he had taken the proper line, he wondered whether
Evelyn would approve. Mrs. Haigh certainly would not.