The keeping watch of a night had now grown into a regular business
habit, and though we discovered nothing, the feeling was always upon us
that if we relaxed our watchfulness for a few hours something would
happen.
The paper stuck on the door was not forgotten by my uncles, but the men
went on just as usual, and the workshops were as busy as ever, and after
a good deal of drawing and experimenting Uncle Dick or Uncle Jack kept
producing designs for knives or tools to be worked up out of the new
steel.
"But," said I one day, "I don't see that this reaping-hook will be any
better than the old-fashioned one."
"The steel is better and will keep sharp longer, my lad, but people
would not believe that it was in the slightest degree different, unless
they had something to see," said Uncle Dick.
So the men were set to forge and grind the different shaped tools and
implements that were designed, and I often heard them laughing and
jeering at what they called the "contrapshions."
My turn came round to keep the morning watch about a week after the new
bands had been fitted. Uncle Bob had been on guard during the night,
and just as I was comfortably dreaming of a pleasant country excursion I
was awakened by a cheery, "Tumble up, Tumble up!"
I sat up confused and drowsy, but that soon passed off as Uncle Bob
laughingly told me, in sham nautical parlance, that all was well on
deck; weather hazy, and no rocks ahead as far as he knew.
"Oh," I said yawning, "I do wish all this watching was over!"
"So do I, Cob," he cried; "but never mind, we shall tire the rascals out
yet."
I thought to myself that they would tire us out first, as I went down
grumpily and disposed to shiver; and then, to thoroughly waken and warm
myself, I had a good trot round the big furnace, where the men had tried
to fire the powder.
It was circus-horse sort of work, that running round on the black ashes
and iron scales, but it warmed me, and as the miserable shivery feeling
went off I felt brighter and more ready for my task.
Piter was with me trotting close behind, as I ran round and round; and
when at last I was pretty well out of breath I sat down on a bench, and
took the dog's fore-paws on my knees, as I thought about how different
my life here seemed from what I had expected. There had been some
unpleasant adventures, and a good deal of work, but otherwise my daily
career seemed to be very monotonous, and I wondered when our old country
trips were to be renewed.
Then I had a good look round the place upstairs and down; and, so sure
as I passed an open window, I felt about with my hands for wires, the
memory of that powder-tin being too vivid to be forgotten.
I went and listened by the office door, and could hear my uncle
breathing heavily.
I went and looked out at the dam, which was always worth looking at for
its reflections of the heavens, but it was perfectly still. There was
no raft gliding down towards the building.
Down in the grinders' shop all was still, and in the darkness the
different shafts and wheels looked very curious and threatening, so much
so that it only wanted a little imagination for one to think that this
was some terrible torture chamber, the door at the end leading into the
place where the water torment was administered, for the curious musical
dripping and plashing sounded very thrilling and strange in the
solemnity of the night.
That place always attracted me, and though there in the darkness I did
not care to open the door and look down at the black water, I went and
listened, and as I did so it seemed that there was something going on
there. Every now and then, came a splash, and then a hurrying as of
something being drawn over wet bars of wood. Then there were a series
of soft thuds at irregular intervals, and as I listened all this was
magnified by imagination, and I was ready to go and call for Uncle Bob
to descend when a faint squeaking noise brought me to my senses and I
laughed.
"Why, Piter," I said, "what a dog you are! Don't you hear the rats?"
Piter rubbed his great head against me and whined softly.
"Don't care for rats?" I said. "All right, old fellow. I forgot that
you were a bull-dog and did not care for anything smaller than a bull,
unless it were a man."
I stood listening for a few minutes longer, wondering whether some of
the sounds I could hear down by the stonework were made by eels, and,
recalling what Gentles had said, I determined that some evening I would
have a try for the slimy fellows either down below the great water-wheel
or out of the office-window, where I could drop a line into the deepest
part of the dam.
Then I went into the smiths' shops and thought about how sulky Pannell
had been ever since I had talked to him about the wheel-bands.
"This won't do, Piter," I said, trying to rouse myself, for I was
dreadfully sleepy; and I had another trot with the dog after me in his
solid, silent way--for he rarely barked unless it was in anger--but
trotted close behind me wherever I might go.
I cannot tell you what a fight I had that night--for it was more like
night than morning. I walked fast; I tried all sorts of gymnastic
attitudes; I leaped up, caught hold of an iron bar and swung by my arms,
and whenever I did these things I grew as lively as a cricket; but as
soon as, from utter weariness, I ceased, the horrible drowsiness came on
again, and as I walked I actually dreamed that there was a man creeping
along the ground towards the building.
This seemed to wake me, and it was so real that I went out to see--
nothing.
Then I had another tour of the place; stood leaning against door-posts,
and up in corners, ready to drop down with sleep, but fighting it off
again.
I went out across the yard and had a look at the dam, lay down on the
stone edge, and bathed my face with the fresh cold water, turned my
handkerchief into a towel, and walked back in the dim, grey light,
seeing that morning was breaking, and beginning to rejoice that I had
got rid of my drowsy fit, which seemed unaccountable.
Piter seemed as drowsy as I, holding his head down in a heavy way as if
it were more than he could bear.
"Poor old boy! Why, you seem as sleepy as I am, Piter!" I said, as I
seated myself on the stairs leading up to the office; and he whined
softly and laid his head in my lap.
I thought I heard a noise just then, and looked up, but there was no
repetition of the sound, and I sat there at a turn of the stairs,
leaning against the wall, and wondering why the dog had not started up
instead of letting his heavy head drop lower in my lap.
"Why, you are as drowsy as I am, Piter," I cried again, playing with his
ears; "anyone would think you had been taking a sleeping draught or
something of that kind."
He answered with a heavy snore, just like a human being, and I sat
gazing down and out through the open doorway into the yard, thinking
that it would not be long now before it was broad daylight instead of
that half darkness that seemed so strange and misty that I could only
just see through the doorway and distinguish the stones.
Then I could hardly see them at all, and then they seemed to disappear,
and I could see all over the yard, and the dam and the works all at
once. It was a wonderful power of sight that I seemed to possess, for I
was looking through the walls of the upper shop, and all through the
lower shop, and down into the water-pit. Then I was looking round the
furnace, and in at the smiths' forges, and at the great chimney-shaft,
and at the precipice by Dome Tor.
What a place that seemed! Since my uncle slipped over it the slaty,
shaley face appeared to have grown twice as big and high, and over it
and down the steep slope a man was crawling right in from the Dome Tor
slip to our works. I saw him come along the stone edge of the dam and
over the wheel with the water, to bob up and down in the black pit like
a cork float when an eel is biting at a bait. There he went--bob--bob--
bob--and down out of sight.
It seemed such a splendid bite, that, being fond of fishing, I was about
to strike, the absurdity of the idea of fishing with a man for a float
never striking me for a moment; but, just as I was going to pull up, the
man was crawling over the floor of the grinders' shop, and the water was
not there, though the wheel seemed to be going round and uttering a
heavy groan at every turn for want of grease.
There he was again, creeping and writhing up the stairs, and higher and
higher along the floor among the lathes; then he was in the office, and
over the bed where Uncle Bob lay making a snoring noise like the great
water-wheel as it turned. What a curiously-long, thin, writhing man he
seemed to be as he crawled and wriggled all over the floor and lathes
and polishing-wheels. Down, too, into the smiths' shops, and over the
half-extinct fires without burning himself, and all the time the wheel
went round with its snoring noise, and the man--who was really a big
eel--was ringing a loud bell, and--
I jumped up wide-awake, upsetting Piter, and throwing his head out of my
lap, when, instead of springing up, he rolled heavily half-way down the
stairs as if he were dead.
"Why, I've been to sleep," I said angrily to myself, "and dreaming all
sorts of absurd nonsense! That comes of thinking about fishing for
eels."
I was cold and stiff, and there was a bell ringing in the distance at
some works, where the men began an hour sooner than ours. But I took no
notice of that, for I was thinking about Piter, and wondering how he
could lie so still.
"Is he dead?" I thought; and I went down and felt him.
He did not move; but it was evident that he was not dead, for he snored
heavily, and felt warm enough; but he was too fast asleep to be roused,
even when I took hold of his collar and shook him.
I was puzzled, and wondered whether he could have had anything to make
him so sleepy.
But if he had had anything to make him sleepy I had not, and yet I must
have been soundly asleep for two or three hours.
I remembered, though, that when I last went round the yard Piter had
been sniffing about at something, and perhaps he might have eaten what
had not agreed with him then.
"Poor old boy! He'll wake up presently," I said to myself as I lifted
him up; and heavy enough he seemed as I carried him down to his kennel,
just inside the door, where he lay motionless, snoring heavily still.
"Lucky thing that no one has been," I said to myself, as, feeling
thoroughly ashamed of my breach of trust, I went down to the dam, taking
a towel with me this time from out of my office-drawer, and there,
kneeling on the stones, I had a good bathe at my face and forehead, and
went back feeling ever so much fresher.
The sounds of toil were rising in the distance, and over the great town
the throb and hum and whirr of the busy hive was rising in the sunny
morning air, as, with the events of the night fading away, I went in to
my office to put away the towel and use the comb and brush I kept there.
That done, I was going to call Uncle Bob and walk back with him to our
home, for the men would soon be there.
Just then the water-bottle and glass upon my desk caught my eye, and,
like a flash, I remembered that I had filled the glass and drunk a
little water, leaving the glass nearly full so as to take some more if I
wanted it, for a glass of water was, I found, a capital thing to keep
off drowsiness when one was watching.
I was sure I had left that glass nearly full, and standing on the desk;
but I had not been and drunk any more, of that I was sure. I don't know
why I had not gone back to have some, considering how sleepy I was, but
I certainly had not. I was sure of it.
Then the water-bottle! It was a common plain bottle such as is used on
a wash-stand, and we had three of them always filled with fresh cold
water on the desks. Mine was full when I poured some out in the night,
and now it was quite empty; and as I stared at it and then about the
room I saw a great patch of wet on the carpet.
I looked farther and there was another patch--a smaller patch or big
splash, as if the contents of the glass had been thrown down.
It was very strange, and I could not understand it. I had not thrown
the water down. If I had wanted to get rid of it, I should have gone to
the sink outside or have opened the window, and thrown it out into the
dam.
The matter was of small consequence, and I paid no more attention to it,
but went to Uncle Bob, where he was lying, fighting with myself as to
whether I should tell him that I had been to sleep.
I did not like to speak, for I felt--well I felt as most boys would
under the circumstances; but I mastered my moral cowardice, as I
thought, and determined to tell him--after breakfast.
"Ah, Cob, old chap," he cried, jumping up as I laid my hand on his
shoulder, "what a delicious sleep! What a morning too--Hah! That's
better."
He was dressed, for though whoever lay down, so to speak, went to bed,
he never undressed; so that after a plunge of the face and hands in the
cool fresh water, and a scrub and brush, Uncle Bob was ready.
"I want my breakfast horribly, Cob," he said; "and we've an hour to
wait. Let's have a walk round by the hill as we go home. Have you
unlocked the gate?"
"Yes," I said; "before I came up to call you."
"That's right. Ah, here the men come!" for there was the trampling of
feet, and the noise of voices crossing the yard. "Fed Piter?"
"No; not yet," I said. "He's asleep."
"Asleep!"
"Yes; he has been asleep these three hours past--asleep and snoring.
He's in his kennel now. I couldn't wake him."
"Nice sort of a watch-dog, Cob!"
"Yes," I said, feeling very guilty and shrinking from my confession.
"Do you say you tried to wake him?"
"Yes," I said, "I took him up in my arms, and carried him down to his
kennel, and he was snoring all the time."
"Carried him down! Where from?"
"The stairs. He went to sleep there."
"Cob!" he cried, making the blood flush to my face, and then run back to
my heart--"why, what's the matter, boy, aren't you well?"
"My head aches a little, and my mouth feels rather hot and dry."
"And you've got dark marks under your eyes, boy. You've not been asleep
too, have you?"