CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
A TERRIBLE RISK.
"What are you staring at, Cob?"
It was Uncle Jack who spoke, and Uncle Dick had just come up with him,to find me in the yard, looking up at the building.
It was dinner-hour, and all the men had gone but Pannell, who wassitting on a piece of iron out in the yard calmly cutting his bread andmeat into squares and then masticating them as if it were so muchtilt-hammer work that he had to do by the piece.
"I was thinking, Uncle, suppose they were to set fire to us some night,what should we do?"
"Hah! Yes: not a bad thought," said Uncle Dick sharply. "Pannell!"
"Hillo!" said that gentleman, rising slowly.
"Finish eating your bread and meat as you go, will you, and buy ustwenty-four buckets."
"Fower-and-twenty boockets," said Pannell, speaking with his mouth full."What do yow want wi fower-and-twenty boockets?"
"I'll show you this evening," replied my uncle; and, handing the man acouple of sovereigns, Pannell went off, and both Uncle Jack and Ilaughed at the quick way in which Uncle Dick had determined to beprovided for an emergency.
The buckets came, and were run by their handles upon a pole which wassupported upon two great hooks in one of the outhouses against the wallof the yard, and some of the men noticed them, but the greater partseemed to pay not the slightest heed to this addition to our defences.
But at leaving time, after a few words from Uncle Dick to Uncle Jack,the latter stood in the yard as the men came out, and said sharply:
"Four-and-twenty men for a window wash. Who'll help?"
A few months before, such a demand would have been met with a scowl; butquite a little crowd of the men now stopped, and Pannell said with agrin:
"Wonder whether there'll be a boocket o' beer efter?"
"Why, of course there will, my lad," cried Uncle Jack, who ranged themen in order.
"Why, 'tis like being drilled for milishy, mester," said one man, andthere was a roar of laughter as the buckets were passed out of the shed,and the men were placed in two rows, with Uncle Jack at one end, UncleDick at the other; the two ends resting, as a soldier would say, on thedam, and on the works.
It was wonderful how a little management and discipline made easy such abusiness as this, and I could not help smiling as I saw how my idea hadbeen acted upon.
There were a few sharp words of command given, and then Uncle Jackdipped his bucket into the dam from the stone edge where we had bathedpoor Piter, filled it, passed it on to Number 1 of the first row, andtook a bucket from the last man of the second row, to fill. Meanwhilethe first bucket was being passed on from hand to hand through a dozenpairs when it reached Uncle Dick, who seized it, hurled it up againstthe grimy windows of the works, and then passed it to the first man ofthe second row.
In a minute or two the men were working like a great machine, the pailsbeing dipped and running, or rather being swung, from hand to hand tillthey reached Uncle Dick, who dashed the water over the windows, and hereand there, while the empty buckets ran back to Uncle Jack.
The men thoroughly enjoyed it, and Pannell shouted that this would bethe way to put out a fire. But my uncles did not take up the idea,working steadily on, and shifting the line till the whole of the glazedwindows had been sluiced, and a lot of the grit and rubbish washed awayfrom the sills and places, after which the buckets were again slung in arow and the men had their beer, said "Good-night!" quite cheerily, andwent away.
"There," said Uncle Dick, "I call that business. How well the ladsworked!"
"Yes," said Uncle Jack with a sigh of content as he wiped his streamingbrow; "we could not have got on with them like that three months ago."
"No," said Uncle Bob, who had been looking on with me, and keeping dry;"the medicine is working faster and faster; they are beginning to findus out."
"Yes," said Uncle Dick. "I think we may say it is peace now."
"Don't be in too great a hurry, my boys," said Uncle Jack. "There is agood deal more to do yet."
It is one of the terrible misfortunes of a town like Arrowfield thataccidents among the work-people are so common. There was an excellenthospital there, and it was too often called into use by some horror oranother.
It would be a terrible tale to tell of the mishaps that we heard of fromweek to week: men burned by hot twining rods; by the falling of massesof iron or steel that were being forged; by blows of hammers; and aboveall in the casting-shops, when glowing fluid metal was poured into somemould which had not been examined to see whether it was free from water.
Do you know what happens then? Some perhaps do not. The fluid metalruns into the mould, and in an instant the water is turned into steam,by whose mighty power the metal is sent flying like a shower, the mouldrent to pieces, and all who are within range are horribly burned.
That steam is a wonderful slave, but what a master! It is kept bound instrong fetters by those who force its obedience; but woe to those whogive it the opportunity to escape by some neglect of the properprecautions.
One accident occurred at Arrowfield during the winter which seemed togive the final touch to my uncles' increasing popularity with thework-people, and we should have had peace, if it had not been for theact of a few malicious wretches that took place a month or too later.
It was one evening when we had left the works early with the intentionof having a good long fireside evening, and perhaps a walk out in thefrosty winter night after supper, that as we were going down one of thebusy lanes with its works on either side, we were suddenly arrested by adeafening report followed by the noise of falling beams and brickwork.
As far as we could judge it was not many hundred yards away, and itseemed to be succeeded by a terrible silence.
Then there was the rushing of feet, the shouting of men, and a peculiarodour smote upon our nostrils.
"Gunpowder!" I exclaimed as I thought of our escapes.
"No," said Uncle Dick. "Steam."
"Yes," said Uncle Jack. "Some great boiler has burst. Heaven help thepoor men!"
Following the stream of people we were not long in reaching the gatewayof one of the greatest works in Arrowfield. Everything was in such astate of confusion that our entrance was not opposed; and in a fewminutes we saw by the light of flaring gas-jets, and of a fire that hadbegun to blaze, one of the most terrible scenes of disaster I had everwitnessed.
The explosion had taken place in the huge boiler-house of the greatiron-works, a wall had been hurled down, part of the iron-beamed roofwas hanging, one great barrel-shaped boiler had been blown yards away asif it had been a straw, and its fellow, about twenty feet long, wasripped open and torn at the rivets, just as if the huge plates of ironof which it was composed were so many postage-stamps torn off androughly crumpled in the hand.
There was a great crowd collecting, and voices shouted warning to bewareof the falling roof and walls that were in a crumbling condition. Butthese shouts were very little heeded in the presence of the cries andmoans that could be heard amongst the piled-up brickwork. Injured menwere there, and my uncles were among the first to rush in and beginbearing them out--poor creatures horribly scalded and crushed.
Then there was a cry for picks and shovels--some one was buried; and onthese being brought the men plied them bravely till there was a warningshout, and the rescue party had only just time to save themselves from afalling wall which toppled over with a tremendous crash, and sent up acloud of dust.
The men rushed in again, though, and in an incredibly short space oftime they had dug and torn away a heap of broken rubbish, beneath whichmoans could be heard.
I stood close beside my uncles, as, blackened and covered with dust andsweat, they toiled away, Uncle Jack being the first to chase away thehorrible feeling of fear that was upon me lest they should be too late.
"Here he is," he cried; and in a few minutes more, standing right downin a hole, he lifted the poor maimed creature who had been crying forour help.
There was a tremendous cheer raised here, and the poor fellow wascarried out, while Uncle Dick, who, somehow, seemed to be taking thelead, held up his hand.
"Hark!" he said.
But there was no sound.
"If there is no living creature here," he said, "we must get out. It isnot safe to work till the roof has been blown down or fallen. If thereis anyone alive, my lads, we must have him out at all risks."
There was a cheer at this, and then, as soon as he could get silence,Uncle Jack shouted:
"Is anyone here?"
There was a low wailing cry for help far back beyond the ripped-upboiler, and in what, with tottering wall and hanging roof, was a placetoo dangerous to approach.
"Come, lads, we must have him out," cried Uncle Dick; but a gentleman,who was evidently one of the managers, exclaimed:
"No, it is too dangerous."
"Volunteers!" cried Uncle Dick.
Uncle Jack, Uncle Bob, Pannell, Stevens, and four more men went to hisside, and in the midst of a deathly silence we saw them go softly in anddisappear in the gloom of the great wrecked boiler-house.
Then there was utter silence, out of which Uncle Dick's voice came loudand clear, but ominously followed by the rattling down of some fragmentsof brick.
"Where are you? Try and speak."
A low piteous moan was the reply.
"All right, my lads, down here!" we heard Uncle Jack cry. "No picks--hands, hands."
"And work gently," cried Uncle Dick.
Then, in the midst of the gloom we could hear the rattling of bricks andstones, and though we could see nothing we could realise that thesebrave men were digging down with their hands to try and get out theburied stoker.
The flames burned up brightly, casting curious shadows, and though wecould see nothing, lighting the men over their gallant task, while I, asI gazed in, trying to penetrate the gloom, felt as if I ought to bethere by my uncles' side.
This feeling grew so strong that at last I took a few steps forward, butonly to be seized by a pair of strong arms and brought back.
"Nay, nay, lad," said a voice that I started to hear, for it wasGentles'; "there's plenty risking their lives theer. Yow stay."
Just then there was a hoarse shriek of terror, a wild yell from thecrowd, for a curious rushing rumble was heard, a dull thud, and anothercloud of dust came rolling out, looking like smoke as it mingled withthe fire.
In the midst of this the men who had been digging in the ruins camerushing out.
"Part of the roof," cried Uncle Dick, panting, "and the rest's falling.Are you all here, lads?"
"Ay, all," was answered as they looked from one to the other in theflickering light.
"Nay, not all," shouted Stevens. "Owd lad Pannell's buried alive. Isee 'un fall."
There was a murmur of horror and a burst of wailing, for now a number ofwomen had joined the throng.
"Are you hurt?" I cried anxiously.
"Only a few cuts and bruises, Cob," said Uncle Dick. "Now, my lads,quick. We must have them out."
The men stopped short, and there was a low angry murmur like themuttering of a coming storm.
"Quick, my lads, quick!"
There was a hoarse cry for help from out of the ruins, and I knew itmust be our poor smith.
"No, sir, stop," cried the gentleman who had before spoken. "I'd dareanything, but we have sacrificed one life in trying to save others. Ihave just been round, and I say that at the least movement of the ruinsthe left wall must come down."
There was a loud cry of assent to this, and amongst shouts and aconfused murmur of voices there came out of the gloom that fearful cryagain:
"Help!"
"The wall must fall, men," cried Uncle Dick loudly. "I can't stand andhear that cry and not go. Once more volunteers."
Half a dozen men started out of the crowd; but the peril was too great.They shrank back, and I saw my three uncles standing together in thebright light of the burning building, blackened, bleeding, and in rags.
Then Uncle Dick put out his two hands, and Uncle Jack and Uncle Bob tookthem. They stood together for a short minute, and then went towards thetottering wall.
"Stop!" cried the gentleman. "You must not risk your lives."
For answer Uncle Jack turned his great manly face towards us and wavedhis hand.
Then they disappeared in the gloom, and a curious murmur ran along thegreat crowd. It was neither sigh, groan, nor cry, but a low hushedmurmur of all these; and once more, as a dead silence fell, we heardthat piteous cry, followed by a hoarse cheer, as if the sufferer hadseen help come.
Then, as we listened in dead silence, the rattling of brickwork cameagain, mingled with the fluttering of the flames and the crackle androar of burning as the fire leaped up higher and higher from what hadbeen one of the furnace-holes, and across which a number of rafters andbeams had fallen, and were blazing brightly, to light up the horriblescene of ruin.
Battle and crash of bricks and beams, and we all knew that my unclesmust be working like giants.
"I daren't go, Mester Jacob," whispered Gentles. "I'd do owt for thebrave lads, but it's death to go. It's death, and I daren't."
All at once, as everyone was listening for the fall of the totteringwall, some one caught sight of the moving figures, and a deafening cheerrose up as Uncle Dick appeared carrying the legs and Uncles Jack and Bobthe arms of a man.
They came towards where I was standing, so that I was by when poorPannell was laid down, and I went on one knee by his side.
"Much hurt?" I panted.
"Nay, more scared than hurt, lad," he said. "I was buried up to myneck, and feeling's gone out of my legs."
"Stop now, gentlemen, for heaven's sake!" cried the manager.
"What! And leave a poor fellow we have promised to come back and help!"cried Uncle Dick with a laugh.
"But it is certain death to go in, gentlemen," cried the managerpassionately. "At the least vibration the roof will fall. I shouldfeel answerable for your lives. I tell you it is death to go."
"It is moral death to stay away," cried Uncle Dick. "What would you do,Cob?"
"Go!" I cried proudly, and then I started up panting, almost sobbing,to try and stop them. "No, no," I cried; "the danger is too great."
I saw them wave their hands in answer to the cheer that rose, and I sawPannell wave his with a hoarse "Hooroar!" and then the gloom hadswallowed them up again.
"I lay close to the poor lad," whispered Pannell. "Reg'lar buriedalive. Asked me to kill him out of his misery, he did, as I lay there;but I said, `howd on, my lad. Them three mesters 'll fetch us out,' andso they will."
"If the roof don't fall," said a low voice close by me, and the samevoice said, "Lift this poor fellow up and take him to the infirmary."
"Nay, I weant go," cried Pannell, "aw want to stay here and see themmesters come out."
"Let him rest," said the manager, and upon his asking me I raisedPannell's head, and let him rest against my chest.
Then amidst the painful silence, and the fluttering and crackling of thefire, we heard again the rattling of bricks and stones; but it wasmingled with the falling of pieces from the roof. Then there was acrash and a shriek from the women as a cloud of dust rose, and my heartseemed to stand still, for I felt that my uncles must have been buried;but no, the sound of the bricks and stones being dragged out still wenton, and the men gave another cheer.
The manager went round again to the back of the place, and came tearingback with three or four men shouting loudly:
"Come out! Come out! She's going!"
Then there was a horrible cry, for with a noise like thunder the leftside and part of the roof of the building fell.
The dust was tremendous, and it was some minutes before the crowd couldrush in armed with shovels and picks to dig out the bodies of the bravemen buried.
The murmur was like that of the sea, for every man seemed to be talkingexcitedly, and as I knelt there by Pannell
I held the poor fellow'shand, clinging to him now, and too much shocked and unnerved to speak.
"They're killed--they're killed," I groaned.
But as I spoke the words the people seemed to have gone mad; they burstinto such a tremendous cheer, backing away from the ruins, and dividingas they reached us to make way for my uncles to bear to the side ofPannell the insensible figure of the man they had saved.
That brave act performed for an utter stranger made the Arrowfield mentalk of my uncles afterwards as being of what they called real grit; andall through the winter and during the cold spring months everythingprospered wonderfully at the works. We could have had any number ofmen, and for some time it was dangerous for my uncles--and let memodestly say I seemed to share their glory--to go anywhere near agathering of the workmen, they were so cheered and hero-worshipped.
But in spite of this good feeling there was no concealing the fact thata kind of ill-will was fostered against our works on account of the newinventions and contrivances we had. From whence this ill-willoriginated it was impossible to say, but there it was like a smoulderingfire, ready to break forth when the time should come.
"Another threatening letter," Uncle Jack would say, for he generallyattended to post matters.
"Give it to me," said Uncle Bob. "Those letters make the bestpipe-lights, they are so incendiary."
"Shall we take any notice--appeal to the men--advertise a reward for thesender?"
"No," said Uncle Dick. "With patience we have got the majority of theworkmen with us. We'll show them we trust to them for our defence.Give me that letter."
Uncle Jack passed the insulting threat, and Uncle Dick gummed it andstuck it on a sheet of foolscap, and taking four wafers, moistened themand stuck the foolscap on the office door with, written above it toorder by me in a bold text hand:
"_Cowards' Work_."
and beneath it:
"_To be Treated with the Contempt it Deserves_."
But as time went on the threats received about what would be done ifsuch and such processes were not given up grew so serious that when MrTomplin was told he said that we ought to put ourselves under the careof the police.
"No," said Uncle Dick firmly; "we began on the principle of being justto our workmen, and of showing them that we studied their interests aswell as our own, that we are their friends as well as masters, and thatwe want them to be our friends."
"But they will not be," said Mr Tomplin, shaking his head.
"But they are," said Uncle Dick. "What took place when I stuck thatlast threat on the door?"
"The men hooted and yelled and spat upon it."
"But was that an honest demonstration?"
"I believe it was."
"Well," said Mr Tomplin, "we shall see. You gentlemen quite upset mycalculations, but I must congratulate you upon the manner in which youhave made your way with the men."
"I wish we could get hold of the scoundrels who send these letters."
"Yes," said Mr Tomplin; "the wire-pullers who make use of the men fortheir own ends, and will not let the poor fellows be frank and honestwhen they would. They're a fine race of fellows if they are led right,but too often they are led wrong."
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The days glided on, and as there were no results from these threats webegan to laugh at them when they came, especially as Tom Searby thewatchman also said they were good for pipe-lights, and that was all.
But one night Uncle Dick took it into his head to go down to the worksand see that all was right.
Nothing of the kind had been done before since the watchman came, foreverything went on all right; the place was as it should be, no bandswere touched, and there seemed to be no reason for showing any doubt ofthe man; and so Uncle Jack said when Uncle Dick talked of going.
"No, there is no reason," said Uncle Dick; "but I cannot help feelingthat we have been lulling ourselves too much into a feeling of securityabout the place. I shall wait till about one o'clock, and then walkdown."
"No, no," said Uncle Jack; "I'm tired. Had a very heavy day, and ofcourse you cannot go alone."
"Why not?"
"Because we should not let you. Even Cob would insist upon going."
"Of course!" I said. "I had made up my mind to go."
"It's quite right," said Uncle Bob. "We've been remiss. When sentriesare set the superior officers always make a point of going their roundsto see if they are all right. Go, Dick, and we'll come with you."
Uncle Dick protested, but we had our own way, and about a quarter to oneon a bitter March night we let ourselves out and walked down to theworks.
For my part I would far rather have gone to bed, but after a few minutesthe excitement of the proceeding began to assert itself, and I wasbright and wakeful enough.
We walked quickly and briskly on till we came to the lane by the factorywall; but instead of turning down we all walked on along the edge of thedam, which gleamed coldly beneath the frosty stars. It was very full,for there had been a good deal of rain; and though the air was frostythere was a suggestion of change and more rain before long.
When we reached the top of the dam we turned and looked back.
Everything was as quiet as could be, and here and there the glow fromthe lowered furnace-fires made a faint halo about the dark building, soquiet and still after the hurry and buzz of the day.
As we went back along the dam the wavelets lapped the stone edge, anddown below on the other side, as well as by the waste sluice, we couldhear the water rushing along towards the lower part of the town, andonward to the big river that would finally carry it to the sea.
We were very silent, for every one was watching the works, till, asUncle Dick and I reached the lane, we stopped short, for I caught hisarm.
I had certainly heard whispering.
There were half a dozen persons down near the gate, but whoever theywere they came towards us, said "good-night!" roughly, turned thecorner, and went away.
It looked suspicious for half a dozen men to be down there in the middleof the night, but their manner was inoffensive and civil, and we couldsee nothing wrong.
Uncle Dick slipped his key into the lock, and as he opened the littledoor in the gate there was a low growl and the rush of feet.
"Piter's on the watch," I said quietly, and the growl turned to a whineof welcome.
"Be on the look-out," said Uncle Dick; "we must speak or Searby mayattack us."
"Right," said Uncle Jack; "but he had better not."
The dog did not bark, but trotted on before us, and we could just seehim as we took a look round the yard before going into the buildings.
Everything was quite right as far as we could tell. Nothing unusual tobe seen anywhere, and we went at last to the main entrance.
"Nothing could be better," said Uncle Dick. "Only there is no watchman.I say, was I right in coming?"
"Right enough," replied Uncle Jack; "but look out now for squalls. Menin the dark have a suspicious look."
We entered, peered in at the great grinding-shop, and then began toascend the stairs to the upper works.
"All right!" said Uncle Dick. "I wish we had a light. Can you hearhim?"
He had stopped short on the landing, and we could hear a low, mutteringnoise, like a bass saw cutting hard leather.
_Score! Score! Score_! Slowly and regularly; the heavy breathing of adeep sleeper.
"I'm glad we've got a good watcher," said Uncle Jack drily. "Here,Piter, dog, fetch him out. Wake him then."
The dog understood him, for he burst into a furious fit of barking andcharged up into the big workshop, and then there was a worrying noise asif he were dragging at the watchman's jacket.
"Get out! Be off! Do you hear!"
"Hi, Searby!" roared Uncle Jack.
There was a plunge, and a rush to the door, and Searby's big voicecried:
"Stand back, lads, or I'll blow out thee brains."
Searby came down quickly.
"Lucky for yow that one of yo' spoke," he said. "I heard you coming,and was lying wait for you. Don't do it agen, mesters. I might hevhalf-killed yo'."
"Next time you lie in wait," said Uncle Dick, "don't breathe so loudly,my man, or you will never trap the visitors. They may think you areasleep."
"Give him another chance," said Uncle Jack as we went home.
"Yes," said Uncle Bob; "it is partly our fault. If we had visited himonce or twice he would have been always on the watch."
"Well," said Uncle Dick, "I don't want to be unmerciful, and it will bea lesson. He'll work hard to regain our confidence."
Next morning there were two letters in strange hands, which Uncle Jackread and then handed round.
One was a threat such as had often been received before; but the otherwas of a very different class. It was as follows:
"_Mesters_,--_There's somewhat up. We don't kno wat, but game o' some kind's going to be played. Owd Tommy Searby gos sleep ivvery night, and he's no good. Some on us gives a look now an' then o' nights but yowd beter wetch im place yoursens_.--_Some frends_."
"That's genuine," said Uncle Dick emphatically. "What's to be done?"
"Go and do as they advise," said Uncle Jack. "You see we have won thefellows over, and they actually act as a sort of police for us."
The consequence of this letter was that sometimes all four, sometimesonly two of us went and kept watch there of a night, very much to oldSearby's disgust, but we could not afford to heed him, and night afternight we lost our rest for nothing.
"Are we being laughed at?" said Uncle Bob wearily one night; "I'mgetting very tired of this."
"So we all are, my dear fellow," said Uncle Jack: "but I can't helpthinking that it is serious."
Uncle Jack was right, for serious it proved.
Patience Wins: War in the Works Page 25