VIII
O'DONNELL'S REVENGE
Engineer Trevannion was annoyed; for the Works Committee at Berthwer,who managed the affairs of the new wharf in course of constructionthere, had written to announce that they had appointed an assistantengineer, and had added an expression of opinion that "Mr. Garstin wouldprove of exceptional aid in the theoretical department, leaving Mr.Trevannion more time for the practical work in the execution of which hehad given such satisfactory proof of his ability."
Notwithstanding the sop to his feelings, Trevannion had grasped thesignificance of this communication, and resented it. He had been here,in sole charge, since the beginning; the chief engineer, who lived atthe other end of the town, only came round once a fortnight, sotrustworthy did he consider his subordinate. He had laboured at thedetailed plans, wrestled with measurements to scale, until his eyesached. He had stood about the works in all weathers, had exercised apersonal supervision over the men, and had never made a slip in hisweekly reports.
To write the latter correctly, to keep the Committee informed of theamount of cement used, of fresh piles driven, of water pumped out, ofconcrete put in, to notify casualties, as they occurred, in a mannerthat might suggest the Committee's obligations under employers'liability, but did not harrow their feelings; to be at the works by nineo'clock every morning and not to leave till five; to be either in theiron shanty called the engineer's office, or supervising the making ofconcrete, or clambering about the massive beams and piles, or shoutingthrough the telephone, or interviewing the ganger, or doing one of thehundred other things that were in the day's work; surely this was allthat was required to be done, and he flattered himself that he had doneit very well.
And now the Works Committee were going to foist an assistant on him.Assistant! The very name was a slight upon his capabilities, a slur onhis independence. Why had they treated him thus?
He thought he knew the reason, ridiculous as it appeared to him. The newwharf, which was to increase the already considerable importance ofBerthwer as a river port, had not proceeded very rapidly during the pastfew weeks. There had been difficulties--difficulties which Trevannionhad attributed to unforeseen circumstances. It was possible that theCommittee had attributed the difficulties to circumstances which oughtto have been foreseen.
Herein lay the gist of his resentment at the new appointment. TheCommittee, while recognising his diligence, energy, and pluck,considered that he lacked some of the finer qualities of insight thatenable a man to forestall such difficulties and, when they occur, tomeet them with as small an expenditure of capital and labour aspossible. So they had appointed Garstin to help him; in other words, tosupply the brain qualities which they imagined he lacked. It was unfairand humiliating.
"Some puling theoretician!" he muttered to himself, as he walked to theworks one winter morning. "Some dandy who can draw cubes and trianglesand cannot do anything else except come here--late probably--in anovercoat and comforter. One of those sickly office-desk beggars who areill half the time and useless the rest. Absolutely sickening!"
He strode along in a temper with which the weather harmonised. It wasgusty, bleak, and wet. Great pools of water lay on the rough roads inthe poor quarter of the town through which lay his route. In order toreach the works, he had to cross the river by means of a ferry-boat.When he reached the landing-stage on this particular morning, he couldsee the boat moored against the opposite bank, but there was no ferrymanin sight, and there was no response when he shouted.
He shouted again and again. Then he turned up the collar of hisjacket--he disdained a greatcoat--and pulled his cap over his eyes, andused strong language to relieve his feelings. He was still blaming theriver, the ferryman, and anything else he could think of, when hebecame conscious of a light footfall, and, turning, saw a young manstanding by his side.
"I can't make the ferryman hear," he remarked in an aggrieved tone tothe newcomer, as if the latter was in some way responsible for the fact."It's an awful nuisance--I am already late. I've never known him playthis trick before."
"And I've been here ten minutes," was the answer. "The man has eithergone away or gone to sleep. Hadn't we better get across some other way?There is a boat a few yards down. We might borrow it and scull ourselvesacross, that is, if you think----"
"Good idea!" exclaimed Trevannion. Then he hesitated. "You--you are notgoing to the wharf, are you?" he asked.
"Yes--for the first time in my life."
"Is your name Garstin?"
"That's it. Perhaps you can tell me----"
"I'm Trevannion," briefly. "I didn't expect you quite so soon. Er--I'mglad to meet you."
His eyes went to the heavy coat in which the lad--he was littlemore--was encased, to the fashionable bowler that contrasted with hisown tweed cap, to the umbrella that protected the bowler from thedripping rain--ay, even to the comforter. It was as he had feared.Garstin was an office-desk weakling, and a mere boy into the bargain.The Works Committee had added insult to the injury they did him.
"Oh, you're Mr. Trevannion," said the "insult," shyly holding out agloved right hand. Trevannion took it limply and quickly let it drop."Come on," he said. "We will get across first and talk afterwards."
The gruffness of his tone did not tend to encourage expansiveness on theother's part, and little more was said whilst they unmoored the boat androwed across, so the engineer had good opportunity for taking stock ofhis companion. The water was rough, and he judged from the clumsy way inwhich Garstin handled his oar and his apparent powerlessness to impartvigour to the stroke that muscular development had not formed part ofhis education. Trevannion stood six-foot-one in his stockings, and hisframe was well knit with muscles that were supple as well as strong;naturally, he believed that physical fitness was essential to a goodengineer, especially to an engineer in charge of a rather rough crew ofworkmen. He resolved by-and-by to recommend a course of Sandow to thenew hand.
"Mind how you get out," he said, when the boat bumped against the slimyladder that did duty for a stairway. "The steps are greasy, and thosetogs of yours are hardly suited to this job."
Garstin flushed but made no remark, and Trevannion flattered himselfthat the hint would not be wasted. He had already decided that the newengineer would have to be taught many things. This was Lesson No. 1.
Hardly had they scrambled on to the wharf when Trevannion's ganger cameup.
"'Morning, sir. Can I speak to you a moment? There has been troublebetween O'Donnell and Peters. O'Donnell was drunk--leastways so Peterssays. Any'ow they got fighting and mauled each other pretty severe; infact Peters is in hospital. Thought you'd better hear of it, sir."
"Quite right," said Trevannion judicially. It was a common enough storyon the wharf, and he had heard it before without paying much attention,but now--he glanced at the slight figure beside him, who evidentlyrequired as many object-lessons as could be given--and decided that herelay the opportunity for giving Lesson No. 2. "Pay O'Donnell and sackhim," he commanded.
"Very good, sir," said the ganger, moving away.
"That's the way we have to treat our fellows here," said Trevannion."Summary justice, you know. They're a rough lot. Now come and see theoffice and the plans."
Whatever Garstin may have thought of these proceedings, he said nothing,but followed submissively along the wharf. Perhaps, without knowing thepeculiar authority which had at the contractor's desire been vested inTrevannion, he wondered that any engineer should wield such powers.However, he had not much time for wondering, or indeed for anythingexcept the task of keeping pace with his nimble, long-legged comrade. Hekept stumbling over little heaps of granite and sand, over rails, alongwhich the travelling cranes moved ponderously, over bits of tarpaulinand old iron instruments, over every object, in fact, that Trevannionavoided with such apparent ease.
Garstin was rather a distressful youth by the time the shanty wasreached, for the pace had been hot, and he had been impeded by the fatalgreatcoat and muffler. After divesting himself of th
ese he stood stilland breathed hard in front of a cheerful coke fire, while Trevannionunrolled the plans and pinned them to the long, sloping desk occupyingone side of the room.
When all was ready the engineer began to explain the plans in detail,elaborating the explanation with simpler explanation, getting throughthe sections one by one with slow precision, repeating his elucidationof black lines, red lines, and green lines, of the length, breadth, andnumbers of the piles, of the soil, subsoil, and sub-subsoil, thatreceived them; all this in the manner of one who is instructing a childin the rudiments of engineering science, for he had made up his mindthat Garstin would want a lot of instructing.
Garstin seemed a patient listener, and Trevannion had almost begun toenjoy himself, when the former suddenly laid his finger on a certainspot and asked a question connected with water-pressure and the strengthof resisting force. Trevannion was surprised into returning what hethought was the correct answer. He was still more surprised when theother proceeded to prove by figures that that answer was incontestablyincorrect.
This was the beginning. Garstin quickly found more questions to put onother points, more criticisms of Trevannion's replies. The latter atfirst made desperate efforts to crush him by assuming the calmsuperiority of the older hand. But with Garstin's logic it was uselessto be calm. It was worse than useless to try to be superior. Theintruder stuck to his guns with respectful pertinacity. Perhaps the firehad warmed his brain into unwonted activity; Trevannion found himselfwondering whether this was so, or whether it was a normal state--thelast thought was horrible!
At any rate, there was no doubt that within these four stuffy wallsGarstin was in his element. Trevannion clearly was not. In half an hourhis treasured theories had been picked to pieces and his stock ofargument was exhausted, whilst his rival appeared as fresh as thewoodwork.
But the climax was reached when Section D came up for discussion. Thingshad not gone well with Section D in practice. Trevannion incautiouslyadmitted as much when he said that Section D represented a point on thewharf where the river persistently--more persistently than at otherpoints--forced its way into the cavity intended for good concrete.Garstin promptly demonstrated the probable reason why. This was toomuch. Trevannion shut up the demonstration by opening the door.
"Phew!" he said. "Let's go out and get a little fresh air. We'll have alook at the section itself."
He stepped out, followed by the other--meekly.
It was still raining. Under the leaden sky the works looked more dismalthan ever. Lakes of water lay where there had been pools; rails andmachinery glistened as if they had been carefully oiled. A thicklight-brown river raced past. The echoing wind and the hoarse murmur ofthe gang at work on Section D mingled with the groaning and clatteringof the cranes. Garstin missed the warmth of the fire and shivered; hehad forgotten his overcoat; and he experienced only the mildestcuriosity in the surroundings. Trevannion walked rapidly and in silence.He was thinking mainly of how he could get his own back from thisusurper.
They came to the edge of Section D. Below them yawned a huge pit withuneven walls sheer from top to bottom. Fronting them, on the river side,solid piles went down into an abyss that ended in black water; thesewere a barrier--a support to the wedge of earth that the mighty riverpressed against their backs. From the land side to the tops of the pilesstretched transverse beams, two and three yards apart; more beams lowerdown, constituting stays against the piles buckling; the whole a giantscaffolding embedded in the bowels of the earth. A few rough blocks ofconcrete peeped from the water below. Fountains spurted from between thepiles and splashed into the basin.
Trevannion looked at the fountains and frowned. There would be work forthe pumps very shortly; there was always too much work for the pumps inSection D, and so too little time and opportunity for more progressivelabour. Then, disregarding the obviously slippery state of thetransverse beams, he stepped on to one of them, and stood poised for amoment over sixty feet of hungry voidness.
"Come over to the other side," he said to Garstin. "You cannot see whatis going on below from where you are. Why, what----?"
Garstin, after placing one foot on the beam, had drawn back, a leadenpallor showing unmistakably under his skin.
Trevannion stared at him. The laugh, the jeer, that had risen in hisheart at this sudden failure of nerve never found expression. There wassomething in the young fellow's face that spoke of more than a qualm ofnervousness. It was a pitiful terror that met Trevannion's eyes--thepleading terror of a dumb, helpless animal before a human tormentor.
For a moment the engineer stood irresolute. Two men, engaged in mixingcement a few yards distant, had laid down their spades, and, havingheard Trevannion's invitation to cross the beam, were looking at "thenew bloke" in mild wonder as to why he hesitated. A third was slowlytrundling a wheelbarrow full of sand towards them. Trevannion took inthese details in a flash--and realised their significance. Here was aneasy chance of shaming Garstin before the gang, of convicting him ofrank and unprofessional cowardice, of getting his own back again fromthe office-desk theoretician, yet--an uncontrollable impulse ofgenerosity prevented his seizing it. He stepped on to the bank and stoodbeside the fear-struck figure.
"You _must_ come on," he said in a whisper that was little more than abreath. "Pull yourself together. I'll hold you."
An instant later, and for an instant only, the two stood together on thenarrow beam, Garstin a shrinking form, his every limb shaken bysomething more potent than the gusty wind, his face turned anywhere butdownwards. Trevannion did not hold him, but his hand rested reassuringlyon the other's quivering arm. For an instant only, and then Garstin waspushed on to the firm bank again and hurried towards the office.
Trevannion talked jerkily as soon as they were out of earshot of thegang. "Sudden attack of funk--rather a bogie place on a slipperyday--might happen to anybody--get used to it--dance a jig on top of theking pile one day, and wonder how you could ever have been such a----"
"Coward," finished Garstin quietly.
"No-o, that's not exactly the word," said Trevannion lamely, and waitedfor explanation or extenuation.
But none came. It was as if the boy was quite aware of the cowardice,and did not wish his companion to consider it anything else.Trevannion's mind marvelled at the seeming abasement.
A few days later Trevannion reported progress to his wife anent the newassistant, whom for some strange reason he had grown positively to like.
"Wonderfully brainy chap, Garstin. He has helped me no end with SectionD--you know, where we have had all the trouble. With luck we shall haveit finished in a week or two. At the same time"--with conviction--"hewill never make a practical engineer. Wouldn't be any good in anemergency. No nerve--no nerve at all. Seems to go to bits directly hegets outside the office. Can't even look down into the section withoutholding on to something. If a crane starts anywhere near, it makes himjump, and as to being any good with the gang, why, he daren't speak toone of them. Only this afternoon, when O'Donnell came and blustered----"
"O'Donnell?" said his wife.
"Yes--a man I sacked for being drunk and fighting. He came to the officethis afternoon and asked to be taken on again. He said he could get noother job, and his wife and children were starving. I told him that theregulations would not admit of his re-employment; besides, I hadreported him as dismissed and filled up the vacancy. Then he startedcursing and threatening that he would do for the wharf and for me too,unless I relented. Of course I didn't relent. I turned him out--he washalf-drunk. And there--what do you think?--there was Garstin with hishands covering his face, shivering and shaking as if he had seen aghost.
"'I am sure that fellow means mischief, Mr. Trevannion,' he muttered.'I'm sure he does--I read it in his eyes. Hadn't you better take himback--just for the sake of his wife?'
"Of course I couldn't--wouldn't. But Garstin's a brainy beggar--oh,wonderfully brainy."
* * * * *
There came a certain Friday e
vening when the two men sat late in theiroffice, compiling the weekly report. Trevannion was in high good-humour;for had not their joint efforts, as he liked to call Garstin's usefulsuggestions, proved successful in ousting the river finally from SectionD? and was not that troublesome part of the wharf ready for goodconcrete as soon as it could be made? He had to record this gratifyingintelligence for the Committee's benefit, and he did it with a relish.
"Nothing to fear now for the old section," he remarked cheerfully.
"Nothing but the unexpected collapse of a pile," said Garstin.
"Oh, that's impossible."
"It's improbable."
The report was finished and placed in its long envelope, and theyprepared to go home. Trevannion began to busy himself with a heavy oillantern. "I am going to have a look at the section on the way," he said;"just to see that the river has not come over the top," he addedjestingly. "It's a whim of mine. But don't come if you'd rather not. Ican join you at the steps."
"Oh, I'll come," said Garstin--without enthusiasm.
The pair stepped out into the night, Trevannion locking the door behindhim. It was pitch-dark on the wharf. They could feel the presence of,rather than see, the river that flowed silently in front of them, andthey could roughly locate the far bank by the myriads of starry lightsthat showed Berthwer town beyond. A single red lamp glowed dully far tothe west; it belonged to a steamer that they had seen come to hermoorings in the afternoon. There were no other vessels showing lights.The rest was black with a blackness sentient of vague forms--animpenetrable wall of darkness that seemed to stand between them and theouter world.
Picking their way carefully between debris and other impedimenta, theymade their way towards the section, and had covered half the distancewhen Garstin stopped. "Don't you hear something?" he asked. "I am almostsure I was not mistaken. It was like the sound of blows. There cannot beanybody there now, can there?"
Trevannion halted and listened.
"I don't hear anything," he said presently. "Besides, who could be onthe wharf now? You know the regulations, and the watchman is there toenforce them."
"I think--the noise has stopped."
Trevannion flashed the lantern on him suspiciously. "Nerves again" hadcome into his mind. However, he said nothing, but resumed his march,swinging his lantern this way and that, so as to gain a largercircumference of light. But suddenly he again stopped, as an unexpectedsound fell on his ears.
"By jove--water!" he exclaimed, and broke into a run.
Garstin followed as fast as he could, but, deprived of the light, hequickly came to grief over some old metal. When he picked himself up,the other was yards ahead, and after that he had to content himself withkeeping the lantern in view.
The engineer reached Section D and stopped breathless on the brink. Hehad forgotten Garstin--had forgotten everything save that water wasagain forcing its way into the unhappy section. But how and where?Anxiously examining the opposite side with his lantern, he soondiscovered what the matter was, and the discovery caused him a thrill ofamazed horror. The "improbable thing" had happened. One of the piles wasbuckling--bending inwards--and the earth dam was surely, if slowly,giving way at this point. He turned to shout to Garstin.
Then something hit him on the shoulder and he fell backwards intoSection D, wildly and vainly clutching at a beam to save himself.
* * * * *
"Trevannion! Trevannion!"
The voice of Garstin, office-desk theoretician,assistant-engineer--Trevannion was clear about that. What he did notrealise so clearly was what had happened to himself. He was lying facedownwards on something, with his arm under his breast--his left arm,that is--his right seemed to have disappeared. Likewise, though he wasconscious of a weight hanging downwards from his middle, he wonderedvaguely what had become of his legs. He felt a curious disinclination tostir.
Yet the voice went on calling, and presently he was impelled to answer"Hello, Garstin." Then, while he was still listening to the unfamiliarecho of his own voice, he heard just behind him a _splash, splash,splash_, and his left arm jerked itself spasmodically from beneath hisbreast, the hand simultaneously touching a substance that was hard,cold, and slimy.
Then he realised.
He was somewhere near the bottom of Section D. His body lay across oneof the lowest beams; his legs dangled in the water. Garstin wassomewhere above him, and the river was pouring steadily into thesection, splashing now with monotonous regularity. And the water wasrising--creeping up towards the level of the beam where he lay.
Trevannion tried to raise himself by his right arm, but the limb gaveway with an agonising shoot of pain; it was broken. He remained stilland considered. Was the broken arm the extent of his injuries? The coldwater had numbed his legs beyond all feeling. They were so much deadweight attached to his body. Both might be fractured for all he knew.
The main fact was that he was incapable of moving, of helping himself,at any rate until assistance came. And the water was rising, of course.Would rescue or the water arrive first?
He looked up painfully through the clammy gloom. Nothing save patches ofsky, seen between the black beams, greeted his eyes. There was no soundsave that of the water--_splash, splash, drip, drip_. For an instant thefear of death conquered him, and he almost shrieked.
However, as physical exhaustion renewed its hold upon him, he grewcalmer. He began to recall what had happened. He had fallen into thesection--no--he had been pushed in. There flashed upon him the vision ofa sullen, black-haired labourer, whom he had refused to reinstate; thisact was O'Donnell's revenge.
What had happened after that? The man would scarcely have had time tomake his escape before Garstin came up. Well, it did not matter--he hadheard Garstin's voice since in proof that he had survived any possibleencounter. And the absence of Garstin, the oppressive silence now?Garstin had gone for help, of course. A boy like that could do nothingby himself even if he had the nerve; and Garstin had none. However, hewould not be long in finding the watchman, and bringing him to therescue. They ought to be here now. They certainly ought to be here now.
Nervously anxious, he listened for any sound of footfall or voice. DidGarstin realise the danger of the black water that was rising, everrising? Had he by any evil chance failed to find the watchman at hispost?
A smooth wave flowed slowly over the beam, and he shuddered.
Suddenly--after hours, as it seemed--something flickered on the surfaceof the water in front of him. A shadowy white gleam it was. It dancedbefore his eyes like a mocking spirit--and was gone. But shortly itreappeared, and with it a lantern and a rope, with somebody clinging tothe end of the rope. Trevannion had just time to recognise the figure ofGarstin, swaying slowly above him, before he lost consciousness.
* * * * *
Garstin got him out, of course. But it was many days before Trevannionlearned the details of the rescue.
It appeared that Garstin had arrived just in time to witness O'Donnell'streacherous attack, and to confront the infuriated man as he turned toretreat. In a blind frenzy the boy sprang at his enemy, and the latter,taken by surprise, went down with a crash, striking his head on a heapof stones, and lay senseless.
Thereupon Garstin, with the one idea of rescuing Trevannion in his mind,hurried off to the watchman's hut--only to find that the fellow had lefthis post. However, he discovered there a lantern and a coil of rope,and, taking these, he returned to Section D, resolved to attempt therescue by himself. Having shouted and received a reply, he hitched oneend of the rope to a beam, and was about to lower himself down, when hediscovered that the rope was so badly frayed in its centre that it couldnot be trusted to bear even his slight weight.
There was nothing to be done save to postpone the attempt till he hadfound a more substantial cable. He remembered that there was a length ortwo in the office, and thither he set out at once. The door being lockedand Trevannion having the key is his pocket, he had to force the lo
ck asbest he could with the first implement he could lay hands on.
This occupied several minutes, and when he returned to the section, hewas tormented by the fear that he might find Trevannion drowned. Hehastily affixed the new rope, and let himself down into the abyss, wherehe discovered Trevannion insensible, with his forehead almost touchingthe water.
It did not take long to make a noose and slip it over the latter'sshoulders, but he had hardly done so when a gush of water swept over thebeam, carrying away the lantern and plunging them into total darkness.For some subsequent seconds the boy clutched the rope and Trevannion'slifeless body in an agony of terror and doubt.
Then he started to climb up. The process proved exceedingly laborious,for the hemp was thin and damp, and it was difficult to obtain a grip.However, he managed to reach the summit and clambered over the brink,then paused awhile for some little breath and strength before essayingthe hardest task of all--the hauling of Trevannion into safety.
How his puny strength enabled him to do this, he never could say. Hisfoothold was none too secure, and the only available leverage was anarrow piece of masonry that jutted from the side. Yet, working inch byinch, he accomplished it, and when Trevannion had been broughtsufficiently near the top, he made the rope fast to a convenient blockof granite, and, kneeling down, regardless of his own peril, lifted himover the side. It was quite ten minutes before he could stagger with hisburden to the office.
Safely inside, he made up the fire and telephoned for the doctor. Thenhe remembered O'Donnell, and spoke a message to the police-station,whence were presently despatched a couple of constables who found theman, stunned and considerably bruised. Neither did he forget SectionD--with the result that there was a breakdown gang on the spot beforemidnight.
The buckled pile was found to have been nearly chopped through a fewfeet from the top, and there was no doubt that if O'Donnell had beenundisturbed, he would have done the most serious mischief to the work.As it was, the completion of the section was delayed for two months.
Trevannion heard this story during his convalescence--a lengthy period,since two ribs were broken as well as the arm, and he had sufferedseverely from shock and exposure. In answer to a question Garstin saidthat at the time he had scarcely noticed the physical strain. The thingthat was uppermost in his mind was the fear that Trevannion might drownbefore he could get to him. No, he had experienced no personal sensationof nervousness, when preparing to descend into the section. WhereuponTrevannion thought deeply.
"I owe my life to your pluck, and I was a fool to faint at the criticalmoment," was all he said.
But, as has been remarked, his thoughts were many and profound. Nor washe ever again heard to reflect on Garstin's "want of nerve."