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Patience Wins; or, War in the Works, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 13. Only A Glass Of Water |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN. ONLY A GLASS OF WATER 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?" I stared at him wildly, and felt far more unwell now. "Why don't you speak?" he cried angrily. "You haven't been to sleep, have you?" "I was going to confess it, uncle, if you had given me time," I said. "I never did such a thing before; but I couldn't keep awake, and fell asleep for over two hours." "Oh, Cob! Cob!" "I couldn't help it, uncle," I cried passionately. "I did try so hard. I walked and ran about. I stood up, and danced and jumped, and went in the yard, but it was all of no use, and at last I dropped down on the stairs with Piter, and before I knew it I was fast." "Was the dog asleep too?" "He went to sleep before I did," I said bitterly. "Humph!" "Don't be angry with me, Uncle Bob," I cried. "I did try so hard." "Did you take anything last night after I left you?" "No, uncle. You know I was very sleepy when you called me." "Nothing at all?" "Only a drop of water out of the bottle." "Go and fetch what is left," he said. "Or no, I'll come. But Piter; what did he have?" "I don't know, only that he seemed to pick up something just as we were walking along the yard. That's all." "There's some fresh mischief afoot, Cob," cried Uncle Bob, "and--ah, here it is! Well, my man, what is it?" This was to Gentles, whose smooth fat face was full of wrinkles, and his eyes half-closed. He took off his cap--a soft fur cap, and wrung it gently as if it were full of water. Then he began shaking it out, and brushing it with his cuff, and looked from one to the other, giving me a salute by jerking up one elbow. "Well, why don't you speak, man; what is it?" cried Uncle Bob. "Is anything wrong?" "No, mester, there aren't nought wrong, as you may say, though happen you may think it is. Wheel-bands hev been touched again." _ |
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