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The Young Engineers on the Gulf, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 6. Mr. Bascomb Is Peevish |
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_ CHAPTER VI. MR. BASCOMB IS PEEVISH At the first blush of dawn Tom despatched the tireless Nicolas to Blixton to notify the police of the explosions and of the disappearance of Harry Hazelton. Two men in blue, wearing stars on their coats, came over within an hour, walked about and looked wise until noon. They discovered nothing whatever, and their theories did not strike Reade as being worthy of attention. As soon as possible the divers were sent down at the two wrecked parts of the retaining wall. These men reported that the breaches extended ten feet beneath the surface at some points; only eight feet at other points. The foundations of the walls were reported as being secure. Then Tom, under the directions of two divers, put on a diver's suit and went down himself, for the first time in his life. After some two hours, with frequent ascents to the surface, the young chief engineer had satisfied himself that the foundations were secure. Then he did some rapid figuring. "The loss will not exceed eight thousand dollars---the cost of rebuilding the missing parts of the walls," Reade informed Superintendent Renshaw. "Only eight thousand dollars!" whistled the superintendent. "Well, that figure isn't anywhere nearly as high as I feared it might be," Tom pursued. "But it will strike the directors of the Melliston Company as being pretty big for an extra bill," muttered Renshaw. "Especially, since---" The superintendent paused. "You were going to say," smiled Tom, wanly, "since the loss wouldn't have happened if I hadn't kicked the gamblers out of camp." "That's about the size of it, Mr. Reade," nodded Renshaw. "Directors of big companies are less interested in moral reforms than in dividends. They're likely to make a big kick over what your crusade has cost them already, even if it costs them no more." "We'll see to it that it doesn't cost them any more," Tom retorted. "Every night we'll watch that sea wall the way a mother does a sick baby. There'll be no more explosions. As to the directors kicking over the present expense, they'll have a prompt chance to do it. As soon as the telegraph office in Blixton was open this morning I wired the president of the company. Now, I'm going ashore. I can't do anything out here to help you, can I?" "Nothing," replied Renshaw. "If I didn't know how foolish the advice would sound, Mr. Reade, I'd urge you to take a nap." "I'll take a nap when I find it impossible to keep my eyes open any longer," Tom compromised. "For the next few hours---work and lots of it." As yet no effort had been made to repair the breaches in the wall. The different gangs were working that day in nearer shore. The divers, gathered on a scow, were now waiting for the "Morton" to convey them back to shore. Reade decided to go with them. "Twenty minutes to two," murmured Tom to himself, glancing at his watch as the "Morton" went laboriously back over the dancing, glinting waves. "There's a train due at Blixton at 1:30. By the time I get back to the house I ought to find one or more officials of the company impatiently waiting to jump on my devoted neck." Nor was Tom disappointed in this expectation. Pacing up and down on the porch of the house occupied by the engineers and superintendent was George C. Bascomb, president of the Melliston Company. Behind him stood Nicolas, respectfully eager to do anything he could for the comfort of the great man. "Ah, there you are, Reade," called President Bascomb in an irritated tone, as he caught sight of the young engineer striding forward. "Now, what's all this row that you wired us about?" "Will you come down to the water, and go out with me to look at the damage, sir?" asked Tom, as he took the president's reluctantly offered hand. "No," grunted Mr. Bascomb. "Let me hear the story first. Come inside and tell me about it." "Our friend is not quite so gracious as he has been on former meetings," thought Tom, as he led the way inside. "I wonder if he is going to get cranky?" Inside was a little office room, as in the foremen's barracks. "Any decent cigars here?" questioned Mr. Bascomb, after exploring his own pockets and finding them innocent of tobacco. "No, sir," Tom answered. "No one here smokes." "I've got to have a cigar," the president of the company insisted. "Then, sir, if you'll give Nicolas your orders, he'll run over to Blixton and get you what you want." The Mexican departed in haste on the errand. "Now, first of all, Reade," began the president, "I am disgusted at learning of one fool mistake that you've made." "What is that, sir?" Tom asked, coloring. "I've just learned that you discharged Evarts---one of our best and most useful men." "I did discharge him, sir," Reade admitted. "Take him back, at once." "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do it. He---" "I don't think you quite understand," broke in Mr. Bascomb coldly. "I directed you to take Mr. Evarts back on this work." "I was about to tell you, sir, why I can't do anything of the sort. I---" "Stop right there, Reade," ordered President Bascomb, in his most aggressive, bullying manner. "The first point that we have to settle is that Evarts must come back on the pay-roll and have his old position. Be good enough to let that proposition sink in before we take up the second." "I am very sorry, sir," Tom murmured respectfully, "but I can't and won't have Evarts back here. I won't have him around the work at all. Now what is the second proposition, sir?" As Tom spoke he looked straight into Mr. Bascomb's eyes. The other glared at him unbelievingly but angrily. "Young man, you don't appear to understand that I am president and head of the Melliston Company." "I quite understand it, sir," Reade answered. "At the same time I am chief engineer here, and I am committed to building the breakwater and dredging out the enclosed bay or harbor, all within a certain fixed appropriation. In order to keep my part of the bargain I must have men with me on whom I can depend to the fullest limit. Evarts isn't such a man and I won't have him on the work again." "He'll go on the pay-roll, anyway," snorted Mr. Bascomb. "I can't help what you may see fit to pay him, Mr. Bascomb, provided you pay him somewhere else. But the fellow can't go on the pay-roll here for the simple reason that he wouldn't be allowed to visit this construction camp for the purpose of getting his money. Mr. Bascomb, I am not trying to ride a high horse. I recognize that you are president of the company, and that I must take all reasonable orders from you and carry them out to the letter. Yet I can't take any orders that would simply hinder my work and damage my reputation as an engineer. Evarts can't come back into this camp as long as I am in charge here." "We'll take that up again presently," returned Mr. Bascomb, with an air of ruffled dignity. "Now, there's another matter that we must discuss. I know what has been done in the way of great damage to the retaining wall. I also know that this damage came through enmity that you stirred up by drumming certain parties out of this camp." "You refer, sir, I take it, to my act in having Blixton police officers come in here and chase out some gamblers who had come here for the purpose of winning the money of the workmen?" "That's it," nodded Bascomb. "In that matter you went too far---altogether too far!" "I'm afraid I don't understand you, sir." "You mean, Reade, that you don't want to understand me," snapped the president. "You admit having chased out the gamblers, don't you?" "Of course, I admit it, sir." "That was a bad move. In the future, Reade, you will not interfere with any forms of amusement that the men may select for themselves in their evening hours." Tom stared at the speaker in undisguised amazement. "But, Mr. Bascomb, the men are shamelessly robbed by the sharpers who come here to gamble with them." "That's the men's own affair," scoffed the president. "Anyway, they have a right to pitch away their wages if they want to. Reade, when you're as old as I am you will understand that workmen who throw away their money make the best workmen. They never have any savings, hence they must make every effort to keep their jobs. A workman with savings becomes too independent." "I am certain you have seen more of the world than I have, Mr. Bascomb," Reade replied, respectfully. "At the same time I can't agree with you on the point you have just stated. A workman with a bank account has always a greater amount of self-respect, and a man who has self-respect is bound to make a good citizen and a good workman. But there are still other reasons why I had the gamblers chased out. Gambling here in the camp would always create a great deal of disorder. Disorder destroys discipline, and a camp like this, in order to give the best results in the way of work, must have discipline. Moreover, the men, when gambling, remain up until all hours of the night. A man who has been up most of the night can't give an honest day's work in return for his wages. Unless the men get their sleep and are kept in good condition we can't get the work out of them that we have a right to expect." "The right man can _drive_ workmen," declared Mr. Bascomb, with emphasis. "You'll have to drive your men. Get all the work out of them, but drop at once this foolish policy of interfering with what they do after the whistle blows. We can't have any more of this nonsense. It costs too much. By the way, how much will it cost to repair the damage to the retaining walls?" "About eight thousand dollars, sir, if my first figuring was correct," was Reade's answer. "Eight thousand dollars!" scowled President Bascomb. "Now, Reade, doesn't that amount of wanton, revengeful mischief teach you the folly of trying to regulate camp life outside of working hours?" "I'm afraid it doesn't, sir." "Then you must be a fool, Reade!" "Thank you, sir. I will add that you're not the first man who has suspected it." "You will, therefore, Reade," continued Mr. Bascomb, with his grandest air of authority, "cause it to become known throughout the camp that you are not going to interfere any further with any form of amusement that is brought to the camp evenings by outsiders." "Is that proposition number two, sir?" queried the young chief engineer. "It is." "Then please don't misunderstand me, sir," Reade begged, respectfully, "but it is declined, as is proposition number one." "Do you mean to say that you are going to go on with your fool way of doing things?" "Yes, sir---until I am convinced that it is a fool way." "But I've just told you that it is," snapped Mr. Bascomb. "Then I say it very respectfully, sir, but pardon me for replying that I don't consider the evidence very convincing. I have shown you why I must have good order in the camp, and I have told you that I do not propose to allow gambling or any other disorderly conduct to go on within camp limits. I can't agree to these things, and then hope to win out by keeping the cost of the work within the appropriation." "Do you feel that you'll keep within the appropriation by making enemies who deliberately blow up our masonry?" glared Mr. Bascomb. "I doubt if there will be any more expense in that line, sir. I intend to have such a watch kept over the wall as to prevent any further mischief of the kind." "Watchmen are an item of expense, aren't they?" snorted the president. "Yes, sir; but next to nothing at all as compared with the mischief they can prevent." "I have already told you how to prevent the mischief, Reade. Stop all of your foolish nonsense and let the men have their old-time pastimes." "I can't do it, sir." "Have you paper, pen and ink here?" thundered Mr. Bascomb. "If so, bring them." Tom quietly obeyed. "Reade," again thundered the president of the Melliston Company, "I have had as much of your nonsense as I intend to stand. You are out of here, from this minute. Take that pen and sign your resignation!" _ |
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