Engineers -- Fiction; Grain elevators -- Design and construction -- Fiction; Psychological fiction
But Bannon was not going to begin till he was ready. He had inspected the
whole job four times since noon, but just after six he went all over it
again, more carefully than before. At the end he stepped out of the door
at the bottom of the stairway bin, and pulled it shut after him. It was
not yet painted, and its blank surface suggested something. He drew out
his blue pencil and wrote on the upper panel:--
O.K.
C. H. BANNON.
Then he walked over to the power house. It was a one-story brick building,
with whose construction Bannon had had no concern, as Page & Company had
placed the contract for it elsewhere. Every night for the past week lights
had been streaming from its windows, and day and night men had waited,
ready at any time for the word to go ahead. A dozen of them were lounging
about the brick-paved space in front of the battery of boilers when Bannon
opened the door, and they sprang to their feet as they read his errand in
his face.
"Steam up," he said. "We'll be ready as soon as you are."
There was the accumulated tension of a week of inactivity behind these
men, and the effect of Bannon's words was galvanic. Already low fires were
burning under the boilers, and now the coal was piled on, the draughts
roared, the smoke, thick enough to cut, came billowing out of the tall
chimney. Every man in the room, even the wretchedest of the dripping
stokers, had his eyes on the steam gauges, but for all that the water
boiled, and the indicator needles crept slowly round the dials, and at
last the engineer walked over and pulled the whistle cord.
Hitherto they had marked the divisions of time on the job by the shrill
note of the little whistle on the hoisting engine boiler, and there was
not a man but started at the screaming crescendo of the big siren on top
of the power house. Men in the streets, in the straggling boarding houses
over across the flats, on the wharves along the river, men who had been
forbidden to come to the elevator till they were needed lest they should
be in the way, had been waiting days for that signal, and they came
streaming into the elevator almost before the blast had died away.
Page's superintendent was standing beside Bannon and Pete by the foot of
the main drive. "Well," he said, "we're ready. Are you?"
Bannon nodded and turned to a laborer who stood near. "Go tell the
engineer to go ahead." The man, proud as though he had just been promoted,
went out on the run.
"Now," said Bannon, "here's where we go slow. All the machinery in the
house has got to be thrown in, one thing at a time, line shafts first and
then elevators and the rest of it. Pete, you see it done up top. I'll look
out for it down here. See that there's a man to look at each bearing at
least once in three minutes, and let me know if it gets warm."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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