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I discovered these men driving a new pile into the pier.I discovered these men driving a new pile into the pier
I discovered these men driving a new pile into the pier. There was all the paraphernalia of chains, pulleys, cranes, ropes and, as I said, a wooden pile, a massive affair, swinging
over the water on a long wire hawser. Everything else was in the massive style as well, even the men; very powerful men; very ruminative and silent men ignoring me.
Speech was not something to interest them, and if they talked at all it was like this – “Let go”, or “Hold tight”: all monosyllables. Nevertheless, by paying close attention
to the obscure movements of one working on a ladder by the water’s edge, I could tell that for all their strength and experience these men were up against a great difficulty.
I cannot say what. Every one of the monsters was silent on the subject – baffled I thought at first, but then I realised indifferent and tired of the whole business.
The man nearest to me, still saying nothing but crossing his strong arms over his chest, showed me that for all he cared the pile could go on swinging until the crack of Doom.
I should say I watched them at least an hour and, to do the men justice, their slow efforts to overcome the secret problem did continue – then gradually slackened and finally ceased.
One massive man after another abandoned his position and leaned on the iron rail to gaze down like a mystic into the water. No one spoke; no one said what they saw;
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though one fellow did spit, and with round eyes followed the trajectory of his brown bolus (he had been chewing tobacco) on its slow descent into the same depths.
The foreman, and the most original thinker, smoked a cigarette to relieve the tension. Afterwards, and with a heavy kind of majesty, he turned on his heels and walked away.
With this eclipse of interest, the incident was suddenly closed. First in ones and twos, then altogether, the men followed. That left the pile still in mid-air, and me of course.
I should say I watched them at least an hour and, to do the men justice, their slow efforts to overcome the secret problem did continue – then gradually slackened and finally ceased.
One massive man after another abandoned his position and leaned on the iron rail to gaze down like a mystic into the water. No one spoke; no one said what they saw;
101
though one fellow did spit, and with round eyes followed the trajectory of his brown bolus (he had been chewing tobacco) on its slow descent into the same depths.
The foreman, and the most original thinker, smoked a cigarette to relieve the tension. Afterwards, and with a heavy kind of majesty, he turned on his heels and walked away.
With this eclipse of interest, the incident was suddenly closed. First in ones and twos, then altogether, the men followed. That left the pile still in mid-air, and me of course.
I found these men putting a new support into the pier. There was all the equipment like chains, pulleys, cranes, ropes, and as I mentioned, a wooden support, a huge thing, swinging
over the water on a long wire cable. Everything else was huge too, even the men; very strong men; very thoughtful and quiet men ignoring me. Talking wasn't something they cared about,
and if they did speak it was like this – “Let go”, or “Hold tight”: all one-syllable words. Still, by watching closely the unclear movements of one working
on a ladder by the water’s edge, I could see that despite their strength and experience these men faced a big problem. I can't say what. Every one of the big men
was silent about it – confused I thought at first, but then I realized they were indifferent and tired of the whole thing. The man closest to me, still saying nothing
but crossing his strong arms over his chest, showed me that he didn't care if the support kept swinging until the end of time. I should say I watched them for at least an hour
and, to be fair to the men, their slow efforts to solve the hidden problem did continue – then gradually slowed and finally stopped. One big man after another left
his spot and leaned on the iron rail to look down like a thinker into the water. No one spoke; no one said what they saw; though one guy did spit, and with wide eyes
watched the path of his brown spit
(he had been chewing tobacco) as it slowly fell into the same depths. The foreman, and the most original thinker, smoked a cigarette to ease the tension.
Afterwards, and with a heavy kind of dignity, he turned around and walked away. With this loss of interest, the event was suddenly over. First one by one,
then all together, the men left. That left the support still in the air, and me of course.