|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 12
At length the Sergeant blew the whistle and shouted:
"Fall in! Yer'd better put a jerk in it--yer won't go till yer've
finished. It's a task job. Yer didn't shift 'alf the sleepers this
mornin'--there's another couple o' thousand left, so get a bloody move
on!"
The grumbling was renewed in the ranks.
"It's no good yer bloody well grousin'. The work's got ter be done.
Carry on!"
Our tedious round began again. The distance from the old stacks to the
new increased steadily. We tramped through mud and slush in wind and
snow, hour by hour.
"I'm goin' ter 'ave a rest--I've 'ad enough o' this," said my partner. I
felt annoyed, for although I was stiff and tired and sore, I had again
relapsed into that state of dulled sensibility in which my limbs seemed
to move automatically and time to have no existence at all. Although I
was aware of pain I was yet indifferent to it. And now my partner was
going to drag me back to full consciousness. I gave way to his wish and
we leaned against a stack. We stayed there with several others until we
were discovered by a Corporal who chased us out and abused us roundly.
We went on with our work. The brief rest had only done harm, for the
first sleeper that was subsequently laid on to my shoulders produced
such a pang that I had to close my eyes for a moment. Nor could I set my
stiff limbs in motion without difficulty. I silently cursed my partner.
The dreary hours dragged on. I tried hard to fall back into my former
state of blurred consciousness, but the very attempt itself frustrated
the effort. I was full of growing resentment against my partner. My
dormant anger was aroused, it had found an object and, against all
reason and fairness, demanded vengeance. I pretended to stumble and
jerked the sleeper so as to hurt his bruised shoulder.
"'Ere, what yer doin' of?" he shouted, in great pain. "Christ
Almighty--be a bit careful!"
In a moment I regretted what I had done and said, "Sorry, I stumbled
over something--I hope I didn't hurt you!" I felt ashamed and all my
resentment vanished. Thereupon I became too oppressed in spirit even to
look at my watch.
We had been splashing and squelching to and fro, I did not know how
long, when an officer arrived. He stood still for a moment and watched
us work, and then he said:
"The job's got to be done this afternoon, my lads, but I'll try to get
you a day off to-morrow. Who's in charge of the party?"
We pointed to Sergeant Hyndman. He was sitting in an improvised shelter
in front of a fire, sipping hot tea. He had spent the greater part of
the day there and had not observed the arrival of the officer, who was
walking slowly towards him. Suddenly he jumped up and there was an
exchange of words which we could not hear, although we tried hard to do
so. The Sergeant came over to us, looking rather disconcerted, so we
were able to guess the nature of the conversation.
We felt greatly encouraged and worked with renewed vigour. The stacks
vanished one by one. Time appeared to slip by with gathering speed. A
kind of common rhythm seemed to pervade our movements as we plodded to
and fro with mechanical regularity.
The officer went up to the stacks from which we were removing the
sleepers and made a mental calculation. "Only four hundred sleepers left
now, boys--that's five apiece or ten to each pair. You'll soon be
finished, and I've ordered lorries to take you home!"
His kindness did us good and we worked with a kind of grim
determination. My partner was coming to the end of his strength. His
knees were bent and from time to time he staggered, jerking the sleeper
so as to make me wince with pain. But he kept up obstinately. We counted
the sleepers as we received them--one, two, three and so on. This
occupied our minds and the time passed all the more quickly. Eight ...
nine ... ten! At last our work was done! "Thank God," said my partner
with deep conviction. We rested against one of the newly erected stacks,
but it was not long before Sergeant Hyndman came striding up and
addressed us angrily. He had evidently been snubbed by the officer and
was giving relief to his mortification by bullying us.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|