The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 25, 1904, Page 14

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. was a curious divers about Tunnel Three. contractor, who had an office at the rooking sald it id it with sted tor and feet below on a > N - e this decis s 1, and h S up with the hazy T nnels were generally ortable, if mot dan gerous, ar Mr. Barclay was a Te nent contractor and an a er, to say mothing « good fellow. They tunnel was a good & nel, and referred in terms to the contractor, the fears of a solici- us put Not knowing & spreading 1 le, howew! ad x Five to in « th ter roared under t pl which they had r avy air shook muffied thunder ad not even of the deep workings come out of the air-lock wet with blue mud and fact that the deeper netrates the poorer ie Five had not been npse lord of the rnigan’s opin- nel had been asked he bave answered frankly, being an outspoken man: She's 2 thundering geese In the cold ooze at the end of the tunnel, w the truth was, gaunt, haif-clad with picks and clay plugging balls, said things about the tunnel that would not look well in print, and, being men of experience in these things, they spoke with authority. £o bad was the reputation of the tun- nel among those who knew that no boss but Jernigan could have kept a crew &t work, where every pick thrust was & special invitation to death by drown- ing. When Tunnel Three began to grum- ble it was beautiful to see Jernigan hold his men in hand. At the first sound of danger there were those who would have gone rushing for the air- lock and safety, but Jernigan, standing there-behind them in the roadway, was moye terrible than the danger in front. Of all the sounds known to these un- derground places there is none quite like the grumbling at a tunnel’s end. It comes often with explosive sudden- ness, like the snapping and rattiing of steam in long pipes, though often muf- fled, end then it is choked off and dies away in a gurgle. And sometimes the sound more resembles a long-drawn wall or whistle, as 2 man would blow sharply across the mouth of a bottle, this followed with sharp rapping and cracking—and then a gush of muddy water that makes a man's heart dot and carry one. And yet, sudden and startling as these sounds at a tunnel's end may be, they are nothing of themselves; their terror lies in their significance; they are the outcries of danger. The tun- nel grumbles when it reaches a spot where the ecarth between it and the water of the river bottom is thin, where there are pockets of quicksand or deeps of thick mud. Its excuse for grumbling is the best. The heavily compressed air within the tunnel, thus compressed for the main purpose of keeping out water and mud from the tunnel’s end, breaks out through the thin earth where the men are working, with a ripping wall, end goes boiling upward to the surface of the river. And when it escapes the water and thin mud bursts in, and if enough air goes out and enough water comes in it is ninety-nine chances to one that the workers, racing for the airlock, will be overtaken and drowned with their noses to the roof of the tun- nel like rats in a rain barrel. For 590 feet from the air-lock in Jer- nigan’s working there never was a bet- ter behaved tunnel. All the way it m top to toe th ts repu permitted to of Jernigan, pressure wWor ion of the tu would ere [ n as straight and shiny as a gun men at end driving comfortably through hard sard and clay, with here and there a boulder, and not a thought of the plying back and forth sixty er their heads. Behind came kers building the tunnel wall rick tube was always kept lete within a few feet of the tun- the pipemen with thelr the eleCtricians adding to the long row at the 4 arclay rubbed his hands with glee, thinking of his profits, and 3T n lay_ by and let Jernigan do It was tunnel building ao- the books. day the Swede, Swanson, for a shovelful of sand, ‘Where the underneath it glistened s of water, and pres- egan to slough dowr end), wrenches, & work. to cording But t down a cart load. bare ening more and more, fluid. All of the men to the end of the plank road- \n Italian who went by the f Macaroni—for the sake of un!. velled lustily for Jernigan. or?” demanded only a pocket of n's way—"only s to be observed n stepped more qui became streams, sand spread further the men rushed the er steel pped shut, and s turned in. With - over thirty pounds inch (two atmospheres), pressure of air tunnel equal to the pressure , and water without, thereby to keep the soft earth at the I's end from caving in. From a ively comfortable place to tunne air lock hot, y hole, the heavy at- of which was almost certain, to bring alysis to that more te le air- known as the “bends.” said Jernigan, “we'll to use a pr to the square in order to make the mis and the came o the lock was closed. men crowded outer steel door gan turned a valve, and the air hissing in, the men held thei blew into their cheeks, swallow- with nothing to swallow, ht equalize the pressure inside that they migt r bodies with that with Terri- bly harp pains shot through their heads, and sometimes it scemed as though their ear drums must bu But at last the limit of pressure was reach- the pain graduaily passed away, vor leading to the pressure work- ings was opened and in they went. Jernigan’s men were all young and sound. None other can bear the strain and fatigue of this most wearing of teil > tunnel had grown mist that th hts sho through hal of h , and the compression of air had generated so much heat that the men began to strip. Jernigan's voice sounded thin and high in the thick air; it was an effort to speak aloud. Paddock, who was an inveter- ate whistler, could not blow a sound. Sk opped slobberin’,” remarked Jernigan as they reached the tunnel’s end. ost of the men began digging cautio and shoveling the mud into the tramcars; Swanson, the Swede, sat at one side and industriously made smail round balis of clay, a little larger than croguet balls. It seemed like chiid’s work, and Jernigan kept up a steady stream of raillery at the expense of the big Swede, Swanson could have put his big flat thumb on Jernigan and smashed him and done with it, for he was so tall he couldn’t stand straight on the road- way of the tunnel without hitting his head—a huge hulk of a man, tow- ed, blue-eyed, slow of speech, faith- He called the sub-boss always “Meester Yernigan”; Jernigan had at least twenty names for him, and not one of them at all complimentary. And yet no dog ever served a master more faithfully the Swanson served the sub-boss. And, suddenly, as they worked, the tunnel began to grumble, and there was Jernigan barring the passageway to safety like a rock. “Give it to her, byes,” he shouted. Swanson was already on his feet with his arms full of the clay balls, and he and three of the other men be- gan throwing them swiftly and vigor- ously at the spot where the air was escaping. Each flattened out near the tunnel rim like a thick corn cake, and when the rattling ceased Swanson sprang into the mud and pummeled the clay into the break. The heavy air in the tunnel helped to hold the patch in place. Then the work went on again, the Itallans picking and shoveling, Billy, the tram mule, flapping his long ears, Swanson soberly patting mud pel- lets, and Jernigan directing everything with cheerful unconcern. Once more during the shift the tunnel grumbled, once more there was a battery of clay balls, and once more the men won the victory against the water. “Ye're a pretty pitcher, Monty,” shouted Jernigan; “why don’'t you throw over the home plate? Here, Swanson, you Swede, climb up there and paddle.” At the end of three hours of the heavy air and the heavier work the men returned to the air-lock, suffered again the pain of reducing pressure, and went into free air, wet and shiver- ing with cold. They were taken in- stantly to a hot room, where they were given quantities of steaming black coffee, and after that they dropped down to sleep. Two shifts a day, three hotifs or less each, was all these men could stand. Thus day after day Jernigan kept his crew burrowing, though the tunnel grumbled its displeasure almost con- stantly, and the earth came down half fluid siit. So much water came In thatit ran in a stream under the plank roade way, and the great pumps at the shaft- head worked to full capacity. Once they thought the whole tunnel end was coming in; the water gushed inward, rose rapidly above the roadway and swirled cold about their feet. Two Italians boited suddenly from the earth working to escape; even Paddock dropped his shovel. Jernigan stood like a po: “Get back there!” he roared. He caught one Italian with a blow on the chin that sent him sprawling into the water; the gecond paused, and Jernigan leaped at him and drove him headlong against the earth at the tun- nel’s end 4 Meantime Swanson, in his slow way, was coolly pitching clay balls. Two other men, with Jernigan, joined ¥im, and at last, with the water cold about their ankle they icceeded in stop- ping the flo It was after this incident that the Committee of Five came to look at the tunnel, for such things as out to the public, and the committee, as I have sald, found it a good and perfect turnel, and Mr. Barclay an amiable man. Ear- clay was no longer congratulating Lim- self. In two weeks the tunnel had not advanced three feet, and it was cost- ing him a small fortune to keep the water down. And then came the blue Monday. It was at the afternoon shift. The tun- nel had been behaving itself with ad- mirable decorum for a day or two, the earth had seemed much harder, and though there was frequent rat- tling of escaping air—the sound of which had grown so familiar that it brought not & tremor to the men— the gaps were more easily -eclosed. Swanson had accumulated a large stock of clay balls. “Ye're getting fat and lazy, Swan- son,” Jernigan sald; “the old lady ain’t playin’ her chunes any more.” But Jernigan spoke too soon. Not ten minutes later one of the Italians sprang back with a shout; he had opened a little pocket of silt near the top and et one side of the tunnel's end. For a moment the soft earth gushed out, then there was the walling sound of escaping air. Instantly Swan- the ak curiously . son drove a clay ball into the hole, but pressure was so great on Jernigan's instead of remaining there appeared at once, being driven upward by the escaping air. Other balls fol- lowed in like manner; the air was going fast. Half the crew were throwing the clay, but it either went out of sight or sloughed down with the incoming mud. Then of a sudden in gushed a torrent of water as big es a man’s leg. Jernigan rang for more air pres- gure and the men redoubled their efforts, but all to no avail. Suddenly, while Jernigan himself was working at the breach, the Itallans bolted. Jer- nigan yelled at them, but they were too desperately frightened and ran at the top of their speed for the air-lock. The other men paused undecided for an instant, and then they, too, followed. It seemed certain death to remain with that stream of water pouring into the tunnel. It would require only a mo- ment to wear a larger hole, and then the whole river would be in on them— and there was nearly 600 feet of :un- ning water to the air-lock and safety. Jernigan looked around. Only Swan- son was left, calmly yet swiftly gather- ing up more clay balls. For an instant the two men looked at each other. Jernigan had promised to see the work through, and see it through he would, water or no water. Swansdn saw him spring suddenly upon the low earth bank which the men used when working around the upper rim of the tunnel. He turned swiftly and braced himself into the mud of the tunnel’s end, driving his body into the pocket of quicksand. “Here, Swanson, plug me in,” he or- dered. Swanson brought clay balls and drove them into the mud around Jernigan's body. “She’s comin’ fast, Meester Yer- nigan,” he observed. The water poured out everywhere around him, and when the clay began to stop its course the it dis- ‘back that Swanson was compelled to push against him and hold him in with one of his huge hands, while with the other he plugged away with the clay. “‘Give it to her, Swanson,” said Jer- nigan cheerfully, although his face was twisted with the pain of his position. Swanson worked furiously, with the ‘water rising about his legs. The other workmen were already safe in the air lock. The dim tunnel scemed like a long pathway of water, for the roadway Wwas now completely covered. For a time it seemed an even chance against thc.lncoming water; then with Swan- son’s clay and the increasing air pres- sure the flow slowly lessened. “We're beating her,” observed the sub-boss. Swanson removed his hand from Jernigan's body, for the air pressure now supported him firmly in place. More clay was brought and plugged in around Jernigan’'s body, and presently the tunnel no‘longer grumbled. “Now, Swanson,” said Jernigan, “you B0 up and get those men out here.” He sald other things about his crew, not necessary to set down in this place. Swanson started promptly, but he had not gone far when he heard Jerni- gan shout. He turned and saw the sub-boss spread out his arms and be- gin to struggle. The big Swede ran stooping through the water. He saw instantly what the matter was. The air pressure was driving Jernigan bodily into the soft mud. Already his body had nearly disappeared. His head rested against the rim of the tunnel and he was grasping desper- ately to hold himself inside. His face Wwas white and he could not speak. Swanson seized him by the collar: his shirt tore away. Then the great Swede took hold of his arms and drew him from the engulfing mud by main force. He fell unconscious in Swanson’s arms. UN. z Instantly there came the gurgling of escaping air, then a wild inrushing tor- rent of mud and water. Swanson ran, at first with the sub- boss in his arms, the water surging about his legs. But he was soon so hampered that he drew"Jernigan's shoulders under his arm, and then rushed on again, dragging his burden. The heavy air roared in his ears and he choked with the thumping of his heart. He had already been under pressure longer than the usual time. And still he waded, the water ngw up to his walst. He held Jernigan’'s head above the flood. Thus he came to the air-lock and pounded on the steel door. He knew that there was not one chance in a thousand that ony one would dare to open it, for the water was already above the upper frame. There, too, had come Billy, the tunnel-mule, drag- ging his empty car behind him. He had not hurried, though he realized that something was wrong, and he now stood with quiet patience, his nose close-pressed to the steel door; it had always opened to him before; he had faith to belleve it would open mnow. Although sore pressed, Swanson stroked the mule’s rough neck, then bent his shoulder into the water and unhooked the harness traces. He felt that there was no chance for any of them, but he wanted to give Billy an equal opportunity to fight for his life. There was presently just room and air between the top of the tunnel and the top of the water to accommodate Swanson’s head—and Jernigan’s, which Swanson held up. Swanson could see the long row of electric lights gleam- ing on the muddy flood; they were at the highest point in the tunnel, and the water had not yet reached them. Again he knocked on the wall, and some one knocked in reply. Swanson fancied there were voices, but he could HE DPEL JERNIGANS SHOULZERS Gt LD not make out what was sald for the buzzing In his ears, but the door did not open. A few feet away the soft, gray nose of Billy, the mule, rose above the water. Swanson reached out and touched it with-dripping fingers. There was a beseeching look in the dumb eyes, as If the mule knew that he could not last much longer. Swanson sald nothing. There was a strange likeness between the man and the brute: both were slow, dull, powerful of body, with the patience that outwears suffering. and the dumb, uncomplaining faith which goes down to death without a quiver. Neither made an outcry; hav- ing done all that was possible they waited. Swanson’s eyes presently be- gan to fail him, the lights grew dim, but he still held Jernigan's head above the water. All this time the great pumps abeve ground were drawing to their utmost on the flood, and the engines were driv- ing compressed air into the deep work- ings, though those outside had little hope of rescuing the entombed men. And yet, what human hands were so weak in doing, blind circumstance had already accomplished, for the terrific inrush of water at the tunnel's end had brought with it great quantities of sand, clay and bowlders, which soon filled the tunnel for many feet, and finally choked the break, so that water could not longer enter. The tunnel had overreached {itself in its treachery, and now, slowly, the pumps and the compressors began to lower the flood within the pressure workings. Swanson was dimly con- scious of the change. He felt the water, s which was icy cold to his half naked body, leave his shoulders, then creep down his breast. He was leaning now against the wall, still holding Jernigan up. Presently, though he fought against it, he sank to his knees, and thus they found him, with the mule’s gray nose resting on his shoulder. They dragged the two men Into the air-lock, followed by a rush of water. Both were unconscious. Billy tried to follow, but they pushed him back. and when the door was closed he still stood there patiently, waiting with faith the rough kindness of his masters. He had known all along that the door some way, some time, would open; had it not always opened before? Jernigan came to himself first in the hot room. He was not able to get up, but he rolled over, and when Swanson opened his eyes he sald, in strange contrast to his usual comments: “You're a good man, Swanson* And Swanson looked dumb, woynded animal. T e They forced Swanson dosed him with black cuffe;f,ln':!!'wam: him up and down the room, though he groaned with pain and begged them to let him sleep. Then Barclay came and swo the water, and upon conul;:r:z%‘::f gave Jernigan 350 and Swanson S with the express condition that thoro' should be no talking to reporters. And two weeks later Jernigan and Swan- son again went into that black hole of death, for their calling was danger without expectation of reward for meeting it. (Copyright by 8. 8. McClure Company)