<SPAN name="chap05"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER V </h3>
<h3> TROUBLES WITH THE WORKMEN </h3>
<p>It seemed fated that the building of the Tsavo Bridge should never be
allowed to proceed in peace for any length of time. I have already
described our troubles with the lions; and no sooner did the beasts of
prey appear to have deserted us, for the time being at any rate, than
other troubles, no less serious, arose with the workmen themselves.
After I had discovered the stone for the bridge, I sent down to the
coast for gangs of masons to work and dress it. The men who were sent
me for this purpose were mostly Pathans and were supposed to be expert
workmen; but I soon found that many of them had not the faintest notion
of stone-cutting, and were simply ordinary coolies who had posed as
masons in order to draw forty-five instead of twelve rupees a month. On
discovering this fact, I immediately instituted a system of piecework,
and drew up a scale of pay which would enable the genuine mason to earn
his forty-five rupees a month—and a little more if he felt
inclined—and would cut down the impostors to about their proper pay as
coolies. Now, as is often the case in this world, the impostors were
greatly in the majority; and accordingly they attempted to intimidate
the remainder into coming down to their own standard as regards output
of work, in the hope of thereby inducing me to abandon the piece-work
system of payment. This, however, I had no intention of doing, as I
knew that I had demanded only a perfectly fair amount of work from each
man.</p>
<p>These masons were continually having quarrels and fights amongst
themselves, and I had frequently to go down to their camp to quell
disturbances and to separate the Hindus from the Mohammedans. One
particularly serious disturbance of this sort had a rather amusing
sequel. I was sitting after dusk one evening at the door of my hut,
when I heard a great commotion in the masons' camp, which lay only a
few hundred yards away. Presently a jemadar came rushing up to me to
say that the men were all fighting and murdering each other with sticks
and stones. I ran back with him at once and succeeded in restoring
order, but found seven badly injured men lying stretched out on the
ground. These I had carried up to my own boma on charpoys (native
beds); and Brock being away, I had to play the doctor myself as best I
could, stitching one and bandaging another and generally doing what was
possible. There was one man, however, who groaned loudly and held a
cloth over his face as if he were dying. On lifting this covering, I
found him to be a certain mason called Karim Bux, who was well known to
me as a prime mischief-maker among the men. I examined him carefully,
but as I could discover nothing amiss, I concluded that he must have
received some internal injury, and accordingly told him that I would
send him to the hospital at Voi (about thirty miles down the line) to
be attended to properly. He was then carried back to his camp, groaning
grievously all the time.</p>
<p>Scarcely had he been removed, when the head jemadar came and informed
me that the man was not hurt at all, and that as a matter of fact he
was the sole cause of the disturbance. He was now pretending to be
badly injured, in order to escape the punishment which he knew he would
receive if I discovered that he was the instigator of the trouble. On
hearing this, I gave instructions that he was not to go to Voi in the
special train with the others; but I had not heard the last of him yet.
About eleven o'clock that night I was called up and asked to go down to
the masons' camp to see a man who was supposed to be dying. I at once
pulled on my boots, got some brandy and ran down to the camp, where to
my surprise and amusement I found that it was my friend Karim Bux who
was at death's door. It was perfectly evident to me that he was only
"foxing," but when he asked for dawa (medicine), I told him gravely
that I would give him some very good dawa in the morning.</p>
<p>Next day at noon—when it was my custom to have evil-doers brought up
for judgment—I asked for Karim Bux, but was told that he was too ill
to walk. I accordingly ordered him to be carried to my boma, and in a
few moments he arrived in his charpoy, which was shouldered by four
coolies who, I could see, knew quite well that he was only shamming.
There were also a score or so of his friends hanging around, doubtless
waiting in the expectation of seeing the "Sahib" hoodwinked. When the
bed was placed on the ground near me, I lifted the blanket with which
he had covered himself and thoroughly examined him, at the same time
feeling him to make sure that he had no fever. He pretended to be
desperately ill and again asked for dawa; but having finally satisfied
myself that it was as the jemadar had said—pure budmashi
(devilment)—I told him that I was going to give him some very
effective dawa, and carefully covered him up again, pulling the blanket
over his head. I then got a big armful of shavings from a carpenter's
bench which was close by, put them under the bed and set fire to them.
As soon as the sham invalid felt the heat, he peeped over the edge of
the blanket; and when he saw the smoke and flame leaping up round him,
he threw the blanket from him, sprang from the bed exclaiming "Beiman
shaitan!" ("Unbelieving devil!"), and fled like a deer to the entrance
of my boma, pursued by a Sikh sepoy, who got in a couple of good whacks
on his shoulders with a stout stick before he effected his escape. His
amused comrades greeted me with shouts of "Shabash, Sahib!" ("Well
done, sir"), and I never had any further trouble with Karim Bux. He
came back later in the day, with clasped hands imploring forgiveness,
which I readily granted, as he was a clever workman.</p>
<p>A few days after this incident I was returning home one morning from a
tree in which I had been keeping watch for the man-eaters during the
previous night. Coming unexpectedly on the quarry, I was amazed to find
dead silence reigning and my rascals of workmen all stretched out in
the shade under the trees taking it very easy—some sleeping, some
playing cards. I watched their proceedings through the bushes for a
little while, and then it occurred to me to give them a fright by
firing my rifle over their heads. On the report being heard, the scene
changed like magic: each man simply flew to his particular work, and
hammers and chisels resounded merrily and energetically, where all had
been silence a moment before. They thought, of course, that I was still
some distance off and had not seen them, but to their consternation I
shouted to them that they were too late, as I had been watching them
for some time. I fined every man present heavily, besides summarily
degrading the Headman, who had thus shown himself utterly unfit for his
position. I then proceeded to my hut, but had scarcely arrived there
when two of the scoundrels tottered up after me, bent almost double and
calling Heaven to witness that I had shot them both in the back. In
order to give a semblance of truth to an otherwise bald and
unconvincing narrative, they had actually induced one of their fellow
workmen to make a few holes like shot holes in their backs, and these
were bleeding profusely. Unfortunately for them, however, I had been
carrying a rifle and not a shot gun, and they had also forgotten to
make corresponding holes in their clothing, so that all they achieved
by this elaborate tissue of falsehood was to bring on themselves the
derision of their comrades and the imposition of an extra fine.</p>
<p>Shortly after this, when the masons realised that I intended to make
each man do a fair day's work for his money, and would allow nothing to
prevent this intention from being carried out, they came to the
conclusion that the best thing to do would be to put me quietly out of
the way. Accordingly they held a meeting one night, all being sworn to
secrecy, and after a long palaver it was arranged that I was to be
murdered next day when I made my usual visit to the quarry. My body was
to be thrown into the jungle, where of course it would soon be devoured
by wild beasts, and then they were to say that I had been killed and
eaten by a lion. To this cheerful proposal every man present at the
meeting agreed, and affixed his finger-mark to a long strip of paper as
a binding token. Within an hour after the meeting had dispersed,
however, I was aroused by one of the conspirators, who had crept into
my camp to give me warning. I thanked him for his information, but
determined to go to the quarry in the morning all the same, as at this
stage of affairs I really did not believe that they were capable of
carrying out such a diabolical scheme, and was rather inclined to think
that the informant had been sent merely to frighten me.</p>
<p>Accordingly the next morning (September 6) I started off as usual along
the trolley line to the lonely quarry. As I reached a bend in the line,
my head mason, Heera Singh, a very good man, crept cautiously out of
the bushes and warned me not to proceed. On my asking him the reason,
he said that he dared not tell, but that he and twenty other masons
were not going to work that day, as they were afraid of trouble at the
quarry. At this I began to think that there was something in the story
I had heard overnight, but I laughingly assured him there would be no
trouble and continued on my way. On my arrival at the quarry,
everything seemed perfectly peaceful. All the men were working away
busily, but after a moment or two I noticed stealthy side glances, and
felt that there was something in the wind. As soon as I came up to the
first gang of workmen, the jemadar, a treacherous-looking villain,
informed me that the men working further up the ravine had refused to
obey his orders, and asked me if I would go and see them. I felt at
once that this was a device to lure me into the narrow part of the
ravine, where, with gangs in front of me and behind me, there would be
no escape; still I thought I would see the adventure through, whatever
came of it, so I accompanied the jemadar up the gully. When we got to
the further gang, he went so far as to point out the two men who, he
said, had refused to do what he told them—I suppose he thought that as
I was never to leave the place alive, it did not matter whom he
complained of. I noted their names in my pocket-book in my usual
manner, and turned to retrace my steps. Immediately a yell of rage was
raised by the whole body of some sixty men, answered by a similar shout
from those I had first passed, and who numbered about a hundred. Both
groups of men, carrying crowbars and flourishing their heavy hammers,
then closed in on me in the narrow part of the ravine. I stood still,
waiting for them to act, and one man rushed at me, seizing both my
wrists and shouting out that he was going to "be hung and shot for
me"—rather a curious way of putting it, but that was his exact
expression. I easily wrenched my arms free, and threw him from me; but
by this time I was closely hemmed in, and everywhere I looked I could
see nothing but evil and murderous-looking faces. One burly brute,
afraid to be the first to deal a blow, hurled the man next him at me;
and if he had succeeded in knocking me down, I am certain that I should
never have got up again alive. As it was, however, I stepped quickly
aside, and the man intended to knock me down was himself thrown
violently against a rock, over which he fell heavily.</p>
<p>This occasioned a moment's confusion, of which I quickly took
advantage. I sprang on to the top of the rock, and before they had time
to recover themselves I had started haranguing them in Hindustani. The
habit of obedience still held them, and fortunately they listened to
what I had to say. I told them that I knew all about their plot to
murder me, and that they could certainly do so if they wished; but that
if they did, many of them would assuredly be hanged for it, as the
Sirkar (Government) would soon find out the truth and would disbelieve
their story that I had been carried off by a lion. I said that I knew
quite well that it was only one or two scoundrels among them who had
induced them to behave so stupidly, and urged them not to allow
themselves to be made fools of in this way. Even supposing they were to
carry out their plan of killing me, would not another "Sahib" at once
be set over them, and might he not be an even harder task-master? They
all knew that I was just and fair to the real worker; it was only the
scoundrels and shirkers who had anything to fear from me, and were
upright, self-respecting. Pathans going to allow themselves to be led
away by men of that kind? Once having got them to listen to me, I felt
a little more secure, and I accordingly went on to say that the
discontented among them would be allowed to return at once to Mombasa,
while if the others resumed work and I heard of no further plotting, I
would take no notice of their foolish conduct. Finally I called upon
those who were willing to return to work to hold up their hands, and
instantly every hand in the crowd was raised. I then felt that for the
moment the victory was mine, and after dismissing them, I jumped down
from the rock and continued my rounds as if nothing had happened,
measuring a stone here and there and commenting on the work done. They
were still in a very uncertain and sullen mood, however, and not at all
to be relied upon, so it was with feelings of great relief that an hour
later I made my way back, safe and sound, to Tsavo.</p>
<p>The danger was not yet past, unfortunately, for scarcely had I turned
my back to go home when the mutiny broke out again, another meeting
being held, and a fresh plot made to murder me during the night. Of
this I was soon informed by my time-keeper, who also told me that he
was afraid to go out and call the roll, as they had threatened to kill
him also. At this further outrage I lost no time in telegraphing for
the Railway Police, and also to the District Officer, Mr. Whitehead,
who immediately marched his men twenty-five miles by road to my
assistance. I have no doubt, indeed, that his prompt action alone saved
me from being attacked that very night. Two or three days afterwards
the Railway Police arrived and arrested the ringleaders in the mutiny,
who were taken to Mombasa and tried before Mr. Crawford, the British
Consul, when the full details of the plots to murder me were unfolded
by one of them who turned Queen's evidence. All the scoundrels were
found guilty and sentenced to various terms of imprisonment in the
chain-gangs, and I was never again troubled with mutinous workmen.</p>
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