over the abyss, rocking back and forth in the frail car and ignorant of what was
taking place on shore. And he did not like to think of their hanging there while he
went round by the Yellow Dragon cable to the other drum.
But he remembered a block and tackle in the tool-house, and ran and brought it.
They were double blocks, and he murmured aloud, “A purchase of four,” as he
made the tackle fast to the endless cable. Then he heaved upon it, heaved until it
seemed that his arms were being drawn out from their sockets and that his
shoulder muscles would be ripped asunder. Yet the cable did not budge. Nothing
remained but to cross over to the other side.
He was already soaking wet, so he did not mind the rain as he ran over the trail to
the Yellow Dragon. The storm was with him, and it was easy going, although
there was no Hall at the other end of it to man the brake for him and regulate the
speed of the car. This he did for himself, however, by means of a stout rope,
which he passed, with a turn, round the stationary cable.
As the full force of the wind struck him in mid-air, swaying the cable and
whistling and roaring past it, and rocking and careening the car, he appreciated
more fully what must be the condition of mind of Spillane and his wife. And this
appreciation gave strength to him, as, safely across, he fought his way up the
other bank, in the teeth of the gale, to the Yellow Dream cable.
To his consternation, he found the drum in thorough working order. Everything
was running smoothly at both ends. Where was the hitch? In the middle, without a
doubt.
From this side, the car containing Spillane was only two hundred and fifty feet
away. He could make out the man and woman through the whirling vapor,
crouching in the bottom of the car and exposed to the pelting rain and the full fury
of the wind. In a lull between the squalls he shouted to Spillane to examine the
trolley of the car.
Spillane heard, for he saw him rise up cautiously on his knees, and with his hands
go over both trolley-wheels. Then he turned his face toward the bank.
“She’s all right, kid!”
Jerry heard the words, faint and far, as from a remote distance. Then what was the
matter? Nothing remained but the other and empty car, which he could not see,
but which he knew to be there, somewhere in that terrible gulf two hundred feet
beyond Spillane’s car.
DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES
31
His mind was made up on the instant.
He was only fourteen years old, slightly
and wirily built; but his life had been
lived among the mountains, his father
had taught him no small measure of
“sailoring,” and he was not particularly
afraid of heights.
In the tool-box by the drum he found an
old monkey-wrench and a short bar of
iron, also a coil of fairly new Manila
rope. He looked in vain for a piece of
board with which to rig a “boatswain’s
chair.” There was nothing at hand but
large planks, which he had no means of
sawing, so he was compelled to do
without the more comfortable form of
saddle.
The saddle he rigged was very simple.
With the rope he made merely a large
loop round the stationary cable, to which
hung the empty car. When he sat in the
loop his hands could just reach the cable conveniently, and where the rope was
likely to fray against the cable he lashed his coat, in lieu of the old sack he would
have used had he been able to find one.
These preparations swiftly completed, he swung out over the chasm, sitting in the
rope saddle and pulling himself along the cable by his hands. With him he carried
the monkey-wrench and short iron bar and a few spare feet of rope. It was a
slightly up-hill pull, but this he did not mind so much as the wind. When the
furious gusts hurled him back and forth, sometimes half twisting him about, and
he gazed down into the gray depths, he was aware that he was afraid. It was an
old cable. What if it should break under his weight and the pressure of the wind?
It was fear he was experiencing, honest fear, and he knew that there was a “gone”
feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a trembling of the knees which he could not
quell.
But he held himself bravely to the task. The cable was old and worn, sharp pieces
of wire projected from it, and his hands were cut and bleeding by the time he took
his first rest, and held a shouted conversation with Spillane. The car was directly
beneath him and only a few feet away, so he was able to explain the condition of
affairs and his errand.
DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES
32
“Wish I could help you,” Spillane shouted at him as he started on, “but the wife’s
gone all to pieces! Anyway, kid, take care of yourself! I got myself in this fix, but
it’s up to you to get me out!”
“Oh, I’ll do it!” Jerry shouted back. “Tell Mrs. Spillane that she’ll be ashore now
in a jiffy!”
In the midst of pelting rain, which half-blinded him, swinging from side to side
like a rapid and erratic pendulum, his torn hands paining him severely and his
lungs panting from his exertions and panting from the very air which the wind
sometimes blew into his mouth with strangling force, he finally arrived at the
empty car.
A single glance showed him that he had not made the dangerous journey in vain.
The front trolley-wheel, loose from long wear, had jumped the cable, and the
cable was now jammed tightly between the wheel and the sheave-block.
One thing was clear — the wheel must be removed from the block. A second
thing was equally clear — while the wheel was being removed the car would have
to be fastened to the cable by the rope he had brought.
At the end of a quarter of an hour, beyond making the car secure, he had
accomplished nothing. The key which bound the wheel on its axle was rusted and
jammed. He hammered at it with one hand and held on the best he could with the
other, but the wind persisted in swinging and twisting his body, and made his
blows miss more often than not. Nine-tenths of the strength he expended was in
trying to hold himself steady. For fear that he might drop the monkey-wrench he
made it fast to his wrist with his handkerchief.
At the end of half an hour Jerry had hammered the key clear, but he could not
draw it out. A dozen times it seemed that he must give up in despair, that all the
danger and toil he had gone through were for nothing. Then an idea came to him,
and he went through his pockets with feverish haste, and found what he sought —
a ten-penny nail.
But for that nail, put in his pocket he knew not when or why, he would have had
to make another trip over the cable and back. Thrusting the nail through the
looped head of the key, he at last had a grip, and in no time the key was out.
Then came punching and prying with the iron bar to get the wheel itself free from
where it was jammed by the cable against the side of the block. After that Jerry
replaced the wheel, and by means of the rope, heaved up on the car till the trolley
once more rested properly on the cable.
All this took time. More than an hour and a half had elapsed since his arrival at
the empty car. And now, for the first time, he dropped out of his saddle and down
DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES
33
into the car. He removed the detaining ropes, and the trolley-wheels began slowly
to revolve. The car was moving, and he knew that somewhere beyond, although
he could not see, the car of Spillane was likewise moving, and in the opposite
direction.
There was no need for a brake, for his weight sufficiently counterbalanced the
weight in the other car; and soon he saw the cliff rising out of the cloud depths
and the old familiar drum going round and round.
Jerry climbed out and made the car securely fast. He did it deliberately and
carefully, and then, quite unhero-like, he sank down by the drum, regardless of
the pelting storm, and burst out sobbing.
There were many reasons why he sobbed — partly from the pain of his hands,
which was excruciating; partly from exhaustion; partly from relief and release