If a
man was not actually working, he had no business on Number One.
"But," protested a spectator mildly, "I OWN this driver. I haven't
any objections to your grabbing her in this emergency, even if you
did manhandle my captain; but surely you are not going to keep me
off my own property?"
"I don't give a tinker's damn who you are," replied North sturdily.
"If you're not working, you get off."
And get off he did.
The broad deck of the pile-driver scow was a tempting point from
which to survey the work, and the ugly jam, and the water boiling
angrily, and the hollow-eyed, dishevelled maniacs who worked
doggedly with set teeth as though they had not already gone without
two nights' sleep. North had often to order ashore intruders, until
his temper shortened to the vanishing point. One big hulking
countryman attempted to argue the point. North promptly knocked him
overboard into the shallow water between the driver and the bank.
He did not rise; so North fished for him in the most matter-of-fact
way with a boat hook, threw him on the bank unconscious, and went on
driving piles! The incident raised a laugh among the men.
But flesh and blood has its limit of endurance; and that limit was
almost reached.
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