A Promise for Tomorrow (13 page)
“James loves me, and I love him,” she said aloud, as if to convince some unseen entity. “I love the children, and I know that what I am doing is right.” She paused and sighed. “But oh, God,” she again broke into prayer, “I want so much to be a part of it all. I want to know the sights and sounds of the rails being laid. I want to hear the clanging of the picks and shovels. I want to smell the smoke from the engines and feel the rumble of the locomotives beneath my feet.”
The tension mounted in her soul, and Carolina knew that whatever peace she’d found with images of her mother was now eaten up with unfulfilled dreams. She had so much to be grateful for, and at least with James working for the railroad, she shared in the process and completion in her own way. It should be enough, she thought. It should be enough to have all that I have, to be loved and to love. It should be enough.
But it wasn’t.
Struggling with emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, Carolina closed her eyes and tried to think of James. If only James would come home and stay for a time, Carolina was certain her haunting nightmares would ease and the feelings of loneliness and anxiety would be put aside.
“Please, Father, please bring James home to me. Let Ben Latrobe or Thomas or whoever else is using him no longer need him. At least for a short while so that we might have him with us again.” She murmured the words even as sleep overcame her. There was nothing more she could do. Nothing that would bring James home any sooner. Nothing else would fill the void.
“It’ll be good to be home,” James told Ben Latrobe.
The eastbound train from Cumberland was making slow but steady progress, and even though cold seeped in from every possible angle, James found it completely tolerable. He had much on his mind, not the least of which was his family, and the cold seemed a small price to pay.
Ben Latrobe, ever bent over his paperwork and maps, nodded. “Agreed. There’s a great deal of work awaiting us there. I’ve reread our missives from Swann and find that the business of moving this railroad westward is going to take every bit of money and manpower we can muster.”
“At least Swann is aggressive in the area of raising cash.”
“Yes,” Ben commented and looked up from the stack of papers. “He’s also more easily attainable than McLane. I was truly beginning to fear for the line.”
James nodded. It had become well known that Louis McLane had taken to removing himself from the details and physical aspects of the Baltimore and Ohio. It was even said that he would receive no one in his office who had not first set an appointment well in advance. “I suppose like anything else, McLane ran his course. I like Swann. So, too, does my wife. He was her attorney for a long time before giving his duties over to the Baltimore and Ohio.”
“Yes, and I’ll wager he’ll not stop with our little attempt to reach the Ohio. Swann seems a man destined for big things.”
“He can certainly talk circles around anyone in his way. I’ve never heard a man speak more eloquently,” James added and rubbed his eyes.
Latrobe nodded. “I’m telling you, he’ll go far. Why, you should have heard him when we spoke of the routes out of Cumberland. He thought it ridiculous we’d taken so long to move. Yet when presented with the problem of whether to build an expensive tunnel through Knobly Mountain at the Patterson Creek cutoff, battle with the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Company for right-of-way through their marked territory, or just go around the town in a broad U-turn, Swann was thoughtfully humbled. He considered the consequences of each and suggested that the most important thing was to move forward. He said, ‘We may delay it for a season but the result is inevitable.’ Then he told me at this point to just get around the city as best we could and get the line headed west. Thomas Swann wants this railroad built as badly as we do, and he will use his savvy, eloquence, and intellect to see it done.”
James smiled, knowing Latrobe was right. “Swann told my Carolina that the true worth of the railroad wouldn’t be realized until we reached the Ohio River. He was rather put back on his heels that McLane had sat on the Maryland bonds for all of this time. In fact, he was rather livid about it. He told us that the bonds represented the company’s greatest resource, and they should be used, not held back in reserve. After all, the railroad is in better condition than ever before. People are finally seeing the potential, and to use the bonds would be physical proof to the company that we have faith in the completion and prosperity of the B&O.”
“True enough,” Latrobe said with a chuckle. “And it’s not only the prosperity of the B&O. Seems lines are springing up everywhere, and all of them are beginning to realize profits. Speaking of lines springing up, what’s this I hear about your Potomac and Great Falls reaching completion?”
“Well, not actual completion. It still comes short of Great Falls proper, but the line is in place, and even though the cars are horse drawn for now, we have the potential to put a locomotive engine on the line within the next few years.”
“Designing one yourself?” Latrobe asked casually.
“I haven’t worked in design for some time. You know full well you keep me far too busy for that kind of work.” The rhythm of the locomotive changed, causing James to glance out the window. “We’re slowing,” he commented, then got up to better survey the situation.
“Problems?” Latrobe questioned, more out of courtesy than any real interest. Already he was tracing a map with his finger.
“From the looks of it, we’re approaching Doe Gully Tunnel.”
“That would put us some sixty miles from Harper’s Ferry. I suppose the engineer is taking it slow in case of slides. You know, I heard there were some rather large rocks thrown across the entry last week. Probably nothing more than that.”
But as the train slowed even more and finally stopped, even Ben Latrobe took a greater interest. By this time, however, James was already at the door to the car and making his exit.
“What has happened?” James called out to a man standing not far from the engine.
“Landslide,” the man announced.
“How bad?” Latrobe questioned, catching up with James.
“Bad.” The man turned and eyed both James and Ben with caution. “You ought to stay in your seats. Leastwise till we figure out what’s to be done with the passengers.”
“I’m Ben Latrobe, Chief Engineer for the Baltimore and Ohio,” Ben said by way of introduction. “This is my assistant, James Baldwin. I’d like to know who’s in charge here and what’s being done.”
The man snapped to attention. “Certainly, sir. Didn’t mean no offense, sir.”
“None taken. I appreciate your concern for the safety of your passengers.”
“Mr. Bollman, Master of the Road for this division, he’s the one what’s in charge.”
“Bollman, eh? Good man. He’s been moving in and out of B&O crowds since he was fourteen. He’ll have a good handle on this.”
James followed as the man led them to Wendell Bollman. Up ahead he could already see the gravity of the situation. A huge piece of slate looking to be at least two hundred feet long and some twenty feet thick had broken away from the ridge just prior to the western portal of the tunnel.
“Bollman, Ben Latrobe.” Ben extended his hand and paused to glance over his shoulder at James. “This is James Baldwin. What’s going on here?”
“Pretty much exactly what you see. I’ve been put in charge of cleaning this mess up. There are some two hundred workers scheduled to be put on this. Some are already in place as you can see; others are coming in with provisions from Cumberland.”
“Looks serious. Anyone killed when it came down?” Latrobe asked, looking at the slate, where a dozen or more men were already working at it with picks and sledges.
“Not that we know of.”
“Well, thank God for that,” Latrobe murmured.
James heard their conversation continue as he moved away to get a better look. He walked to the place where the slate clearly blocked the tunnel. Alongside the massive ridge piece were hundreds of smaller, more easily moved rocks. Leaning down, he picked up a chunk of stone and turned it over and over in his hands as he considered the situation. Moving across the work field, he passed the men slinging sledges and picks and moved to the opening of the tunnel. There was little doubt that this would close down the line for some time to come.
James tried to imagine the repercussions of such an accident. Already investors were angered at the delay in reaching the Ohio, and with good reason. After all, they’d been at this project for over twenty years and still had not reached their objective. It was always one accident or another, or a flood or depression that slowed the works and gave a reasonable answer to the delay, but even James wearied of the excuses. Broken slate sealing off the track seemed to simply add itself to the list without much fanfare or importance. Delays were delays, and one accident seemed pretty much like another. It meant money and time, and those were the only two words investors seemed to understand these days. It would take more than Swann’s optimistic use of bonds to keep investors focused this time.
He glanced up at the huge barrier and shook his head. It was a seemingly impossible task. They would literally have to move a mountain, and that would require a great deal of effort. Men overhead walked the distance of the huge slate slab and discussed the best theory for breaking it up. He could hear their conversation in bits and pieces. Black powder was mentioned, along with the need for more workers to break and shovel. James was just about to turn back when one of the men above him yelled out. “Rocks!”
Men scrambled back toward the train, but James merely stared upward, dumbfounded as a runaway piece of slate crashed toward him from the ridge above. It was moving too quickly for him to react soon enough. As he tried to dive out of the way, he heard shouts and even saw the frantic waving of arms.
The first pieces slammed into James, knocking him from his feet and carrying him a short distance in the wake of its momentum. He thought of Carolina and how he wouldn’t be able to make it home that night after all. Then he felt what must have been a boulder crash down upon his head, and everything blurred. He knew he was losing consciousness. Knew that the day was suddenly fading to night.
He reached up to protect himself from the rock, but it was to no avail. His arm burned with fiery pain, as did his head. Piece after piece rained down upon him, smothering him under the dust and weight of the slate.
“Carolina,” he whispered her name, reaching out for an imagined hand, and then he fell silent and gave in to the swirling blackness.
Ben Latrobe sat beside the unconscious body of his friend. They’d been brought over the tunnel in order to connect with the Cumberland supply train, and now they were making their way to Harper’s Ferry and the medical facilities there. A doctor accompanied them. He was an older man who had been found among the passengers of the stopped eastbound locomotive, and when word of James’ accident had spread through the crowd, this man emerged to offer his assistance.
“Well, doctor,” Ben asked, “will he live?”
“Hard to say at this point. He’s suffered a pretty good blow to the head. I’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but there’s no telling what might happen with an injury like that. He might wake up and be fine, then again he might never wake up. He’s got a broken arm, maybe some ribs, as well. Can’t really tell for sure.”
Latrobe nodded and tried to imagine breaking the news to James’ wife. He liked Carolina Baldwin. She was feisty and straightforward, but every inch a lady. She had acted as hostess to more than one gathering of Latrobe’s survey team, and not only welcomed them graciously but actually took interest in their work. Now as he sat in a stunned stupor, he couldn’t imagine being the one to break the news of James’ accident, much less, if it came to that, his death.
Latrobe stripped off his wire-rimmed spectacles and rubbed his eyes. They were filled with dust from his frantic efforts to extricate his friend from the rubble. His hands were even more filthy, and it seemed a useless effort to wipe one with the other. Taking out his handkerchief, he attempted to clear his eyes.
“We’re going mighty fast,” the doctor said, eyeing the passing countryside.
“It doesn’t seem half fast enough,” Latrobe muttered. Even though James was as stable as they could make him, it seemed to take forever to move down the track toward Harper’s Ferry.
Closing his eyes, Latrobe leaned back in his seat and prayed for James’ condition to improve. There was no sense in giving up just yet, he reminded himself. Things always had a way of looking worse than they were. Hadn’t there been other times when situations seemed bleak and hopeless, and hadn’t those times worked together in proper order?
“It’s a real wonder no one else was hurt in that disaster,” the doctor said, and Latrobe found reason to open his eyes and nod.
“Yes, it is,” Ben replied, knowing that fact would offer little comfort to Carolina Baldwin or her children.
It was said of Thomas Swann that while he enjoyed his fine wines and Havana cigars, he could just as easily be found at ease sharing a mug of ale with the common man. It was a gift, some said, that Swann could appeal to the aristocratic, genteel assemblage, while equally conducting himself with the dock workers and ragtags from poorer neighborhoods. Swann neither set himself above nor below those in his company but had a way of making all mankind feel as though they were his equal.
A big man, Swann was as opposite his predecessor, Louis McLane, as two men could be. McLane held an aristocratic air that often alienated him from others. He was driven in the early years, but as time passed, it became increasingly apparent that McLane’s interest and efforts were waning.
Swann, a stockholder and an active supporter of the railroad, was one of the first men considered in the search for a suitable successor to the retiring McLane. He was motivated, dynamic, and astute. If anyone could get the B&O to the Ohio River, it would be him. Swann would be successful. Thus, when McLane resigned in September of the previous year, Swann was the natural replacement.