BUILDING THE RAILWAY

Evening Star, Issue 19841, 14 April 1928, Page 15

BUILDING THE RAILWAY

A MODERN CONSTRUCTION CAMP COSMOPOLITAN WORKERS IMPRESSIONS OF WORK AND PLAY. [Written by J.S.S., for the ‘Evening Star.’] We, three motoring nomads, felt just a little lonely. It was dark, the road dangerous and rough, and we had not found that which we sought. Hours had passed since meeting with the last vestige of civilised life in the shape of a solitary sheep station. Our object was a large, modern, railway construction camp, a link in the gigantic undertaking that will some day open up hundreds of thousands of acres of rich farm land and end forever the much-felt isolation of the entire east coast of the North Island. Our interest had been caught by the fact that thousands of men are employed on these works, among them being the most skilled manual workers from the South. Then, too, conditions have changed so much in the construction workers’ favor from the days, say, when the difficult Dunedin to Goodwood section was completed an exact half-century ago. in those far-off times life was hard, with each man feuding for himself in the matter of tents and food, and doing his work under rough conditions for small pay. We knew wo were on the right road, for the reason that there was no other, but were uncertain as to the exact location of the desired camp. Standing at the top of a bluff we gazed across at the black, undulating silhouette of a wild expanse of country. The deep starriness of the Hawke's Bay night made Dunedin and homo seem a very long way off. The bright lights, familiar streets, and friendly voices rose up in our minds like a Jar-ofl mirage. A voice called us from the darkness: “Lost the way, you chaps?” The appearance of the stranger was very welcome. We learnt that the cam]) was a few hundred yards back, and that, being in a hollow, it was invisible from the road. As wo approached, row upon row of candle lights shone out from tiny square windows. Tired, though we were, excitement stirred within our breasts, for were we not about to witness the strife and struggle always associated with construction life? Would we not see things in the raw' —unconventional habits and types of'men by the nature of their calling somewhat rough and primitive? The cynical effects wrought by rubbishy films and far-fetched magazine stories had not quite destroyed a thirst for unknown happenings. The stranger introduced himself as being in charge of the men’s huts and as head of the committee who looked to conditions being as they should in the camp. “You’d better make yourselves comfortable for the night,” ho said. “ You’ll be able to have a look around to-morrow. Life is pretty tame nowadays on the Public Works—not like when every ex-gaolbird thought it a good rendezvous, and a man had to erect his own tent and cook his own food.” The hut was match-lined on fhe walls and ceiling, and the well-placed shelves, bunks, and fireplace gave the place a very cosy look. Designed lor twm men, there was plenty of room, and the thought came that if the w'orkers wanted-anything better-, they were indeed ambitious. Scrawled on a' w : all were the words; “ Coates’s Promise.” The reason was told later. The Prime Minister had honored a promise made to the men that he would authorise the match-lining of all huts on Public Works jobs. About midnight there was an uproar. ‘fins banged and terrible curses rent the air. A shiver went down our spines. A maniac at large? Someone run amok? The banging came nearer, and wo hurriedly got out of bed. “Como out here all you — : — dirt diggers. I’ll smash your hides in. You don’t call yourselves navvies, do you? You’re a lot of old women!” The cursing voice rose and died away as its owner, still kicking tins, moved away to another part of the camp and renewed the uproar. Then the strains of a tin whistle broke out—‘ In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree,’ of all tunes. But, by Heavens! the man could play. The tension was relieved. Apparently ho was only mad drunk. Ho was still playing the same tunc as we dropped off to sleep again about 3 a.m. There was a further rude awakening at 6.30. when a hell-like sound, but much louder, was heard. Peering through the window a fat, whiteaproned figure could be seen smacking a piece of cast-iron hanging from a beam outside a big rectangular building. The' cook and the first summons to breakfast! Already a number of men were making for a little spring, kerosene tins in hand. Others, younger looking, disappeared into a place marked “ bathroom,” and their lusty shouts as rushing showers wore' turned on evidenced a happy frame of mind. A queue formed outside the cookhouse, each man carrying a cup. Inside tea was taken from a tin, equipped with a tap, and a generous portion of oatmeal was ladled out from a pot. Forms surrounded the long, bare tables. Everything was simple, hut clean; wellscrubbed hoards and solidly-provisioned tables made all the essentials necessary. It was a cosmopolitan crowd who sat down to breakfast. A Jong, stooped cx-sailor, tattooed of breast and arms, related to his neighbors his reason for leaving his last ship. “The food was rotten, so 1 cleared out at Port Chalmers. 1 footed it to Christchurch, got a free passage in the firemen’s quarters on the ferry, and tramped on here. It means three week’s quod if I’m caught.” A grizzled veteran stared disdainfully across at a silk-shirted young “sheik,” who carried on a running fire of remarks anent the proper working of cuttings. Probably _ the former could have rightly contradicted the “sheik” on any point, but his superiority was best preserved by silence. A little Cockney cracked cheap jokes at the expense of an impassive Swede, who towered above him. The writer found himself opposite an ape-ish-looking old fellow, whose long moustache did its best to hide yellow, decayed teeth. It was fascinating to watch the sword-swallowing act performed with n knife at each mouthful. Noticeable, too, were several pale of face and slim of build who appeared out of place and unequal to the pioneering task that awaited outside. Recruits they were from office and shop, forced by an economic necessity to earn a living at laboring. The majority were, “however, just plain, big, honest fellows, sturdy of backbone and born to the easy yoke of the pick and shovel. Fairly educated, they vindicated the boast that a good class of man is employed on the pre-sent-day public works. The disturber of the peace of the previous night was pointed out.- Ho was a huge man, well over 6ft in height, with abnormally_ thick_ arms and shoulders. The greying hair and slightly hunched hack, however, told a tale of passing years and of too long a thfie at the same class of work. ,It was easily imagined why none had seen fit to remonstrate with him over his ’ hehavitfnr. His reputation con-

sisted in being the host shovel hand on tlie lino and in having had six policemen to arrest him while on a drunken “spree.” Ho was a quiet, decent follow as a rule, and it was a rare occurrence for any drink to find its way into the cam]). From the camp height the panorama of the uncompleted railroad stretched before us. Hills, big and small, abrupt and .sloping, and barren ol growth save for the wild brown grass and a few dumps of manuka hush made an over-changing scene. Sheep and a stray herd or two of wild goats dotted the'hillsides, while in a sancerlike basin at the side of a little, stream fringed with willows was the home of a sheep farmer. Away to the south the way was marked by a long, white trail. Halfway along two dark, twisting lines appeared marking the railhead. A ridge not quite cut through barred the way. 'The difficulties to be surmounted in the way of bluffs to be rounded, ridges to work through, and shallow creek-hods alternated by deep gorges to be crossed, were glimpsed. It was realised how slow and laborious wore the efforts of man to overcome the obstacles erected by Nature. Meeting willl the overseer an opportunity was given ns of viewing the works at close hand, and incidentally learning many points concerned with railway construction. “Most ol the work is contracted for, and some firstclass gangs make very high wages—as much as £3 and £4 a day in some cases,” ho said. “The new chums aro only day laborers, but it they arc any good a contract gang will soon snap them up. The tunneliers generally average highest wages, as they arc necessarily superior workers in experience and knowledge.” Passing a gang high up on the perilous slopes of a cutting tlio method of disposing of the soil was noticed. A tunnel was driven right through the ridge and a lino of locomotive trucks backed in. As fhe men hewed with pick and bar, aided by an occasional blast of dvnamile lor the hard rock, the material came tumbling down through a roof in the tunnel to the' Waiting trucks. “Sharks’ teeth are a frequent find here,” commented the overseer. “ Heaven knows how long since they were in the shark.” He displayed a kpecimon on his_ watch chain, the polished tooth gleaming like a costly pearl. Further along surveyors were engaged sinking pegs to allow a gang to conform to the exact inch when trimming off or adding a lew inches of filling to the already formed track. A member of this gang was a massive Hindu, the only one of his nationality employed. “Charlie,” as he was called,” was a well-liked chap, and spoke English excellently. Ho was a genial sort, with a strong fancy lor “two-up.” A tradition of the lino was “Charlie’s” oft-repeated attempts to save enough for a trip to India.

Somehow he would always wander into a "two-up” school and invariably lose his earnings. Coming within sight of the railhead the platelayers could be seen. Temporarily barred _ from laying sleepers and further sections of rail, they were busy ballasting with gravel brought from the quarry down at the “dump.” The plate-laying is the sign of that portion of the railroad consummated. The “dump” is the base from where the engineers, at once the fountainhead and the brains of the whole scheme, operate. Here, too, are all the fitting, carpentry, _ and stores branches in all their various ramifications. Concrete or substantial wooden bungalows house the engineers, and, long after the “dump” has been shifted, will make permanent homes for the linksmen, who will care for the lino when rushing express trains pass through. Another camp, almost a replica of ours, was at the side of the line. _ Arranged in orderly rows and painted red and numbered, the camps are situated every mile or so along the route, their size depending on the amount of labor in the vicinity. Retracing northwards steam navvies were digging deep into the outcropping hillsides at various points. A seemingly unnecessary, wide detour was explained by the fact that it was done to make the grade for the crossing of a deep gorge that loomed ahead. Over the gorge a. mighty viaduct was progressing. From the bottom, hundreds of feet below, a temporary structure of wood was rearing itself up to the top.- Concrete bases at the top I showed where the curving stool girders of the viaduct began. Notable was the fact that the temporary structure takes longer to build than the viaduct, and then there is the added work of dismantling. In the maze of supports bridge carpenters and laborers toiled with an utter.indifference to the menace of the yawning. abyss which threatened at the first false step to left or to right. That night all was merriment at the camp. The young bbods donned theirbest shirts and shaved. The old hands, less particular as to personal appearance, hitched their trousers up a trifle and knocked a little caked mud off their heavy boots. It was “picture” night. In' other days one would have imagined the evening_ being spent in the manner of Kipling’s sailor-men who “across the fist-hanged board” Told their tales of wreck and wrong, Of shame and lust and fraud; Thev backed their toughest statements With the brimstone of the Lord. Not so the modern construction worker. His entertainment is carefully planned, and much trouble is taken to sec that his social wants aro gratified. The Y.M.O.A. is the guardian angel of all the camps, _a,ud wi#qut the support of that splendid institution

life would bo dull indeed in those parts. The week-ends aro organised into seasonable activities such as tennis and football, and a not uncommon sight is a burly old-timer engaged in a singles tourney. Then the “ Y.M.” devotes energy in bringing out the innate eloquence of the constructionists by holding debates on off-nights to the pictures and dances. The sound of chugging motors was hoard in the distance. Everybody hurried out, eager to board tlio lorries that would take them (o the “Y.M.” picture house. 'The lorries were already partly filled, with the complements of other camps. ,A stop was made at the married men’s quarters, for women and children. It was a happy, singing crowd which reached its destination to mingle with those who had come from the opposite direction. The building was big, and comprised a picture and dance hall, billiard room, spacious canteen, and reading and writing room. There was a stock of the latest newspapers and periodicals. It was obvious that here was the common meeting ground for all. The secretary in charge was busy handing out mail, and appeared a person of exceptional popularity. He was assisted in the work of social welfare by the local schoolmaster, a fine and gentlemanly figure. The pictures began, and there was a rush for seats. Hot coffee and cocoa were welcome refreshments during the interval. A The lorries have returned, the last candle light, is out, and the camp sleeps. Reflecting, we thought of the past day and wondered whether we would find the same camp still there a year later. No; well we knew .that before long the cam]) would be deserted, the workers scattered far and wide, and the history that was made forgotten. I