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Authors: Judith Pella

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BOOK: A Promise for Tomorrow
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Carolina brought James a steaming cup of coffee. He wearily smiled his appreciation, then took a long, slow drink, and sighed. “I wish I could pour this all over my body. The dampness makes me ache.”

“I’ll fix you a hot bath after supper, but now you must tell me more about today,” Carolina said, her curiosity getting the best of her.

James told her all about the talk with Red, adding with frustration, “Frankly, I think the Irish just like a good brawl.”

“James, what a prejudicial thing to say! Of course not all Irish want to fight. I’m sure the women and children find it abominable. Probably most of the men do, as well. Kiernan certainly doesn’t seem to be given over to fighting.”

“No, and that young man is truly an enigma.”

“How so?”

“He put himself between Red and me.”

“Why did he need to do that?” Carolina’s eyebrow raised. She wasn’t liking at all the feeling she was beginning to get. She’d already let her imagination run wild throughout the day, and now she feared James was going to tell her that her fears had actually materialized into actions.

“Red refused to listen to reason. I thought I was going to have to shoot him to get his attention.” Carolina tried to conceal her surprise but knew she’d done a poor job when James continued. “You needn’t fret. I probably couldn’t have even brought myself to do it. But I didn’t have to find out because Kiernan jumped between us and managed single-handedly to calm things down. He’s quite a young man.”

“He and Victoria seem far too chummy for my comfort,” Carolina replied without thinking.

“There are certainly worse men in this world to consider for a future son-in-law.”

“But he’s Irish,” Carolina replied, as if that perfectly explained her misgivings.

James raised his own brow and grinned. “Now who’s sounding prejudicial?”

“I only meant that there’s a world of difference between them, and I know Kiernan plans to go back to Ireland for his family.”

“Right now we have more pressing matters to resolve. The next couple of days are going to be extremely tense. I think it would be wise for you and the children to stay close to home. Vendettas are never easily resolved.”

Carolina nodded. She could only hope and pray that Red’s vendettas would not bring harm to James. Red wouldn’t like the fact that James and Kiernan had humiliated him in front of his men. And because of that, he might well decide to pay James back.

27
Compromise

Red O’Connor sat opposite James at the negotiation table, with Ben Latrobe at the head. For nearly two weeks the strike had continued, and matters were only made worse when the Cumberland freighters arrived bringing in free Negroes as additional laborers. Most of the Irish resented the Negroes, in spite of the fact that their plights were similar. The Irish shared many of the same negative reactions from whites that the Negroes endured. But instead of drawing the two groups closer, it served to pit them against each other just as it did among regional groups of Irish—especially when it came to available jobs. Immigrant Irishman or free Negro, it was all the same to many who would employ them. They were the lowest form of human life, and some even questioned whether they were human.

“We won’t be a-workin’ with them,” Red declared during the negotiations, referring to the Negroes. “If you bring them in, I promise there will be blood spilled.”

James suggested that Ben Latrobe send the men elsewhere on the line. He hated to think that they would have to isolate each group out to separate sections of railroad, but it was appearing more and more as if this would be the most amicable solution.

Ben Latrobe didn’t appear quite so convinced. “Mr. O’Connor, we all have people we find difficult to get along with.” His meaning wasn’t lost on Red, and he continued before the man could react. “But if I simply sent away every man who irritated me, I’d not have workers, nor would I have friends. We’ve agreed to increase the pay of common laborers to eighty-seven and a half cents a day, while increasing those with actual mining experience and duties to a full dollar a day. Work will be done in eight-hour shifts underground, and eleven-hour shifts for those working above ground. Work stops at sundown on Saturday and starts again at sunrise on Monday. Building materials are available for new houses, and I will even look into your suggestion of building a hotel to house workers until the completion of the railroad.

“What I can’t agree to is to sift out the non-Connaught workers and ship them off to other locations. If the men leave of their own free will, and I do mean at their will and not at the point of gun, then so be it. But I will not be dictated to in regard to filling those positions. A good worker is a good worker, and all are welcomed to hire on so long as they do a fair day’s work. So you see, should you decide to covertly rid yourself of these people, I will not oblige you by bringing in Connaughtmen to take their places.”

“We’ll not work with
Negroes
,” Red said, straining at the final word. He’d already exhausted a vast repertoire of derogatory names before Ben threatened to put an end to negotiations if he didn’t refrain from such language.

“I think,” James told Latrobe, “this is one area we might reconsider. I agree that every worker should be treated as any other worker, regardless of the color of his skin, but given the conflict already running amuck concerning the Negroes and the issue of slavery, I don’t think we need to add to the problem.”

Ben grew thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose I see the wisdom in reconsidering. But for now, I want the work to continue. Not only to continue, but to exceed our earlier expectations. You’ve cost us a good bit of time and effort here, Mr. O’Connor, and while you may feel quite content with what you’ve accomplished, I cannot look at the tunnel and say the same. It is my fervent hope that our good faith in this compromise might be rewarded with your supreme efforts to see that tunnel completed.”

Red got to his feet. “Yar tunnel will get built, I promise ya that on me life.”

“Well, as added assurance that the peace remains on a permanent basis, I’m going to keep the guards on the payroll. The contractor has agreed to share the cost with the railroad, and I believe it will be in the best interests of all concerned.”

Red said nothing, but his gaze locked momentarily with James’ as he nodded. With that he exited, and James let out the breath he’d been holding. It was over. The strike was finished, the negotiations were complete, and all parties were satisfied. He felt as though a tremendous weight had been taken from his shoulders.

“At least no one was killed,” he said, thinking aloud.

Latrobe smiled. “Did you expect there to be?”

“With O’Connor and his incessant Connaughtmen rights and rituals, who was to know? I wearied so much of the conflict between the two parties that I wanted to dismiss them all and start over.”

“Well, I think the real solution comes not in segregation of the regional groups, but in evening the sides.”

“What!” James realized he’d nearly shouted the word, and he forced himself to calm down. “Sorry, Ben, but I don’t follow your logic on that at all.”

“It’s really quite simple. If we bring in enough men from the other factions, then all sides will be equal, and you won’t have one group bullying or holding court over the other. They will be equals and therefore find it necessary to deal with each other fairly.”

James shook his head. “That isn’t how these men work. If there were five hundred Corkians and only one Connaughtman, he’d still stand and fight. That’s just how they are. And it isn’t just the Connaughtmen. It’s every single group. Each faction believes they are the most important, that their ways are the right ways. They very nearly have no fear of the other’s wits or numbers, and they certainly will not stop at an all-out war just because you even the sides. It won’t work.”

Ben leaned back in his chair and considered James for a moment. “Perhaps you are right, but what if you aren’t? What if this is the perfect solution? I’ve already discussed this matter with Thomas Swann and others on the board, and they feel it makes good sense.”

“But neither they nor you work one-on-one with these men. You put me here to be your eyes and ears. Now that I’m trying to be honest with you about the holes in your solution, you refuse to listen.” He knew his tone was taking on an air of frustration, but in fact James could very nearly see the bloodbath that might occur should Latrobe carry through with his plans.

“I’m still listening, James,” Latrobe assured him. “But ofttimes we are too close to a problem to see the solution. I think perhaps you have been somewhat given over to their way of thinking. Perhaps you’ve been unnerved by their threats and their pitiful attempts at action.”

“Pitiful attempts?” James asked indignantly. “Ben, you weren’t here last November. Families were thrown out into the streets and their houses were burned to the ground. The Connaughtmen forced Corkmen to leave the town, driving them out into one of the worst snowstorms of the year. I don’t know but what men died from that attack, and just because it didn’t happen in a big city like Baltimore doesn’t qualify it as a pitiful attempt.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest that the violence was acceptable behavior. I do realize what happened and how it affected this town and work production. Why do you think I’ve insisted on the patrolmen becoming a permanent fixture at the site?” He paused and offered James an apologetic smile. “Come now, let us not be at odds. I think you might well be surprised at the success of my solutions if you just give them a chance.”

James held back the retort he might have made if the man had been anyone but Ben Latrobe. He genuinely respected Latrobe’s thinking—most of the time. But this time he was dead wrong. If he brought in men to equal out the numbers from each faction of Irish, it would serve only to kindle the flames of another uprising.

Seeking to give them time to consider the matter without anger, James chose to change the subject. “So tell me about the new Camel engines.”

Latrobe described Ross Winans’ popular new design that was notable for its extremely powerful engines. “I want Camels here at the tunnel site to help in transporting supplies up the steep grade.”

“I’ve read some on the design,” James said, “but I still can’t imagine putting the engineer on top of the boiler.” He’d seen a drawing of this, and the entire engine looked anything but normal because of this feature.

“It’s true that Winans put the cab on top of the boiler. It allows for an increased size in the firebox, while removing the weight from the same. The weight is centered over the drive wheels, about three tons figured for each.”

“How much were they able to increase the firebox?”

Latrobe thought for a moment. “With the firebox behind the frame, it allowed Winans to make it the same width as the outside width of the frame. The firebox itself slopes downward from the boiler to the tender, where a fireman stands ready to shovel in coal.”

“Staying with the coal burners, eh?”

Latrobe smiled. “Since that’s what the Camels mostly haul, it makes little sense to go to wood.”

“Ah,” James commented. “We’ve had Grasshoppers, Crabs, and now Camels. The roundhouse is becoming a regular zoo.”

Latrobe chuckled.

“So now you have your powerful little mountain coal hauler,” James remarked. “I suppose they know what they’re doing, but from what little I’ve seen, I’m just not sure it will ever catch on.”

“Doesn’t really matter much whether it does or not. The B&O is more than happy to keep the shops busy developing them. But that aside, let’s talk about our tunnel.”

James nodded and leaned forward as Latrobe stretched out the design prints they’d worked from all winter. “As you can see, in spite of the weather and the labor problems, we’ve made decent headway.” James pointed to the map. “We’ve had mostly slate and sandstone to excavate, and while that’s a blessing in regard to removal, after exposure to the air and elements, the slate tends to crumble. The entire tunnel will have to be arched and lined.”

“All 4,100 feet of it?” Latrobe eyed the map thoughtfully.

“I believe so. I know it will be costly, but in the long run it will be far more costly to ignore this problem,” James replied. “We’ve sunk three shafts at points that you can see here. Moving from the east portal we have the first shaft going down one hundred eighty feet, the second here”—he pointed to a spot about a third of the way from the first shaft—“at a depth of one hundred seventy-five feet. And the last at one hundred sixty-seven feet. Each shaft is basically fifteen by twenty feet and lined with heavy timbers to discourage cave-ins. I’d be happy to escort you up to take a look.”

“I’d like that.”

James nodded and continued. “As I wrote you, the horse gins are working well for lifting out the rock. Those winches were mounted horizontally on a sturdy timber framework, and from them we ran two pulleys up and down the shaft. As the horses walk in a circle, the full container lifts up excess dirt and rock and the empty one is lowered into the shaft.”

“I’m glad to hear they are efficient.”

“They are for now. I do see the time coming, however, when steam gins would work better. But it can certainly wait for the time being. You’ll be happy to know the western portal has been started, as well as the eastern. We’ve run into some hard rock there, so progress has been slowed. It may even be postponed in order to focus on the more easily achieved sections.”

“Probably wise,” Latrobe replied. “Let’s definitely inspect the shafts, but after lunch. I for one am growing hungry, and your wife promised me a meal fit for a king.”

James grinned. “She does a good job. Miriam and the women in town have taught her a great deal. I never thought to see her in a kitchen, but she gets in there and works right alongside Miriam, and what’s more, she has told me at times she actually enjoys herself.”

Latrobe laughed. “I’m sure she’d rather be going over tunnel formulas instead of cake recipes. Say, why don’t you take a copy of these home and show her exactly what’s going on here? No doubt she’d be delighted with the chance to see what’s happening.”

BOOK: A Promise for Tomorrow
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