Building The Bridge - 6. Chapter 6 - A Track Unites

Building a railway is no easy feat. It is a labour intensive, back breaking task that takes the might out of strong and dedicated men. Building a railway line in Africa was a whole different kettle of fish, and despite the experience of the engineers who’d been brought in from Europe, men who’d been building railways in the motherland for over fifty years, the African wilderness had proved to be a different animal altogether.

Not only were men faced with the challenges of a gruelling schedule of laying one mile of track every day, there were a multitude complexities ranging from a variation in climate, landscape and food supply, to a lack of resources and the ever present risk of disease. Malaria was the biggest risk, but men also commonly faced cholera, dysentery or sleeping sickness which created a high mortality rate among the navies of the African Railways.

Add to this the predatory nature of much of the big game in Africa, and the relatively simple task of laying a steel track over miles and miles of virgin territory through the African savannah became a very risky undertaking indeed.

While nature presented its fair share of challenges, there were man made challenges to add to the mix from uncooperative governments to all out war. The Boer War of 1899 still had everyone on edge. The hostilities and constant exchange of threats between the British and Boer settlers meant that even now, every train maintained an armed detail of British South Africa Police Officers on every trip.

It’s a little known fact that over two thousand men are believed to have perished while building the Beira to Salisbury railway line. The challenges of building in the flood plains of the Zambezi and Pungwe rivers were likened to the murderous difficulties faced half a century before by those who had built the Panama Railway. To escape the effects of the flood waters and the ever present swamp a high embankment need to be built up before any track could be laid at all.

All the materials for the line were steamed up the river from Beira by tug boat and decent food was in critical short supply, meaning that the men were malnourished and often starving. There was no shelter, and workers would sleep out in the open, meaning that attack from hungry predators was a common occurrence, some beasts actually targeting the work force, identifying the men as easy prey. Contract hunters were frequently hired to accompany and protect the work force, although it was debatable if protection was really what these hired guns provided to the scores of tired workers.

Responsibility for track laying had been awarded by Cecil John Rhodes to George Pauling the founder of Pauling and Co. a British civil engineering company based in Nottingham in England. Pauling had quickly become the principle contractor for track laying in Southern Africa.

The company employed over twelve thousand people across the various projects that were unfolding across Rhodesia and Nyasaland. These included dozens of white skilled workers, engineers, surveyors and supervisors, hundreds of Indian veteran track layers and thousands of indigenous labourers who carried out the heavy work. Known at the time as Navigators or ‘Navies’ for short, these men were tough, powerful men, hard workers and even harder livers. An experienced navie could shift a staggering amount of earth each day, levelling the ground, setting the sleepers, laying the track and spreading the ballast before driving in the spikes that would secure the rails in place. These Fordian labour units had perfected the art of track laying, working under considerable pressure and unimaginable conditions.

At that very moment one such team was surging its way northwards, closing in on the awaiting Victoria Falls encampment. Stephen Townsend was a brilliant young engineer working on secondment to Pauling & Co from the Beira and Mashonaland Railway Company which ran the Rhodesia Railways Company. It was his team that had been responsible for laying the Northern Limpopo Line, the railway line that would run northwards through Southern and Northern Rhodesia where it would meet the Tazara Link, a track that was being built from Dar es Salaam in Tanzania to meet the Cape to Cairo Red Line in Kapiri Mposhi.

Unlike the arduous task that had confronted the team building the Beira to Salisbury track Townsend had not experienced the difficulties of flood plains and shifting soil structures, but had been severely hampered by formidable African summer heat. Striking northward across an arid expanse of the Southern Rhodesian hinterland, the railway line had in its own way taken a heavy toll on its workers.

Now as they were drawing closer to the completion of stage one of the Southern Section of the Northern Limpopo Line, his team was dead set on finishing this expanse of the railway. Completion on time would result in every man being granted a two week leave of absence to return to their families. This was a luxury that was not afforded the workers very often and the men were salivating in anticipation of taking a vacation from the hardships of humping steel and quarry stone all day, every day.

Engine number seven, one of over fifty steam engines of the Charted Company which operated the rolling stock of the Rhodesia Railways was appointed in permanent support of the track builders, and sat idle on the line, a thin wisp of black smoke rising from its coal fired boiler stack. Jack Tar as the engine was nick named was attached to eleven flat bed cars loaded with a variety of hardwood teak sleepers, a stock of heavy lengths of steel track, boxes of fixing irons, and three trucks of loose granite ballast that was used to pack the tracks.

Every afternoon the engine would steam away from the concentrated mass of human bodies swarming over the construction area of the track and steam its way south for the Wankie depot where it would marshal its wagons into loading zones, and hook up with freshly loaded wagons. Then each morning at the break of dawn the engine would steam northwards with fresh supplies, food and water for the workers. Without this support, it would have required ox drawn wagons to complete the task and after the out break of Rinderpest in Southern Africa had decimated ninety percent of the cattle stock in the region, this would not have been possible.

The concerted efforts and supreme efficiency of one of the finest group of track laying navies the African continent had seen resulted in mile after mile of track falling into place, edging its way ever nearer to their goal, and so it was that on the 19^th June 1904 the final bend in the line was laid and brought the track layers within sight of the Victoria Falls Station. The excitement had grown two days previously when a dull audible roar had become apparent as the team stopped to settle down for the night. At first everyone had put the rumble down to a distant thunderstorm, but as the thunder had remained constant, steady and continuous, realisation had dawned on the navies and engineers that it was the rumble of the distant waterfalls that they could hear. There was much jubilation upon the communication of this fact, and as the gang had toiled under the sun for the following few days, the distant rumble had steadily grown into a mighty roar as they approached the mighty Mosi O Tunya.

Word had gone back to the satellite station of the Rhodesia Railways office in Wankie, and on its arrival to the track laying team that morning, Jack Tar had been drawing an extra two passenger cars behind its cargo of precious rail stock filled with curious, interested staff of the railways. As the track layers had continued to hump steel into place, clerks, office juniors, contractors, security staff and a variety of other railway employee’s had struck out on foot towards the settlement and the billowing clouds of agitated mist that hung in the air like an opaque veil.

While the majority of the administration staff where excitedly discussing their adventure to lay eyes on the beauty of the seventh wonder of the world, Stephen Townsend was striding up to the station. A sturdy wooden structure, the tracks had already been laid in place awaiting its final link up by the coming navies. The freshly whitewashed building glared brightly against the intense green of the vegetation that surrounded the area. Behind the station large expanses of forest had been cleared and a neat store could be seen standing within a large perimeter fence.

Townsend was impressed. A collection of African labourers were working on a water tower structure at the far end of the storage yard, and in the distance he could make out the rising stack of a chimney that would point to the location of an electricity supply generator which would have been built to supply power to for the gorge winch system that would shortly be constructed.

He wondered around the station and yard examining things, and giving the encampment a cursory inspection. He exited the yard and strode to the end of the station and looked down the track lines towards the shanty town of wooden cabins that had been constructed down the line towards the Zambezi gorge.

Colin had done an outstanding job, and Stephen could only marvel at the concise and proper layout of everything that Colin and his team of builders had erected. Line after line of wooden sheds were standing ready for occupation by the army of steel workers due to descend on the encampment in the coming days. A variety of work stations had been erected on the south side of the track, the first of which was a sawmill located closest to the station, next to it a blacksmith, followed by a large open assembly area. From here large sections of steel super structure could be fabricated and easily winched up onto a waiting rail car for transportation down to the construction site.

A medical treatment cabin had been erected close to a large open clearing where later an army of tarpaulin tents would be erected to house the local labourers who would be brought to the site in their hundreds to help build the bridge. At the far end of the clearing a long line of latrines had been erected and a number of wash houses were in place as planned.

Off in the distance he could see the stables and paddocks and a number of animals out in open chewing on the green grass at their feet. Things were exactly as they had been discussed all those months ago in the board room of the Excelsior Hotel in Pretoria, South Africa. He glanced around wondering where the man who had made all this possible was. It was middle of the morning and as he considered it, Townsend realised that he’d only observed the one gang of builders working on the water tower.

He turned to make his way back to the station, spying the BSAP Outpost as he did, and wondered if anyone would be there. He wondered over to the small building, trying the handle on the door only to find it locked. Muttering in frustration and frowning at the apparent lack of life within the camp Townsend strode across the dusty platform into the yard.

“Where is Mr Mackenzie?” he shouted in the general direction of the five men working at the tower.

They paused in what they were doing looking nervously at each other, no one venturing to provide any sort of answer.

“Well come on,” he chided them. “Where is the man?”

“I believe he has gone to shooting master,” one of the labourers replied timidly.

“Gone shooting?” Townsend repeated in amazement. “He’s taken the whole bloody camp shooting?”

“Yes Sah,” another quipped.

“Hunting Sah. He knew you were to be arriving soon Sah,” said yet another one.

“Ahhhh,” Stephen acknowledged.

‘Well at least I’ll have a decent bloody meal tonight,’ he thought to himself.

“What are you doing here then?” he asked peering at the fixing the labourers were working on.

“Sah we are fitting a new off shut stop valve,” said the youngest of the workers, smiling proudly at the man.

“You’re fitting what?” Stephen asked frowning.

“This Sah,” said another of the gang holding up a shut off valve.

Stephen shook his head rolling his eyes. Trust the locals to make the simplest name of an item into some form of complex misinformation. “Right” he muttered. “When Mr Mackenzie gets back, tell him to come and find me.”

“Yes Sah,” the men chirped together. “Where will you be master?” the one asked.

“Laying the track,” Stephen replied turning on his heal and walking off.

The workers watched him disappear, walking into the distance before continuing to wrestle with the old valve in an attempt to get it off the feeder pipe to the water tank.

Stephen Townsend walked back to the track laying gang about three quarters of a mile off in the distance. Today would see that final yard of track laid to officially join Victoria Falls to the Cape to Cairo Red Line one whole day ahead of schedule.

……………………………….

Jacob was becoming paranoid that it would only be a matter of time before Philippe began to figure out that he was fixated by him. Since they’d first met, Jacob and Philippe had manufactured a strong bond, a relationship forged in steel, built on mutual respect, trust and Jacob’s constant obsession with being around this boy.

It was unnatural at its very least.

The more time that Philippe spent in Jacob’s company the more he became physically and mentally attracted to him. Not only was he the most amiable person to get along with, his clothing was personally tailored to fit and accentuated his shapely body in the most alluring ways.

Jacob had never suffered the pangs of attraction before. He’d always just assumed that it would be a young lady that would make him feel giddy in this way, but here he was lusting over a member of the same sex. It was the most frightening concept of his young life, yet while the idea of being with another man petrified him, he was strangely excited by the idea.

As he sat on the Number 51 express train charging across the country from Salisbury towards Bulawayo, he was thrilled by the magnificent form of manliness that sat opposite him. Philippe had his head cocked to one side, his eyes closed, gently rocking with the motion of the carriage. Jacob was not sure whether he was actually asleep or had just closed his eyes against the late afternoon glare that was streaming in through the window. It was to his advantage, as it had lit the features of that beautiful face, and he had become rock hard in his trousers as he sat there admiring Philippe’s face.

He could see the tiny details like the light freckles dusted over the boy’s nose, the short dark hairs where his eyebrows started and ended. He noticed a slight scar above his left eye, possibly from some adventure as a child. He saw the way his eyes flicked even while closed giving him the appearance of blinking in his sleep.

He was fascinated by this boy yet he was fearful of him too. What was this power that he had over him? How had he become so rapidly dependant on his company, and needy of his presence? It mystified him that he could even have these feelings about another man. He’d never head of such a thing, and never before had he looked at any of the boys in Darlington and thought of them as attractive.

He wished that Billy his best friend from school was with him so that he might confide in him and ask his advice. The fact that he was in a whole new world with no one to fall back on, and in a situation he knew nothing about frightened him. He was pretty certain that these feelings were wrong. He’d never seen two men cavorting like a man and woman would. Is that what he wanted to do? He studied the plump pink lips of the boy across the carriage and inadvertently let out a groan and he touched his hardened erection.

Alarmed he sat bolt upright, cursing at himself quietly. Hell if he did things like that in front of people he’d surely be caught. His only saving grace at this time seemed to be that Philippe seemed to be fast asleep and Mr Fleming had gone out to the dining car earlier. Lost in a world of dreams and imaginations Jacob turned his head to look out of the window.

His mind whirled. Perhaps he should write a missive to his Ma asking for her advice. No, the more he thought about the idea, the more convinced he became that talking to an adult about his predicament would herald a disaster. There was no way he could admit to having a fancy for another man to his Ma or Da. That would completely upset the apple cart. It was bad enough that he’d chosen to leave home and venture off across the globe on this expedition. To also break the news that their son was now some warped version of a normal man would be devastating for his parents.

No this was one situation that he would have to work out on his own. He had no idea where this relationship was taking him, but he mentally knew that he was walking on dangerous ground and he would need to be astute and take great care in protecting his feelings and keeping his thoughts tightly guarded. He chided himself once more for emitting that earlier groan. It would be actions like that that would give him away.

The landscape sped by as Bulawayo rushed towards them. The closer they got to Victoria Falls, the more the boys became excited about what lay ahead for them. It was granted that a lot of hard work lay before Jacob and the bridge building team, but he felt certain that there was to be a great wealth of adventure, experience and growing up to be done by them both. This really was turning into the adventure of a life time.

……………………..

It had been late in the afternoon when Colin had eventually returned to the settlement. He was mystified to hear the constant clanging of metal striking metal as he rode Blaze towards the stables.

‘What on earth could those idiots be striking with a hammer now?’ he wondered to himself.

He dismounted Blaze and passed the steed to a stable hand while shouting for Nyasha. It didn’t take long for Nyasha to come running, and he passed his gun and bullet belt to Nyasha instructing him to give them a good cleaning, and then set out towards the Station buildings.

As he approached, he became aware that it was not the sound of a single hammer striking steel, but many, and it was the sound of hammers striking steel spikes. That could mean only one thing.

He stepped out onto the track and was flabbergasted to see an engine sitting on track not more than fifty feet from the Victoria Falls Station.

The Red Line Railway had arrived.

Colin strode down the station track towards the cacophony of sound and bodies that manifest itself into a concentrated jumble of activity at the head of the train. Somewhere in or near that mass of action he knew he’d locate his boss Mr Townsend, and have to officially hand over management of the Victoria Falls Settlement to a higher authority.

His heart felt heavy in his chest as he approached the purring train. He had hoped that the track team would arrive behind schedule, allowing him a few more days with his precious Victoria Falls. More than ever he was determined now as he walked towards the approaching mass of labourers that he would make Victoria Falls his home. This was where he wanted to retire and live out his days, not that retirement was exactly what he was thinking about doing at this time, but he knew that this place was special and it had born within him a desperate desire to stay.

Stephen Townsend suddenly stepped out of the mass of bodies and noticed Colin approaching.

“Ah, Mackenzie, where the bloody hell have you been man? I’ve been waiting for you all day,” Stephen berated the man.

“I’ve been hunting Sir,” Colin replied. “We need meat for the ceremony.”

“Ah yes, that is a point,” Stephen agreed. “Did you receive the decorations for the station? I sent them by wagon two weeks ago.”

“Yes they arrived last Monday,” Colin agreed.

“Ah, well you are going to have to dress that station rather sharpish then Mr Mackenzie. The officials will be arriving tomorrow morning for the official ceremony.”

“Tomorrow?” Colin recoiled in surprise. He wondered how things could have been put in place so quickly. How had word already reached the Cape Province that the track laying team had reached the Victoria Falls Station?

“Indeed my good man,” Stephen smiled. “We sent a telegraph from Wankie yesterday morning to say we would reach the Falls ahead of schedule. When John Tar returned this morning it brought with it confirmation that the Flying Dutchman will be here tomorrow morning at some time.”

“Wankie already has the telegraph?” Colin asked in amazement.

“Yes lad. We are ahead of schedule in almost every way so far my man,” Stephen confirmed.

“Bloody hell,” Colin muttered under his breath.

“Do you have enough food and wine?” Stephen asked.

“It’s just as well I went hunting Sir, at least our guests will have fresh meat.” Colin nodded. “How many do we expect to come?”

“There are only five of them that I know of,” Stephen said. “I suspect it would be wise to cater for a few more. Better to be prepared than caught looking compromised my man, and bare in mind that Pauling has his lot eat enough food for three men each!” he pointed out.

“I’d best snap into action Sir. Do you need me for anything?” Colin asked.

“No, no, we are fine here thank you,” Stephen replied ushering Colin to go with his hand. “We will be finished with this track within an hour I am sure,” he stated.

“Thank you sir, I will be at the station,” Colin said turning to leave.

“Right fine,” Stephen said. As an after thought he called out.”Oh Colin.”

Colin turned looking over his shoulder. “Yes Sir?”

“Well done on the camp lad. It looks like you’ve done a marvellous job my man!”

Colin smiled and set off for the station. He felt a tinge of pride twinkle in his stomach, as if he’d released a butterfly within his organs. It felt good.

With a spring in his step and a whistle on his lips he approached the station, yelling for Simba as he went. They spent the rest of that afternoon and into the evening decorating the station with a variety of cotton bunting, streamers, flower pots and then erected a flag post.

Three cooks worked like mad men, whipping up a storm in the cook houses preparing a wild boar, a joint of hung beef, fresh bread, and boiled potatoes in a herb dressing. Along with a variety of fruit it was all packed into picnic hampers as they were pretty sure that the guests would want to visit the falls.

Horses were brought into the stables and groomed and prepared, the BSAP contingent that had arrived in camp a few days before polished their uniforms and instruments as they prepared to provide music for the occasion.

By nine o’clock in the morning everything was ready. Colin excused himself and went off to his cabin where Nyasha had prepared a hot bath in the tin tub for him. He stripped off and quickly jumped into the warm water, allowing Nyasha to soap him up and lather his body with his hands.

He loved this feeling. Getting clean was always a great feeling, but being cleaned by the man he loved to take pleasure from was a special treat that he basked in as he leaned back, allowing Nyasha access to his legs, lower stomach and crotch. It didn’t take much for him to stiffen, and he could feel that familiar desire and lust rising up within him, but he knew he had little time this morning.

“Suck it,” he instructed Nyasha.

The man instantly dropped to his hands and knees and moved his head to bob up and down on Colin’s inflamed member.

“That’s it boy,” Colin murmured. “Do it harder…. Faster.”

Nyasha increased his speed, plunging downwards and then rising up quickly as he salivated around the hard penis in his mouth. His tongue flicked around the tip causing Colin to gasp in pleasure as he reached out and put his hand on Nyasha’s head guiding him up and down at a pace that suited him.

It didn’t take long. When the agony of climax overtook Colin he shuddered, water splashing out of the tub onto the floor, his hand driving Nyasha’s head down on his ejaculating penis, emptying the contents of his testicals into Nyahsa’s mouth.

“Lord that was fantastic boy,” he breathed relaxing back into the tub, his energy temporarily spent.

Nyasha set about mopping up the spilt water, and then scrubbed Colin’s back for him. Washed, cleaned and thoroughly satisfied Colin stood and let Nyasha dry his body and then dressed into a smart checked suit with a white shirt. He did not wear a tie, choosing to leave his collar open.

He walked out of the cabin and made his way to the station where others had started to congregate. Mr Townsend was already there talking with a Master at Arms from the BASP contingent, dressed in a very fetching dark suite with a white shirt and dark tie.

‘He cleans up well,’ Colin thought to himself.

A number of the engineers had dressed up and were milling around in front of the station idly chatting. Colin pulled his pocket watch out of his coat and flipped open the lid to check the time. Nine fifty five in the morning he read. It wouldn’t be long now and as if to confirm this he heard a piercing blast echo from a distant train’s whistle signalling the approach of the official first train to the Victoria Falls Station, Southern Rhodesia.

…………………………

On the 20^th June 1904 the 7^th Class Number 43 engine of The Rhodesia Railways Company pulled into the Victoria Falls Station at ten o’clock in the morning. It was a chilly Monday morning; the sun was shining brightly reflecting off the highly polished gloss black of the newly built locomotive steam engine received from the North British Locomotive Co. the largest locomotive manufacturer in Europe at the time based in Glasgow. Delivery of this engine was taken in the December of 1903 and “The Flying Dutchman” as it was named was the pride and joy of the Rhodesian Railways Company. Modern, sleek and sophisticated the engine was the first to arrive in an official capacity at the station carrying the staff and visiting delegates of the British Colonial Office and the British South Africa Company whose board of Directors were responsible for overseeing the administration of the newly formed Rhodesian colony and to whom the duty fell to officially declare the Wankie to Victoria Falls line open for operation.

A ceremonial brass band of the British South African Police Force was in full swing as the doors of the carriages were swung open by the Station Master and porters of the Victoria Falls Station. The Honourable Alfred Lyttelton, Secretary of State for the Colonies and Mr Alfred Beit, Director of the British South Africa Company and one of the principle trustees of the company since the death of Cecil Rhodes in 1902 alighted from the train.

The men stood admiring the fledgling station adorned in red white and blue bunting. A Union Jack flew prominently from high on a flag post at the head of the stations longest platform, and the BSAP Brass Band dressed in their smartest white dress uniforms with golden braiding and buttons looked the part lined up in formation at the base of the flag as they played the national anthem.

On the platform George and Harry Pauling were in attendance. George Pauling a stout, portly man was in cheerful spirits, happily revelling in the tumultuous praise lavished on him by Alfred Beit for reaching Victoria Falls ahead of schedule. Slightly behind the two Pauling brothers was Alfred Lawley the manager of the Beira and Mashonaland Railway Company and A.M. Moore the chief engineer of the Cape to Cairo Red Line and slightly behind these two men stood Stephen Townsend and Colin Mackenzie.

A collection of navies, builders and engineers had assembled on the stairs up to the station and on the ground surrounding the station a multitude of indigenous African and Asian labourers had gathered to wish the official visitors well. After congratulations were passed and a speech of dedication presented by the Secretary of State the station was officially opened to a cheer of appreciation from the crowd. For the majority of the men stood around the quaint railway building that morning, the declaration marked the beginning of a two week holiday, a thing of bliss to each and every man.

Mr Lyttelton an athletic man chose to accompany Colin and a few of the engineers on a horse ride to view the falls, while Alfred Beit an elderly man at this time, elected to return to his carriage and enjoy a magnum of Champaign with a few chosen engineers who would be able to enjoy the scenery of the falls at their leisure after his departure.

The sight seers returned to the train in the early afternoon after having spent a magnificent lunch time picnicking overlooking the most awe inspiring view in the world. The food had been wonderful, the wine superb, the view majestic and all in the company of some of the finest men of Her Majesties realm as far as each of them were concerned.

With hearts soaring, and contented smiles the men boarded the Flying Dutchman and departed Victoria Falls for the long trip back to Cape Town. The ceremonies over, everyone left standing on the platform that afternoon knew it was now that the real work began.