Building The Bridge - 7. Chapter 7 - Building a Blondin

The 51 express train began to slow. It was early morning and the passengers had not long risen from a somewhat restful slumber on leather bound sleeper beds within each compartment aboard the carriage. The two young adventures had elected not to sleep, allowing their excitement and enthusiasm of each others company to keep them stimulated and awake as the train steamed through the night.

Now as Bulawayo approached, both Jacob and Philippe could feel the anticipation of their new lives in Africa beating a steady rhythm in their hearts. Bulawayo in 1904 was still a central hub of colonial operations for the African sub continent, and everything that made its way northwards passed through Bulawayo.

Since the arrival of the railway in 1897 the fortunes of Bulawayo had changed substantially, and now a firmly established commercial centre, Bulawayo was regarded as an important staging post for the development of the Rhodesian frontier.

As the mighty black locomotive pulled into the Bulawayo Central Station, its passengers were met by a thriving, modern city, boasting wide open vistas, substantial commercial buildings and posh residential housing. The business district was marked by the Central Market which dominated the town, and was home to a myriad of traders selling every kind of merchandise that a colonialist might need.

The roads leading from the market ran in regular lines north, south, east and west. Those going east and west were called avenues and were numbered, while those running north and south were called streets and were named. Through the centre of the Market Square ran Rhodes Street which was home to many handsome public and private business buildings.

In front of the stock exchange stood a monument in memory of two hundred and fifty seven settlers that had been killed in the Matebele rebellion of 1896, and at the junction of the two principal streets through the town stood a colossal bronze statue of Cecil Rhodes.

Douglas Fleming had acquired a horse and trap from outside of the station and they set out from the southwest quarter of the city, passing the water works and electric supply station on their way into town. The boys were fascinated by the Dutch influenced architecture on display on many of the buildings throughout the town, and the wide open streets neatly lined with foot paths and grass verges.

They travelled along Main Street for what seemed an age before passing by the most expansive mansion either of the boys had ever seen. Government House which was actually built on the site of the African King Lobengula’s royal kraal stood proudly surrounded by lush green gardens, enclosed by a white washed stone wall. A huge tree which had once been the seat from which the African Chieftain had passed judgement during court stood proudly on the approach to the sprawling front promenade flanked by a collection of towering pillars. The magnificent grandeur of the residence was overpowering and it was difficult for young Jacob to believe that anyone could warrant living in such opulence enjoying an extravagant lifestyle.

The carriage trotted along, and soon they found themselves passing a large botanical garden lying on the eastern side of the city, passing eventually into a quiet leafy suburb that enjoyed large urban homesteads set out in neat lines with large gardens, some of which were manicured and kept to a remarkable standard. These were the homes of wealthy merchants, town folk and traders that had made their fortunes in the times when Bulawayo had been a rough and tumble town of transport riders, trading and hauling all manner of goods throughout the rapidly expanding colony.

They finally came to a halt outside a house that stood midway along a long street lined on either side by dozens of Jacaranda trees. The house was a medium brick building unlike some of the larger more grand residences closer to town. It was built on a single level, and enjoyed wide open windows allowing the weak winter sunlight into the dwelling, giving it a bright, welcoming air.

Both boys alighted from the carriage and made their way into what was to become the Imbault’s African residence. They were greeted at the door by a smiling Henrietta Imbault who was delighted to see her son at last. She was clutching onto a sleeping young baby who was snuggled in a white knitted blanket against the early morning chill. Philippe eagerly wrapped his mother in a tender hug, and rapidly began conversing with her in their native French tongue. Jacob just stood by quietly watching them, not understanding a thing.

Alerted by the noise at the front door, Georges Imbault, Philippe’s father entered into the family room and smiled broadly at his son.

“Philippe, mon fils, ma maison beinvenue,” he called, reaching out to embrace he’s grinning son.

“Papa,” Philippe called excitedly.

The whole family conversed for a moment, temporarily forgetting Jacob’s existence, not that he minded. It was a welcome home for their oldest son, probably the first time that they had been apart in such a manner as a family. Jacob was sure that if it were his parents, the scene would indeed be similar in intensity.

Turning to attend to his guests as Douglas struggled into the door lugging the two trunks the boys had forgotten on the carriage, Georges welcomed the men warmly to his new home.

“You are welcome, thank you so much for accompanying my son,” he said to Douglas who straightened up to shake his hand.

“Sir it has been my pleasure.” Douglas smiled. “I am only glad that young Jacob here recovered sufficiently to travel so quickly.”

“Indeed, you look remarkably fitter Jacob,” Georges smiled, taking the boy by the shoulder and herding him into the family room.

“Thank you Sir,” Jacob replied. “And thank you for your kindness in allowing Philippe to remain with me while I was in the infirmary.”

Georges laughed, “I am certain that his determination to attend to you would not have permitted me to convince him otherwise. I am only glad that the two of you are home safely. You must stay with us until we are ready to depart for Victoria Falls.”

“Are we not travelling yet then Sir?” Jacob asked.

“No not as yet my boy, there is much work to be undertaken before the site is yet ready for all you bridge builders.”

Jacob frowned not knowing quite what to think. He had been certain he was going to be late to arrive on site and find construction in full swing, so while perplexed at the news he was hearing, he also felt a mild relief to know that he would not be late to attend to his duties.

“Do you know when we depart then sir?” Jacob asked.

“Not exactly jeune homme, it will be a few weeks yet while they build the cable crossing system.” Georges explained.

“Oh right,” said Jacob. “So where are the steel men Sir?”

“They have been roomed at the Ambassador Hotel in town for now Jacob. Do you wish to join them?” asked Georges.

Before Jacob could answer, Philippe interjected. “Non papa, can he not stay here with us? I must observe he eats properly and continues to improve his strength,” he pleaded.

Georges roared a hearty laugh, his son flushing crimson in sudden embarrassment. “Philippe, Jacob is not a pet to be pampered,” he intoned.

Philippe frowned berating his father in French. He had an indignant look on his face which only made him appear even more attractive to Jacob as he watched the confrontation between the boy and his father.

Georges only laughed harder at his son’s insistence that he should look after Jacob. He was highly amused that this whole new nurturing side of his son’s character had emerged, and he wondered what might have inspired it. Still chuckling, he turned to Jacob and said, “My son is convinced that you still need he undivided attention Jacob.” His accent was thick as he chortled. “You should be honoured; I have never known my son to be so focused nor attentive before.”

Jacob suddenly felt very self conscious. “Please I beg your pardon Sir, I did not mean for him to pay me so much heed,” Jacob said shyly.

Georges laughed once more, sensing Jacob’s discomfort. “My boy, do not fear my retort, I am merely pointing out that my son thinks highly of you, and wishes to ensure your health is restored.”

“I am grateful for his concern Sir,” Jacob said mater-of-factly. “As it is I am much better and feel much recovered now I have been on dry land a time. I am sure I am not far from fully fit once more Sir.”

Georges smiled warmly. “Never the less Jacob, we have more than enough room, and I insist that you consider our invitation to stay with us until we depart for Victoria Falls. We would all do well with your company.”

Jacob stood there looking from father to son and back again, uncertain of what to make of either of them in that moment. He knew that he didn’t particularly fancy being away from the boy he had grown to appreciate in more ways than one, but at the same time, he didn’t want to be thought of as weak or incapable.

Georges could see his uncertainty and Philippe must have sensed his hesitation too, as he stepped closer to Jacob’s side and turned to look at his father, his eyes imploring the man to make him stay.

“You would be helping me greatly if you chose to stay Jacob, you are aware that my wife is not well, and I must accompany her to the doctors, as well as meet my other commitments while I am still in the city. Your presence will be good for both Philippe and Marcel his younger brother while we are so busy, if it is not too much of me to ask?”

Jacob looked between the two once more and sensed that while Georges had been amused by his son’s desire to help him, there was no malice or intent in his mirth, and that his request was indeed genuine. He glanced at Philippe who looked just as intent on encouraging Jacob to agree to stay, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

He smiled to himself, his heart doing a flip as he looked into those wonderful eyes that Philippe had. “Very well, as long as my foreman does not need me to stay at the hotel, I would be grateful to accept your invitation to stay here Sir,” he said to Georges.

“I will have a word with your foreman and explain my circumstances and my request. I am sure he will oblige me this one favour,” Georges smiled as Philippe literally squealed and jumped into his father’s arms.

“Take your trunks into the room at the very back of the house, that will be the room that you will share,” Georges instructed them.

The boys promptly jumped to fulfil his biding, lifting the two black containers between them and lugging them down the parquet tiled hallway towards the rear of the house. Georges approached his wife who was chatting with Douglas about the train ride from Salisbury and how they were settling down in Bulawayo. They both thanked him for his diligence in accompanying the boys on the trip and offered for him to stay with them until his train returned to Salisbury later in the week. Douglas respectfully declined their offer, explaining he had assignments to complete on behalf of the Consul and he took his leave.

“It would seem our son has become very attached to young Jacob,” Georges commented to his wife as they sat down in the parlour.

“It is normal for young boys to establish such friendships at this age Georges, I am glad he has been able to distract himself so well during this treacherous change of life style my love.”

Georges shrugged. “You are not wrong,” he agreed contemplating his own friendships as a younger man.

“Jacob is a polite and decent enough young man,” Henrietta pointed out. “We should be grateful he is of good stock. It might have been worse if it had been a ruffian that Philippe had met!”

Georges nodded. “I am inclined to agree, and I have seen a great change in the boy since he took on the duty of care for Jacob.”

“Indeed, his compassion and character have shone through in ways I am so proud of,” said Henrietta.

Georges smiled. They could both be proud of their eldest son. He was growing up to be a fine young man.

…………………

Late in June 1904 a variety of tooling and cable began to make its way to the Victoria Falls depot. As the equipment began to stock pile in the storage yards, a team of engineers arrived on site, and began to cast two massive foundation blocks on the site of the proposed bridge crossing.

These foundation blocks were carefully placed in direct bedrock, adding to the structural strength that the holding structure would require. A huge pulley system was assembled on a gearbox mechanism that would be the main working winch for the cable crossing that would span the gorge, enabling the workers to transport material for construction of the bridge out to workers as they closed the arch of the bridge, while also traversing equipment and rail stock across the bridge to facilitate the forward push of the railway line.

A five tonne steel cable consisting of nineteen steel wires spun around a hemp core would span the six hundred and fifty feet across the chasm. Crossing the gorge was not a simple task at all. A team of settlers whom had struck out from Salisbury some nine months earlier had crossed the Zambezi River in the low season trekking overland to the Victoria Falls to establish Livingstone, a settlement that would take shape on the Northern Rhodesian side of the falls.

The team had arrived on site in early May and had worked on establishing the settlement of Livingstone as planned. In June they made contact with the engineers on the Southern side of the gorge and now preparations were underway to erect a steel tower on the Northern bank of the gorge to which the steel cable would be attached. The thirty six foot high tower was secured in place by a tangle of over sixteen guy ropes that would take the strain of the weight of the cable once it was secured to the fittings and suspend over the gorge.

While work was taking place on the tower on the north bank, construction of two eighty foot long sheer legs hinged to massive flanges set in the huge foundation plates that had been embedded in the concrete slabs was being undertaken. Once these legs were ready, the two teams grouped on the edges of the gorge that divided them, and a rocket was fired from one side to the other carrying a light cord with it. This cord in turn pulled a rope across the gorge, to which was attached a steel wire. Once the wire had reached the northern bank it was fed into a steam winch which pulled the massive cable across the gash in the earths crust.

Once the cable was finally secured on the northern tower, the two sheer-legs were set at a forty five degree angle away from the gorge and on the top of this enormous jib was suspended a counterweight of sixty tons which pulled the cable taut thus successfully spanning across the raging torrent over three hundred and fifty foot below.

This marvel of ingenuity referred to at the Blondin Cable spanned a full eight hundred and seventy feet across the gorge meaning that the conveyor which was suspended from the cable could carry loads of up to ten tons at a time across the river, and could be safely loaded and unloaded at loading platforms built away from the gorge’s edge. The conveyor was operated on an electrical winch, the power supplied from the generator built by Colin Mackenzie earlier in the year.

On completion of the construction of the Blondin Cable in late July, the engineering team responsible for construction of the foundation blocks for the bridge itself were allowed to access the site, and so it was that building the bridge itself finally began in July 1904.

……………………………

Five men sat around the dark Okovango ironwood desk in the Boardroom of the British South Africa Company offices in Bulawayo. Their looks were serious, the mood sombre as they plotted and argued the pro’s and con’s of the race to reach Kapiri Mposhi.

“I don’t care how many men it requires,” barked a frowning Alfred Beit. “Every day the track lingers in Victoria Falls we continue to haemorrhage money!”

“I accept that it is costly, but what alternatives do we have?” asked an exasperated George Pauling.

“We cannot go around the gorge to follow the coach trail Sir, it would be counter productive and even more costly,” pointed out Harry Pauling, Georges brother.

“Send equipment over the gorge via this steel rope contraption you have constructed,” growled Beit.

“I still do not agree that we can utilise the Blondin Cable to press forward with construction of the line Alfred,” said Stephen Townsend.

“And why is that?” snapped Alfred Beit, frowning at Stephen. He did not like to be contradicted.

“Sir with all due respect, I do not believe that the line is designed to cope with such a constant stream of stress and strain. You are talking about thousands of tones of supplies being tracked across a span designed to build a bridge, not a railway.”

“Well why have we spent all this bloody money building this contraption if now you are telling us that we cannot use it to its maximum potential?” fired Beit.

Stephen closed his eyes and grimaced. The men around the table all watched him as he struggled with his emotions. He felt like screaming. It was typical of this project for any opportunity to be used to push forward and squeeze the schedule just a little bit more to be pounced on, and now that the Blondin Cable had been completed, this was exactly what was happening.

The meeting had been called by Alfred Beit, who was frustrated with the idea that the track laying teams would be stranded on the Southern Rhodesian side of the gorge awaiting completion of the bridge in order to continue with the push northwards. In his mind, the cable was just another tool that allowed for the continuation of the work that needed to be done, and the team building the bridge would just have to share the capacity of the Blondin mechanism.

“We cannot afford the loss of the cable sir,” Stephen tried to explain. “If we over stretch the capacity of the line and the cable should snap you can say good bye to the deadline for completion of the bridge.”

The men around the table were quiet as they contemplated this revelation.

“The bridge schedule cannot fall behind,” George Pauling stated.

It was a fact that everyone was only too aware of. The fact of the matter was that staff from the Cleveland Bridge Company were contracted through till March of 1905 and any delay would spell a financial disaster for the project.

“I cannot fathom why it would be so risky to use a line that you tell me is built to withstand two hundred and seventy tons of weight,” snapped Beit.

“The cable has a breaking strain of two hundred and seventy tons Sir. That does not mean that it can carry that amount of load indefinitely. The more we carry across the gorge, the more risk we put on having a snap in the line,” explained Stephen.

“Well put a bigger line on the system then,” suggested Beit.

Stephen rolled his eyes and suppressed a sigh. This man was incorrigible to convince and determined to get his way. ‘I suppose it is this stubborn approach to succeeding without care or consideration of the consequences is what makes you rich,’ he thought to himself.

A thick French accent broke into the conversation for the first time. Georges Imbault who’d been sitting quietly listening to the exchanges finally spoke up.

“It will work,” he said simply.

Every eye in the room turned to look at him.

“Yes, I am sure of it,” he nodded. “We can use the Blondin in this way. There is only one requisition upon which I insist.”

There was silence as four individuals hung on every word the man said. He looked from face to face before he finished his thought. “We must have a stand by cable in Victoria Falls before any of the track materials are conveyed to the other side.”

George and Harry Pauling looked at each other knowing the answer that would be coming. Stephen frowned and then scowled at Georges, knowing that his dream of being the first man to walk across the Victoria Falls Bridge would be shattered as he was reassigned to track laying on the Northern Rhodesia line. Alfred Beit smiled, looking directly at the French engineer tasked with constructing the bridge. “Consider it done,” he said a satisfied expression on his face.

…………………………..

Night had fallen and after a hearty meal, Jacob and Philippe had retired to their room to prepare for bed. Both of the boys were tired and wary from the long train rides and their decision to remain awake through the previous night.

As they reached their room, Jacob could feel his legs beginning to tremble. He knew that at some stage by sharing a room with this perfect specimen of manhood that he would observe far more flesh than he felt he could handle. In fact Jacob was almost certain that it would happen tonight as they were changing to get into bed, and it was for this very reason that a feeling of trepidation had taken hold in him.

While every part of him screamed with desire to see this boy naked, a large part of him was petrified of witnessing it. He honestly did not know what to expect, and he was troubled by the fact that he really seemed unable to control these feelings. The fact that he lusted after a man’s body also troubled him, but he couldn’t help it, Philippe was just so lovely to look at.

Philippe placed the lantern on the centre table between the two single beds and turned to look at Jacob.

“Did you enjoy your meal Jake?” he asked.

“Oh yes indeed, I ate more than I should have Philippe. You are trying to make me fat I swear it,” he chuckled.

“Non, non,” cried Philippe. “A fat Jake would not be acceptable I think.”

Jacob burst out laughing. “Well I am sure that you won’t have to worry about me getting too fat too soon. I have far too much work to do on the bridge that will stop me getting a lard arse!”

Philippe gawfed. He was not accustomed to the use of vulgar language, and while Jacob didn’t cuss often, there were a fair few words that he used which amused the boy greatly.

“I do like it when you speak so dirty Jacob,” he said.

Jacob blushed and shyly turned to his trunk where he retrieved a night shirt. He proceeded to strip down, aware that he could feel a pair of eyes boring into his skull. He pealed off his shirt, and hesitated as he played with the buttons of his britches. He knew that Philippe was watching him, and that thought had suddenly made him incredibly self conscious. What if he didn’t like his body? What if he thought he was too ugly? Why was he even worried about any of this?

He shook his head, and quickly dropped his trousers and under garments, standing totally naked and exposed for a moment while he shrugged into his night shirt. Once he had donned the shirt and pulled it straight, he folded his clothing and placed it neatly into his trunk, closed the lid and turned to sit on his bed.

Philippe was staring at him, his mouth hanging open, a lost look on his face. Jacob could not read his expression, and didn’t know what to say. He smiled shyly and looked down at his feet.

“Mon dieu,” Philippe murmured.

“What is wrong?” Jacob asked not understanding.

“Nothing my friend,” Philippe assured him. “Nothing is wrong, actually everything is perfect.”

Philippe cracked a coy smile and stood up to change. It was Jacob’s turn to be transfixed as the boy slowly stripped down to being totally naked. Unlike Jacob, Philippe had not searched out a night shirt prior to removing his clothing, so without a piece of clothing, he squatted down and hunted through his things till he found what he was looking for.

“Ha, found it,” he grinned as he stood up facing Jacob.

Jacob was smitten. If he’d thought that Philippe was perfection before, he was even more convinced that this was the perfect mould of manhood inspired by God himself. Philippe was the epitome of what every man should look like. Lean and well filled, with naturally lightly tanned skin. His chest displayed definition without being overbearing, his stomach flat and sporting a thin strip of hair that dropped from his navel to the thick bush that clung to his groin. There hung a healthy looking length of manliness which sat proudly above the firmly built thighs that ran down his legs. The cheeks of his buttocks were perfectly dimpled and when he crouched down it was evident that he was as hairy between his cheeks as he was above his member.

Philippe pulled his shirt over his head and covered his nakedness. He looked Jacob directly in the eye and they held each others gaze for a moment, breathless. Jacob looked down a fierce blush radiating to his cheeks. Philippe smiled and sat down on his bed.

Jacob suddenly became very aware of a wet spot on his night shirt, and he glanced up at Philippe, terrified he might have seen it. He moved his hand to cover the spot as he realised that Philippe was looking right at him still, and it was very possible that he may well have seen the spot, or it may well be that the shadows cast by the flickering of the lantern might have made the spot appear as nothing more than a shadow falling on his shirt.

With burning cheeks, he stood up, spun around and lifted the blanket from the pillows on his bed. He speedily climbed into the safety of his blankets and sat there watching as Philippe prepared his bed.

“Are you comfortable Jacob?” Philippe asked him.

“Yes thank you,” he gasped.

Philippe smiled. He had noted the exchanged observation as each of them had changed, and now noticed the husky quality of his friend’s voice. “Ah, this is good,” he said grinning.

Jacob nodded and smiled weakly. “I am so tired. I am going to retire for the night Philippe. Thank you for everything.”

“I agree, I should put out the lantern now and we can meet when we awaken in the morning Jake.”

Jacob nodded his approval of this idea, and Philippe blew out the lantern. Darkness descended on the room, and Jacob listened as Philippe climbed into his bed.

“Good night Philippe.”

“Good night mon ami,” Philippe replied.

Jacob lay in his bed for the longest time, quietly listening to the quiet breathing next to him. The noises of the night and the sounds of the house were all new and mysterious to him, but it was the presence of the boy in the bed next to him that kept him awake.

He slowly began to rub his engorged manhood which was still pulsating insistently. He had never experienced desire like this and it scared him in some ways. The confusion he felt about his feelings towards another male troubled him, but he could not help his attraction to this boy.

His breathing had become ragged, and he was caught up in a whirl wind of feelings as sensations concentrated themselves deep within his groin. He tensed and suddenly felt the powerful release as the waves of orgasm flooded over him. His breath caught in his throat, and he quivered as thick ropes of seamen flooded into his night shirt. He fell back against his pillows when the eruption subsided and the intense feeling of pleasure abated.

This only served to confirm to Jacob that he was obsessed over Philippe, and this realisation only served to deepen his worry further. Quietly he lay there wondering what to do, a tear rolling slowly down his cheek.

………………………….

“Everything is dismantled and ready for conveyance Sah,” Simba announced.

Colin spun around to check the various parts of the locomotive lined up ready for placing in the conveyor cart on the Blondin Cable. Jack Tar had been pulled apart and would be taken across the gorge to act in support of the track laying team that had departed from the camp three weeks before. As they began to get further inland from Livingstone, the need for the support system for the line had meant that it would be necessary to transfer the locomotive to the northern side of the gorge.

Aside from the two days when the construction engineers had undertaken blasting of rock outcrops for the foundations, the cable operators had been transferring material in a constant stream, managing to get up to two hundred tons of rail stock across the gorge most days. While the cable was not required constantly as yet for the construction of the bridge, focus was placed on transferring as much rail stock as possible, so that when construction did begin, the reduced supply of rail laying materials did not impact too heavily on the track laying team. The advantage of this meant that the operating team would be well experienced in operating the Blondin Cable and its conveyor by the time the bridge construction began.

The construction of the Blondin Cable had turned out to be a blessing in disguise for Colin. Initially he’d been tasked to establishing the base camp at Livingstone, much in the same vain as the Victoria Falls encampment, but on a slightly smaller scale, as the camp would only need to support the track laying teams going north. However, when Stephen Townsend had been reassigned to the track laying team, Colin was pulled back to act as the Victoria Falls settlement manager.

This had been an answer to prayer. Not that Colin was a religious man, but he did believe that in some way someone must have been looking out for him. He stood contentedly watching as the fourth load of locomotive parts zipped its way across the gorge. One more load, the most challenging, and then he could retire for the day and spend some quality time with Nyasha.

He turned to check on preparations for the conveyance of the boiler section of the locomotive. It was the biggest part of the train to go over the gorge, and it would be hooked to the conveyor via four steel cables that had been bolted to lug heads on the body of the tank. He knew that the extra weight of the boiler would put pressure on the line, but he was confident that there would be no major issues. Its weight was well below the breaking strain of the line, and it had been balanced out by the disassembly process which would mean that there was no uneven strain on the cable during the crossing.

The Blondin Cable began to zing again as the conveyor began its traverse back across the gorge. The metallic strands of the cable would resonate creating a loud pitch as the conveyor ran along the cable, a noise that after a while could really begin to annoy you. Colin cringed as the whine ate through his mentality.

“We are ready Sah,” Simba called as the whine of the cable came to an abrupt end as the conveyor cart made it to the loading station.

“Right unhook the cart and let’s get this lump of steel hooked to the couplings Simba,” Colin instructed.

“Yes Sah.”

The labourers scurried to remove the shackles that locked the cart into place and locate the four couplings on the ends of the cables attaching the boiler to the head of the conveyor. It took a while to lock the bolts in place and check each fitting to make sure it was correctly attached to the conveyor.

When it was ready, the message was passed to the wheel house, and the slack was taken up by the winch on the other side. The counter weights were engaged and the Blondin Cable became taught, lifting the boiler ever so slightly off the ground. Colin frowned. By his calculations the cargo should have raised at least a foot if not more off the ground on application of the counter weight.

He was about to call for a halt to proceedings, when the winch on the north side engaged giving the boiler a tug. Slowly the monstrous lump of steel swung forward and began to roll on its way across the mighty Zambezi gorge. Colin held his breath, wondering if he had worked this out right.

It only took a matter of moments, as the weight of the cargo picked up speed and moved further out onto the cable. Suddenly the weight became too much for the taut line to bear, and it sagged, dipping the boiler into a run away plunge along the line. The cable screamed as the conveyor tore towards the centre of the gorge, dropping lower and lower into the chasm as it rocketed out of control.

Everyone stood looking on in horror, imagining the worst. Visions of a boiler snapping the cable and plunging hundreds of feet into the swirling green waters of the Zambezi below flew through Colin’s mind, and he felt physically sick. His legs began to shake and he sank to his knees as he watched the heavy load swinging wildly in a dizzying spiral as it reached the middle of the gorge.

As the boiler reached the lowest point in its downward pitch, the cable was sagging badly under the weight of the boiler. Surprisingly however the cable did not snap and the conveyor and its spinning cargo slowed as it rose up the opposite incline of drooping cable. Colin let out an audible groan of relief combined with his feelings of the frustration of failure. Staring out at the bobbing boiler dangling some thirty to forty feet below the lip of the gorge, unable to progress neither back up the line to the south bank nor up the opposite side, he knew the humiliation of this disaster would fall directly at his feet.

Cursing under his breath he spun around and screamed for the winch to be disengaged. Simba appeared running towards Colin as he looked around him, searching for a solution, some inspiration that would give him an idea that would rescue the stricken boiler from its trap hanging in the gorge.

“Sah, Mr Giles has sent me to call you Sah. He has an idea,” panted Simba breathlessly.

“Where the hell is he?” snapped Colin.

“He’s at the winch house Sah,” Simba replied.

Colin stormed off in the direction of the winch station in search of Edwin Giles, the Blondin operator. It made sense that if there was someone who was going to figure out how to retrieve the boiler; it was going to be him.

“Well, well Mr Mackenzie,” Edwin said as he met Colin at the door of the winch house. “I never thought I’d see the cable pushed to these limits I must be honest. What were you thinking?”

“I hadn’t expected such a devastating sag in the line Giles,” Colin snapped.

Edwin Giles looked at the man with incredulity, shaking his head in amazement. “We are here to run the Blondin Cable for a reason Mr Mackenzie,” Edwin remonstrated. “I do this for a living. Just ask, I will tell you the cables limits.”

“Well I figured that the breaking strain would compensate any stretch in the line Edwin. I was wrong, wasn’t I?” Colin said looking bemused.

“Aye Mr Mackenzie, that you were. The sag in the cable is offset by the counter weights. If we add to the counter weights we will raise the line and thus be able to deliver the load.”

“It’s as easy as that?” Colin asked.

“In theory it is Sir. Now we are about to discover if in practice it is so,” Edwin replied with a twinkle in his eye.

For Edwin this is what he lived for. Pushing things to the limit thrilled him, and he was always seeking to discover new capabilities for the tools and equipment he worked with. However for Colin this nightmare couldn’t end quickly enough.

Manpower was summoned and directed to use railway ballast to increase the weight of the counter balances applying torque to the line. Slowly as the weight crept up, the line was stretched and the heavy load inched its way upwards out of its precarious dangle into the gorge. Over a period of about three hours the labourers toiled to transfer stone chippings into bins that were added to the counter weights on the sheer legs. While work was underway to stretch the cable, additional measures were undertaken to increase the power of the winch by tweaking the safety valve on the steam cylinder which increased the steam pressure applied to the piston and gave the pulleys more power to haul the huge weight up the now reduced incline of the cable.

Finally four hours after the ill fated boiler had plunged into the gorge; it was finally winched up onto the landing station on the northern bank of the gorge, completing the heaviest transfer that was ever undertaken by the Blondin Cable at Victoria Falls. While the cable remained in full service throughout the building program and the spare cable was never needed, it was learned that day that without careful preparation and dialogue between the different contractors, disaster could strike quickly in this dangerous undertaking they were all working on.