William Monk 15 - Dark Assassin

not much rain, but it’s drippin’ quite a bit, all the same. ’Ow long d’yer reckon it’ll take some o’ that wood ter rot?”
    Mrs. Collard glanced from one to the other of them, then told Essie to go outside and play.
    “They’re movin’ too fast for it ter matter,” Collard answered. “In’t the wood rottin’ as is the trouble, it’s them bleedin’ great machines shakin’ everythin’ ter bits. Does it even more if they in’t tied down like they should be. Only Gawd ’isself knows what’s shiftin’ around underneath them bleedin’ great things.”
    “Tied down?” Hester asked quickly. “Aren’t they dug in?”
    “Staked,” he answered. “But they shake loose if yer don’t do ’em real ’ard an’ careful, miss. Them machines is stronger than all the ’orses yer ever seen. Stakes look tight ter begin wi’, but arter an hour or two they in’t. Yer need ter move the ’ole engine a dozen yards or so ter fresh ground an’ start over. But that takes time. Means that—”
    “I understand,” she said quickly. “They’re losing loads going up and down when they take up the bolts and move the machine, then stake it and start it up again. And the more firmly they bolt it, the longer it takes to move it.”
    “Yeah, that’s right.” Collard looked slightly taken aback that she had grasped the point so quickly.
    “Don’t all companies work the same way?” she said.
    “Most,” he agreed. “Some’s more careful, some’s less. Couldn’t all get engines the same. But more’n that, the earth in’t the same from one place ter ’nother. If yer ever dug it yerself, you know Chelsea in’t the same as Lambeth, an’ Rother’ide in’t the same as the Isle o’ Dogs.” He was looking at her now, his eyes narrow and tired with pain. “There’s all sorts: clay, rock, shale, sand. An’ o’ course there’s rivers an’ springs, but Sutton knows that. More’n ’em, there’s old workings o’ all sorts: drains, gutters, cellars, tunnels, an’ plague pits. Goes back ter Roman times, some of ’em. Yer can’t do it quick.” He stared into the middle distance. Hester could only imagine what it was like for him sitting helpless in a chair while the world narrowed and closed in on him. He saw disaster ahead and was unable to do anything to prevent it. He was telling her because she asked, and she had come with Sutton, but he did not believe she cared, or could help, either.
    His wife lost patience. “Why don’t yer tell ’em straight?” she demanded, ignoring the boiling kettle except for a swift movement to remove it from the heat. If she had intended to make tea, it was forgotten now. “Were a cave-in wot took my ’usband’s leg,” she said to Hester. “One o’ them big beams fell on ’im. Only way ter get ’im out before the ’ole lot caved in were ter take ’is leg orff. If they go on usin’ them great machines shakin’ everythin’ ter bits up on top like that, sooner or later the sides is gonna cave in on top o’ the men wot’s diggin’ an’ ’aulin’ down the bottom. Or when we get rains like we ’ave in Feb’uary, one o’ ’em sewers bursts, an’ ’oos gonna get the men out before it floods, eh?” she demanded, her voice high and harsh. “I know a score o’ women like me, ’oose husbands a’ lorst arms an’ legs ter them bleedin’ tunnels. An’ widders as well. Too many o’ them damn railways is built on blood an’ bones!”
    “There’ve always been accidents,” Hester said reluctantly. “Is any contractor especially bad?”
    Collard shook his head angrily, his face dark. “Not as I know. Course there’s accidents, no one’s gurnin’ about that! Yer do ’ard work, yer take ’ard chances. The wife’s just bellyachin’ ’cos it in’t easy fer ’er. Is it, Lu? In’t no better bein’ a coal miner or seaman, or lots o’ other things.” He smiled mirthlessly. “Don’t s’pose it’s always rum an’ cakes bein’ a soldier, is it?” He waited for her answer.
    “No,” she agreed. “What is it, then, that you are concerned about?”
    The smile vanished.
    “I’m more’n concerned, miss, I’m downright scared. They got ’ole lengths o’ new sewer built, an’ o’ course there’s still most o’ the old bein’ used. Get a couple o’ slides, mud, cave-ins, an’ yer got men cut off down there. If yer don’t get drownded, it could be worse—burned.”
    “Burned?”
    “Gas. There’s ’ouse’old gas pipes