Lijah’s Story

Allen Markle

Lijah’s Story

I’d watched as Dad sharpened the star bit and glassed the polished sheen from the handle of his double-jack. You didn’t want a polished, slippery hammer handle. I was aware of what was to be done and real unhappy that I was to be a part of it. There was a ring and eye bolt to be set in the rock where we were working. There was no hydro to the site and Dad had made it plain he was not renting a gas hammer to drill a one-inch hole, six inches deep.

“It’ll be less than twenty minutes” he said.

 I was not looking forward to those twenty minutes. I had twisted steel for him before and it was sort of like religion; you had to have faith. I trusted my Dad. But there was a residual fear having someone swing a nine-pound hammer at a piece of steel. Steel you held in your hands.

To make it all just that much worse, when we picked up Don the next morning, it was the first thing he mentioned.  Even before he asked his ubiquitous “How are you this morning?”

“We drilling that hole first thing this morning Polie? So, I can burn that eye in while you and Al shift those timbers over? “It was not so much a comment as an instruction. 

Don Buchanan was my dads’ best friend and work-mate. They had grown up on adjacent farms in Brunel. Don had always called my father ‘Polie’ and I’ll never know why. He was Irish, liked his beer and from the stories told me about him, a fearsome scrapper when lubricated. I have the feeling Don was the muscle in my fathers’ youth. 

At the job site, I carted the hammer and steels down to where the anchor was to be set in the rock, along with the blow-torch and a bag of powdered sulfur. Don seated himself on the timbers, Dad took the hammer from me and I took one of the steel bits from the bag. I knelt on a piece of old carpet to protect my knees from the rock and set the bit down on the mark Dad had made.

“Ready?” he said. “Say if you want to stop” though I knew that wouldn’t happen. The striker could stop if he wanted but the man twisting the steel wouldn’t do anything to distract his partner. I felt rather than saw the hammer in the air, felt the shock of the blow through the drill steel and saw the first puff of powdered rock jet away from the bit.

About twenty minutes and we were done, having only stopped once. I was glad it over, that I had not lost a finger or been struck by a fragment of steel exploding off the bit. Don approved of the nice round hole and set the anchor in place and packed the powdered sulfur around it. Once he had heated the sulfur with the blowtorch and let it burn itself out, the eye bolt would be there ‘til the metal rotted away or it was rubbed out by the next glacier.

The morning passed uneventful. Tame once the drilling was done and it was after we had finished lunch, when Dad stopped for his famous 12 minutes snooze, that I heard the story. Dad was stretched out full length on a timber, his fedora down over his eyes and one arm behind his head.

“Tell him Lijah’s story” he said to Don. 

I loved to hear the tales they told and Don rested back against a big pine tree, confident he had a captive audience… for 12 minutes.

“Lijah and his cousin Levi were a drill team, trusted each other, like you and Polie. I think they were some half-assed distant cousins of your mom’s father. Lijah twisted steel and Levi was the hammer man. They were well known around here, doing some work for the railroad just after it had come to Huntsville. If hand drillers were needed, people sought them out.”

Most of the drilling done by the railroad at that time would have been done with steam drills, faster than by hand and reducing the number of men needed to do the big jobs. But on small jobs or where you couldn’t get the big equipment, a hammer-man swung a double-jack and the steel man twisted the drill bit.

A double-jack or striking hammer had a nine-pound head, tapered to each end and bevel ground, leaving an inch and a half of hammer face. The handle was ash or hornbeam and kept smooth and clean. The length suited to the individual doing the swinging. He swung straight and true, striking the drill steel squarely every time. Missing was not an option.

A drill steel could be a variety of lengths, depending on the depth of bore needed. The striking end was flared slightly and would be kept filed to reduce the chance of steel fragments breaking away. Flying steel could inflict serious wounds. The bit end was a four-pointed star, the four cutting edges hardened or faced with stronger metal to cut the rock.  The drill-man or ‘twister’ knelt with the bit and held the steel erect, turning it after each strike so the pulverized rock would be ejected from the hole and not seize the steel in it. The drill man never thought about the hammer missing.

A drill team at work was called ‘ringing steel.’ It was not a task for everyone.

Don shuffled through his lunch box, grunted a bit irritably now it was empty and continued the story.

The railroad was running a few spur lines away from the main track. These sidings would serve some of the smaller communities in the area: sidings like Martins’ Siding and Mallard Siding. People contracted to supply cordwood or firewood to the bigger centers and a flatcar could be left on a spur for them to load. Later, cars would be left for people to cut and load tan bark for the new tannery.

A Mr. White had contracted to have a finger of rock removed from where the railroad wanted to put just such a spur. He had sent word to Lijah that he and his cousin were needed to do the drilling, He said he would pick them up at the road junction just down from Lijah’s house. Six in the morning.

But Lijah stood alone on the road when Mr. Whites wagon rolled to a stop.

“Where’s Levi?” 

“He was feeling poorly yesterday and by the time I got to him he was well into the bottle. He won’t swing when he’s hung over ‘nor would I twist for him. Sorry sir. I guess another day.” Lijah hoped that would suffice since Mr. White used them a lot on a variety of jobs and he paid them well.

White was not happy. “I said today. The powder men will be there Monday morning. I want men clearing rock in the afternoon. You will ring steel today.”

“Not when he’s hungover. He won’t swing. It’s too dangerous.” Lijah didn’t want to lose the work but neither did he want to be broken. To punctuate what he had said, he jetted a stream of tobacco juice at a chipmunk peering from a crack in the rock. Missed, but was sure the little rodent wouldn’t be using that entrance for a while.

White was not impressed. “We drill today sir, so you jump up here.” He pointed his quirt at the seat beside him and Lijah was barely aboard before the man had clucked to his horse and they were away.

“I can’t drill by myself” Lijah said “Levi won’t come today. Who you got to swing the double-jack?” and he immediately wished he hadn’t asked the question.

“Leave that to me.” 

They arrived at the drill site where the soil had been raked back and thirteen spots had been marked on the jutting rock. Lijah could see they would need holes no more than a foot deep, but in granite. Something Muskoka had no shortage of.

“You wait here.” White said and Lijah had to jump clear as the man clucked to the horse again. Lijah’s boots had no sooner hit the ground before White was away, he and his buggy headed off up the road.

Lijah nestled back against a big oak tree, pulled a water jar from his haversack, took a swig and screwed the lid back on tight. He was mildly concerned but figured he would get around this somehow.

He might have dozed but then heard the rattle of rocks, jingling harness and could see dust spurting away from the buggy wheels and the trotting horse. And then he could see that behind the buggy there were three men in short gray jackets double timing along, keeping to one side and clear of the dust. Each carried a striking hammer.

“What the hell!”

He said it again as White and his entourage came to a stop. “What the hell! “

“Here are your hammer men.” White pointed to the three Chinese men who now stood just beside the buggy. “My son Floyd has a crew up the track doing some repairs and he could spare me these men. He says two of them are the best and one is learning fast. I will have those holes drilled.”

“There is no way in hell……” Lijah started….

But White cut him off. “Look. These men are good. Drill those holes. I can’t say I can prevent you from getting more work. You and your cousin are good but the two of you won’t work again for me or for anyone else on my recommendation. My job is to get this job done and yours is to do it. Am I clear? Your choice.”

He sat and waited.

Lijah couldn’t believe what was happening ‘nor could he see a way out. He glared hard at White but then went to the back of the buggy and snatched a mat to kneel on. White clucked to the horse and was away back up the road.

No one spoke and the three stared at Lijah, shifting a little from foot to foot, waiting to see what would happen; waiting for him to let them do their job. Lijah was the only one with drill steel.

He had to really force himself to kneel on the mat, wipe his hands, one at a time, and then standing an eighteen-inch steel on the first mark. He couldn’t believe he was doing this and there was a cold knot in his chest. He spun the steel on the mark.

“Ready.” He couldn’t look up.

A hand settled firmly on his shoulder and one of the men squatted in front of him. A round face with dark eyes peered into his face.

“No feah.” The man said.

Lijah just knelt there and waited as the man rose and stepped away. Then he felt the steel shock in his hands as the hammer struck. 

Crack!

Twist.

Gray powder shot away from the bit.

The steel shook again.

Crack!

Twist.

The third time the hammer struck, a cold thrill shot through his gut and he wanted to scream and run, but he stayed still. 

Crack! Crack!

Twist! 

Powder jetted free of the bit as the rock was reduced to dust.

Crack! Crack!

Twist!

But Lijah now realized that there were two hammers ringing on the steel, the rhythm paced and the blows measured like two heartbeats. Driving steel into granite like he had never seen done without steam.

Crack! Crack!

Twist!

When there was no bit left above his hands, the hammers ceased and he drew the bit from the hole. He finally looked up into two smiling faces, faces glistening with perspiration as was his own. He was sure that theirs was surely from exertion whereas his was likely from a bit of fear.

“Good job.” one grinning countenance said as the third man moved forward and jammed a tapered plug into the fresh hole. Lijah stood slowly. His legs were shaking a bit. He wasn’t angry though he thought maybe he should be. When he saw the three other men looking at him and grinning, he had to grin himself.

A shout caused them all to turn and look as a fourth man jogged toward them with a canvas tote. Steel shafts clanked softly as the man ran. The runner joined the other three Chinese men and they stood and chattered among themselves, occasionally glancing and nodding to Lijah. The new man’s eyes widened and then he nodded slightly.

By then it seemed the story had been told. Two of the men took up hammers and two drew fresh steel from the tote. In pairs, hammer man and twister, they moved to new marks on the rock. Lijah stood there until one of the men pointed to the big oak. 

“You rest.” he said. “Good job.” His eyes were mere slits in a broad smiling face.

Lijah sat and watched as the men rang steel into the twelve other holes. Getting up when the drilling was done to bang tapered wooden plugs into the finished holes.

The work finished, the five men stood quietly under the big oak, but only for a minute. Then the four bowed slightly to Lijah, turned, and trotted away up the track. Star bits rattled softly in the tote and three hammers were clenched firmly in callused hands. 

Lijah never told the story for a long time and there were lots who never believed him when he did. He never took exception to their doubting. Levi said that from what he knew, it had been common in the past for there to be two strikers. He figured that men had to be good to do it but had never tried it himself. The thing that kept creeping into Lijah’s thinking was the comment made by White. That bit about “two being the best and one learning fast”. Had “the one learning fast” been the second hammer man?  Had that first hole been a test run? He had sure as hell passed as Lijah could attest.

Dad rose from the timber and the story was done. Twelve minutes, give or take a few seconds. We headed back to work.

“What do you think?” Don queried. “Think you’d give it a try?”

“Not likely” I said. “I couldn’t imagine twisting steel for anyone but Dad. What about you?”

Don just snorted. “No damn way! I would take exception to anyone swinging a hammer at me.”