Primal Spillane: Early Stories 1941-1942

Lumps of Death

The kid walking along the train tracks picking up coal shivered in the night air. He was poorly dressed, and his arms and legs were thinner than they should be. Sometimes he would stop and stretch, but it was too cold to stand still, so he went back to shoving the black lumps in a sack. When he heard the whistle of the 10:15, he stepped from the tracks into the lots to go home.

Jack Billings, the yard watchman was cooking coffee over an open fire when the kid came along. “Hi,” he called out.

The kid jumped, dropped the sack and turned to run.

“Hey, what’s the matter, kiddo?”

The boy stopped. Somehow the voice sounded friendly enough and he came back a way. He looked the watchman over carefully; the good-looking face and the well-knit frame. Evidently he was satisfied by what he saw, and walked over.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” the boy asked.

“Yep. Just came on last night. Have some coffee?”

The kid nodded. The smell of the cooking made him remember he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Jack brought out some sandwiches and handed him one.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“George. What’s yours?”

Jack told him, and they settled down to eating and gabbing. George was curious as to why a watchman of the great coal yard should be out in the lots, and Jack explained that he was just an extra precaution against sabotage efforts.

The fire Jack had built was beginning to burn down. “Wish I had some coal,” he remarked.

George gave a little laugh and ran over to where he had dropped the sack and dragged it over to the fire. He threw a few lumps on the blazing embers and sat down again.

Jack got up and took his hand. “You’re out late enough, young fellow. It’s home to bed for you! Come on, I’ll carry your bag out to the end of the fields.”

They stepped along through the weeds and grass chatting merrily. Suddenly, from behind them came a deafening blast! Dirt and rocks flew through the air blinding them. Jack dropped the sack, and dashed back with George on his heels. The spot where the fire had been was a huge, gaping crater!

A moment later they were surrounded by company cops and yard workers, all seeking an explanation. There was none to give. The blast was not in the yard, so no damage was done. Wilson, the yard manager came over to Jack.

“You mean you saw nothing, or heard nothing?”

Jack told him that was it.

“Well, that’s not what I call being a watchman. You’re fired!”

He picked up his dinner pail and walked away, but George caught his arm.

“Jack, I was thinking — remember that coal I threw on the fire? Well—”

Jack’s eyes grew wide with amazement.

“That’s it! Somebody knows that there is a load of coal slated for the new U. S. battleships going out tonight, and is going to toss in some explosive chunks. They must’ve dropped a piece and you picked it up. It still isn’t too late to do something. The load hasn’t come down the chutes yet, and they must figure to plant the stuff as it does. They couldn’t afford to throw it on top of a load for fear it might get tossed off. We have to do something — and quick, let’s go!”

They went a roundabout way to the back fence, and Jack boosted the kid over, then went over himself. Together they inched along, freezing to the spot whenever a yard cop went by. The moon was up, lighting the runways and huge coal piles with its evil eye. There weren’t many places to hide, so they darted quickly from shadow to shadow.

At last they stood at the foot of an enormous hopper, crouching under the loading platform. Jack took stock of the place. He knew the set-up only from talking to one of the cops. It was quite evident that they couldn’t hide any explosive from down here since the chutes were enclosed on the sides. That meant they had to throw it in from the top, and they might be there now!

He turned to George. “You wait here, if any suspicious persons come around shake this dump rope and slap it against the side of the hopper. It’ll sound like the wind’s doing it.”

Jack ducked out and scrambled up the outside of the bin on the narrow iron ladder; careful not to make any noise, he finally reached the top. He poked his head over the smooth rim and looked around. No one was there! Good, then they hadn’t arrived but were due any minute.

He tried the hatchway in the center of the top, and it came up. There was a ladder descending into the pitch-black interior, and he climbed down until he hit the runway. Groping along with his hands in front of him like a sleepwalker was tough, but he dared not light a match. A dust explosion would blow the whole works to smithereens. He had placed the loading chute in his mind before he came down.

Luckily, Jack had a good sense of direction, for he hit the wooden slide without much trouble. He wrenched off a piece of sideboard planking and jammed it under the release catch. There would be no coal pouring down that chute for a while! Now, back to George.

Jack was about to go down when the gentle slapping of a rope came to him. The signal! Someone was prowling about below. Taking the chance on being seen he jumped to the ladder. Halfway down there was a wooden ledge running around the circular structure that connected the chute boxes. Ordinarily, it was used to help release coal jams in the chutes, but now it provided a refuge for the ex-watchman. He ran around the side to the number four chute, grabbed hold, and slid in.

It was thick with dust, and made breathing difficult. Slowly, so not to attract attention, he eased himself down the gigantic inclined plane. At the bottom he hopped out and ducked under the platform. George was waiting for him.

“What’s up, kid?”

“Three guys just went by, and the way they were talking they didn’t belong here. One of them had a sack of something. Shhhh. There they are!”

True enough, three huddled figures keeping to the shadows came into view. One had a burlap sack, and Jack knew well enough what it held! He had to get that bag!

Taking a desperate chance he slipped into the night. A few minutes later he was back holding a burlap bag. Silently, George and he filled the bag with chunks of coal that had filtered through the platform. Jack crawled over to George and whispered to him.

“I’m going to go after them, kiddo. If I can draw them away for a minute, switch bags, but don’t let them see you. These men are dangerous. Now be careful.”

George nodded, shaking with excitement.

The men were deciding on a plan of approach, Jack saw, and surely enough they were planning what he had anticipated. He waited until they were bunched together, then let loose with a driving tackle that piled them all up. He swung wildly, throwing punches right and left as fast as he could. Something caught him alongside the temple, and he crumpled. During the melee, nobody noticed the figure that slipped out and switched bags. The leader motioned to the ladder, shouldered the bag and went up.

The midnight shift came to the hopper on the coal cars that were to be loaded. The train pulled in under the chute and jerked to a stop. The foreman shouted orders until the chute was lowered, then pulled the release cord. Nothing happened. Jack did his work well. Just then somebody spied his prone figure in the dirt, and the foreman came over.

“Well, that dirty dog. Because he was fired, he tried to jam up the load.”

The men were muttering under their breaths. They were all for lynching him.

A barelegged boy fought his way into the mob. “Let him alone,” he shouted. “He tried to stop the guys that were going to blow up the battleships!”

“WHAT!”

Briefly he told the story, and when he pointed to the roof of the hopper and told the men that the criminals were up there; they howled with joy. They’d show them what happened to guys who stepped in on Uncle Sam!

Some went up the ladder, others, like monkeys, climbed the chute. The three men certainly didn’t expect an attack, and before they knew it were being battered all over the place. Hard knuckles dug into them, and eager men took over when the others got tired. They were a sorry looking trio when they were hauled down.

The next morning Jack sat in the manager’s office grinning widely.

“Well, Mr. Billing, you have certainly done things up fine. There’s always a place in our organization for you. Your friend, George, is getting a check of appreciation from us in the mail.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jack stood up and yawned. “Now back to work.”