Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles 1)

But I hadn't given up. I remained convinced that as long as we finished the job on time, we could still break even, and possibly make a small profit. So much depended on what happened during the next few weeks. I'd already given the order to work round the clock in three eight-hour shifts, and promised the workforce handsome bonuses if they managed to complete the contract on time. After all, there were enough men hanging around outside the gates, desperate for work.

I was just about to tell my secretary I was going home, when he burst into my office unannounced.

He was a short, squat man, with heavy shoulders and bulging muscles, the build of a stevedore. My first thought was to wonder how he had managed to get past Miss Potts, who followed in his wake looking unusually flustered. 'I couldn't stop him,' she said, stating the obvious. 'Shall I call the watchman?'

I looked into the man's eyes and said, 'No.'

Miss Potts remained by the door while we sized each other up, like a mongoose and a snake, each wondering who would strike first. Then the man reluctantly removed his cap and started jabbering. It was some time before I could understand what he was saying.

'My best mate's goin' to die! Arthur Clifton's goin' to die unless you do somethin' about it.'

I told him to calm down and explain what the problem was, when my works manager came charging into the room.

'I'm sorry you've been troubled by Tancock, sir,' he said once he'd caught his breath, 'but I can assure you it's all under control. Nothin' for you to worry about.'

'What is all under control?' I asked.

'Tancock here claims that his mate Clifton was workin' inside the hull when the shift changed, and the new shift somehow managed to seal him inside.'

'Come and see for yourself!' shouted Tancock. 'You can hear him tappin'!'

'Could that be possible, Haskins?' I asked.

'Anything's possible, sir, but it's more likely Clifton's buggered off for the day and is already in the pub.'

'Then why hasn't he signed off at the gate?' demanded Tancock.

'Nothing unusual in that, sir,' said Haskins, not looking at him. 'Signin' on's what matters, not signin' off.'

'If you don't come and see for yourself,' said Tancock, 'you'll go to your grave with his blood on your hands.' This outburst silenced even Haskins.

'Miss Potts, I'm going down to number one dock,' I said. 'I shouldn't be too long.'

The squat little man ran out of my office without another word.

'Haskins, join me in my car,' I said. 'We can discuss what ought to be done on the way.'

'Nothin' needs to be done, sir,' he insisted. 'It's all stuff and nonsense.'

It wasn't until we were alone in the car that I put it bluntly to my ganger. 'Is there any chance that Clifton really might be sealed up in the hull?'

'No chance, sir,' said Haskins firmly. 'I'm only sorry to be wastin' your time.'

'But the man seems pretty certain,' I said.

'Like he's always certain about what'll win the three thirty at Chepstow.'

I didn't laugh.

'Clifton's shift ended at six,' Haskins continued, taking on a more serious tone. 'He must've known that the welders would be moving in and would expect to finish the job before the next shift reported for duty at two in the mornin'.'

'What was Clifton doing down in the hull in the first place?'

'Making the final checks before the welders got to work.'

'Is it possible he didn't realize his shift had ended?'

'You can hear the end-of-shift horn in the middle of Bristol,' said Haskins as we drove past Tancock, who was running like a man possessed.

'Even if you were deep inside the hull?'

'I suppose it's just possible he might not have heard it if he was in the double bottom, but I've never come across a docker who didn't know what time his shift ends.'

'As long as he has a watch,' I said, looking to see if Haskins was wearing one. He wasn't. 'If Clifton really is still down there, do we have the equipment to get him out?'

'We've got enough acetylene torches to burn through the hull and remove a complete section. Problem is, it'd take hours, and if Clifton's down there, there wouldn't be much chance of him still bein' alive by the time we reached him. On top of that, it would take the men another fortnight, perhaps longer, to replace the whole section. And as you keep remindin' me, guv, you've got everyone on bonuses to save time, not waste it.'

The night shift was well into its second hour by the time I brought my car to a halt by the side of the ship. There must have been over a hundred men on board, working flat out, hammering, welding and sealing in the rivets. As I climbed the gangway, I could see Tancock running towards the ship. When he caught up with me a few moments later he had to bend double, his hands on his thighs, while he recovered.

'So, what do you expect me to do, Tancock?' I asked once he'd caught his breath.

'Stop them all workin', guv, just for a few minutes, then you'll hear him tappin'.'

I nodded my approval.

Haskins shrugged his shoulders, clearly unable to believe I would even consider giving such an order. It took him several minutes to get everyone to down tools and for the workers to fall silent. Every man on the ship, as well as the dockside, stood still and listened intently, but other than the occasional squawk from a passing gull or a smoker's cough, I heard nothing.

'Like I said, sir, it's been a waste of everyone's time,' said Haskins. 'By now Clifton will be suppin' his third pint at the Pig and Whistle.'

Someone dropped a hammer, and the sound echoed around the docks. Then for a moment, just a moment, I thought I heard a different sound, regular and soft.

'That's him!' shouted Tancock.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the noise stopped.

'Did anyone else hear anything?' I shouted.

'I didn't hear nothin',' said Haskins, looking around at the men, almost daring them to defy him.

Some of them stared back at him, while one or two picked up their hammers menacingly, as if they were waiting for someone to lead them over the top.

I felt like a captain who was being given one last chance to quell a mutiny. Either way I couldn't win. If I told the men to go back to work, the rumours would spread until every man in the dockyard believed I was personally responsible for Clifton's death. It would be weeks, months, possibly even years before I could recover my authority. But if I gave the order to break open the hull, any hope of making a profit on the contract would be scuppered, and with it my chances of ever becoming chairman of the board. I just stood there, hoping the continued silence would convince the men that Tancock was wrong. As each second of silence passed, my confidence grew.

'It seems no one heard nothin', sir,' Haskins said a few moments later. 'Can I have your permission to put the men back to work?'

They didn't move a muscle, just continued to glare defiantly at me. Haskins stared back at them, and one or two eventually lowered their eyes.

I turned to the ganger and gave the order to get back to work. In the moment's silence that followed, I could have sworn I heard a tap. I glanced at Tancock, but then the sound was drowned out by a thousand other noises as the men went resentfully back to work.