Some day, perhaps, the history of that River war will be written. It
can only be suggested in my story.
It was a war of terrific forces waged for a great cause by men as
brave as any who ever fought with weapons that kill.
The attacking force was the Rio Colorado that with power
immeasurable had, through the ages past, carved mile-deep canyons on
its course and with its mountains of silt had built the great delta
dam across the ancient gulf, thus turning back the waters of the sea
that sun and wind might lay bare the floor of the Basin and work the
desolation of the desert.
Using the Seer's open hand for his map of La Palma de la Mano de
Dios, Jose, the Indian, had traced the course of the river along the
base of the fingers flowing toward the gulf which lies between the
edge of the palm and the thumb--this same inner edge of the hand
representing roughly the high ground that shuts out the waters of
the sea. The thousands of acres of The King's Basin lands lie from
sea level to nearly three hundred feet below. The river at the point
where the intake for the system of canals was located is, of course,
higher than sea level, for the waters that pass the intake flow on
southward to the gulf.
It was the river flowing thus on higher ground that made irrigation
and reclamation of the desert possible. It was this also that made
possible the disaster that was now upon the hardy pioneers, who had
staked everything in their effort to realize the vast potential
wealth of the ancient sea-bed. The grade from the river at the
intake to the lowest point in the bottom of the Basin is much
steeper than the established fall of the river from the intake to
the gulf. The water in the canals on this steeper grade was
controlled by headings, spillways, gates and drops, while the
structure at the intake, with gates to regulate the flow into the
main canal, prevented the river from leaving its old channel
altogether, pouring its entire volume into the Basin and in time
converting it again into an inland sea.
The dangerously cheap and inadequate character of the vital parts,
built by the Company upon the usual promoter's estimates, had led
Abe Lee to protest against the risk forced upon the settlers and had
finally caused him to resign. Later, as the Company system of canals
was extended and more and more water was needed to supply the
rapidly increasing acreage of cultivated lands, Willard Holmes came
to appreciate the desert-bred surveyor's view of the danger and
insistently urged his employers to supply him with funds to replace
the temporary wooden structures with safe and lasting works of
concrete and steel.
But the hunger of Capital for profits forbade. Some day the work
would be done, the directors promised. In the meantime, without
increasing the original investment by so much as a dollar but with
the revenues derived from the sale of water rights, they were
extending the system to supply the ever increasing fields of the
settlers, thus shrewdly forcing the people, who were ignorant of the
terrible risk they were carrying, to supply the funds to build the
canals and ditches that belonged to the Company; while for the water
carried to the ranches the farmers continued to pay the Company
large rentals. The original investment of the Company was very small
compared with the thousands invested by the pioneers who had been
induced to settle in the new country. And yet from every dollar of
the wealth taken from the land the Company would receive a share.
But the Rio Colorado gave no heed to the decree of the New York
financiers. The forces that had made La Palma de la Mano de Dios are
not ruled by Wall street.
Willard Holmes, who had come to understand that his work was not
alone to safeguard the property of his employers but to protect the
interests of the pioneers as well, had been discharged because he
would not deliver the people wholly into the hands of the Company. A
new engineer out of the East, as faithful to the interests of
Capital as he was unfamiliar with conditions in the new country, was
placed in charge.
It was as if the river, in the absence of the man whose constant
readiness had held it in check, saw its opportunity. Swiftly it
mustered its forces from mountain and plain. Hundreds of miles away
it gathered its strength and hurried to the assault. The sources of
information established by Holmes on the tributaries and headwaters
wired their reports: a foot rise on the Gila; three feet coming down
the Little Colorado; two feet rise in the Salt; five feet on the
Grand. The New York office-engineer received the messages with mild
interest. The daily reports from the weather bureau covering the
countries drained by the Rio Colorado lay on his desk unnoticed.
Mr. Burk warned him, but the thoughtful Manager of the Company was
not an engineer. Willard Holmes tried to help him, but Holmes had
been discharged by the Company and the words of discharged men have
little weight with those who succeed to their positions.
The daily reports from the gauge at Rubio City showed an increase in
the river's volume of twenty thousand second feet; then thirty
thousand more; and on top of that came another twenty thousand. The
assistants of the new chief engineer tried to tell him what it
meant, but the assistants were subordinates and friends of Willard
Holmes. The man from New York, who was privileged to write several
letters after his name, was supposed to know his business.
Then the assembled forces of the river reached the intake, and the
trembling wooden structures that stood between the pioneers and
ruin, besieged by the rising flood, battered by the swirling
currents, bombarded by drift, gave way under the strain and the
charging waters plunged through the breach.
Too late the Company's forces were rushed to the scene. Before their
very eyes the roaring waters, as if mad with destructive power,
wrenched and tore at the Company's property, twisting, ripping,
smashing, until not a trestle, plank or stick was left in place and
the terrific current, rushing with ever increasing volume and power
through the opening, plowed into the soft, alluvial soil of the
embankment, undermining and carrying it away until nearly the entire
river was admitted.
As quickly as men and material could be assembled, the Company's
chief engineer began the battle to regain control of the mighty
stream. The warfare thus begun meant life or death to the greatest
reclamation project in the world.
Millions already invested by the settlers in farms and towns and
homes and business enterprises were at stake. Many more millions
that were yet to be realized from the reclaimed lands depended upon
the issue of the fight.
Against the efforts of the engineers and the army of laborers the
river massed from its tributaries in the regions of heavy rains and
melting snows the greatest strength it had assembled in many years.
Five times, with piling and trestles and jetties and embankments,
the men who defended The King's Basin were in sight of victory. Five
times the river summoned fresh strength--twisted out the piling,
wrecked the trestles, undermined the jetties and embankments and
swept the nearly completed structures, smashing, grinding, crashing,
away--a twisted, tangled ruin.
While the engineers and men of the Company were waging this war with
the river, the situation of the pioneers in the Basin grew daily
more perilous. Without a well-defined channel large enough to carry
the incoming stream, the flood spread over a wide territory in the
southern and western portions of the Basin, filling first the old
channels and washes left by the waters ages ago, forming next in the
areas of nearly level or slightly depressed sections shallow pools,
lakes and seas, out of which the higher ground and hummocks rose
like new-born islands, growing smaller and smaller as the rising
tide submerged more and more of their sandy bases. Meanwhile the
whole flood, eddying slowly with winding sluggish currents in the
shallow places, moving more swiftly in the deeper washes and
channels, swept always onward toward the north where, miles away,
lay the deepest bottom of the great Basin.
Many of the settlers in the flooded districts were forced to abandon
farms they had won with courage and toil, for the sweeping waters
covered alike fields of alfalfa and grain and barren desert waste.
The towns of Frontera and Kingston were protected from the
inundation by earthen levees, in the building of which men and women
toiled in desperate haste, and night and day these embankments were
patrolled by watchful guards, who frequently summoned the weary,
besieged citizens from their rest to protect or strengthen some
threatened point in their fortifications.
The eastern side of the Basin being higher ground, the settlers in
the South Central District and east of Republic, with the two towns
built by Jefferson Worth, were in no immediate danger, but the old
Dry River channel became a roaring torrent, bank-full; and it was
only a question of time, if the river were not controlled, when
every foot of the new country with its wealth of improvements and
its vast possibilities would be buried deep beneath the surface of
an inland sea.
The situation was appalling. The remarkable development of the new
country, the marvelous richness of the reclaimed lands, with the
immense possibilities of the reclamation work as demonstrated by The
King's Basin project had attracted the attention of the nation. The
pioneers in Barbara's Desert were, in fact, leaders in a far greater
work that would add immeasurably to the nation's life--that would,
indeed, be world-wide in its influence. Because of this the
attention of the nation was fixed with peculiar interest upon the
disaster that had fallen upon The King's Basin. Throughout the land
civil engineers watched intently the efforts of the Company men to
regain control of the river and to force it back into its old
channel. Many declared that, because of the alluvial character of
the soil, the absence of anything like a rock floor to build upon
and the great volume and terrific velocity of the current, the feat
was an engineering impossibility. In the eyes of the engineering
world The King's Basin project was doomed. The settlers were advised
to abandon the work they had accomplished and to move out. But those
strong ones who had forced the desert to yield its wealth to their
hands did not move. Those whose farms were in the flooded district
were forced to go. There was the inevitable sifting of the timid-
hearted and the weak, but the great majority stood fast.
Jefferson Worth, in the face of almost certain ruin, went steadily
on with his work on the railroad and continued pushing his other
enterprises toward completion--making improvements, erecting new
buildings, planning further investments and developments with a
confidence and conviction that was startling. Not once throughout
that trying period was he heard to express the slightest doubt as to
the ultimate triumph of the settlers. His business friends and
associates outside urged him to stop--to wait at least until the
issue was certain. He answered calmly that the issue was already
certain and went on with his work.
His confidence and courage were the inspiration that fired the
hearts of that threatened people. Had he given ground, had he
weakened and drawn back it would have started a panic that nothing
could have checked and that would have resulted inevitably in the
abandonment of the cause forever. The King's Basin lands with the
wealth of effort that had already been expended would have been
given over to the river, lost irretrievably to the race.
Hundreds went to him when they felt their courage failing and their
spirits weakening under the strain. And always they returned to
their farms or to their business with renewed strength to go on. As
one, who passed through that ordeal, long afterwards expressed it:
"In those times we all just lived on his nerve."
Through all the Company's war with the river and its repeated
defeats Willard Holmes was forced to stand a mere observer, an idle
looker-on. Foreseeing the catastrophe that was now upon them, he had
prepared himself by careful study of every factor in the problem and
by thorough knowledge of the situation to meet the crisis when it
came. With every means at his command he had planned and worked that
he might be ready and so far as possible equipped for the struggle
and now, when war was declared and the battle being waged, he could
only watch the ruin of the work he loved while a stranger, who
ignored his preparatory efforts, took the place that should have
been his.
But the great man of the S. & C., with whom the engineer had many a
counsel in those days, warned him always to be ready for the time
when--as the western man put it--"The Company should throw up its
hands."
The waters moving northward reached the lowest point in the Basin
and there formed an inland sea that, without an outlet and receiving
the full volume of the river, grew ever larger and larger. Flowing
towards the sea the flood developed swift currents in the
depressions and washes that led in the general direction of its
course, seeking thus to make for itself a well-defined channel. The
largest of these ancient washes, scarcely noticeable in the desert,
led from the south to Kingston, passing through the edge of the
town, curved slightly to the west and extended on northward,
becoming deeper and more clearly defined with higher ground on
either side as it neared the lowest point of the Basin. The general
lay of the land drew the flood toward this channel and developed a
current that moved with increasing velocity as the waters, nearing
the sea, were concentrated more and more by the greater depth of the
old channel and the steeper grade of the land on both sides.
Then a new and alarming phase of the river's destructive work
developed and everyone saw that the war at the intake must be forced
to a speedy finish or the cause would be lost. The immense volume of
water, flowing with increased strength and velocity as it defined
for itself a more distinct channel down the steeper grade of the
Basin, began cutting in the soft soil a vertical fall that from the
foot of the grade moved swiftly up-stream; a mighty cataract from
fifty to sixty feet in height and a full quarter of a mile wide,
moving at the rate of from one to three miles a day and leaving as
it went a great gorge through which a new-made river flowed quietly
to a new-born and ever-growing sea. The roar of the plunging waters,
the crashing and booming of the falling masses of earth that were
undermined by the roaring torrent were heard miles away. Acres upon
acres of the soft fertile land fell, melted and were swept away down
the gorge as banks of snow fall and melt in the spring freshets. Day
and night, night and day, the immeasurable power of the canyon-
cutting river drove the cataract southward toward the break at the
intake through which, by this time, the entire Colorado at its
highest flood stage was turned.
The imminent danger that threatened the Basin was not the danger
from the ever-rising sea. Long before the waters could fill the old
sea-bed, that mighty cataract, moving ever upstream, would pass the
intake; and with the floor of the river lowered thus some fifty feet
it would be impossible to take the water out for irrigation. The
lands reclaimed by the pioneers would go back to desert years before
they would be buried once more under the surface of the sea.
The complete destruction of all that the settlers had gained and the
utter desolation of the land was now a question of weeks.
The Company town of Kingston was directly in the path of that moving
Niagara. While the Company's men were making a last desperate effort
to close the break, the great falls were eating their way nearer and
nearer the little city. When the roar of the water and the crashing
and booming of the falling banks could be heard on the streets and
in the offices of the Company, the people left their homes, their
stores and their shops; the town realizing that no human power now
could avert the disaster.
Heroic efforts were made to direct the course of the new river away
from the little city, but the waters with savage, resistless power
chose their own way. The pioneers, who built the first town in the
heart of The King's Basin Desert, saw that mighty, thundering
cataract move upon the work of their hands and felt the earth
trembling under their feet as they watched homes, business blocks,
the hotel, the opera house, the bank and finally the Company
building undermined and tumbled, crashing into the deep canyon.
In a few short hours it was over. The falls moved on and where
Kingston had once stood was that great gorge, with a few scattered
houses only remaining on each side.
That same day the last attempt of the Company men to close the break
failed.
With every hour the awful ruin drew nearer the point which, if
reached, would place The King's Basin forever beyond the reclaiming
power of men. Frantic appeals for help were made to the government,
but before the ponderous machinery of state, with its intricate and
complicated wheels within wheels, could unwind a sufficient quantity
of red tape the work of the pioneer citizens would be past saving.
It was at this time that a telegram from Jefferson Worth to the
great man of the Southwestern and Continental brought a special
train of private cars into the Basin. At Deep Well Junction
Jefferson Worth, Abe Lee, the Seer and Willard Holmes boarded the
train and entered the car of the general manager, where the
officials representing the highest authority in the great
transcontinental system had gathered to meet them in consultation.
At Republic the president of The King's Basin Land and Irrigation
Company with his manager and chief engineer joined them, and the
train moved on until, at a word from Holmes, the conductor gave the
signal to stop. From the windows and platform of the car the party
could see the water extending to the south and west mile after mile,
and nearer the huge plunging cataracts with leaping columns of
spray, while the roar of the falls, the crashing and booming of the
caving banks shook the air with heavy vibrations and the earth
trembled with the shock of the plunging waters and the falling
masses of earth. Just ahead, where Kingston had stood, the track
ended on the bank of the deep gorge. From here the party was driven
in comfortable spring wagons to the scene of the Company's defeat.
Save for the camps of the laborers, the boats, pile-drivers,
implements and materials of their warfare and the debris of their
wrecked structures, not a sign of their work remained, while through
the breach--widened now to nearly a quarter of a mile--the great
river poured its hundred and fifty thousand second feet of muddy
water with terrific velocity and solemn, awful power.
When the party had viewed the situation, the railroad men with Mr.
Greenfield retired to the tent of the Company's chief engineer.
A little apart from Jefferson Worth and his two companions, Willard
Holmes stood alone on the brink of the broken embankment looking
down into the swirling muddy waters. He knew that his time had come.
He knew that at that moment the railroad officials were concluding a
deal with The King's Basin Land and Irrigation Company through its
president, by which the S. & C. would assume control of the
situation and attempt to save the reclamation work. His chief had
told him to be ready. He was ready.
In the railroad yards at Rubio City and on every available side-
track for several miles east and west were standing train-loads of
ties and rails. In the yards at the Coast city were cars loaded with
machinery, implements and supplies. In the yards at the harbor were
other train-loads of timber and piling. With the readiness of a
perfectly equipped and organized army the forces of the S. & C.,
backed by the resources of that powerful system, waited the word,
while every moment the disaster that threatened the pioneers drew
nearer. From the roaring river at his feet Willard Holmes turned to
look toward the tent. Why were they so slow?
Then his face lighted up and he took an eager step forward as the
private secretary of the general manager came out of the tent and
hurried toward him.
"They want you, Mr. Holmes," said the young man. The engineer went
quickly to answer the call.
When he entered the tent every man in the party turned toward the
engineer. "Holmes," said his chief, "we will attempt to close the
break. You will take charge at once."
Within an hour the forces of The King's Basin Land and Irrigation
Company already on the ground were set to work under the Seer
preparing the grade for a spur-track that would leave the main line
near the river fifteen miles north of the break, and Holmes, with
Abe Lee, set out on horseback for Rubio.
With the return of the general manager and his party to their train,
the movement already planned began. Without hurry but with ready
promptness the orders, voiced by the hundreds of clicking telegraph
instruments covering the district affected by the operations, were
obeyed. Special trains carried Jefferson Worth's force of railroad
builders with teams and equipment to the point at which the spur-
track would connect with the main line where, under Abe Lee, they
began pushing the grade southward to meet the forces that, under the
Seer, were working northward from the front.
Throughout the Basin the call for men and teams was issued by
Jefferson Worth, and the pioneers, answering as the Minute Men of
old, were hurried to the scene where they found trainloads of
equipment waiting ready for their use, while every hour brought
reinforcements--laborers of many nationalities gathered in the
cities of the coast by the agents of the railroad company.
The waiting trains loaded with ties and steel began to move and the
construction gangs followed close on the heels of the graders. And
when the last spike in the track to the scene of the decisive battle
was driven, the track-men with their sledges stepped aside to clear
the way for the panting engines that drew the first train loaded
with piling and timbers for the trestle.
Hour by hour now, without pause or halt, the men under Willard
Holmes working in shifts met the Rio Colorado in a hand-to-hand
fight for The King's Basin lands. By day under the white, semi-
tropical sun, by night in the light of locomotive headlights that
gleamed strangely over the dark swirling floods, the trestles were
forced further and further out into the plunging current that
wrenched and twisted and tugged with terrific strength in a mad
wrestle with those who dared attempt to check its sullen destructive
will, while steadily, irresistibly, the canyon-cutting falls drew
nearer and nearer. It was not alone the magnitude of the task
directed by Willard Holmes that made the work heroic. It was that
this seemingly impossible work must be accomplished against time. In
his fight with the river the engineer raced against a destructive
force which, if it reached the scene of the struggle before the
battle was won, would make final defeat certain and place the
Colorado, so far as The King's Basin reclamation was concerned,
beyond control of men.
As the engineer stood on the trestle above the mad, whirling
currents, directing his men in their efforts to drive the piling in
thirty feet of water that--as one veteran expressed it--"ran like
the mill tails of hell," he fancied he could hear above the roar of
the river against the structure, the blows of the heavy driver, the
rattle of cable and chain and windlass, the grinding and squeaking
of the straining timbers and the shouts of the men--the menacing
thunder of that moving cataract a few miles away. While he paced the
embankments, studying the set of the currents, observing the form
and action of the eddies or receiving the hourly reports from the
river gauge at Rubio City, and held consultation with his
assistants, he often turned his head involuntarily to look anxiously
away in the direction of the racing falls.
Only when his exhausted body and wearied brain refused to respond
longer to his will would he throw himself fully dressed upon a cot
in his tent for an hour's sleep. His face grew haggard and deeply
lined with anxious care, his hollow eyes--dark-rimmed--were
bloodshot and burning as if with fever, his jaws were set as if by
sheer power of his will he would beat the river into submission. And
he barked his orders shortly in a hoarse strained voice that told of
nerves stretched almost to the breaking point. In critical moments,
when it looked as though the river in the next instant would reduce
their work to a hopeless wreck, the engineer, standing on the
trembling timbers or clinging to the swaying pile-driver itself,
seemed to those who did his bidding to become the very incarnation
of human courage and power.
The Seer and Abe Lee, remembering the man who had come out from the
East to go with them on that preliminary survey, wondered at the
transformation. Then Willard Holmes was the servant of Capital that
used people for its own gain. He saw his work then only as a means
to the end that his Company might make money. Now, though employed
still by a corporation, he was a master who used the power at his
command in behalf of the people. He had come to look upon his work
as a service to the world and through that service only he served
his employers. It was as if in this man, born of the best blood of a
nation-building people, trained by the best of the cultured East--
trained as truly by his life and work in the desert--it was as
though, in him, the best spirit of the age and race found
expression.
At last the trestles were pushed across the break, the track was
laid and the gigantic work of filling the channel was begun. In
every rock quarry reached by the S. & C. within two hundred and
fifty miles of the battle, men were drilling and blasting and with
steam shovels and derricks were loading cars with material for the
fill. At the word from Willard Holmes these rock trains steamed
swiftly to the front, everything giving them the right of way.
Merchants and manufacturers east and west cursed the railroad
because their shipments were delayed. Passengers, held for hours on
the sidings, complained, scolded, protested and threatened. It was
an outrage! declared the tourists in their luxurious Pullmans that
they should be forced to give up an hour of their pleasure in order
that a train load of rock might make better time. But, unheeding,
the great battleships, each with its fifty cubic yards of stone, and
the flats and gondolas, each with its tons of material, thundered
away to the scene of the struggle. Every five minutes, night and
day, from the moment of the completion of the trestles until the
fill was above the danger point a car of rock was dumped into the
break.
So the task was accomplished; the fight was won. The Rio Colorado
was checked in its work of destruction and beaten back into its old
channel. The thousands of acres of The King's Basin lands that would
have been forever lost to the race through one corporation were
saved by another; and the man, who--without protest--had built for
his employers' gain the inadequate structures that endangered the
work of the pioneers, led the forces that won the victory.
The afternoon of the day on which the break was finally closed three
private cars came in with the rock trains. The passengers were the
general manager and the general superintendent with their wives,
Jefferson Worth and a small party of friends.
Leaving their cars the party walked toward a point below the rock
embankment where they could look down into the now empty gorge. With
this visible evidence of the river's power before them, the visitors
exclaimed with wonder.
When the superintendent had explained the magnitude of the work, the
difficulties encountered and how the task had been accomplished, the
general manager, who--here and there--had added a word, said: "After
all, friends, taking into consideration money, equipment and
everything, the whole question of a work like this, or of any great
enterprise, resolves itself into a question of men. It's up to the
man on the job. We have the system, the machinery without which
this work could not have been done. We have the capital to supply
material and labor--but that man up there closed the break."
As he spoke he pointed to a figure standing on the upper trestle
above the fill--outlined against the sky.
Then the party climbed the grade to the tracks again and walked to
the end of the upper trestle. Turning, the engineer saw and came
towards them. Silently they stood to receive him. From boots to
Stetson his khaki trousers and rough shirt were stained with mud and
grime, his eyes were sunken in dark hollows, his worn face was
unshaven and his hair, when he removed his hat, was unkempt. He did
not look like a hero; he looked more like some ruffian just from a
prolonged debauch. But the little party burst into applause.
The engineer smiled as his chief went forward from the group to
grasp him by the hand. For a moment they talked of the work. Then
the official, placing his hand on the engineer's arm, said: "Come,
Holmes, we have some women here who want to meet the man who
mastered the Colorado."