THE COMPLETION OF THE TSAVO BRIDGE

When all the excitement had died down and there was no longer any dread
of the man-eaters, work went on briskly, and the bridge over the Tsavo
rapidly neared completion. As the piers and abutments progressed in
height, the question of how to lift the large stones into their
positions had to be solved. We possessed no cranes for this purpose, so
I set to work and improvised a shears made of a couple of thirty-foot
rails. These were bolted together at the top, while the other ends were
fixed at a distance of about ten feet apart in a large block of wood.
This contrivance acted capitally, and by manipulation of ropes and
pulleys the heavy stones were swung into position quickly and without
difficulty, so that in a very short time the masonry of the bridge was
completed.

The next business was to span the sixty-foot distance between the piers
with iron girders. As I had neither winches nor sufficient blocks and
tackle to haul these over into position, I was driven to erect
temporary piers in the middle of each span, built up crib-shape of
wooden sleepers. Great wooden beams were stretched across from the
stone piers to these cribs, and laid with rails; and the girder was run
over its exact place, while still on the trucks in which it had been
brought up from the coast. It was next "jacked" up from the trucks,
which were hauled away empty, the temporary bridge was dismantled, and
the girder finally lowered gently into position. When the last girder
was thus successfully placed, no time was lost in linking up the
permanent way, and very soon I had the satisfaction of seeing the first
train cross the finished work.

Curiously enough, only a day or so after the bridge had been completed
and the intermediate cribs cleared away, a tremendous rain-storm broke
over the country. The river started to rise rapidly, soon flooding its
banks and becoming a raging murky torrent, tearing up trees by the
roots and whirling them along like straws. Steadily higher and higher
rose the flood, and standing on my bridge, I watched expectantly for
the two temporary trolley bridges--which, it will be remembered, we had
built across the stream in order to bring stone and sand to the main
work--to give way before the ever-rising volume of water. Nor had I
long to wait; for I soon caught sight of a solid mass of palm stems and
railway sleepers sweeping with almost irresistible force round the bend
of the ri