Curiosity.

Curiosity

The furnace charge bucket holding twenty tons of assorted scrap juddered violently as the flames ate through the paraffin soaked rope holding it together.

It shook again. The shiver carried up through the chains to awaken a venture of sleeping, black phoenixes who slipped from the crane framework and in long trailing arcs they dived towards the floor,only to dissipate into clouds of thin, wispy soot on the way. 

Suddenly, as the flames burned through the rope, the metal, with a deafening roar pushed the fingers of the now unrestrained basket apart and slammed into the furnace basin.

A brown and yellow rust cloud rolled up obscuring everything. As it meandered towards the ceiling it folded itself seductively, writhing and gyrating like a ghostly, exotic belly dancer.

The powerful fans inside the extractor hood sucked in the cloud and greedily devoured it putting an end to the exotic dancing. Seconds later it was discarded into the atmosphere above the foundry roof to fall on the washing lines of the neighbouring houses inciting the housewives to do an exotic dance of their own.

 I activated the hoist and slowly drew the bucket free. Wee Francy, the furnaceman, gave the inside of the bucket a good looking over for stray pieces of metal that could be stuck in between the fingers, and finding it clear, he signaled me to swing it out and lower it to allow him to thread and tie a new rope.

I lowered the basket to where I thought Francy could reach the rings - then I raised it.The wee man swaggered over with the rope in hand. After checking the height and finding it too high, Francy knowing I was at the windup, took a run towards the hanging basket. When he neared the bucket he launched himself into the air while flinging his arms in an over -exaggerated attempt to reach the loops. He fell short by a few inches.

He continued back and forward with these shenanigans for a few minutes. I sat back and watched the show before lowering the basket. When I did, Francy removed his ‘bunnett’ and before retying the rope, he made a mock flourishing curtsy in the manner of a medieval French flunky.

I put the basket back in the transfer bogie and after 'expertly' jiggling the chains free, I sat back in my chair to wait on Francy closing the furnace.

The roof holding the three electrodes juddered as it came to life. The wee man, using the joystick controls, lifted It clear of the trellis. The roof, with the carbons shaking swung in sedately and lowered onto the basin like a hand in blessing.

Francy turned to the control panel and like Frankenstein's Igor, he rammed the power on. The thick black cables bucked and swayed as the 60,000,000 volt-amperes of electricity gave life to the three carbon electrodes. The metal inside the furnace screamed as the power arced through it. The reverberations rattled the skylights and loosened the wig on Jimmy the metallurgist baldy heid. The false teeth and fillings of most of the closers and moulders in the foundry took a fair rattling as well.

The furnace would clatter away like this for ten minutes before settling down to a dull hum. It would be a few hours before the metal would need to be 'worked'. Plenty of preparation still had to be done though, and the three man crew kept themselves busy with this.

Up in the crane, I sat back in my comfy leather chair and began the crossword. While I was mulling over 7 up, my eyes rested again on Francy. He was standing at the anvil paring the metal and slag from one of the sampling spoons using a hammer and cold chisel.

His head jerked suddenly to his left. He dropped his shoulder, his eyes widened and he forced his head towards whatever had caught his attention. The wee man had ceased in that moment to be Francy the furnaceman, he had reverted to man the hunter.

Like a house-cat hunting in long grass, his eyes stared at one spot and his wee body stiffened. In a slow deliberate and liqued movement, he placed the hammer carefully, noiselessly and deliberately on the flat face of the anvil. He crouched and became perfectly still. His eyes blazed as he took on the aspect of the predator.

I sat up in my chair and maneuvered the crane slowly towards the area. The wee man looked up towards me with a grim and twisted face. He waved me to stop and back silently away,reluctantly, I followed his instructions.

Francy snaked his lithe body around the anvil's wooden base, and like a shadow he slinked towards his target. On all fours, hand after hand, and knee after knee, the wee bugger stalked his prey.

Suddenly he jumped up and threw himself in between two big ladles. A cloud of white lime dust puffed up into the air. Francy's feet scraped him forward, and he disappeared..

Two minutes later covered in white dust, he reappeared. He was smiling and looking intently into his cupped hands. I leaned forward and opened the front window of the cabin. With the noise from the furnace I had to shout.

" Whit's that yi've goat in yir hauns there?,"

Francy looked up at the crane. He turned to the left, and while looking over his right shoulder, he shouted back at me.

“Nuhin, A've no goat oannythin in ma hauns. Fuck aff ya nosey bastart."

“Cumoan ya wee shite. Yi've goat sumhin in yir hauns. Whit is it?"

Francy, kept his back to me and continued walking over to the furnace. Big Wullie the chargehand was hosing dust from the footplate.

Francy held his hands out towards him as he approached. Wullie looked into Francy's mitts. They spoke for a second, Wullie nodded then rolled the hose up and  they both walked over to the control panel. Willie turned the water off and wrapped the hose round its hook. The two men walked back onto the footplate while continuing to look at whatever was in Francy's cupped hands.

Big Wullie, smiling had his arm around the wee man's shoulder; nodding, he pointed towards the two ladles where Francy had made his capture, of whatever the hells-fire he'd captured.

I shouted down...

“Whit’s he goat in his hauns Wullie?,"

Wullie looked up. He held his open right hand to his ear and shouted.

“Eh? Whit?,"

I held my cupped hands in front of me and called again.

“In his hauns. Whit's he goat in his fuckin hauns ya deef bastart?"

Wullie pointed one finger at the furnace and twirled the other at his ear.

“A cannae hear yie... The furnace."

He looked once more into Francy's hands before smiling up at me and waving both hands beside their appropriate ears. He took a piece of paper out of his breast pocket, flipped it open, and walked over to the additions bay to weigh out the mix.

I wondered what the bloody hell that wee bugger had caught beside those ladles? There were a lot of pigeons nesting in the gantries holding the overhead cranes. There were other birds, and many wee animals living about the foundry. What the hell had that wee shite caught?

Paw Broon, always with a secretive smile and overalls two sizes too big, came walking round the side of the furnace. Francy was still staring affectionately into his hands, and he looked to be cooing and poking at whatever it was with his fingertip.

Paw ruffled over and he too was introduced to whatever the bliddy hell was in that wee shite's scabby wee claws.

The two men stood smiling at each other. Francy again pointed over at the place of capture. Paw nodded, slapped him on the back and headed into the Metallurgy lab. He returned seconds later with a saucer of what looked to be milk.

The two buggers stood with their backs to me as they fed whatever was in Francy's hands.

" Whit did that wee shite huv in his hands? I really had to know and soon. I was losing the plot altogether. I couldn't leave the crane at this crucial moment. The furnace was likely to break a carbon or slip an electrode. I had to stay on stand-by for the time being. Wee Francy was holding my curiosity tighter than whatever was in his smelly, wee, secrety, birdcagy,wee moose hauns.

The furnace settled down to the dull drone I'd been desperate to hear. I took the crane along to the access ladder and slid quickly down. Francy was still on the footplate. Wullie and Paw were working behind him, cleaning the furnace breast. I stepped onto the plate.

“Right ya wee shite. Whit yie hidin in yir smelly wee hauns? Cumoan let's see."

Francy turned away and faced Willie and Paw. I grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him around.

“Fuck aff, ya nosey bastart. A'm no littin yie see."

I pulled again at his overalls.

“Francy ya arsehole. Lit's see fur Goad sake.  Whit is it?"

The wee man jerked his shoulder away from me again.

“Nuhin"

“Fur Goad's almighty sake Francy, stoap bein an arse, and lit's see whit yiv'e goat in yir hauns."

He turned round and spat.

“Naw."

“How no?,"

“Cause you sit up there in yir big fancy leather seat, inside yir wee gless cage, lookin doon oan aw us wee mice runnin aboot doon here. We're aw knoackin oor pans in tryin tae earn a livin, and you're up in yir goldfish bowl judgin aw us inferiors. So, naw, yir no gittin tae see whit A've goat in,- as you say, ma smelly wee hauns. Ram that up yir leather chair comfy fat arse."

I was shocked. I had judged nobody. I got bored sometimes, and took a look around the foundry floor purely for amusement, but I never judged. I took a step back. i desperately wanted to know what he had in his hands. I used a lever.

“Fine ya wee shite. Stick whitever’s in yir hauns where the sun disnae shine. A’m no wantin tae see it noo. An I’ll tell yie better than that. “

I pointed to a massive pinch-bar lying beside the footplate. It was five inches in circumference and seven feet long. It weighed eighty very heavy and hard to handle pounds. Francy had to use this bar to open the furnace tap-hole to empty or 'Tap' the furnace. To make it easy for him, I used to hold the bar for him using the small hoist on the crane and a piece of thick rope. This was not part of my job but I had been doing it to help him..

“See that bar there, yie can forget aw aboot shoutin on me tae lift it fur yie. A’ll be too busy shinin up ma fancy leather seat wie ma comfy fat arse while A'm lookin aboot and judgin people, yie can jist lift it yirsell.”

Francy stared at the bar; he lifted his hands and looked in between his fingers.

“Awright, yie can see whit A’ve goat here, but yi’ll huvtae come in a wee bit closer; A’m no want it tae escape.”

Wullie and Paw came over to watch what was happening.  I put my head down towards Francy’s hands. They began to open. Wullie coughed. Francy closed his fingers. He stared at Wullie reproachfully and said.

“Shh,”

He began again to slowly open his hands. I dropped my head even closer. The filthy fingers on Francy’s hands parted. I gasped as a  silvery stream of ice-cold water from the hose in his hands splashed all over my face and down the front of my overalls.