Evening after evening we toiled upon the iron giant that was to do such wondrous things, old Faulkener directing, and I supplying with my thews and sinews the help he needed. Then one day it was finished—finished in every point and part—complete, gigantic, wonderful! I do confess something of the old man’s spirit entered into me when our work was thus accomplished. I stood minute by minute before it overcome with an awe and wonder inexplicable. And if the ’prentice felt like that, the master was mad with expectation and delight. Nothing now would do but he must try it, and the next night we did so. We sent the household early to their rest, and, as soon as it was dark, I, carrying a spluttering torch, and Faulkener the great cellar key, stole like thieves across the cobbled courtyard to our workshop. The scholar’s fingers trembled till he scarce could fit the key into the wards, but presently the door was opened, and we entered.
“No strangers trespass here to-night,” the old man chuckled, while he closed and double-locked the iron-studded door, and put the key into his belt and the torch into a socket.
Well, all agog with excitement, we lit the fires in the iron stomach of that finished monster; we filled his gullet with kegs of water, slewed his guiding-wheels round, laid heavy, sloping oaken planks for his highness to leave his birthplace by, set back the litter, and, lastly, turned the tap that brought the fire and water together, and put the blood of that iron beast in motion. He came down from off the pedestal for all the world like some black Gorgon issuing from a den! Resplendent in weight and strength, he came sliding down from off the platform of his cradle, and amid the crash of struts and stays, amid flying splinters and the dust of transit, rolled out majestic into the red furnace light; where, trembling in every fiber, and gently swaying like a young giant feeling his strength for the first time, with the strong breath within murmuring, and the great steel heart pulsating audibly, our iron toy was born and launched, and came forth magnificent, huge, overpowering—then, checked by its anchor-chains, swerving round to face the farther end, and halted.
Old Faulkener was possessed with joy, dancing and capering round that huge carcass as though he were a ten-years’ urchin, his white beard all astream, his elfin locks shaggy on his head, his black venerable robes flapping like the wings of a great bat, his hands clasped fervidly as he leaped and skipped with pleasure, and his lips moving rapidly as he babbled incoherent adulation and love upon that firstling of his hopes. Even I, grave and thoughtful, was elated, and walked round and round the wondrous thing, patting its iron sides as one might a charger’s just led from stall, while, half in wonder and half in pleasure, catching a fraction of the old man’s fancies. So far everything had happened as we wished for, and Faulkener, when he could get his breath, burst out in wild rhapsodies of all his bantling should do, and I put in a sentence here and there amid his pæans; and then he capped on a hope, and I again a fancy, and so, nodding and laughing to each other, we bandied words across that carcass for twenty minutes, and felt its sinews, and marveled at its tractableness and grace.
And what was our sweet Cyclops doing all that while? Oh! we were young in mechanics; and all the time we talked and capered the glowing fires were working in that body, and presently the wheels began to ramble and the bars to move; strange dull thunder came fitfully from under those steel ribs, and quaint, unaccountable knockings sounded deep within; the furnace glowed white and hot as angry jets of steam commenced to spit from every weak point in the monster’s harness. All this I noticed and pointed out to the master; but he was stupid with gratification in that moment of consummated labor, and now our vast machine began to fret! It was impatient, I saw with a presage of coming evil, and the great circles above began to grit their iron teeth and spin like distaff wheels under a busy housewife’s hand, the pistons were shooting to and fro faster and ever faster, while that fifty tons of metal, glowing hot, now began to yank hungrily upon its chains, and start forward a foot and then come back, and sniff and snort and tremble, and strain in every part, and thunder and pant as the hot life surged stronger and stronger into its veins, until it was rocking like a skiff at anchor, and bellowing like a bull in agony.
“By every saint, old Andrew Faulkener!” I shouted through the gathering roar—“by every saint in Paradise, have a care for this frightful beast of thine!”
And I think he saw at last our danger, for the hundredth rhapsody died unfinished upon his lips, and, dropping from the clouds at once, with an anxious look, he scanned the now flying wonders of his offspring, and then ran round and seized the handle which should have shut off the red-hot vapor which was the breath and being of the puissant thing he had conjured into being. Twice and thrice he bore upon that handle, then turned to me with a wild and frightened look. ’Twas as hot as hot could be, and could not move an inch! Hardly had I read that in his face, when with an angry plunge the engine started forward, and the philosopher missed his footing, rolling over headlong to the ground at my feet. And now our beast was mad with waiting, and stronger than fifty elephants, and fiercer than the nettled lion. The chains that held him upon either side were as thick as a man’s arm, being fastened to mighty staples in the forge. Our swaddling came back two yards upon those chains—then started forward, and was brought up all on a sudden with such a jerk as made the ground tremble, and filled us with a sickly dread. Back came our splendid plaything again in no good mood, and then forward once more, putting his mighty shoulders against his bonds until the great steel chains stretched and groaned beneath the strain, and Andrew Faulkener yelled in fear. The third time the monster did this the staples gave, and all the forge fell into one dusty smoking ruin, while the great engine twirled up those heavy chains upon its thundering axles, and, laughing in savage joyfulness, recognized the fatal fact that it was free!
Then began a wild scene of chaos which brings the dampness of fear and exertion on my forehead even to remember. What mattered chains or bars or fetters to that splendid life that we could hear humming there under those iron ribs?—to that unruly devil-heart which knew its strength, and thundered in proud tumultuous rhythm to the consciousness? The wonderful new Titan was born, and there in his own den, in the black cradle of his nativity, would brook no master—he was born for strength and might, and, Hoth! they were running hot within him, and we could but cower in the shadows waiting and watching.
And now that hideous monster, being free to do what he listed, set off for the far end of the stony cellar, and, like a great black ship floundering in a chopping sea, went plunging and reeling over the uneven floor. We held our breath. What would he do when he reached the end? And in a minute he was there, and through the gloom we heard him crash into the rocky walls and recoil; then, with a scream like an angry devil-baby, charge the native masonry again and again. But Faulkener’s wretched cunning had put the guiding-wheels on pivots, and now they slewed, and here he was coming down the walls toward us.
We did not stop or wait to parley. We ran and dodged behind the pillars, whence we heard him thud into the broken forge—ay, through the reek and cloudy steam we caught the sound of that fifty tons of metal clambering over the fallen masonry, all the time screeching in his anger like a peevish Fury at being so thwarted; then back we dodged again, and the huge thing went lumbering by us full of a horrid giant life no valor availed against, no mortal hands could shackle.