The warehouse clock

An original fiction passage set in the nineteenth century.

For twenty years, the clock above Durrant’s warehouse had decided when the gates should close. Its face could be seen from the river steps, and its bell was loud enough to scatter birds from the roof. Mr Durrant called it the most dependable member of his staff.

One wet Monday, Ruth Mercer entered the street as the bell began to strike six. The church clock still showed three minutes to the hour, but the gatekeeper lowered the wooden bar before the final note had faded. Ruth held up her watch. Mr Durrant scarcely glanced at it.

“A private watch is an obedient witness,” he said. “It tells its owner whatever the owner wishes to hear.”

Ruth pointed towards the church tower. Mr Durrant replied that its clock had stopped twice during the winter. His own clock, he observed, had stopped for nobody. Ruth was sent home without the first hour’s pay.

During the week, six workers compared their watches at the warehouse door. Their hands did not agree exactly, yet each morning the warehouse bell sounded earlier than the church bell. Ruth wrote the differences in the margin of the workers’ petition. When she asked for the warehouse clock to be examined, Mr Durrant said that a clock which had served for twenty years did not become dishonest because six people had purchased poor watches.

Nevertheless, he allowed a clockmaker to visit on Saturday, when several merchants were waiting in the yard. The clockmaker compared the mechanism with his own regulator. He found that the warehouse clock had gained seven minutes in four days. Ruth’s watch, when tested beside it, had lost two minutes during the same period.

Mr Durrant studied both results. He agreed that the warehouse clock would be checked every Saturday and that the gatekeeper would not lower the bar until the bell had finished striking. He would not restore the missing pay. “The old rule was followed,” he said, placing the clock-case key in his waistcoat pocket. “We shall now follow a better one.”

On Monday, Ruth reached the gate as the bell began. Mr Durrant, who was standing beneath the clock with his watch open, signalled for the bar to remain raised. The final note faded just as the church clock reached six, and Ruth entered the yard. She thanked the gatekeeper. At dinner, she folded the workers’ petition and returned it to her pocket instead of tearing it up.