CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
TREATS OF RAILWAY LITERATURE, SLEEPY PORTERS, CROWDED PLATFORMS, FOOLISHPASSENGERS, DARK PLOTTERS, LIVELY SHAWLS, AND OTHER MATTERS.
John Marrot was remarkably fond of his iron horse. No dragoon or hussarthat we ever read of paid half so much attention to his charger. He notonly rubbed it down, and fed and watered it at stated intervals, but,when not otherwise engaged, or when awaiting the signal to start atrain, he was sure to be found with a piece of waste rubbing off a speckof dust here or a drop of superfluous oil there, or giving an extrapolish to the bright brasses, or a finishing touch to a handle or leverin quite a tender way. It was evidently a labour of love!
On the day which Mrs Durby had fixed for her journey to London, Johnand his fireman went to the shed as usual one hour before the time ofstarting, being required to do so by the "Rules and Regulations" of thecompany, for the purpose of overhauling the iron horse.
And, by the way, a wonderful and suggestive volume was this book of"Rules and Regulations for the guidance of the officers and servants ofthe Grand National Trunk Railway." It was a printed volume of above twohundred pages, containing minute directions in regard to everydepartment and every detail of the service. It was "printed for privatecirculation;" but we venture to say that, if the public saw it, theirrespect for railway servants and railway difficulties and managementwould be greatly increased, the more so that one of the first "rules"enjoined was, that _each_ servant should be held responsible for havinga knowledge of all the rules--those relating to other departments aswell as to his own. And it may not be out of place, certainly it willnot be uninteresting, to mention here that one of the rules, renderedprominent by large black capitals, enjoined that "THE PUBLIC SAFETY MUSTBE THE FIRST AND CHIEF CARE of every officer and servant of thecompany." We have reason to believe that all the railways in thekingdom give this rule equal prominence in spirit--probably also intype. In this little volume it was likewise interesting to note, thatcivility to the public was strictly enjoined; and sure we are that everyrailway traveller will agree with us in the opinion that railway agents,guards, and porters, all, in short with whom the public come in contact,obey this rule heartily, in the spirit and in the letter.
The particular rules in the book which affected our engine-driver wereuncommonly stringent, and very properly so, seeing that the lives of somany persons depended on the constancy of his coolness, courage, andvigilance. John Marrot, like all the engine-drivers on the line, was apicked man. In virtue of his superior character and abilities hereceived wages to the extent of 2 pounds, 10 shillings per week. Amongother things, he was enjoined by his "rules and regulations," verystrictly, to give a loud whistle before starting, to start his trainslowly and without a jerk, and to take his orders to start only from theguard; also, to approach stations or stopping places cautiously, andwith the train well under control, and to be guided in the matter ofshutting off steam, by such considerations as the number of vehicles inthe train, and the state of the weather and rails, so as to avoidviolent application of the brakes. Moreover, he was bound to do hisbest to keep to his exact time, and to account for any loss thereof byentering the cause of delay on his report-ticket. He was also earnestlyenjoined to use every effort which might conduce to the safety of thepublic, and was authorised to refuse to proceed with any carriage orwaggon which, from hot axles or otherwise, was in his opinion unfit torun. These are but a few specimens culled from a multitude of rulesbearing on the minutest details of his duty as to driving, shunting,signalling, junction and level crossing, etcetera, with all of which hehad to become not merely acquainted, but so intimately familiar that hismind could grasp them collectively, relatively, or individually at anymoment, so as to act instantaneously, yet coolly, while going like agiant bomb-shell through the air--with human lives in the balance to addweight to his responsibilities.
If any man in the world needed a cool clear head and a quick steadyhand, with ample nightly as well as Sabbath rest, that man was JohnMarrot, the engine-driver. When we think of the constant pressure ofresponsibility that lay on him, and the numbers in the kingdom of theclass to which he belonged, it seems to us almost a standing miraclethat railways are so safe and accidents so very rare.
While our engine-driver was harnessing his iron steed, another of therailway servants, having eaten his dinner, felt himself rather sleepy,and resolved to have a short nap. It was our friend Sam Natly, theporter, who came to this unwise as well as unfair resolution. Yetalthough we are bound to condemn Sam, we are entitled to palliate hisoffence and constrained to pity him, for his period of duty during thepast week had been fifteen hours a day.
"Shameful!" exclaims some philanthropist.
True, but who is to take home the shame? Not the officers of thecompany, who cannot do more than their best with the materials laid totheir hands; not the directors, who cannot create profits beyond thecapacity of their line--although justice requires us to admit that theymight reduce expenses, by squabbling less with other companies, andceasing unfair, because ruinous as well as ungenerous, competition.Clearly the bulk of the shame lies with the shareholders, who encourageopposition for the sake of increasing their own dividends at the expenseof their neighbours, and who insist on economy in directions whichrender the line inefficient--to the endangering of their own lives aswell as those of the public. Economy in the matter of railwayservants--in other words, their reduction in numbers--necessitatesincrease of working hours, which, beyond a certain point, impliesinefficiency and danger. But the general public are not free from amodicum of this shame, and have to thank themselves if they are maimedand killed, because they descend on railways for compensation with aruthless hand; (shame to Government here, for allowing it!) and stillfurther, impoverish their already over-taxed coffers. Compensation forinjury is just, but compensation as it is, and has been claimed andawarded, is ridiculously unfair, as well as outrageously unwise.
Fortunately Sam Natly's wicked resolve to indulge in undutiful slumberdid not result in evil on this occasion, although it did result insomething rather surprising. It might have been far otherwise had Sambeen a pointsman!
In order to enjoy fully the half-hour which he meant to snatch fromduty, Sam entered a first-class carriage which stood on a siding, and,creeping under a seat, laid himself out at full length, pillowing hishead on his arm. Tired men don't require feather-beds. He was soundasleep in two minutes. It so happened that, three-quarters of an hourafterwards, an extra first-class carriage was wanted to add to the trainwhich John Marrot was to "horse" on its arrival at Clatterby. Thecarriage in which Sam lay was selected for the purpose, drawn out, andattached to the train. Tired men are not easily awakened. Sam knewnothing of this change in his sleeping apartment.
Meanwhile Clatterby station became alive with travellers. The traindrew up to the platform. Some passengers got out; others got in. Theengine which brought it there, being in need of rest, coal, and water,moved off to the shed. John Marrot with his lieutenant, Garvie, movedto the front on his iron horse, looking as calm and sedate in hisconscious power as his horse looked heavy and unyielding in itsstolidity. Never did two creatures more thoroughly belie themselves bytheir looks. The latent power of the iron horse could have shot itforth like an arrow from a bow, or have blown the whole station toatoms. The smouldering fires in John's manly breast could have raisedhim from a begrimed, somewhat sluggish, driver to a brilliant hero.
Some of the characters who have already been introduced at Clatterbystation were there on this occasion also. Mr Sharp was there, lookingmeditative as usual, and sauntering as though he had nothing particularto do. Our tall superlative fop with the sleepy eyes and long whiskerswas also there with his friend of the checked trousers. Mr Sharp felta strong desire to pommel these fops, because he had found them verydifficult to deal with in regard to compensation, the fop with thechecked trousers having claimed, and finally obtained, an unreasonablylarge sum for the trifling injury done to his eye on the o
ccasion of theaccident at Langrye station. Mr Sharp could not however, gratify hisdesire. On the contrary, when the checked trousers remarked in passingthat it was "vewy disagweeable weather," he felt constrained to admit,civilly enough, that it was.
The two fops had a friend with them who was not a fop, but a plain,practical-looking man, with a forbidding countenance, and a large, tall,powerful frame. These three retired a little apart from the bustle ofthe station, and whispered together in earnest tones. Their names werethe reverse of romantic, for the fop with the checked trousers wasaddressed as Smith, he with the long whiskers as Jenkins, and the largeman as Thomson.
"Are you sure he is to go by this train?" asked Thomson, somewhatgruffly.
"Quite sure. There can be no mistake about it," replied Jenkins, fromwhose speech, strange to say, the lisp and drawl had suddenlydisappeared.
"And how are you sure of knowing him, if, as you say, you have neverseen him?" asked Thomson.
"By the bag, of course," answered Smith, whose drawl had alsodisappeared unaccountably; "we have got a minute description of themoney-bag which he has had made peculiarly commonplace and shabby onpurpose. It is black leather but very strong, with an unusually thickflat handle."
"He's very late," observed Thomson, moving uneasily, and glancing at theclock as the moment of departure drew near.
Mr Sharp observed the consulting party, and sauntered idly towardsthem, but they were about as sharp as himself, in practice if not inname. The lisps and drawls returned as if by magic, and the turf becamethe subject of interest about which they were consulting.
Just then a shriek was heard to issue from a female throat, and a stoutelderly woman was observed in the act of dashing wildly across the linein the midst of moving engines, trucks and vans. Even in these unwontedcircumstances no one who knew her could have mistaken Mrs Durby'sponderous person for a moment. She had come upon the station at thewrong side, and, in defiance of all printed regulations to thecontrary--none of which she could read, being short-sighted--she hadmade a bold venture to gain her desired position by the most directroute. This involved crossing a part of the line where there wereseveral sidings and branch lines, on which a good deal of pushing oftrucks and carriages to and fro--that is "shunting"--was going on.
Like a reckless warrior, who by a bold and sudden push sometimes gainssingle-handed the centre of an enemy's position before he is discoveredand assailed on every side, straight forward Mrs Durby ran into thevery midst of a brisk traffic, before any one discovered her. Suddenlya passenger-train came up with the usual caution in such circumstances,nevertheless at a smart rattling pace, for "usual caution" does not takeinto account or provide for the apparition of stout elderly females onthe line. The driver of the passenger engine saw her, shut off steam,shouted, applied the brakes and whistled furiously.
We have already hinted that the weather was not fine. Mrs Durby'sumbrella being up, hid the approaching train. As for screamingsteam-whistles, the worthy woman had come to regard intermittentwhistling as a normal condition of railways, which, like the crying ofcross babies, meant little or nothing, and had only to be endured. Shepaid no attention to the alarm. In despair the driver reversed hisengine; fire flew from the wheels, and the engine was brought to astand, but not until the buffers were within three feet of the nurse'sshoulder. At that moment she became aware of her danger, uttered ashriek, as we have said, that would have done credit to the whistle of asmall engine, and, bending her head with her umbrella before her, rushedfrantically away on another line of rails. She did not observe, poorsoul, that a goods train was coming straight down that line towardsher,--partly because her mental vision was turned in terror to the rear,and partly because the umbrella obscured all in advance. In vain thedriver of the goods engine repeated the warnings and actions of thepassenger engine. His had more speed on and was heavier; besides, MrsDurby charged it at the rate of full five miles an hour, with theumbrella steadily in front, and a brown paper parcel swinging wildly onher arm, as if her sole desire on earth was to meet that goods engine insingle combat and beat out its brains at the first blow. Certain it isthat Mrs Durby's career would have been cut short then and there, iftall Joe Turner, the guard, had not been standing at the tail of his owntrain and observed her danger. In the twinkling of an eye he droppedhis slow dignified air, leaped like a panther in front of the goodsengine, caught Mrs Durby with both hands--any how--and hurled her andhimself off the line,--not a moment too soon, for the buffer of theengine touched his shoulder as they fell together to the ground.
A lusty cheer was given by those on the platform who witnessed this boldrescue, and more than one sympathetic hand grasped the massive fist ofJoe Turner as he assisted Mrs Durby to a carriage.
"Why," exclaimed Will Garvie, hurrying forward at that moment, "it'sMrs Durby, the woman we promised to take care of! You'll look afterher, Joe?"
"All right," said the guard, as Will hurried back to his engine; "thisway, ma'am. Got your ticket?"
"N-no!" gasped the poor nurse, leaning heavily on her protector's arm.
"Here, Dick," cried Joe, hailing a porter, "run to the booking-officeand get her a ticket for London, first-class; she's got a bad shake,poor thing. No doubt the company will stand the difference; if not,we'll make it up amongst us."
Hereupon a benevolent old gentleman drew out his purse, and insisted onpaying the whole of the fare himself, a point which no one seemedinclined to dispute, and Mrs Durby was carefully placed by Joe in acarriage by herself.
There were two gentlemen--also known to the reader--who arrived just intime to witness this incident: the one was Captain Lee, the other EdwinGurwood. They both carried bags and rugs, and were evidently going bythat train. The captain, who happened to have a bad cold at the time,was muffled up to the eyes in a white worsted comforter, and had a furtravelling-cap pulled well down on his forehead, so that little of him,save the point of his nose, was visible.
The moment that the two fops caught sight of Captain Lee, they whisperedto Thomson--
"That's our man."
"Sure?" demanded Thomson.
"Quite," replied Smith. "That's about the size and make of the man asdescribed to me. Of course they could not tell what sort of travellinggear he would appear in, but there's no mistaking the bag--old, stoutleather, with flat handle-strap."
"All right," said Thomson; "but who's the young fellow with him?"
"Don't know," replied Smith; "yet I think I've seen his face before.Stay, Jenkins, wasn't he in the accident at Langrye station?"
"Perhaps he was; but it's of no consequence to us."
"It will be of consequence to us if he goes with the old gentleman,"retorted Smith, "for he's a stout fellow, and wouldn't be easy tomanage."
"_I'll_ manage him, no fear," said Thomson, looking at the unconsciousEdwin with a dark sinister smile.
"What if they get into a carriage that's already nearly full?" suggestedthe dubious Smith.
"They won't do that," replied Jenkins with a laugh. "It seems to beagainst the laws of human nature to do that. As long as there are emptycarriages in a train, so long will men and women pass every carriagethat has a soul in it, until they find an empty one for themselves. Wehave nothing to do but follow them, and, when they have pitched on acarriage, get in after them, and fill it up, so we shall have it all toourselves."
"Come along, then; it's time to stop talking and to act," said Thomson,testily, as he moved towards the carriages.
That even the wisest of men (in his own conceit) may make mistakes nowand then is a fact which was beautifully illustrated on this occasion.We may here let the reader into the secret of Jenkins, Smith, andThomson. They were men who lived by their wits. They had ascertainedthat a partner of a certain house that dealt in jewellery meant toreturn to London by that particular train, with a quantity of valuablesthat were worth running some risk for. On the journey there was onestoppage quite close to London. The run immediately before that was aclear o
ne of seventy-five miles without a halt, at full express speed,which would afford them ample opportunity for their purpose, while theslowing of the train on approaching the stopping place would give themopportunity and time to leap out and make off with their booty. Theyhad been told that their intended victim was a stout resolute man, butthat would avail nothing against numbers.
Having obtained all requisite information they had proceeded thus farwith their villainous design, apparently with success. But at thispoint a hitch occurred, though they knew it not. They had not takensufficiently into account the fact that black leather bags may be bothstout and peculiar, and in some degree similar without being identical.Hence Smith and Jenkins in their self-confidence had settled, as we haveseen, that Captain Lee was "their man," whereas their man wascomfortably seated in another carriage, and by his side the coveted bag,which was similar in some points to that of the captain, but differentin size and in several small details.
Following the wrong scent, therefore, with wonted pertinacity, the threemen sauntered behind Captain Lee and Edwin, who, true to the "laws" withwhich Jenkins had credited human nature, passed one carriage afteranother until they found an empty one.
"Here is one, Gurwood," said the captain.
He was about to step into it, when he observed Mrs Durby sitting in thenext compartment.
"Hallo! nurse," he exclaimed, getting in and sitting down opposite toher; "why, surely it wasn't you, was it, that had such a narrow escape?"
"Indeed it was, Capting Lee," replied Mrs Durby in a half whimper, foralbeit a woman of strong character, she was not proof against such roughtreatment as she had experienced that day.
"Not hurt, I trust?" asked the Captain sympathetically.
"Oh dear no, sir; only shook a bit."
"Are you alone?" asked Edwin, seating himself beside his friend.
"Yes, sir; but la, sir, I don't think nothink of travellin' alone. I'mused to it, sir."
As she said this the guard's voice was heard desiring passengers to taketheir seats, and the three men, who had grouped themselves close roundthe door, thus diverging one or two passengers into the nextcompartment, entered, and sat down.
At the same moment Mr Sharp's earnest countenance appeared at thewindow. He made a few remarks to Captain Lee and Edwin Gurwood, andtook occasion to regard the three adventurers with much attention. Theyevidently understood him, for they received his glances with blandsmiles.
It was quite touching to note Mr Sharp's anxiety to lay hold of thesemen. He chanced to know nothing about them, save in connexion with theLangrye accident, but his long experience in business had given him adelicate power of perception in judging of character, which was notoften at fault. He, as it were, smelt the presence of fair game,although he could not manage to lay immediate hold of it, just as thatcelebrated giant did, who, once upon a time, went about his castlegiving utterance to well-known words--
"Fee, fo, fa, fum, I smell the smell of an Englishman."
"Joe," he whispered, as the guard came up to lock the door, "just keepan eye on these three fellows, will you? I'd lay my life on it thatthey're up to mischief to-day."
Joe looked knowing, and nodded.
"Show your tickets, please," he said, touching his cap to his directorand Edwin.
The tickets were produced--all right. Mrs Durby, in getting out hers,although, of course, having got it for her, Joe did not require to seeit, dropped her precious brown paper parcel. Picking it up againhastily she pressed it to her bosom with such evident anxiety, that menmuch less sharp-witted than our trio, would have been led to suspectthat it contained something valuable. But they aimed at higher bootyjust then, and apparently did not notice the incident.
A rapid banging of doors had now set in--a sure precursor of thestarting whistle. Before it was quite completed, the inevitable latepassenger appeared in the distance. This time it was a lady,middle-aged and stout, and short of wind, but with an iron will, as wasclearly evinced by the energy with which she raced along the platform,carrying a large bundle of shawls in one arm, and a travelling-bag inthe other, which she waved continuously as she shouted, "Stop! stop!stop the trai-i-i-in! I'm coming!"
The guard, with the whistle already half-way to his lips, paused andglanced at his watch. There was a fraction of a moment left. Hestepped to a carriage and threw open a door.
"Make haste, ma'am; make haste, please," was said in urgent, thoughrespectful tones.
The late passenger plunged in--she might, as far as appearances went, besaid to have taken a header into the carriage--and the door was shut.
The guard's whistle sounded. The engine-driver's whistle gave promptreply, and next instant the train moved. No one could conceive of sucha thing as a train _starting_ when John Marrot drove!
As the carriages glided by, Mr Sharp cast a passing glance on the latepassenger. He observed that her bundle of shawls moved of its ownaccord, and, for one whole minute after the train had left, he stoodmotionless, meditating on that curious phenomenon. He had often heardof table-turning, but never until now had he seen inanimate matter moveof its own accord. Can we feel surprised that he was both astonishedand perplexed? Proceeding to the booking-office he held a briefconversation with the clerks there; then he sauntered into thetelegraph-office and delivered a message, after which he left thestation with a quiet smile on his sedate countenance.