CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
DETAILS A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT.
In due time that holiday came to a close, and the excursionists returnedto the station where their train awaited them. Among the rest came MrsTipps and Mrs Marrot, but they did not arrive together, and therefore,much to their annoyance, failed to get into the same carriage.
The weather, which up to that time had kept fine, began to lower, and,just as the train started, a smart thunder-shower fell, but, being undercover, the holiday-makers heeded it not. Upon the whole they were anorderly band of excursionists. Some of the separate groups wereteetotallers, and only one or two showed symptoms of having sought toincrease their hilarity by the use of stimulants.
When the shower began, John Marrot and his mate put on their pilot-clothcoats, for the screen that formed their only protection from the weatherwas a thin flat one, without roof or sides, forming only a partialprotection from wind and rain.
Night had begun to descend before the train left the station, and as thelowering clouds overspread the sky, the gloom rapidly increased until itbecame quite dark.
"We are going to have a bad night of it," observed John Marrot as hismate examined the water-gauge.
"Looks like it," was Garvie's curt reply.
The clatter of the engine and howling of the wind, which had by thattime risen to a gale, rendered conversation difficult; the two mentherefore confined themselves to the few occasional words that wererequisite for the proper discharge of their duties. It was not a nighton which the thoughts of an engine-driver were likely to wander much.To drive an excursion train in a dark night through a populous countryover a line which was crowded with traffic, while the rain beatviolently on the little round windows in the screen, obscuring them andrendering it difficult to keep a good look-out was extremely anxiouswork, which claimed the closest and most undivided attention.Nevertheless, the thoughts of John Marrot did wander a little that nightto the carriage behind him in which were his wife and child, but thiswandering of thought caused him to redouble rather than to relax hisvigilance and caution.
Will Garvie consulted the water-gauge for a moment and then opened theiron door of the furnace in order to throw in more coal. The effectwould have stirred the heart of Rembrandt. The instantaneous blindingglare of the intense fire shot through the surrounding darkness,lighting up the two men and the tender as if all were made of red-hotmetal; flooding the smoke and steam-clouds overhead with round massesand curling lines of more subdued light, and sending sharp gleamsthrough the murky atmosphere into dark space beyond, where the ghostlylandscape appeared to rush wildly by.
Now it chanced that at the part of the line they had reached, a mineraltrain which preceded them had been thrown off the rails by a bale ofgoods which had fallen from a previous goods train. Carelessness on thepart of those who had loaded the truck, from which the bale had fallen,led to this accident. The driver and fireman of the mineral train wererather severely hurt, and the guard was much shaken as well as excited,so that they neglected to take the proper precaution of sending back oneof their number to stop the train that followed them. This would havebeen a matter of little consequence had the line been worked on theblock system, because, in that case, the danger-signal would have beenkept up, and would have prevented the excursion train from entering onthat portion of the line until it was signalled "clear;" but the blocksystem had been only partially introduced on the line. A sufficientinterval of _time_ had been allowed after the mineral train had passedthe last station, and then, as we have seen, the excursion train waspermitted to proceed. Thus it came to pass that at a part of the linewhere there was a slight curve and a deep cutting, John Marrot lookinganxiously through his circular window, saw the red tail-light of themineral train.
Instantly he cried, "Clap on the brakes, Bill!"
Almost at the same moment he reversed the engine and opened the whistleto alarm the guard, who applied his brakes in violent haste. But it wastoo late. The speed could not be checked in time. The rails wereslippery, owing to rain. Almost at full speed they dashed into themineral train with a noise like thunder. The result was appalling. Theengine was smashed and twisted in a manner that is quite indescribable,and the tender was turned completely over, while the driver and firemanwere shot as if from a cannon's mouth, high into the air. The first twocarriages of the passenger-train, and the last van of the mineral, werecompletely wrecked; and over these the remaining carriages of thepassenger-train were piled until they reached an incredible height. Theguard's van was raised high in the air, with its ends resting on athird-class carriage, which at one end was completely smashed in by thevan.
At the time of the concussion--just after the terrible crash--there wasa brief, strange, unearthly silence. All was still for a few seconds,and passengers who were uninjured gazed at each other in mute andhorrified amazement. But death in that moment had passed upon many,while others were fearfully mangled. The silence was almost immediatelybroken by the cries and groans of the wounded. Some had been forciblythrown out of the carriages, others had their legs and arms broken, andsome were jammed into fixed positions from which death alone relievedthem. The scenes that followed were heart-rending. Those who wereuninjured, or only slightly hurt, lent willing aid to extricate theirless fortunate fellow-travellers, but the howling of the wind, thedeluging rain, and the darkness of the night, retarded their efforts,and in many cases rendered them unavailing.
John Marrot, who, as we have said, was shot high into the air, fell bygood fortune into a large bush. He was stunned at first, but otherwiseuninjured. On regaining consciousness, the first thoughts that flashedacross him were his wife and child. Rising in haste he made his waytowards the engine, which was conspicuous not only by its own fire, butby reason of several other fires which had been kindled in variousplaces to throw light on the scene. In the wreck and confusion, it wasdifficult to find out the carriage, in which Mrs Marrot had travelled,and the people about were too much excited to give very coherent answersto questions. John, therefore, made his way to a knot of people whoappeared to be tearing up the _debris_ at a particular spot. He foundJoe Turner, the guard, there, with his head bandaged and his facecovered with blood.
"I've bin lookin' for 'ee everywhere, John," said Joe. "She's _there_!"he added, pointing to a mass of broken timbers which belonged to acarriage, on the top of which the guard's van had been thrown, crushingit almost flat.
John did not require to ask the meaning of his words. The guard's lookwas sufficiently significant. He said not a word, but the deadly pallorof his countenance showed how much he felt. Springing at once on thebroken carriage, and seizing an axe from the hand of a man who appearedexhausted by his efforts, he began to cut through the planking so as toget at the interior. At intervals a half-stifled voice was heard cryingpiteously for "John."
"Keep up heart, lass!" said John, in his deep, strong voice. "I'll getthee out before long--God helping me."
Those who stood by lent their best aid, but anxious though they wereabout the fate of those who lay buried beneath that pile of rubbish,they could not help casting an occasional look of wonder, amountingalmost to awe, on the tall form of the engine-driver, as he cut throughand tore up the planks and beams with a power that seemed little shortof miraculous.
Presently he stopped and listened intently for a moment, while theperspiration rolled in big drops from his brow.
"Dost hear me, Mary?" he asked in a deeply anxious tone.
If any reply were uttered it was drowned by the howling of the wind andthe noise of the workmen.
Again he repeated the question in an agonising cry.
His wife did not reply, but Gertie's sweet little voice was heard sayingfaintly--
"I think mother is dead. Oh, take us out, dear father, take us out,--quick!"
Again John Marrot bowed himself to the task, and exerting his colossalstrength to the utmost, continued to tear up and cast aside the brokenplanks and beams. The people a
round him, now thoroughly aroused to theimportance of haste, worked with all their might, and, ere long, theyreached the floor of the carriage, where they found mother and childjammed into a corner and arched over by a huge mass of broken timber.
It was this mass that saved them, for the rest of the carriage had beenliterally crushed into splinters.
Close beside them was discovered the headless trunk of a young man, andthe dead body of a girl who had been his companion that day.
Gertie was the first taken out. Her tender little frame seemed to haveyielded to the pressure and thus escaped, for, excepting a scratch ortwo, she was uninjured.
John Marrot did not pause to indulge in any expression of feeling. Hesternly handed her to the bystanders, and went on powerfully butcarefully removing the broken timbers and planks, until he succeeded inreleasing his wife. Then he raised her in his arms, staggered with herto the neighbouring bank and laid her down.
Poor Mrs Marrot was crushed and bruised terribly. Her clothes weretorn, and her face was so covered with blood and dust as to be quiteunrecognisable at first. John said not a word, but went down on hisknees and began carefully to wipe away the blood from her features, inwhich act he was assisted by the drenching rain. Sad though his casewas, there was no one left to help him. The cries of the unfortunatesufferers still unextricated, drew every one else away the moment thepoor woman had been released.
Ere long the whole scene of the catastrophe was brilliantly illuminatedby the numerous fires which were kindled out of the _debris_, to serveas torches to those who laboured might and main for the deliverance ofthe injured. Troops of people from the surrounding district quicklymade their appearance on the scene, and while some of these lenteffective aid in the work of rescue, others brought blankets, water, andspirits, to cover and comfort those who stood so much in need of help.As the wounded were got out, and laid upon the banks of the line,several surgeons busied themselves in examining and binding theirwounds, and the spot bore some resemblance to a battle-field after thetide of war had passed over it. Seventeen dead and one hundred andfifty injured already lay upon the wet ground, while many of the living,who went about with blanched, solemn faces, yet with earnest helpfulenergy, were bruised and cut badly enough to have warranted theirretiring from the spot, and having their own cases considered.Meanwhile a telegram had been sent to Clatterby, and, in a short time, aspecial train arrived with several of the chief men of the line, and agang of a hundred surface-men to clear away the wreck and remove thedead and injured.
Many of those unhurt had made singularly narrow escapes. One man wasseated in a third-class carriage when the concussion took place. Theside of the carriage fell out, and he slid down on the rails just as theother carriages and vans piled up on the place he had left, killing orwounding all his fellow-travellers. Beneath the rubbish next thetender, a mother and child were buried and several others. All weredead save the mother and child when the men began to dig them out andbefore they succeeded in their labours the mother had died also, but thechild survived. In another carriage, or rather under it, a lad was seenlying with a woman's head crushed down on his breast and an infantbeside her. They had to saw the carriage asunder before these could beextricated. The woman died almost immediately on being released, butthe lad and infant were uninjured. Elsewhere a young girl, who hadattracted attention by the sweet expression of her face, had beenstrangled, and her face rendered perfectly black. In another case thesurface-men attempted to extricate a woman, by sawing the brokencarriage, under which she lay, but the more they sawed the more did thesplinters appear to cling round her, and when at last they got her outshe was dead, while another passenger in the same carnage escapedwithout a scratch.
We would not prolong a painful description which may, perhaps, bethought too long already--yet within certain limits it is right that menshould know what their fellows suffer. After all the passengers hadbeen removed to the special train--the dead into vans and horse-boxesand the living into carriages--the surface-men set to work to clear theline.
Poor Mrs Tipps was among the rescued, and, along with the others, wassent on to the Clatterby station by the special train.
While the people were being placed in this train, John Marrot observedEdwin Gurwood in the crowd. He chanced to be at Clatterby when thetelegram of the accident arrived, and ran down in the special train torender assistance.
"I'm glad to see you, sir," he said in a low, earnest voice. "My mate,Bill Garvie, must be badly hurt, for he's nowhere to be found. He mustbe under the wreck somewheres. I wouldn't leave the spot till I foundhim in or'nary circumstances; but my Mary--"
He stopped abruptly.
"I hope Mrs Marrot is not hurt?" said Edwin anxiously.
John could not reply at first. He shook his head and pointed to acarriage near at hand.
"She's there, sir, with Gertie."
"Gertie!" exclaimed Edwin.
"Ay, poor thing, Gertie is all right, thank the good Lord for that;but--"
Again he stopped, then with an effort continued--
"I couldn't quit _them_, you know, till I've got 'em safe home. But mymind will be easy, Mr Gurwood, if you'll look after Bill. We was boththrow'd a good way from the ingine, but I couldn't rightly say where.You'll not refuse--"
"My dear Marrot," said Edwin, interrupting him, and grasping his hand,"you may rely on me. I shall not leave the ground until he is found andcared for."
"Thank 'ee, sir, thank 'ee," said John, in something of his wontedhearty tone, as he returned Edwin's squeeze of the hand, and hastened tothe train, which was just ready to start.
Edwin went at once to the spot where the surface-men were toiling at thewreck in the fitful light of the fires, which flared wildly in the stormand, as they had by that time gathered intense heat, bid defiance to therain. There were several passengers, who had just been extricated,lying on the ground, some motionless, as if dead, others talkingincoherently. These he looked at in passing, but Garvie was not amongthem. Leaving them under the care of the surgeons, who did all that waspossible in the circumstances for their relief, he ran and joined thesurface-men in removing the broken timbers of a carriage, from beneathwhich groans were heard. With some difficulty a woman was extricatedand laid tenderly on the bank. Just then Edwin observed a guard, withwhom he was acquainted, and asked him if the fireman had yet been found.
"Not yet sir, I believe," said the man. "They say that he and thedriver were flung to one side of the line."
Edwin went towards the engine, and, judging the probable direction anddistance to which a man might be thrown in such an accident, went to acertain spot and sought carefully around it in all directions. For sometime he sought in vain, and was on the point of giving up in despair,when he observed a cap lying on the ground. Going up to it, he saw theform of a man half-concealed by a mass of rubbish. He stooped, and,raising the head a little, tried to make out the features, but the lightof the fires did not penetrate to the spot. He laid him gently downagain, and was about to hasten away for assistance when the man groanedand said faintly, "Is that you, Jack?"
"No, my poor fellow," said Edwin, stooping down. "Are you badly hurt?I am just going to fetch help to--"
"Mr Gurwood," said the man, interrupting, "you don't seem to know me!I'm Garvie, the fireman. Where am I? Surely there is something wrongwith my left arm. Oh! I remember now. Is Jack safe? And the Missisand Gertie? Are they--"
"Don't exert yourself," interrupted Edwin, as Will attempted to rise."You must keep quiet until I fetch a doctor. Perhaps you're not muchhurt, but it is well to be careful. Will you promise me to be still?"
"All right sir," said Will, promptly.
Edwin hastened for assistance, and in a short time the fireman wascarried to a place of comparative shelter and his wounds examined.
Almost immediately after the examination Edwin knelt at his side, andsigned to those around him to retire.
"Garvie," he said, in a low kind voice, "I'm
sorry to tell you that thedoctors say you must lose your left arm."
Will looked intently in Edwin's face.
"Is there _no_ chance of savin' it?" he asked earnestly; "it might neverbe much to speak of, sir, but I'd rather run some risk than lose it."
Edwin shook his head. "No," he said sadly, "they tell me amputationmust be immediate, else your life may be sacrificed. I said I wouldlike to break it to you, but it is necessary, my poor fellow, that youshould make up your mind at once."
"God's will be done," said Will in a low voice; "I'm ready, sir."
The circumstances did not admit of delay. In a few minutes thefireman's left arm was amputated above the elbow, the stump dressed, andhimself laid in as sheltered a position as possible to await the returnof the train that was to convey the dead and wounded, more recentlyextricated, to Clatterby.
When that train arrived at the station it was touching to witness thepale anxious faces that crowded the platform as the doors were openedand the dead and sufferers carried out; and to hear the cries of agonywhen the dead were recognised, and the cries of grief, strangely, almostunnaturally, mingled with joy, when some who were supposed to have beenkilled were carried out alive. Some were seen almost fondling the deadwith a mixture of tender love and abject despair. Others bent over themwith a strange stare of apparent insensibility, or looked round on thepitying bystanders inquiringly, as if they would say, "Surely, surely,this _cannot_ be true." The sensibilities of some were stunned, so thatthey moved calmly about and gave directions in a quiet solemn voice, asif the great agony of grief were long past, though it was painfullyevident that it had not yet begun, because the truth had not yet beenrealised.
Among those who were calm and collected, though heart-stricken anddeadly pale, was Loo Marrot. She had been sent to the station by herfather to await the arrival of the train, with orders to bring WillGarvie home. When Will was carried out and laid on the platform alive,an irresistible gush of feeling overpowered her. She did not give wayto noisy demonstration, as too many did, but knelt hastily down, raisedhis head on her knee, and kissed his face passionately.
"Bless you, my darling," said Will, in a low thrilling voice, in whichintense feeling struggled with the desire to make light of hismisfortune; "God has sent a cordial that the doctors haven't got togive."
"O William!" exclaimed Loo, removing the hair from his forehead--but Loocould say no more.
"Tell me, darling," said Garvie, in an anxious tone, "is father safe,and mother, and Gertie?"
"Father is safe, thank God," replied Loo, with a choking voice, "andGertie also, but mother--"
"She is not dead?" exclaimed the fireman.
"No, not dead, but very _very_ much hurt. The doctors fear she may notsurvive it, Will."
No more was said, for at that moment four porters came up with astretcher and placed Garvie gently upon it. Loo covered him with hershawl, a piece of tarpaulin was thrown over all, and thus he was slowlyborne away to John Marrot's home.