CHAPTER FIVE.
AN ACCIDENT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
Locomotives and telegraphy are mere snails compared to thought. Let ustherefore use our advantage, reader, stride in advance of the 6:30 p.m.train (which by the way has now become a 7:45 p.m. train), and see whatlittle Joseph Tipps is doing.
There he stands--five feet four in his highest-heeled boots--as sterlingand warm-hearted a little man as ever breathed. He was writing at alittle desk close to a large window, which, owing to the station being atemporary one and its roof low, was flimsy, and came nearer to theground than most windows do.
Mr Tipps wrote somewhat nervously. He inherited his mother's weaknessin this respect; and, besides, his nerves had been a little shaken, bythe sudden illness, with which his sister had been seized that day, athis lodgings.
Outside on the platform a few people lounged, waiting the arrival of theexpected train. Among them was one whose bulky frame and firmstrongly-lined countenance spoke of much power to dare and do. He wasconsiderably above the middle height and somewhere about middle age.His costume was of that quiet unobtrusive kind which seems to courtretirement, and the sharp glance of his eyes seemed to possess somethingof the gimblet in their penetrating power. This was no less a personagethan Mr Sharp, the inspector of police on the Grand National TrunkRailway. Mr Inspector Sharp had evidently an eye for the beautiful,for he stood at the farther extremity of the platform gazing in raptattention at the sun, which just then was setting in a flood of goldenlight. But Mr Sharp had also a peculiar faculty for observing severalthings at once. Indeed, some of his friends, referring to this, werewont to remark that he was a perfect Argus, with eyes in his elbows andcalves and back of his head. It would seem, indeed, that this, orsomething like it, must really have been the case, for he not onlyobserved and enjoyed the sunset but also paid particular attention tothe conversation of two men who stood not far from him, and at the sametime was cognisant of the fact that behind him, a couple of hundredyards or more up the line, a goods engine was engaged in shuntingtrucks.
This process of shunting, we may explain for the benefit of those whodon't know, consists in detaching trucks from trains of goods andshoving them into sidings, so that they may be out of the way, untiltheir time comes to be attached to other trains, which will convey themto their proper destination, or to have their contents, if need be,unloaded and distributed among other trucks. Shunting is sometimes atedious process, involving much hauling, pushing, puffing, andwhistling, on the part of the engine, and uncoupling of trucks andshifting of points on the part of pointsmen and porters. There isconsiderable danger, too, in the process,--or rather there _was_ dangerbefore the introduction of the "block system," which now, when it isadopted, renders accidents almost impossible,--of which system moreshall be said hereafter. The danger lies in this, that shunting hasfrequently to be done during intervals between the passing ofpassenger-trains, and, on lines where passenger and goods traffic isvery great, these intervals are sometimes extremely brief. But, strangeto say, this danger is the mother of safety, for the difficulty ofconducting extensive traffic is so great, that a combination of all butperfect systems of signalling, telegraphing, and organisation isabsolutely needful to prevent constant mishap. Hence the marvellousresult that, in the midst of danger, we are in safety, and travelling byrailway is really less dangerous than travelling by stage-coach used tobe in days of old. Yes, timid reader, we assure you that if you traveldaily by rail your chances of coming to grief are very much fewer thanif you were to travel daily by mail coach. Facts and figures prove thisbeyond all doubt, so that we are entitled to take the comfort of it.The marvel is, not that loss of life is so great, but that it is sosmall.
Do you doubt it, reader? Behold the facts and figures--wonder, bethankful and doubt no more! A "Blue Book" (Captain Tyler's GeneralReport to the Board of Trade on Railway Accidents during the year 1870)tells us that the number of passengers killed on railways last year wasninety. The number of passenger journeys performed was 307 millions,which gives, in round numbers, one passenger killed for every three anda half millions that travelled. In the best mail and stage-coachingdays the yearly number of travellers was about two millions. Thepresent railway death-rate applied to this number amounts to a littlemore than one-half of a unit! Will any one out of Bedlam have theaudacity to say that in coaching days only half a passenger was killedeach year? We leave facts to speak for themselves, and common-sense tojudge whether men were safer then than they are now.
But to return. When Mr Sharp was looking at the distant waggons thatwere being shunted he observed that the engine which conducted theoperation was moved about with so much unnecessary fuss and jerking thathe concluded it must be worked by a new, or at all events a bad, driver.He shook his head, therefore, pulled out his watch, and muttered tohimself that it seemed to him far too near the time of the arrival of atrain to make it safe to do such work.
The calculations, however, had been made correctly, and the train oftrucks would have been well out of the way, if the driver had been asmarter man. Even as things stood, however, there should have been nodanger, because the distant signal was turned to danger, which thus saidto any approaching train, "Stop! for your life." But here occurred oneof these mistakes, or pieces of carelessness, or thoughtlessness, towhich weak and sinful human nature is, and we suppose always will be,liable. Perhaps the signalman thought the goods train had completed itsoperation, or fancied that the express was not so near as it proved tobe, or he got confused--we cannot tell; there is no accounting for suchthings, but whatever the cause, he turned off the danger-signal half aminute too soon, and set the line free.
Suddenly the down train came tearing round the curve. It was at reducedspeed certainly, but not sufficiently reduced to avoid a collision withthe trucks on a part of the line where no trucks should be.
Our friend John Marrot was on the look-out of course, and so was hismate. They saw the trucks at once. Like lightning John shut off thesteam and at the same instant touched his whistle several sharp shrieks,which was the alarm to the guard to turn on _his_ brakes. No men couldhave been more prompt or cool. Joe Turner and Will Garvie had on fullbrake-power in a second or two. At the same time John Marrot instantlyreversing the engine, let on full steam--but all in vain. Fire flew inshowers from the shrieking wheels--the friction on the rails must havebeen tremendous, nevertheless the engine dashed into the goods trainlike a thunderbolt with a stunning crash and a noise that is quiteindescribable.
The police superintendent, who was all but run over, stood for a fewseconds aghast at the sight and at the action of the engine. Notsatisfied with sending one of its own carriages into splinters, the ironhorse made three terrific plunges or efforts to advance, and at eachplunge a heavy truck full of goods was, as it were, pawed under itswheels and driven out behind, under the tender, in the form of a mass ofmatchwood--all the goods, hard and soft, as well as the heavy frame ofthe truck itself being minced up together in a manner that defiesdescription. It seemed as though the monster had been suddenly enduedwith intelligence, and was seeking to vent its horrid rage on the thingthat had dared to check its pace. Three loaded trucks it crushed down,over-ran, and scattered wide in this way, in three successive plunges,and then, rushing on a few yards among chaotic _debris_, turned slowlyon its side, and hurled the driver and fireman over the embankment.
The shock received by the people at the station was tremendous. PoorTipps, standing at his desk, was struck--nervously--as if byelectricity. He made one wild involuntary bolt right through thewindow, as if it had been made of tissue paper, and did not cease to rununtil he found himself panting in the middle of a turnip-field that layat the back of the station. Turning round, ashamed of himself, he ranback faster than he had run away, and leaping recklessly among the_debris_, began to pull broken and jagged timber about, under theimpression that he was rescuing fellow-creatures from destruction!
Strange to say no one was killed on that o
ccasion--no one was evenseverely hurt, except the driver. But of course this was not known atfirst and the people who were standing about hurried, with terribleforebodings, to lend assistance to the passengers.
Mr Sharp seemed to have been smitten with feelings somewhat similar tothose of Tipps, for, without knowing very well how or why, he suddenlyfound himself standing up to the armpits in _debris_, heaving might andmain at masses of timber.
"Hallo! lift away this beam, will you?" shouted a half-smothered voiceclose beside him.
It came from beneath the carriage that we have described as having beenbroken to splinters.
Sharp was a man of action. He hailed a porter near him and began withenergy and power to tear up and hurl aside the boards. Presently onraising part of the broken framework of the carriage a man struggled tohis feet and, wiping away the blood that flowed from a wound in hisforehead, revealed the countenance of Edwin Gurwood to the astonishedTipps.
"What! Edwin!" he exclaimed.
"Ay--don't stand there, man. Your mother is in the train."
Poor Tipps could not speak--he could only gasp the word, "Where?"
"In a third-class, behind--there, it is safe, I see."
His friend at once leaped towards the vehicle pointed out, but Edwin didnot follow, he glanced wildly round in search of another carriage.
"You are hurt--Mr Gurwood, if I mistake not,--lean on me," said MrSharp.
"It's nothing--only a scratch. Ha! that's the carriage, follow me,"cried Edwin, struggling towards a first-class carriage, which appearedconsiderably damaged, though it had not left the rails. He wrenchedopen the door, and, springing in, found Captain Lee striving in vain tolift his daughter, who had fainted. Edwin stooped, raised her in hisarms, and, kicking open the door on the opposite side, leaped down,followed by the captain. They quickly made their way to the station,where they found most of the passengers, hurt and unhurt, alreadyassembled, with two doctors, who chanced to be in the train, attendingto them.
Edwin laid his light burden tenderly on a couch and one of the doctorsimmediately attended to her. While he was applying restoratives MrBlunt touched Edwin on the elbow and requested him to follow him. Witha feeling of sudden anger Gurwood turned round, but before he couldspeak his eye fell on Mrs Tipps, who sat on a bench leaning on herson's breast, and looking deadly pale but quite composed.
"My dear Mrs Tipps," exclaimed the youth, stepping hastily forward, "Ihope--I trust--"
"Oh, Edwin--thank you, my dear fellow," cried Joseph, grasping his handand shaking it. "She is not hurt, thank God--not even a scratch--only alittle shaken. Fetch a glass of water, you'll find one in thebooking-office."
Gurwood ran out to fetch it. As he was returning he met Captain Leeleading his daughter out of the waiting-room.
"I sincerely hope that your daughter is not hurt," he said, in earnesttones. "Perhaps a little water might--"
"No, thank you," said the captain somewhat stiffly.
"The carriage is waiting, sir," said a servant in livery, coming up atthe moment and touching his hat.
Emma looked at Edwin for a second, and, with a slight but perplexedsmile of acknowledgment, passed on.
Next moment the carriage drove away, and she was gone. Edwin at thesame time became aware of the fact that the pertinacious Blunt was athis side. Walking quickly into the waiting-room he presented the glassof water to Mrs Tipps, but to his surprise that eccentric lady rosehastily and said,--"Thank you, Mr Gurwood, many thanks, but I ambetter. Come, Joseph--let us hasten to our darling Netta. Have yousent for a fly?"
"There is one waiting, mother--take my arm. Many, many thanks for yourkindness in coming with her, Gurwood," said Tipps. "I can't ask you tocome with me just now, I--"
The rest of his speech was lost in consequence of the impatient old ladydragging her son away, but what had been heard of it was sufficient tofill Mr Blunt with surprise and perplexity.
"Well, Blunt," said Mr Superintendent Sharp, coming up at that moment,"what has brought you here?"
The detective related his story privately to his superior, and remarkedthat he began to fear there must be some mistake.
"Yes, there is a mistake of some sort," said Sharp, with a laugh, "forI've met him frequently at Clatterby station, and know him to be afriend of Mr Tipps; but you have done your duty, Blunt, so you can nowleave the gentleman to me," saying which he went up to Edwin and enteredinto an under-toned conversation with him, during which it might havebeen observed that Edwin looked a little confused at times, and MrSharp seemed not a little amused.
"Well, it's all right," he said at last, "we have telegraphed for aspecial train to take on the passengers who wish to proceed, and you cango back, if you choose, in the up train, which is about due. It will beable to get past in the course of half-an-hour. Fortunately the railsof the up-line are not damaged and the wreck can soon be cleared."
Just then the dandy with the sleepy eyes and long whiskers sauntered upto the porter on duty, with an unconcerned and lazy air. He hadreceived no further injury than a shaking, and therefore felt that hecould afford to affect a cool and not-easy-to-be-ruffled demeanour.
"Aw--po-taw," said he, twirling his watch-key, "w'en d'you expect anothatwain to take us on?"
"Don't know, sir, probably half-an-hour."
"Aw! Dooced awkwad. My fwend has got the bwidge of his nose damaged,besides some sort of internal injuway, and won't be able to attend tobusiness to-night, I fear--dooced awkwad."
"D'you hear that?" whispered Sharp to Gurwood, as the "fwend" inquestion--he with the checked trousers--sauntered past holding ahandkerchief to his nose. "I know by the way in which that was saidthat there will be something more heard some day hence of our fop inchecks. Just come and stand with me in the doorway of the waiting-room,and listen to what some of the other passengers are saying."
"Very hard," observed a middle-aged man with a sour countenance, who didnot present the appearance of one who had sustained any injury at all,"very hard this. I shall miss meeting with a friend, and perhaps losedoin' a good stroke of business to-night."
"Be thankful you haven't lost your life," said Will Garvie, whosupported the head of his injured mate.
"Mayhap I _have_ lost my life, young man," replied the other sharply."Internal injuries from accidents often prove fatal, and don't alwaysshow at first. I've had a severe shake."
Here the sour-faced man shook himself slightly, partly to illustrate andpartly to prove his point.
"You're quite right, sur," remarked an Irishman, who had a bandage tiedround his head, but who did not appear to be much, if at all, the worseof the accident. "It's a disgrace intirely that the railways should beallowed to trait us in this fashion. If they'd only go to the troublean' expense of havin' proper signals on lines, there would be nothing o'this kind. And if Government would make a law to have an arm-chairfitted up in front of every locomotive and a director made to travelwith sich train, we'd hear of fewer accidents. But it's meself 'll comedown on 'em for heavy damages for this."
He pointed to his bandaged head, and nodded with a significant glance atthe company.
A gentleman in a blue travelling-cap, who had hitherto said nothing, andwho turned out to have received severer injuries than any otherpassenger, here looked up impatiently, and said--
"It appears to me that there is a great deal of unjust and foolish talkagainst railway companies, as if they, any more than other companies,could avoid accidents. The system of signalling on a great part of thisline is the best that has been discovered up to this date, and it isbeing applied to the whole line as fast as circumstances will warrant;but you can't expect to attain perfection in a day. What would youhave? How can you expect to travel at the rate you do, and yet be assafe as if you were in one of the old mail-coaches?"
"Right, sir; you're right," cried John Marrot energetically, raisinghimself a little from the bench on which he lay, "right in sayin' weshouldn't ought to expect parfection, but wrong in su
pposin' the oldmail-coaches was safer. W'y, railways is safer. They won't stand nocomparison. Here 'ave I bin drivin' on this 'ere line for the lasteight year an' only to come to grief three times, an' killed no morethan two people. There ain't a old coach goin', or gone, as could sayas much. An' w'en you come to consider that in them eight years I'vebin goin' more than two-thirds o' the time at an average o' forty milean hour--off an' on--all night a'most as well as all day, an' runthousands and thousands o' miles, besides carryin' millions ofpassengers, more or less, it do seem most rediklous to go for to saythat coaches was safer than railways--the revarse bein' the truth. Turnme round a bit, Bill; so, that'll do. It's the bad leg I come down on,else I shouldn't have bin so hard-up. Yes, sir, as you truly remark,railway companies ain't fairly dealt with, by no means."
At this point the attention of the passengers was attracted by aremarkably fat woman, who had hitherto lain quietly on a couch breathingin a somewhat stertorous manner. One of the medical men had been sosuccessful in his attention to her as to bring her to a state ofconsciousness. Indeed she had been more or less in this condition forsome time past, but feeling rather comfortable than otherwise, anddreamy, she had lain still and enjoyed herself. Being roused, however,to a state of activity by means of smelling-salts, and hearing thedoctor remark that, except a shaking, she appeared to have sustained noinjury, this stout woman deemed it prudent to go off into hysterics, andbegan by uttering a yell that would have put to shame a ComancheeIndian, and did more damage, perhaps, to the nerves of her sensitivehearers than the accident itself. She followed it up by drummingheavily on the couch with her heels.
Singularly enough her yell was replied to by the whistle of the uptrain, that had been due for some time past. She retorted by a renewedshriek, and became frantic in her assurances that no power yetdiscovered--whether mechanical, moral, or otherwise--could or would,ever persuade her to set foot again in a railway train! It was of nouse to assure her that no one meant to exert such a power, even if hepossessed it; that she was free to go where she pleased, and whenevershe felt inclined. The more that stout woman was implored to composeherself, the more she discomposed herself, and everybody else; and themore she was besought to be calm, the more, a great deal, did she fillthe waiting-room with hysterical shrieks and fiendish laughter, until atlast every one was glad to go out of the place and get into the trainthat was waiting to take them back to Clatterby. Then the stout womanbecame suddenly calm, and declared to a porter--who must have had aheart of stone, so indifferent was he to her woes--that she would be,"glad to proceed to the nearest 'otel if 'e would be good enough tofetch her a fly."
"H'm!" said Mr Sharp, as he and young Gurwood entered a carriagetogether, after having seen John Marrot placed on a pile of rugs on thefloor of a first-class carriage; "there's been work brewin' up for meto-night."
"How? What do you mean?" asked Edwin.
"I mean that, from various indications which I observed this evening, weare likely to have some little correspondence with the passengers of the6:30 p.m. train. However, we're used to it; perhaps we'll get not tomind it in course of time. We do all that we can to accommodate thepublic--fit up our carriages and stations in the best style compatiblewith giving our shareholders a small dividend--carry them to and froover the land at little short of lightning speed, every day and all dayand night too, for extremely moderate fares, and with excessive safetyand exceeding comfort; enable them to live in the country and dobusiness in the city, as well as afford facilities for visiting the veryends of the earth in a few days; not to mention other innumerableblessings to which we run them, or which we run _to_ them, and yet nosooner does a rare accident occur (as it _will_ occur in every humaninstitution, though it occurs less on railways than in most otherinstitutions) than down comes this ungrateful public upon us withindignant cries of `disgraceful!' and, in many cases, unreasonabledemands for compensation."
"Such is life," said Gurwood with a smile.
"On the rail," added Mr Superintendent Sharp with a sigh, as thewhistle sounded and the train moved slowly out of the station.