“That’s the Pennsylvania limited,” he said. “Give her track number twelve, Sam.”
There were two other shirt-sleeved men in the little room, standing before a long board from which projected what appeared to be a series of little handles like those one sees on water-cocks. At the words, one of the men turned one of these little handles.
Again the bell rang.
“Number seventeen for the accommodation,” said the man Allan had addressed as Jim, and another little handle was turned, while still a third, which had been turned, sprang back to its original position.
“There goes that school-teachers’ special from eleven,” added Jim. “Fix her, Nick,” and the third man turned a handle at his end of the board.
Allan, meanwhile, had taken a seat, and gazed down over the network of tracks. Trains were arriving and departing almost every minute. Busy little yard-engines were hustling strings of coaches about, pulling them out from under the great train-shed or backing them up into it. Down the long cement walks beneath the shed, arriving and departing passengers were hurrying to and fro; trucks piled high with luggage or groaning under a load of mail-sacks or express matter were being propelled back and forth with almost superhuman skill; engineers were “oiling round,” blue-coated conductors were reading their orders, hostlers with flaring torches were taking a last look at wheels and connections—in a word, the busy life of a great terminal was at full blast.
And above it all, controlling it, as it were, by a movement of a finger, stood Jim—James Anderson Davis, if you care for his full name—gazing down upon it nonchalantly, and giving a terse order now and then. For Jim is the chief towerman, than whom, in his sphere, no autocrat is more autocratic and no czar more absolute.
It is a fearful and wonderful thing, this controlling the trains that arrive at and depart from a great terminal—almost too fearful and wonderful to be put upon paper. But at least we will make the effort.
Most modern terminals resemble each other in general plan. Railroads have found it not only convenient for the public but economical for themselves to build “union stations” in the larger cities, wherever possible. That is, a suitable site is selected, as near the business centre of the city as it is possible to get, and the roads join together in providing the money necessary to purchase it and erect the station building, the cost being pro-rated in proportion to the amount of traffic which each road gets from the station.