What was he to do? Did he sit down and moan, or fly to the telegraph office and endeavour to excuse himself? Not he. He promptly engaged a special train, which flying over the metals, actually caught the mail at Carlisle, having covered 118 miles in 126 minutes; that is, again, approximately a mile a minute, and maintained for slightly over two hours.
Now, in order to attain high average speed, some parts of the journey, say very easy inclines or levels, must be covered at a much higher rate. Thus, to obtain an average of fifty-two miles an hour—which is probably the regular average of our best English expresses—the pace will most likely be sometimes at the rate of seventy, or it may be seventy-six, miles per hour.
The United States have claimed to run the fastest regular train. This is the “Empire State Express” of the New York Central, which bursts away from New York to Buffalo, a trip of 140 miles, at the average rate of 52-12/100 miles per hour, but running eighty miles at the rate of 56¾ miles an hour. It is also said that, in August, 1891, a train on the New York portion of the Reading road ran a mile in less than forty seconds, and covered a dozen miles at an average of barely 43½ seconds per mile.
English expresses could certainly accomplish these average speeds, but the fact is very high speeds do not pay. They wear everything to pieces. Then there is the coal consumption. American railway engineers—according to the Engineer newspaper—“seem to be unable to get on with less than 100 lbs. per square foot (of fire grate area) as a minimum;” while, from the same paper, we learn that the average rate of burning of Mr. Webb’s remarkable North-Western engine, the “Greater Britain,” was but “a little over seventy-three lbs. per square foot per hour,” or, altogether, 1500 lbs. per hour.
The rails also are greatly worn by continuous high speeds. Engineers have been equal to this difficulty, and rails are now made of steel, and even steel sleepers are constructed on which the rails repose. But still the wear and tear, especially to engines, of continuous high speeds, is very great. The reason why the famous “Race to Edinburgh” was stopped was doubtless because of the needless wear and tear. Surely an average of fifty to fifty-two miles an hour is fast enough for all ordinary purposes. If greater speed can be obtained without too great a cost, well and good; but if not, the public must be content.
Nevertheless, during that famous “Race” in the summer of 1888, some magnificent engine work was accomplished. Thus, for instance, the North-Western and their partners actually ran from Euston to Edinburgh, 400 miles, in 427 minutes. Then the Great Northern and their partners, the East Coast route, next day covered 393 miles in 423 minutes, this journey including 124½ miles from Newcastle to Edinburgh covered in 123 minutes. This speed is, of course, more than a mile a minute, and kept up for slightly over two hours.
The third-class passenger was at the root of the matter. Companies are finding out they must consult his convenience; and the beginning of the “Race” was probably the announcement that the “Flying Scotchman”—the 10 o’clock morning train from King’s Cross—would carry third-class passengers. Hitherto it had beaten its rival, the West Coast route (run by the North-Western and its partner, the Caledonian), as to speed, but had conveyed only first and second-class passengers.
Thereupon the West Coast announced that they would reach Edinburgh in nine hours. As this route is harder for engines—for it climbs the Cumbrian Hills, and is, moreover, seven miles longer—this would mean faster running and harder work than its rivals. The Great Northern, which according to its well-deserved reputation probably tops the world for speed, could not brook this, so the East Coast route reduced its time from nine hours to eight hours and a-half.
So the contest stood for about a month, when the West Coast calmly announced the same time for its journey. Thenceforward the blows fell thick and fast. It was a battle of giants, but fought with good temper and gentlemanly honour on both sides.
The West Coast were arriving at Edinburgh at half-past six. “The Flying Scotchman,” by the East Coast route, thereupon drew up in the Scotch capital at six o’clock. Then the West Coast ran to Edinburgh in eight hours, stretching away from Euston to Crewe, 158½ miles in 178 minutes, without a stop—probably the longest run without a break ever made. The Caledonian Company, the North-Western’s partner, then ran from Carlisle to Edinburgh, 100¾ miles, in 104 minutes. The North-Western thereupon actually ran from Preston to Carlisle, over the Cumberland Hills, ninety miles in ninety minutes—a magnificent performance hard indeed to beat, if, in fact, it ever has been really beaten; while, later on, the same Company ran from Euston to Crewe in 167 minutes instead of their remarkable 178 minutes a few days previously. This, with the other accelerations, gave the West Coast their record run of 400 miles in 427 minutes of running time, which took place on the 13th of August. But the East Coast had also accelerated, the North-Eastern covering 205 miles in 235 minutes, and the Great Northern rendering an equally good, if not better, performance, the whole 393 miles being covered in 423 minutes. Some of the miles on the East Coast route sped by at the rate of seventy-six an hour.