“Highly ingenious and simple,” was the verdict of the railway world when they realised Meiggs’ handiwork. “But what is going to happen if a descending train runs away at one of these switches? Will it make a bee-line for the bottom of the canyon through the air, or pile up against the dead-stop?”
Meiggs, however, did not anticipate trains running amok in this manner, but he guarded against any such contingency, because brakes sometimes will fail to act on a descending grade. Consequently, at the end of each line in a V-switch he provided a substantial bank of earth. This was a fortunate precaution. Some years ago a train, in proceeding from the upper to the lower level, did run away on the falling bank. It crashed into the solid embankment at the dead-end, and came to a stop in an ungainly, heterogeneous mass of twisted ironwork and splintered wood. Nobody was hurt, the debris was removed, and the runaway engine was recovered, overhauled, replaced in service, and is running to-day, little the worse for its misadventure.
Owing to the peaks of the Cordilleras being separated from one another by yawning ravines, extensive bridging became imperative. Some are short, insignificant spans; others are lofty, spidery structures, which were completed at the expenditure of many human lives from disease and accident. As a matter of fact, the railway earned an unsavoury reputation owing to the high mortality that attended its realisation.
The Verrugas bridge was the greatest offender in this respect. It was the greatest undertaking of its type on the line. It is 575 feet in length, and cleaves the air 225 feet above the bed of the ravine. There are bigger and loftier bridges in other parts of the world, but few have been so troublesome to erect. At the time it was undertaken it was the most remarkable structure of its kind, and by the time it was completed £12,600, or $63,000, had been expended. It lies at an altitude of 5,839 feet, and was carried on three masonry piers, the centre and main support being built up from the bed of the gorge. This pier measured 50 feet square at the base, and was of solid masonry, thus forming a substantial plinth for the slender iron superstructure.
All the component parts of this bridge had to be kept within certain limits of dimension and weight, to enable them to be hauled up from the coast and set in position on the site. Large gangs of workmen were crowded upon the work, because, until this bridge was set in position, material could not be transported to the other side of the gorge for the continuation of the grade.
But the task was dogged by ill-luck. Work was in full swing, when a mysterious and malignant disease broke out. So furiously did it rage that the men were swept off like flies. There was no means of checking its ravages. It became known far and wide as the “Verrugas fever.” It resisted diagnosis and treatment, but there was no denying its deadliness. As a result labour gave the district a wide berth. It struck down natives and white men indiscriminately. Just how many men succumbed to the attacks of this epidemic probably never will be known. Men contracted the malady, died, and were buried all within the space of a few hours after reaching the site; indeed, it is chronicled that one man fell a victim after crossing the bridge only once.
This mysterious and terrible scourge threatened to stop the whole enterprise, though Meiggs spared no effort and money to bring about its completion. The most attractive inducements were held out to workmen to come up and risk their lives, but only the more adventurous, fascinated by the high wages, dared to face death in an uncanny form. It was mainly through the efforts of such happy-go-lucky spirits that the gorge was spanned ultimately. Meiggs himself appeared to bear a charmed life, for he haunted the fated gorge day and night. But the awful experience seriously undermined his health, his constitution was wrecked, and he was changed into an old man.
Still he clung tenaciously to his enterprise. The gorge crossed, he found himself among the wildest fastnesses of the Andes. The mountains became steeper, the intervening gulches deeper and more difficult to cross. Landslides were of such frequent occurrence that they might well have struck terror into his heart. Yet he fought his way forward. Blasting became heavier and heavier, wide sweeping curves more frequent, the ascent steeper and steeper, and tunnelling through projecting spurs more frequent.
In these upper reaches the trains play a gigantic game of hide-and-seek, darting in and out among the labyrinth of tunnels. In a distance of 50 miles he had to drive his path through no less than 57 of these obstructions, while altogether there are 65 tunnels in the 138 miles of the railway’s length. The line doubles and redoubles upon itself in the most bewildering manner in order to gain points on the mountain-sides. In the course of 11 miles between Matucana and Tamboraque this scaling by means of the zigzag was exceedingly heavy. Standing at the latter station and looking down, one can see tier after tier of the gleaming metals, until they are lost to sight far below.
