The "Novelty" then proclaimed itself ready. It was a light, trim engine, of little more than three tons weight, carrying its wood and water with it. It took no load, and ran across the course sometimes at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour. The "Sans-pareil" also came out.
The "Perseverance," not able to go faster than five or six miles an hour, withdrew from the contest. As the day was now far spent, further exhibition was put off till the morrow.
What exciting discussion must have taken place among rival competitors and their friends! What a scrutiny of the merits and demerits, the virtues and defects, of opposing engines!
Before the appointed hour the next day the bellows of the "Novelty" gave out, and as this was one of its merits—a bellows to increase the draft of the air-blast—its builders were forced to retire from the list.
Soon after a defect was discovered in the boiler of the "Sans-pareil." Mr. Hackworth begged for time to mend it; as there was no time, none could be granted, and he, too, withdrew his claims.
The "Rocket" alone stood its ground. The "Rocket," therefore, was called for. Stephenson attached to it a carriage large enough to hold a party of thirty, and drove his locomotive along the line at the rate of twenty-five and thirty miles an hour, to the amazement and delight of every one present.
The next morning it was ordered to be in readiness to answer the various specifications of the offer. It snorted and panted, and steamed over the race-ground in proud trim, drawing about thirteen tons weight. In twenty trips, backward and forward, its greatest speed was twenty-nine miles an hour, three times greater than Nicholas Wood, one of the judges, declared to be possible. Its average rate was fifteen miles, five miles beyond the rate specified for the prize. The performance appeared astonishing. Spectators were filled with wonder. The poor directors began to see fair weather; doubts were solved, disputes settled; the "Rocket" had cleared the track for them. There could no longer be any question how to run the road. George Cropper, who had steadily countenanced stationary engines, lifted up his hands, exclaiming, "Stephenson has at last delivered himself!"
The two other locomotives, however, were allowed to reappear on the stage; but both broke down, and the "Rocket" remained victor to the last. It had performed, and more than performed, all it promised, fulfilled all the conditions of the directors' offer, and was accordingly declared to have nobly earned the prize, five hundred pounds.
But the money was little compared to the profound satisfaction which the Stephensons felt at this public acknowledgment of the worth of their life-long labours. George's veracity, skill, and intelligence had all been doubted, denied, and derided by men of all classes. Even old friends turned against him, and thought his mind was crazed by "one idea." He had to struggle on alone; faithful to his convictions, patiently biding his time, yet earnestly pleading his cause on every suitable occasion. He had a blessing for the world, and he knew when it felt its want of it, it would have it. That time had come. The directors flocked around him with flattering congratulations. All shyness and coolness vanished. Friends were no longer few. The shares of the company immediately rose ten per cent. Men and means were at his disposal. George Stephenson was a happy man.
The "Rocket" had blown stationary engines to the winds. And steam that day, on the land as well as the water, took its place as one of the grand moving powers of the world.