One Friday evening after four or five days of the steadiest and hardest kind of rain, I received a message from the section foreman at Truxton, saying that Big River was beginning to come up pretty high, and that the constant rains were making the track quite soft. I immediately sent him an order to put out a track walker at once, and told the despatcher on duty to make a "slow order" for five miles this side of the Big River; the track on the other, or south side, was all right, being on high ground.
Our fast mail came in just then, and after the engines were changed, the engineer and conductor came into my office for their orders. I told them about the soft track, and in a spirit of pure fun, remarked to Ben Roberts, the engineer, that he had better look out or he would be taking a bath in Big River that night. He facetiously replied: "Well, I don't much mind. I'm generally so dirty when I get that far out that a bath would do me good."
They received their orders, and as Roberts went out the door, he laughingly said, "I reckon, Bates, you'd better send the wrecker out right after us to fish me out of Big River to-night."
I stepped over to the window, saw him climb up on engine 232, a beautiful McQueen, and pull out, and just as he started, he turned and waved his hand to me as if in token of farewell.
Truxton, five miles from the river, was not a stop for the mail, but I had them flagged there, to give them another special warning about approaching Big River with caution. Just then the track walker came into Truxton, and reported that he had come from the river on a velocipede, and that while the track was soft it was not unsafe and the bridge appeared to be all right. Presently, I heard, "OS, OS, XN, No. 21, a 7:45, d 7:51" and I knew the mail had gone on.
The next station south was Burton, three miles beyond the bridge, and I thought I would wait until I had the "OS" report from there before going home for the night. Thirty minutes passed and no sign of her. This did not worry me much, because I knew Roberts would be extremely careful and run slow until he passed the bridge. In a minute Truxton opened up and said, "Raining like blazes now." I asked him where the track walker was, and he said he had gone out towards the bridge just after the mail had left.
Fifty minutes of the most intense anxiety passed, and all of a sudden every instrument in the office ceased clicking. As soon as a wire opens, all the operators are instructed to try their ground wires, and in that way the break is soon located. Bentonville, Bakersville, Muncy, Ashton, all in quick succession tried their grounds, and reported "All wires open south." Presently the despatchers' wire closed again, and "DS, DS, XN." There! that was Truxton calling us now. I answered and he said, "Wires all open south. Heavy rain now falling; violent wind storm has just passed over us; lots of lightning; looks like the storm would last all night."
I told him to hustle out and get the section foreman, and gave him an order to take his gang and car and go to the bridge and back at once and make a full report.
But where was 21 all this time? Stuck in the mud, I hoped, but all the same I was beginning to have a great many misgivings. Mr. Antwerp, the division superintendent, came in just then, and I reported all the facts of the case to him. He was very much worried, but said he hoped it would turn out all right. Getting nothing from Burton, on the south, I told Truxton to keep on his ground until the section gang or track walker came back with a report. Twenty minutes later he began to call "DS" with all his might. I answered and this is what the despatcher's copy operator took:
Truxton, 5 | 21, 188—.