“Gentlemen,” continued the chairman, “there are three points on which we have reason to congratulate ourselves to-day, namely, the safety, the efficiency, and the economy with which our railway has been worked. As regards the first, I find that ten millions of journeys have been performed on our line during the half-year with hardly a detention, with very few late trains, at high speeds, and with only one accident, which was a comparatively slight one, and was unattended with loss of life or serious damage to any one.”
“He-ar, he-ar!” from the toady.
At this point a wag in the distance got up and suggested, in a very weak voice, that if the toady would say, “he-ar, he-ar!” less frequently, perhaps they would “he-ar” much better—a suggestion which was received with a burst of laughter and a round of applause. It effectually quelled the toady and rendered him innocuous for a considerable time.
“Now,” resumed the chairman, “some people appear to think that it is an easy thing to work a railway in safety, but I can assure you that such is not the case. Intelligence, care, foresight, and the strictest discipline, are necessary to secure this result; and, remember, we have not the advantage of anything so powerful as military discipline to help us. We have nothing to appeal to save the hopes and fears of our staff; and we feel it to be our great difficulty, as it is our principal duty, to be most careful in the selection of the thousands of men who, in their various positions and vocations, have to be employed in the conduct of your enterprise.
“I know well,” continued Sir Cummit Strong, “how men shudder when statistics are mentioned in their ears! Nevertheless, I shall venture to give you a few statistics that will, I am quite sure, prove interesting—all the more so that the figures which I quote apply to several other railways—and, therefore, will serve to give those of you who may chance to be unlearned on railway matters, some idea of the vast influence which railways have on our land.
“We run on this railway (I use round numbers) about 700 trains a day. In addition to which we have spare engines and empty trains, which perhaps ought to be added to the number given. Now, just consider for a moment the operations which have to be performed daily in the ordinary working and running of your passenger traffic. These 700 trains stop about 5000 times in the twenty-four hours, and of course they start the same number of times. The empty trains and engines have also to stop and start. We have on the line upwards of 1000 signals, including the telegraphic signals and auxiliaries. Those signals have to be raised and lowered 10,000 times in the twenty-four hours. There are on our line 1700 pairs of points, which have to be opened and shut, to be cleaned, oiled, and attended to, above 5000 times in the day. In addition to all this there are the operations of shunting, carriage-examining, greasing, and other things in connexion with trains which involve operations amounting to nearly 6000 in number. So that—apart from repairs to the line and to vehicles—there are above 30,000 individual operations which have to be performed every twenty-four hours in the conduct of this enormous passenger traffic.
“All this information I have obtained from our able and excellent passenger-superintendent, than whom there is not a more important officer in the Company’s service, unless, indeed,” (here the chairman turned with a smile and a slight bow to the gentlemen who sat on his right hand) “I may except the general manager and secretary.
“Well, now, gentlemen, I put it to you, is it surprising that the 6000 men who have to perform these 30,000 operations in the day—amounting to the vast total of ten millions of operations in the year—is it surprising, I say, that these 6000 men should now and then fall into some error of judgment, or make some mistake, or even be guilty of some negligence? Is it not, on the contrary, most surprising that accidents are not far more numerous; and does it not seem almost miraculous that where duties are so severe, the demands made by the public so great—speed, punctuality, numberless trains by day and night—there should be only one accident to report this half-year, while last half-year there were no accidents at all? And does it not seem hard that the public should insist that we shall be absolutely infallible, and, when the slightest mistake occurs, should haul us into court and punish us with demands for compensation for accidents which no human ingenuity or foresight could prevent?
“Before leaving this subject allow me to direct your attention to the fogs which occurred this half-year. There were thirty days in which during a part, if not the whole, of the twenty-four hours we had out our fog-signal men; that is to say, an additional staff of 300 men, each with his flag and detonating signals, placed within sight, or within sound of one another, to assist the ordinary signalmen in the safe conduct of the traffic. During these fogs the omnibuses had to be withdrawn from the roads, the steamers had to be moored on the river, and the traffic on the streets was almost at a standstill, nevertheless we carried through the fog, in and out of London, above one million six hundred thousand passengers without accident!”
The “hear, hear,” which burst from the audience at this point might have satisfied even the toady himself!