The Iron Horse

by R. M. Ballantyne

All went well, however, as usual. After clearing the first thirty-six miles John Marrot consulted his watch, and observed to Will that they had done it in thirty-eight and a half minutes. He then “put on a spurt,” and went for some time at a higher rate of speed. Observing that something at the head of the engine required looking after, Will Garvie went out along the side of it, and while doing this piece of work his hair and jacket were blown straight back by the breeze which the engine had created for itself. He resembled, in fact, a sailor going out to work on the sails in a stiff breeze.

This artificial breeze, sweeping round the sides of the screen, caused an eddy which sent up a cloud of coal-dust, but neither John nor his mate appeared to care for this. Their eyes were evidently coal-proof.

Presently they approached a canal over which they rushed, and, for one moment, glanced down on the antipodal mode of locomotion—a boat going three miles an hour with its steersman half asleep and smoking at the helm! Next moment they were passing under a bridge; the next over a town, and then rushed through a station, and it was interesting to note as they did so, that the people on the platform shrank back and looked half-terrified, although they were in no danger whatever, while those in the train—who might at any moment have been hurled into eternity—looked calm and serene, evidently untroubled by thoughts of danger; so difficult is it for man to realise his true condition in such circumstances. Just beyond the station a dog was observed to have strayed on the line, and ran barking before the engine. It was overtaken and passed in a few seconds, and Will looked over the side but saw nothing of it. As no yell was heard, it is probable that the poor thing escaped. Soon after that, two navvies were observed walking coolly and slowly on the line in front of the engine. John frowned and laid his hand on the whistle, but before it could sound, the reckless men had heard the train, looked round with horrified faces, sprang like jumping-jacks off the line, right and left, and were gone!

Soon after this, on approaching the distant signal of one of the stations, they observed that the arms were extended, indicating that the line was “blocked”—that is, that another train being in advance they must check speed or perhaps stop. This was a species of insult to the “Flying Dutchman,” whose way ought to have been kept perfectly clear, for even a check of speed would inevitably cause the loss of several minutes. With an indignant grumble John Marrot cut off steam, but immediately the signals were lowered and he was allowed to go on. Again, in a few minutes, another signal checked him.

“They’ve let a train on before us,” growled John, sternly, “and p’raps we may be checked all the way to London—but some one shall hear of this, an’ have to account for it.”

John was wrong to some extent. While he yet spoke the signal to go on was given, and a few minutes later the “Flying Dutchman” flashed past the obstructing train, which had been shunted on to a siding, and from its windows hundreds of passengers were gazing at the express which passed them like a meteor—perhaps they were congratulating themselves, as well they might, for, but for the “block system,” their danger would have been tremendous; almost equal to that of a man endeavouring to run away from a cannon-shot. This may be somewhat better understood when we explain that the “Flying Dutchman” could not have been stopped in a shorter space than one mile and a half.

At length the iron horse came suddenly on an obstruction which filled its driver with deep anxiety and alarm. Daily had John driven that train, but never before had he met with a similar danger. At a level crossing, less than a mile in advance of him, he observed a horse and a loaded cart standing right across the line. Either the horse was a run-away, or the driver had left it for a little and it had strayed. Whatever the cause of its being there John’s alert mind saw at once that a collision was inevitable. He shut off steam, and was about to whistle for the guard to apply the brakes, while Will Garvie, who also saw the danger, was already turning on the brakes of the tender.

John reflected that it would be impossible to come to a stand within the space that lay between him and the cart and that a partial concussion would be almost certain to throw his engine off the rails. Less than a minute remained to him.

“Let her go, mate,” he shouted quickly.

Will Garvie obeyed at once. John put on full steam, the “Flying Dutchman” leaped forward with increased velocity. Then followed a slight shock, and; next moment, the cart and horse were smashed to atoms—all but annihilated!