“Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not,
Who would be free, himself must strike the blow!”—
create no small consternation as well as confusion among the green-coated pointsmen, porters, and policemen in charge of the various sets of tributary rails which flow from the waggon department into the main line. Instead, however, of attempting, as in the case of Mr. Smith O’Brien, to capture the fugitive by force, this object is effected by the simple stratagem of instantly turning loose several other black-nosed bullocks, which he no sooner sees, than, running and galloping towards the herd, he is quietly driven with them into a pen, where he appears quite to enjoy “the Union,” which a few minutes ago he had so violently and so vociferously attempted to “repale.”
Waggon Hospital.
Among the large establishments at Camden Station is one for the maintenance and repair of the luggage-trucks and goods-carriages of the Southern District, namely, from London to Birmingham—in which alone there are 2000 luggage-waggons with a proportionate number of trucks. The construction-shop for this department, in which 129 men were at work, is 437 feet in length by 64 in breadth. With its sideways it is capable of containing and of repairing at one time 100 carriages; the average number in hospital being, however, from 60 to 70. In the smiths’ shop we observed working at once 14 common forges blown by steam, also four portable ones. In locked-up vaulted stores adjoining there was lying, besides deals and Memel planks, 4000l. worth of oak timber in scantlings of the various sizes required, each lot ticketed with its dimensions. It is surprising to observe the quantity of iron and oak timber used in the construction of the Company’s luggage-trucks. Nevertheless, although they are built infinitely stronger in proportion than any ship (for their oak stancheons, being straight instead of curved, when they come in collision strike end foremost), yet we witnessed results of accidents which were really appalling; in many cases the largest of these timbers had been splintered; indeed, in a railway smash the British oak usually either stands the shock without flinching, or, if it does give, shivers into atoms. Barring, however, accidents, a luggage-truck or waggon will last about twelve years.
Among the Company’s goods-carriages we observed eight powder-magazines, constructed under a patent invention of the superintendent, Mr. Henson. They were covered outside with sheet iron, lined with wood, had leaden floors, and the axles were cased with hornbeam to prevent vibration. With these precautions they each safely convey 4½ tons of gunpowder through and over the sparks of fire and red-hot coals that are continually, during the progress of a train, flying from the funnel-pipe or dropping from the furnace of the engine.
As soon as a luggage-train has been unloaded at Camden Station all the wheels of the waggons are gauged to see that there are no bent axles, and that none of the “journals,” or working ends of the axles, have been heated, for they sometimes get red-hot; and we may here remark, that under heavy loads the tremendous vibration of the axles of goods-carriages during their journeys materially alters the composition of the iron, and that when the axles have once been red-hot, although after cooling they are as strong as ever, they are always particularly liable to get red-hot again, and the brass boxes amalgamating with the iron, the ends of the largest axles are occasionally wrenched off as one would break a carrot. The luggage-waggons are minutely inspected on arriving and on departing from Camden, Wolverton, and Rugby; besides which the guard hastily examines them at every station, where they are also greased if required.
The Pointsman.
Among the servants of a railway company, or rather we should say of the public, there is no one who, in his secluded station, has more important duties to attend to than “the pointsman,” in charge of the switches for diverting a train from one set of rails to another. As it is of course necessary that these switches should be carefully worked and guarded by night as well as by day, there are usually appointed to each station two pointsmen, each of whom remains on duty twelve hours at a time, taking the night and day work week about. At Camden Station one of these men has fourteen switches to attend to, and at Wolverton thirteen pairs. At the latter place, to prevent intrusion and to increase precaution, the pointsman has always the signal of danger on, but on perceiving an up-train about a mile off, he shows a green flag to the Station signal-man, and does not avert that of danger until he has received answer that “all is right.” In thick weather he himself works a subterranean auxiliary signal 500 yards off, showing lamps of different colours. In a fog, to prevent any train running into the station, a man is sent down the line about a mile, to affix upon the rails, every 200 yards, one of Toy and Hansom’s patent fog-signals, which, exploding under the engine with the report of a small cannon, warn the driver to stop and remain where he is, until some one comes to give him orders. At Crewe Station, from whence radiate three important lines of rails, namely, on the right to Manchester, straight on to Liverpool, and on the left to Chester, there are constantly on duty three pointsmen, one of whom has seventeen pairs of points to attend to, namely, five belonging to the Chester line, one to the Liverpool, eleven to the workshops. His box stands between the Liverpool and Chester lines.
Nothing can apparently be more cheerless than the existence of these poor fellows, who, cut off from society, in all weathers and in all seasons have, in solitude, to perform duties for which no passing traveller ever thanks them, and which he probably does not even know that they perform. It is, however, providentially decreed that the human heart warms under almost every description of responsibility; and, accordingly, we invariably found these pointsmen not only contented, but apparently intently interested in their important duties; indeed the flowers which we observed blooming around their little wooden habitations were not, we felt, unappropriate emblems of the happiness which naturally springs up in the heart of every man who will honestly perform the duties of his station. The Company’s pointsmen have nominally not very high wages:—a gratuity, however, every twelve months is given to them, provided they cause no accident; but should one occur from their switches, no matter how small, they forfeit it—an arrangement, we think, very cleverly conceived.