One or two instances of striking and unprecedented experiences of the night of Monday must be recorded before this part of the subject, which is, in itself, enough to fill a volume, is dismissed.
Passengers by the train which left Queen Street Station, Exeter, on Monday evening at 6·38, and was in connection with the 2·20 from Waterloo, had an exceptionally rough time. The train, a slow one, had to make its way across Dartmoor from Okehampton to Tavistock, and on starting, the guard, Mr. Moore, had orders to proceed as far as he could. After cutting through the snow for some miles the train reached Okehampton, and then attempted to brave the force of the storm that was sweeping down from the Dartmoor hills. It got over the Meldon Viaduct safely, and then it was attempted to go on over Sourton Down, but in going through Youlditch cutting it ran into a snow-drift, and about three miles to the west of Okehampton it was brought to a stop. Efforts were made to run back to Okehampton, but the rapid drifts of snow, which were from ten to twenty feet in height, prevented this being done, and it was soon seen that there was nothing left but to remain until help of some kind could be obtained. There were only eleven passengers, including two ladies and two children. The ladies and children, who were well supplied with wraps, were bestowed as comfortably as circumstances would permit in a first-class carriage, the male portion of the party, with the guard, Mr. Moore, the driver, Mr. Bennett, and the fireman, Mr. Oates, trying to find some warmth in the guard's van. This, however, was a matter of impossibility, the bitter wind and the fine snow finding its way into the compartment, to the great discomfort of the occupants. The engine fire was kept alight, but was useless to impart warmth to the unfortunate party. It was only on the following day, and just before relief arrived, that Mr. Bennett had succeeded in getting a fire in the van by means of boring holes in one of the engine-buckets, filling the bucket with coal and, after much difficulty, kindling a flame, which the draught obtained through the holes soon increased into a most welcome blaze. Mr. John Powlesland, auctioneer, of Bow, was one of the belated travellers, and was especially assiduous in his efforts to do all he could for his fellow-sufferers.
When the train first showed signs of becoming embedded, a telegram was sent from the nearest signal-box to Exeter for assistance, and two engines were sent down. These approached within three-quarters of a mile of the snowed-up train, but could not be taken nearer on that line. They were then, with some difficulty, shunted on the up-line, with the view of pushing their way to the carriages in that manner, but the only result was that they became snowed-up in their turn.
As day approached Mr. Moore and Mr. Oates made their way to the Sourton Inn, which stood at no great distance, for the purpose of obtaining food, but their endeavour met with but slight success, the inn being also snowed-up, and the occupants having but little in the way of provisions that they could spare. No help arrived until Tuesday, at mid-day, when a search-party, headed by Mr. Prickman, the Mayor of Okehampton, and consisting of some half-a-dozen gentlemen of that locality, succeeded, after a difficult journey, in reaching the train. They took with them food and liquid refreshment, and were most heartily welcomed by the imprisoned travellers. By this time the train was entirely buried on one side, the engine having forced the snow on the left side up to a height of fully twenty feet. Only a small portion of the engine and carriages was visible, and the scene is described as a remarkable one.
The travellers were at once conducted by their rescuers to Youlditch Farm, where Mr. Gard treated them with much kindness, and took care of the ladies and children. The gentlemen subsequently made their way on to Okehampton, where they were detained for several days. The guard, engine-driver, and fireman were not able to leave the train until the following day, when a breakdown gang was employed to cut a passage for the train through the snow—a task that occupied nearly the whole of the week.
SNOW DRIFT, ROBOROUGH DOWN, DARTMOOR.
On the Launceston branch of the Great Western Railway, the down-train, which left Tavistock at seven o'clock on Monday evening, remained embedded in the snow outside Horrabridge for several days. Between the Walkham Viaduct and Grenofen tunnel very heavy work had to be done, a deep cutting being not only choked by the snow, but quite a score of trees having been blown across the rails. The accompanying illustration, depicting a snow-drift in this locality, from a photograph by Mr. Sheath, of George-street, Plymouth, conveys an excellent picture of the heavy masses of snow that had accumulated on this part of Dartmoor.
A passenger by the train which left Penzance at 6·25 P.M. on Monday and arrived at Plymouth at 3 P.M. on Tuesday, has supplied an interesting account of the blockage near Grampound Road. The train, containing about a dozen passengers, was only a quarter of a mile above Grampound Road Station when it encountered a drift of snow fully twenty feet high. It was impossible to proceed or to retreat, for the blinding storm had drifted more snow on to the line behind, so that passengers left the train and crossed some fields back to the village, and found shelter at the Grampound Road Hotel. It was then about 10·30 P.M. The guard Kelly remained on the train, and the under-guard Hammett walked back to Grampound Road and wired to Liskeard for a relief engine. He then walked on to meet an engine which had been sent for from Truro, and returned to the train on it. A relief gang arrived from Lostwithiel under engine-driver Harris, and the men dug at the drift until eleven A.M. on Tuesday, when the train was able to proceed. One of the workers described the cold as so intense that the snow froze on the men's clothes, practically encasing them in ice, and the under-guard Hammett, who had been at the work for over twenty years, said he never had such an experience, and even in the terrific storm of 1881 the snow was not so blinding.