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here to, sir?" said the cab-driver, touching his hat.
"Great Western, please, Paddington," we replied, and in a moment the trap of the hansom was shut, and we were bowling along Piccadilly.
A civil porter received us at Paddington Station, and took our luggage for Swindon. We are going no farther to-day, because we want to see the "Flying Dutchman," not only "flying," but at rest. So first we secure a seat and then walk down the platform. We have some minutes to spare; the clock points to 11.38; we must start at 11.45 by the Great Western express, the "Dutchman," as it is familiarly called, after that mysterious sailor who came and went with such alarming celerity.
Here we are then, the summer holidays before us; and perhaps many of the readers of Little Folks will be travelling by the "Flying (railway) Dutchman," by the time these lines are before them. Come with me and look at our big "iron horse," which will pull us to Swindon at the average speed of fifty-three miles an hour, which means at times the fine rate of sixty miles an hour.
Our "Dutchman's" engine on this occasion is named "Crimea," and a fine fellow he is. This engine has eight wheels; two immense "driving wheels" eight feet high, more than twenty-four feet round, so each time that wheel revolves we travel (say) twenty-five feet, and when we are in full swing we shall go about thirty yards a second! The 11.45 down train from Paddington, and the corresponding up train from Exeter, are the two "Flying Dutchmen." There are two other trains which run equally fast, up and down in the afternoon. These are the "Zulu" trains, for they were started as expresses at the time the Prince Imperial was killed in Zululand.
The great engine waits at the end of the platform, and as we are good little people—like the fairies—we will jump up on the foot-plate of the "Crimea" locomotive, and no one will notice us. Give me your hand—there. Now you are standing on the foot-plate; the engine-tender, full of water and topped with coal, is behind you, the great high boiler with the furnace is in front. That long handle which comes from the middle of the boiler on a level with your little head is the regulator, which when pulled out lets the steam into the cylinders, and it then moves the pistons and rods, and they move the big eight-feet wheels. Perhaps, when we reach Swindon workshops, we shall go underneath an engine and see the machinery.
"What is that other handle?" you say. That is "the lever." It is at the side next the engine-driver, you see, and he can pull it back so as to save his steam, and not use too much; he "expands" it and makes a little keep the train going after it has once got into its pace. There are the steam and water "gauges," to tell the "driver" and fireman when the steam is at proper pressure, and when the water is high enough in the boiler. The steam gauge is like a clock, or an Aneroid barometer, right before the driver. Those other handles near it are the whistle-handles. One whistle is small, and very shrill, to warn people on the line, and to tell people the train is coming. The other is a deep-toned booming whistle which tells of danger perhaps, and when blown means "Stop the train, there is obstruction in front."
"Crimea" is now ready. The engine-driver pulls open the regulator, and we glide back and are attached to the train. We have air-breaks worked on the engine, vacuum-breaks which can pull us up quickly, and when all the connections are made the "Flying Dutchman" is ready; he is harnessed to his eight coaches full of people—the solemn and sorry; the glad and the cheerful; and boys and girls, going on all sorts of errands.
"Right!" says the station-superintendent.
The clock over the platform is exactly 11.45 a.m. The fireman, who is looking on, says "Right, Tom," the guard whistles, then the driver touches the small whistle-handle in front; a shrill scream rouses the many sleeping echoes in the roof, where they had got to be out of the way perhaps, and the engine-driver opens the regulator valve—"Crimea" fizzes a little in front of the cylinders. Off we go!