“Well, an engineer’s berth is a pretty responsible one,—more so than yours. Don’t you think so?” inquired the passenger.
“Yes; so far as the safety of the train is concerned, more depends on him than on the conductor, or any body else,” replied the other.
“But if every thing goes right, the ‘gentlemanly conductor’ takes all the glory,” said the passenger, with a sly chuckle.
“Yes, and he is saddled with all the blame if every thing doesn’t go right,” retorted the conductor.
“No, it isn’t so; people remember that there is such a person as the engineer when an accident happens, and that’s about the only time they do think of him,” replied the passenger.
“Well, the conductor is held responsible for the train; but, after all, a great deal depends upon the engineer, as you say,” said the conductor. “He has his hands full every moment while the train is in motion. He must judge of and regulate the speed, and see that the boiler is kept supplied with water. At the same time, he must keep his eye on the track, and see that there are no switches wrong, nor broken rails, nor men, nor teams, nor other obstructions, in the way. He must look out for signals of caution, and keep his machinery well oiled. He must watch his engine closely, to see that every part works right; and if he hears any unusual noise about the machinery, he must discover the cause of it. When the train approaches a station, in order to bring it to a stand at the right spot, he must take into account the speed and weight of his train, the number of brakemen, the grade of the road,—whether upward, downward, or level,—the state of the track,—whether dry, wet, or icy, &c., &c. Besides all these things, he must be ready to act instantaneously if any accident happens, and to do two or three things at the same moment, if necessary. A man ought to have a pretty good head to do all this, day after day, and never make a blunder.”
“That’s a fact,” replied the other. “We’re going at a pretty fair jog, now,” he added, after a moment’s pause.
“Yes,” said the conductor; “the road is very straight along here, and we get up an extra speed. I suppose we are going at the rate of forty miles an hour, now.”
“Did you ever think what the consequences would be if the engineer should lose the control of the engine when it is going at full speed?” inquired the passenger.
“There isn’t much danger of that,” replied the conductor; “but, still, such things have happened. We had an engine break its throttle-valve once on this road, and the only way the engineer could stop it was by putting out the fire. It ran about three miles before he could bring it to a stand. If such an accident should happen near the end of the line, it might do a good deal of mischief. But the greatest accident of this kind that ever I saw, happened when I was out west. I was in a train that was stopping at a dépôt, when a freight train suddenly came along, and run into us. Our engineer and firemen saw that a collision was coming, and jumped from the engine. Well, sir, the force of the blow uncoupled the locomotive and tender from the baggage-car, and actually jerked back the lever, and started the engine under a full pressure of steam. She shot forward like an arrow, and we could see her for several minutes flying over the track at the rate of seventy miles an hour. The furnace had just been crammed with wood, and there was a full head of steam on. The distance from Cincinnati was only fourteen miles, and we knew she would get over the ground in about twelve minutes if the track was clear, and then would come the crash. We listened, and almost expected to hear it. But, as good luck would have it, the furnace door flew open, and that stopped the draught, and the runaway came to a dead halt just before it reached the city. I call that a pretty narrow escape.”