An able writer upon railway topics remarks:—“I have alluded to a driver’s
coolness and resolution in an accident, but no chronicle ever has or ever
will be written which will tell one tithe of the accidents which the
courage and presence of mind of these men have averted. A railway ran
over a river—indeed, it might be called an arm of the sea: as it was the
inlet to an important harbour, provision was obliged to be made for the
shipping, and so the piece of line which crossed the water, at a height
of seventy feet, was, in fact, a bridge which swung round when large
vessels had to pass. I need hardly say that such a point was carefully
guarded. At each end, at a fitting distance, a man was placed specially
to indicate whether the bridge was open or shut. One day, as the express
was tearing along on its up journey, the driver received the usual ‘all
right’ signal; but to his horror, on coming in full sight of the bridge,
he found it was wide open, and a gulf of fatal depth yawning before him.
He sounded his brake-whistle, that deep-toned scream which signals the
guard, and he and his fireman held on, as before described, to the brake
and regulator. The speed of the train was, of course, checked; but so
short was the interval, so great had been the impetus, that it seemed
almost impossible to prevent the whole train from going over into the
chasm. Had the rails been in the least degree slippery, any of the
brakes out of order, or the driver less determined, there would then have
occurred the most fearful railway accident ever known in England; but by
dint of quick decision and cool courage the danger was averted; the train
was brought to a standstill when the buffers of the engine absolutely and
literally overhung the chasm. Three yards more, and a different result
might have had to be chronicled.
“Some of my readers may remember an incident in railway history which
dates back to our first great Exhibition. I mention it here for its
singularity, and for my having known the driver whose coolness was so
marked. In ascending a very long gradient, the hindmost carriages of the
train snapped their couplings when at the top; the engine rattled on with
the remainder, while these ran down the slope, which was several miles in
length, with a velocity which, of course, increased every moment. To
make matters worse, the next train on the same line was comparatively
close behind, and, in fact, shortly came in sight. The driver of this
second train, a watchful and experienced hand, saw the carriages rushing
towards him, and divined that they were on the same line. If he
continued steaming on, of course, in a couple of minutes he would come
into direct collision with them, while, on the other hand, if he ran
back, the carriages would probably gather such way that they would leap
from the bank. So, with great presence of mind and wonderful judgment of
speed, he ran back at a pace not quite as fast as the carriages were
approaching, so that eventually they overtook him, and struck his moving
engine with a blow that was scarcely more perceptible than the jar
usually communicated by coupling on a fresh carriage. When this was
done, all the rest was easy; he resumed his down journey, and pushed the
frightened passengers safely before him until they reached their
destination, where the officials, as may readily be supposed, were in a
state of frantic despair at the loss of half the train.”