Showing how Mr. Fogg and Party journeyed in the Pacific Express.
"From ocean to ocean," as the Americans say, and this sentence is the
usual expression to intimate the crossing of the continent by the
Pacific Railway. That line is really divided into two, viz. the
Central Pacific, between San Francisco and Ogden; and the Union
Pacific, between Ogden and Omaha. There are five trunk-lines from
Omaha to New York.
New York and San Francisco are thus united by a continuous iron road
more than three thousand seven hundred and eighty-six miles in length;
between the Pacific and Omaha the railroad traverses a country still
inhabited by Indians and wild beasts, and a vast extent of territory
which the Mormons began to colonise in 1845, when they were driven out
from Illinois.
Formerly, under the most favourable circumstances, the journey from
New York to San Francisco occupied six months, now it is accomplished
in seven days.
It was in 1862 that, notwithstanding the opposition of Confederate
members of Congress, who desired a more southerly route, the railroad
track was planned between the forty-first and the forty-second
parallels of latitude. President Lincoln himself fixed the termination
of the new line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The work was immediately begun
and continued with characteristic American energy, which is neither
red-tapeish nor bureaucratic. The rapidity of the work did not affect
its completeness; they laid a mile and a half of line across the
prairie every day; an engine, carrying the rails to be used next day,
ran on the line only just laid, and advanced as quickly as they were
fixed.
The Pacific railroad has several branches in the States of Iowa,
Kansas, Colorado, and Oregon. When it leaves Omaha the line runs along
the left bank of the river Platte, as far as the mouth of the northern
branch, follows the south branch, crosses the Laramine territory and
the Wahsatch Mountains to Salt Lake City (the Mormon capital), plunges
into the Tuilla Valley across the desert, Mounts Cedar and Humboldt,
the Humboldt river and the Sierra Nevada, and then descends by
Sacramento to the Pacific; the gradient all the way, even over the
Rocky Mountains, not exceeding a hundred and twelve feet to the mile.
Such was the line along which Phileas Fogg hoped to be carried to New
York in seven days in time to reach the Steamer to Liverpool on the
11th.
The car in which our travellers were seated was a sort of long
omnibus, with four wheels at each end, without compartments; rows of
seats were placed at each side, a passage running between them from
end to end of this carriage, and practically of the train, for every
carriage was closely connected with the next. There were drawing-room
cars, smoking-cars, and restaurants. The only thing wanting was the
theatre-car, but no doubt that will some day be supplied. Vendors of
books and papers, eatables, drinkables, and tobacco, continually
passed through the train.
The train started from Oakland Station at six p.m. It was already
dark, and snow was threatening; the pace did not exceed twenty miles
an hour, including stoppages. There was not much conversation amongst
the passengers, and most of them soon went to sleep. Passe-partout was
next to the detective, but did not address him, for after what had
happened there could be no sympathy between them. Fix had not altered,
but Passe-partout was extremely reserved, and on the least suspicion
would have strangled his former friend.
In about an hour snow began to fall, but not sufficiently thick to
hinder the progress of the train. Nothing could be seen from the
windows but an immense white sheet, against which the steam of the
engine looked gray.
At eight o'clock the steward entered and said that bed-time had come.
The backs of the seats were thrown down, bedsteads were pulled out,
and berths improvised in a few moments. By this ingenious system each
passenger was provided with a bed, and protected by curtains from
prying eyes. The sheets were clean, the pillows soft. There was
nothing to do but to go to bed and sleep, which everybody did as if
they were on board ship, while the train rushed on across the State of
California.
The territory between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly,
and the railroad runs in a north-easterly direction along the American
river which falls into the Bay of San Pablo. The hundred and twenty
miles' distance between these cities was accomplished in six hours,
and as it was midnight when they passed through Sacramento, the
travellers could see nothing of the city.
Leaving Sacramento and passing Junction, Rochin, Auburn, and Colfax,
the railroad passes through the Sierra Nevada range, and the train
reached Cisco at seven o'clock. An hour afterwards the sleeping-car
was retransformed to an ordinary carriage, and the passengers were
enabled to look out upon the magnificent scenery of this mountainous
country. The track followed all the caprices of the mountains, at
times suspended over a precipice, boldly rounding angles, penetrating
narrow gorges which had apparently no outlet. The engine, with fire
gleaming from the grate and black smoke issuing from its funnel, the
warning-bell ringing, the "cow-catcher" extending like a spur, mingled
its whistlings and snortings with the roar of torrents and waterfalls,
and twining its black smoke around the stems of the pine-trees. There
are few tunnels or bridges on this portion of the route, for the line
winds round the sides of the mountains and does not penetrate them.
About nine o'clock the train entered the State of Nevada by the Carson
Valley, still proceeding in a north-easterly direction. At midday the
train quitted Reno, where it had stopped twenty minutes for luncheon.
After lunch the passengers took their places in the car again, and
admired the scenery. Sometimes great troops of buffaloes were massed
like an immense moveable dam on the horizon. These immense troops
frequently oppose an impassable barrier to the trains, for they cross
the track in close array in thousands and thousands, occupying several
hours in their passage. On these occasions the train is brought to a
standstill and obliged to wait till the track is clear.
In fact, an incident of this kind happened on this occasion. About
three o'clock in the afternoon a troop of ten or twelve thousand
beasts blocked the line. The engineer slackened speed and tried to
proceed slowly, but he could not pass the mass of buffaloes.
The passengers could see the buffaloes defiling quietly across the
track, and now and then bellowing loudly. They were larger than
European bulls, the head and shoulders being covered with a long mane,
beneath which rises a hump; the legs and tails are short. No one would
ever think of attempting to turn them aside. When once they have taken
a certain direction, they cannot be forced to swerve from it. They
compose a torrent of living flesh which no dam can withstand.
The passengers gazed on this curious spectacle, but the man most
interested of all in the speedy progress of the train, Phileas Fogg,
remained calmly in his place to wait till the buffaloes had passed by.
Passe-partout was furious at the delay which the animals caused, and
wished to discharge his armoury of revolvers at them.
"What a country this is!" he exclaimed. "Fancy a whole train being
stopped by a herd of cattle, which do not hurry themselves in the
least, as if they were not hindering us; I should like to know whether
Mr. Fogg anticipated this delay. And here we have an engine-driver who
is afraid to run his train against a few cows."
The engine-driver certainly did not attempt to do so, and he was quite
right. No doubt he might have killed two or three of the first
buffaloes he came in contact with; but the engine would soon have been
thrown off the line, and progress would have been hopeless.
The best thing to do, then, was to wait patiently, and trust to make
up time when the buffaloes had passed; but the procession of animals
lasted for fully three hours, and it was night before the track was
clear. The head of the column had ere this disappeared below the
southern horizon.
It was eight o'clock when the train had traversed the defiles of the
Humboldt range, and half-past nine when it entered Utah, the region of
the great Salt Lake and the curious Mormon territory.