 | Poems, Ballads and Bucolics |  |
THE ENGINE-DRIVER.
On the Pennsylvanian Railway.
Just one eye upon the gauge,
And another on the glancing semaphore—
But the man who wins his wage
By the engine's furnace-door
Needs a heart that ne'er looks back,
As he flies along the track,
With his demon of a fire-drake on the wing.
Into tunnels with a scream,
Where the reek it chokes the breath and blinds the eye,
Neath the cloud of his own steam,
Under stars that upward fly
To mingle with the stars
That flash their colours at the cars,
Goes the driver thro' the night-time with a will.
But by day the heights appal—
Dizzy height above, below him dreadful hollow.
You may almost hear Death call,
You may almost see Death follow,
As he roars along with thunder,
And the great piles quiver under,
While the echo of his coming after speeds.
Head and hand and eye as one!
On the Pennsylvanian road our very cars
Make us gallants as they run,
Light the track with hero stars,
Take our mortal clay and give
Immortality to live
When our flesh like ash is scattered cold and dead!
I was engine-mate with Bill—
He the driver, I the fireman, comrades true,
Proud of “Rocket” standing still,
Proud of “Rocket” as she flew.
Why, the man who fires or drives
Loves his engine! We were making up time lost.
For the cars were full behind,
Slope against us, rails all slippery with rain;
Bill was troubled in his mind,
Snapped his watch and coiled the chain
To a knot—“Ten minutes late!”
As we entered on the straight,
And I looked at him and set the fire doors wide.
How the wires beside the track
Dipped and danced, and rushed behind us out of sight!
How the great cars at our back
Swung to left and swung to right,
As with thunderclaps we ran
Under bridge and over span,
Till my mate's face beamed and broadened to a smile!
For I sudden heard a cry,
God have mercy! on we fly
To our doom in hot career!
For a switch set hard aback
Has turned us from the track,
And like lightning thro' the siding points we race!
“Will our coupling give or hold?”
And I felt the cars make sudden backward pull;
For with spirit lion-bold
He put steam to fiercest full,
On the cars set fiercest brake,
“Jump,” he cried, “Jim, for God's sake!”
So I jumped—but Bill the driver shot ahead—
Like an arrow from the bow,
Straight to death the gallant engine-driver dashed;
But the heavy cars stopped slow,
While the “Rocket” leapt and crashed
Through the siding to its fate,
Dust to dust—and Bill went straight
To the glory of the Saviour's hero-land.
And I saw him 'neath the pile—
Twisted axles, rails like serpents, blood and grime—
Smiling just as he would smile
When his engine made up time,
On his face no sign of fear—
He had found the road all clear,
As he raced along the track right into Heaven.
My thanks are due to my friend Mr. Mather, M.P., for the motive of this ballad. He was visiting the engineering shops of the Pennsylvanian Railroad at Altona, and spoke of the courage and coolness that must be needed by the engine-drivers on that line. One of the Managers assented and said: “We keep a note of all the plucky things done by our servants, and one of the most heroic and one of the most remarkable, as showing how minds trained to face danger and to think of others can resolve in a moment to act for the best, is the following:—
“A driver of an express with heavy cars behind him suddenly found that without any signal he had been turned off the main line into a siding. The one hope of escape for his train was that it should be brought to a standstill before he had gone the full length of the siding, but he saw that there were trucks in the way, and that he could not possibly bring the whole train to a stand in time to prevent collision. His only chance of saving the train was to break the couplings between his engine and the cars. Swift as thought he resolved, applied the brakes hard all to the cars and simultaneously put on full steam ahead. The sudden strain asunder thus procured snapped the couplings. The cars came to a standstill, while he and his released engine flew forward with double speed to destruction. His stoker who had jumped just at the right moment, was saved to tell the story of his mate's heroic deed.”
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