Page:A voice from the signal-box.djvu/25

21 “Superintendent’s Office, __________, date __________, 7.50 a.m. train from __________, stopped at No. __________ signal. 3 minutes lost. Inspector, make inquiries into this, and let me have your full report at once.”

If all the superintendents upon the line had been at this junction when these detentions occurred, they could not have prevented them, yet these inquiries go on from month to month and from year to year; and to waste time and stationery upon them—particularly when they occur at busy junctions, where it is well known that detentions cannot be avoided—is, I think, something outrageous; it can only serve to worry the men and cause them to commit blunders. I have no hesitation in saying that the signalman often makes mistakes through being flurried, and under the dread of the above-named inquiries, as when the traffic is great he often cuts things too near to save himself from them. He has done the same thing, perhaps, many times before, and all went well; and why not try it just once again?

The same remark applies to engine-drivers, when they find a distant signal standing in the position I have previously named. The engineman has instructions to pull up his train if he is in doubt about the signal, but these “Inquiries” often influence him to chance it; and, although it is not properly at “all-right,” on he goes—sooner than be blamed for losing time—and he will do this, day after day, until he meets with an accident, sooner or later. Now, the question to be answered, when trains clash together at junctions, or crossing points, under the foregoing circumstances, is—which is the quickest and safest way to get them away without delay? and who, it may also be asked, is the best able to tell: the signalman, who is on the spot, and has to deal with them daily, or his superintendent, who is, perhaps, miles away? Why do the company place the signalman there, if they have not the fullest confidence in him?

I have often thought, when I have seen express trains rushing past my box, how little the passengers know the