Page:McClure's Magazine volume 10.djvu/336

522 A heavy Sunday-school excursion train left half an hour ahead of me. As she was an extra, I had no occasion to look out for her; it was her business to keep out of my way. They had ten cars, every seat filled, mostly with women and children. The ferry-boat was ten minutes late, and as our time had been shortened up fifteen minutes on the last time-table, I knew I would have hard work to get in on time. So as soon as I got clear of the yard, I let the old girl go for all there was in her, working all the fine points known to engineers to get every ounce of speed out of her, and yet keep her in steam, fire, and water. Eight miles out there was a low ridge over which the road ran; it was a short, rather steep grade up, and then a long gentle sweep down for about two miles, around a curve, and then fairly level running ground for the next twenty-five miles. When she pitched over the top of the knoll, I started down the long grade at a good gait, for here was my chance to get a swing on to carry me over the long level stretch beyond the curve.

As she gathered headway, I hooked her back a notch at a time until she was flying like a comet. The cars rolled like logs in a lake, and as I glanced back the last two were entirely obscured by the dense cloud of dust that we tore up from the track as we sped along. She was to go going sixty-five miles per hour if she was an inch. As I approached the curve I could see that the excursion train was in the switch just beyond waiting for me. I blew a crossing signal to let them know that I was coming, because excursionists have a great habit of getting off and spreading themselves all over creation every time their train stops, and I didn't wish to kill any of them. I fancied I could hear the women and children utter little frightened screeches as we flew by them.

It was a long, easy curve, and yet the speed was such that she struck it as solidly as if it had been a brick wall; she tossed her head round for an instant, and then plunged straight into the side of that ten-car train crammed full of happy women and children.

The flange of the leading wheel on the engine truck had broken and allowed the engine to leave the track. Naturally, as she tore the rails from the ties in her mad flight, the whole train followed her. The engine crashed diagonally through four cars, smashing them as effectually as you could smash the same number of eggs with an axe. The cars following rammed, telescoped, and climbed over the others. When the engine stopped she lay on her left side beyond the siding. The cab was gone, the fireman was gone, but on my side of the run-board—at my very feet—lay the bodies of three little girls.

I tried to get up, but found that my right leg was held fast by one of the cab braces that had bent over and jammed it. The sounds that came from the wreck were appalling—yells and groans in the shrill voices of women and children, with occasionally a deeper tone, showing where a man was. I did not know at first that I was hurt at all, but now my imprisoned leg began to pain me; then I felt a suffocating sensation within, as if a blood-vessel had been ruptured and I was being drowned out with my own blood. My eyes became dim, my head swam, and I saw horrible sights.

The next thing that I knew I was in a hospital, a "sister" bathing my forehead with cool water. I tried to ask where I was, but she told me to be quiet. It was a week before my wife was allowed to see me; she told me that a large number of people on both trains had been killed outright and many more injured.

When the wrecking-train was called, the round-house foreman, who was called with it, disappeared, leaving his job and family behind; and although we heard occasional rumors of his having been seen in various parts of the country, he never came back, and I do not think that his family ever heard from him afterwards.

I had several ribs broken and received internal injuries from the effects of which I have never fully recovered to this day. My fireman was killed and his body completely dismembered, but no other employee on our train, strange to say, was at all severely injured. The baggage-master was found buried under a huge pile of heavy trunks which had been piled to the roof on each side of the car, and although the car rolled over on its side, with the exception of a few bruises he was unhurt.

I was exonerated from all blame both by the coroner and the company, and ordered to report for duty as soon as I felt able to do so; but though I had never been the least bit squeamish over accidents before, this one took a strong hold on me. There were several families in the little town where I lived that had relatives maimed or killed in the wreck; and though I knew that I was not legally responsible,