The Iron Horse, Robert Michael Ballantyne [good ebook reader .TXT] 📗

approaching the stopping place would give them opportunity and time to leap out and make off with their booty. They had been told that their intended victim was a stout resolute man, but that would avail nothing against numbers.

Having obtained all requisite information they had proceeded thus far with their villainous design, apparently with success. But at this point a hitch occurred, though they knew it not. They had not taken sufficiently into account the fact that black leather bags may be both stout and peculiar, and in some degree similar without being identical. Hence Smith and Jenkins in their self-confidence had settled, as we have seen, that Captain Lee was "their man," whereas their man was comfortably seated in another carriage, and by his side the coveted bag, which was similar in some points to that of the captain, but different in size and in several small details.

Following the wrong scent, therefore, with wonted pertinacity, the three men sauntered behind Captain Lee and Edwin, who, true to the "laws" with which Jenkins had credited human nature, passed one carriage after another until they found an empty one.

"Here is one, Gurwood," said the captain.

He was about to step into it, when he observed Mrs Durby sitting in the next compartment.

"Hallo! nurse," he exclaimed, getting in and sitting down opposite to her; "why, surely it wasn't you, was it, that had such a narrow escape?"

"Indeed it was, Capting Lee," replied Mrs Durby in a half whimper, for albeit a woman of strong character, she was not proof against such rough treatment as she had experienced that day.

"Not hurt, I trust?" asked the Captain sympathetically.

"Oh dear no, sir; only shook a bit."

"Are you alone?" asked Edwin, seating himself beside his friend.

"Yes, sir; but la, sir, I don't think nothink of travellin' alone. I'm used to it, sir."

As she said this the guard's voice was heard desiring passengers to take their seats, and the three men, who had grouped themselves close round the door, thus diverging one or two passengers into the next compartment, entered, and sat down.

At the same moment Mr Sharp's earnest countenance appeared at the window. He made a few remarks to Captain Lee and Edwin Gurwood, and took occasion to regard the three adventurers with much attention. They evidently understood him, for they received his glances with bland smiles.

It was quite touching to note Mr Sharp's anxiety to lay hold of these men. He chanced to know nothing about them, save in connexion with the Langrye accident, but his long experience in business had given him a delicate power of perception in judging of character, which was not often at fault. He, as it were, smelt the presence of fair game, although he could not manage to lay immediate hold of it, just as that celebrated giant did, who, once upon a time, went about his castle giving utterance to well-known words--

"Fee, fo, fa, fum, I smell the smell of an Englishman."

"Joe," he whispered, as the guard came up to lock the door, "just keep an eye on these three fellows, will you? I'd lay my life on it that they're up to mischief to-day."

Joe looked knowing, and nodded.

"Show your tickets, please," he said, touching his cap to his director and Edwin.

The tickets were produced--all right. Mrs Durby, in getting out hers, although, of course, having got it for her, Joe did not require to see it, dropped her precious brown paper parcel. Picking it up again hastily she pressed it to her bosom with such evident anxiety, that men much less sharp-witted than our trio, would have been led to suspect that it contained something valuable. But they aimed at higher booty just then, and apparently did not notice the incident.

A rapid banging of doors had now set in--a sure precursor of the starting whistle. Before it was quite completed, the inevitable late passenger appeared in the distance. This time it was a lady, middle-aged and stout, and short of wind, but with an iron will, as was clearly evinced by the energy with which she raced along the platform, carrying a large bundle of shawls in one arm, and a travelling-bag in the other, which she waved continuously as she shouted, "Stop! stop! stop the trai-i-i-in! I'm coming!"

The guard, with the whistle already half-way to his lips, paused and glanced at his watch. There was a fraction of a moment left. He stepped to a carriage and threw open a door.

"Make haste, ma'am; make haste, please," was said in urgent, though respectful tones.

The late passenger plunged in--she might, as far as appearances went, be said to have taken a header into the carriage--and the door was shut.

The guard's whistle sounded. The engine-driver's whistle gave prompt reply, and next instant the train moved. No one could conceive of such a thing as a train _starting_ when John Marrot drove!

As the carriages glided by, Mr Sharp cast a passing glance on the late passenger. He observed that her bundle of shawls moved of its own accord, and, for one whole minute after the train had left, he stood motionless, meditating on that curious phenomenon. He had often heard of table-turning, but never until now had he seen inanimate matter move of its own accord. Can we feel surprised that he was both astonished and perplexed? Proceeding to the booking-office he held a brief conversation with the clerks there; then he sauntered into the telegraph-office and delivered a message, after which he left the station with a quiet smile on his sedate countenance.


CHAPTER FOURTEEN.


WHICH IS TOO FULL OF VARIED MATTER TO BE BRIEFLY DESCRIBED.

Meanwhile let us fly through space with greater than railway speed and overtake the "Flying Dutchman."

It has got up full speed by this time. About one mile a minute--sixty miles an hour! Sometimes it goes a little faster, sometimes a little slower, according to the nature of the ground; for a railway is by no means a level-way, the ascents and descents being occasionally very steep. Those who travel in the carriages form but a faint conception of the pace. To realise it to the full you must stand on the engine with John Marrot and Will Garvie. Houses, fields, trees, cattle, human beings, go by in wild confusion--they appear only to vanish. Wind is not felt in the carriages. On the _Lightning_ you are in a gale. It reminds one of a storm at sea. The noise, too, is terrific. We once had the good fortune to ride on the engine of the "Flying Dutchman," and on that occasion had resolved to converse with the driver, and tried it. As well might we have tried to converse amid the rattling of ten thousand tin kettles! John Marrot put his mouth to our ear and _roared_. We heard him faintly. We tried to shout to _him_; he shook his head, put his hand to his ear, and his ear to our mouth.

"Does--it--not--injure--your--hearing?"

"No--sir--not--at--all. It's--worst--on--our--legs."

We subsided into silence and wonderment.

We had also resolved to take notes, and tried it. Egyptian hieroglyphics are not more comprehensible than the notes we took. We made a discovery, however, near the end of the journey--namely, that by bending the knees, and keeping so, writing became much more possible--or much less impossible! We learnt this from John, who had to fill up in pencil a sort of statement or report-ticket on the engine. It was interesting and curious to note the fact that of the sentences thus written, one word was pencilled in the grounds of the Earl of Edderline, the next opposite the mansion of Lord Soberly, the third in the midst of Langly Moor, the fourth while crashing through the village of Efferby, and a full stop was added at the mouth of the great Ghostly Tunnel. Think of that, ye teachers of "penmanship in twelve lessons," and hide your diminished heads.

John Marrot's engine, of which we have said much, and of which we mean to say still more, was not only a stupendous, but a complex creation. Its body consisted of above 5,400 pieces, all of which were almost as delicately fashioned, and put together with as much care, as watch-work. It was a confirmed teetotaller, too. The morning draught which John had given it before starting, to enable it to run its seventy-seven miles, was 800 gallons of cold water. He also gave it a good feed to begin with, and laid in for its sustenance on the trip one ton of coals. Its power to act vigorously may be gathered from the fact that one morning, some years before, John had got the fire up with unwonted rapidity, and no sooner had the minimum of steam necessary to move it been created, than it quietly advanced and passed out of its shed through a brick wall fourteen inches thick with as much ease as it would have gone through a sheet of brown paper. This being its power when starting at what we may regard as a quiet walk, some conception may be formed of its capacity when flying down an incline at sixty-five miles an hour with a heavy train of carriages at its back. In such circumstances it would go through an ordinary house, train and all, as a rifle-bullet would go through a cheese. It was an eight-wheeled engine, and the driving-wheels were eight feet in diameter. The cylinder was eighteen inches, with a piston of two feet stroke, and the total weight of engine and tender was fifty-three tons. The cost of this iron horse with its tender was about 3000 pounds.

Having fairly started, John took his stand opposite his circular window in the protecting screen or weather-board and kept a sharp look-out ahead. Will Garvie kept an eye chiefly on the rear to note that all was well in that direction. And much cause was there for caution! To rush through space at such a rate, even on a straight line and in clear weather, was trying enough, but when it is remembered that the day was wet, and that their course lay through sundry deep cuttings and tunnels, and round several curves where it was not possible to foresee obstruction, the necessity for caution will be more apparent.

All went well, however, as usual. After clearing the first thirty-six miles John Marrot consulted his watch, and observed to Will that they had done it in thirty-eight and a half minutes. He then "put on a spurt," and went for some time at a higher rate of speed. Observing that something at the head of the engine required looking after, Will Garvie went out along the side of it, and while doing this piece of work his hair and jacket were blown straight back by the breeze which the engine had created for itself. He resembled, in fact, a sailor going out to work on the sails in a stiff breeze.

This artificial breeze, sweeping round the sides of the screen, caused an eddy which sent up a cloud of coal-dust, but neither John nor his mate appeared to care for this. Their eyes were evidently coal-proof.

Presently they approached a canal over which they rushed, and, for one moment, glanced down on the