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

be raither awkward, sir, to do Jack Ketch's dooty without the benefit of judge, jury, witnesses, or clergy."

Edwin released his hold at once, and Thomson raised himself in the seat, clenching his teeth and fists as he did so. He was one of those savage creatures who, when roused, appear to go mad, and become utterly regardless of consequences. While Sam was engaged in e temporising handcuffs for Jenkins and Smith out of a necktie and a pocket-handkerchief, Thomson sat perfectly still, but breathed very hard. He was only resting a little to recover strength, for in a moment, without a sound or warning of any kind, he hit Edwin with all his force on the temple. Fortunately the youth saw the coming blow in time to partially give way to it, and in another moment the struggle was renewed, but terminated almost as quickly, for Edwin gave Thomson a blow that stunned him and kept him quiet for the next quarter of an hour.

During this period Edwin examined Captain Lee's hurts, which turned out to be less severe than might have been expected. He also assisted Sam to secure Thomson's wrists with a handkerchief, and then devoted some time to soothing the agitated spirits of poor Mrs Durby, whose luckless shins had not escaped quite scatheless during the _melee_.

"Oh, sir," sobbed Mrs Durby, glancing with horror at the dishevelled and blood-stained prisoners, "I always thought railways was bad things, but I never, no I never, imagined they was as bad as this."

"But, my good woman," said Edwin, unable to restrain a smile, "railways are not all, nor always, as bad as this. We very seldom hear of such a villainous deed as has been attempted to-day; thanks to the energy and efficiency of their police establishments."

"Quite true, Gurward, quite true," said Captain Lee, glancing sternly at the prisoners, and stanching a cut in his forehead with a handkerchief as he spoke; "our police arrangements are improving daily, as scoundrels shall find to their cost."

Jenkins and Smith did not raise their eyes, and Thomson continued to frown steadily out at the window without moving a muscle.

"I'm sure I don't know nothink about your p'lice, an' what's more, I don't care," said Mrs Durby; "all that I know is that railways is dreadful things, and if I was the Queen, which I'm not, I'd have 'em all put down by Acts of Parlingment, so I would. But never, never, never,-- as long as I'm able to manidge my own--ah!"

Mrs Durby terminated here with one of her own appalling shrieks, for it was at this precise moment that John Marrot happened, as already described, to have occasion to knock a cart and horse to atoms. The shock, as we have said, was very slight, nevertheless it was sufficient to overturn the poor nurse's nervous system, which had already been wrought up to a high pitch of tension.

"That's _somethin'_ gone, sir," said Sam, touching his cap to Captain Lee.

"What is it, Edwin?" inquired the captain as the youth let down the window and looked out.

"I can see nothing," said Edwin, "except that the guard and fireman are both looking back as if they wanted to see something on the line. We are beginning to slow, however, being not far from the station now."

About a mile and three-quarters from the station, in the suburbs of London, where the tickets were to be collected, John Marrot stopped the pulse of his iron horse, for so terrific was his speed that he was able to run the greater part of that distance by means of the momentum already acquired. By degrees the mighty engine began to "slow." Trees and houses instead of rushing madly past began to run hastily by, and then to glide behind at a rate that was more in keeping with the dignity of their nature. From sixty miles an hour the train passed by a rapid transition to ordinary express speed, then to ordinary speed, then to twenty miles an hour. Then Thomson felt that his opportunity had come. He suddenly wrenched his wrists from their fastening, leaped head foremost out of the window, fell on the embankment in a heap, and rolled to the bottom, where he lay extended on his back as if dead.

Thus much Mrs Durby saw in one horrified glance and then fainted dead away, in which condition she remained, to the great anxiety and distress of Captain Lee, until the "Flying Dutchman," after doing seventy-eight miles in one hour and a half, glided as softly up to the platform of the station in the great Metropolis as if it were a modest young train which had yet to win its spurs, instead of being a tried veteran which had done its best for many years past to annihilate space and time. But, after all, it resembled all other tried veterans in this respect.

Generally speaking, engine-drivers are little--far too little--thought of after a journey is over. Mankind is not prone to be wise or discriminating, in giving credit to whom credit is due. We "remember" waiters after having eaten a good dinner, but who, in any sense of the word, "remembers" the cook? So in like manner we think of railway porters and guards at the end of our journeys, and talk of their civility mayhap, but who thinks or talks of the driver and fireman as they lean on the rails of their iron horse, wet and weary perchance-- smoke and dust and soot begrimed for certain--and calmly watch the departure of the multitudes whom they have, by the exercise of consummate coolness, skill, and courage, brought through dangers and hairbreadth escapes that they neither knew nor dreamed of?

On this particular occasion, however, the tables were turned for once. The gentlemen in the train hurried to the guard to ask what had caused the slight shock which they had felt. Joe Turner had been called aside for a moment by a clerk, so they went direct to John Marrot himself, who modestly related what had happened in a half apologetic tone, for he did not feel quite sure that he had done the best in the circumstances. His admiring audience had no doubt on the point, however.

"You're a brick, John!" exclaimed an enthusiastic commercial traveller.

"That's true," said another. "If we had more men like him, there would be fewer accidents."

"Let's give him something," whispered a third.

The suggestion was eagerly acted on. A subscription was made on the spot, and in three minutes the sum of about ten pounds was thrust into John's huge dirty hand by the enthusiastic commercial traveller. But John firmly refused to take it.

"What's to be done with it, then?" demanded the traveller, "_I_ can't keep it, you know, and I'm not going to sit down here and spend half-an-hour in returning the money. If you don't take it John, I must fling it under the engine or into the furnace."

"Well," said the driver, after a moment's consideration, while he closed his hand on the money and thrust it into his breeches pocket, "I'll take it. It will help to replace the cart we smashed, if I can find the owner."

While this was going on near the engine, the robbers were being removed from their carriage to receive the due reward of their deeds. Three tall and strong-boned men had been on the platform for some time awaiting the arrival of the "Flying Dutchman." Swift though John Marrot's iron horse was, a swifter messenger had passed on the line before him. The electric spark--and a fast volatile, free-and-easy, yet faithful spark it is--had been commissioned to do a little service that day. Half-an-hour after the train had left Clatterby a detective, wholly unconnected with our friend Sharp, had called and sent a message to London to have Thomson, Jenkins, and Smith apprehended, in consequence of their connexion with a case of fraud which had been traced to them. The three tall strong-boned men were there in virtue of this telegram. But, accustomed though these men were to surprising incidents, they had scarcely expected to find that the three culprits had added another to their many crimes, and that one of them had leaped out of the train and out of their clutches--in all probability out of the world altogether! Two of the strong men went off immediately in search of him, or his remains, while the other put proper manacles on Jenkins and Smith and carried them off in a cab.

Meanwhile Joe Turner saw that all the other passengers were got carefully out of the train. He was particularly polite in his attentions, however, to the "late passenger!"

"You have forgot, ma'am," he said politely, "to give up your dog-ticket."

"Dog-ticket!" exclaimed the lady, blushing; "what do you mean? I have no dog-ticket."

"Not for the little poodle dog, ma'am, that you carry under your shawl?"

The lady blushed still deeper as she admitted that she had no ticket for the dog, but said that she was quite willing to pay for it.

This having been done, her curiosity got the better of her shame at having been "caught," and she asked--

"How did you know I had a dog with me, guard?"

"Ah, ma'am," replied Joe with a smile, "we've got a remarkably sharp-sighted police force on our line, besides the telegraph. We find the telegraph very useful, I assure you, at times. The gentlemen who were removed in handcuffs a few minutes ago were _also_ stopped in their little game by the telegraph, ma'am."

The guard turned away to attend to some one else, and the late passenger, blushing a still deeper scarlet to find that she was classed with criminals, hurried away to reflect, it is to be hoped, on the fact that dishonesty has no variety in character--only in degree.

When the guard left the late passenger, he found that his assistance was required to get Mrs Durby and her belongings out of the railway carriage and into a cab.

The poor nurse was in a pitiable state of mind. A railway journey had always been to her a thing of horror. The reader may therefore form some conception of what it was to her to have been thus suddenly called away from quiet suburban life to undertake not only a railway journey, but to be shut up with a gang of would-be murderers and encounter a sort of accident in addition! By the time she had reached London she had become quite incapable of connected thought. Even the precious parcel, which at first had been an object of the deepest solicitude, was forgotten; and although she had hugged it to her breast not two minutes before, she suffered it to drop under the seat as she was led from the train to the cab.

"Drive to the Clarendon," said Captain Lee, as he and Gurwood followed the nurse into the cab; "we will take care of her," he added to Edwin, "till she is better able to take care of herself."

Mrs Durby gave vent to a hysterical sob of gratitude.

Arrived at the Clarendon they alighted, the captain paid the fare, and the cab was dismissed. Just at that moment Mrs Durby became a temporary maniac. She shrieked, "Oh! my parcel!" and rushed towards the door.

The captain and waiter restrained her.

"It's in the cab!"