SIGNALS
By JOHN A. HILL and JASPER EWING BRADY
DANGER SIGNALS
Remarkable, Exciting And Unique Examples Of The Bravery,
Daring And Stoicism In The Midst Of Danger Of
TRAIN DISPATCHERS AND RAILROAD ENGINEERS
By
JOHN A. HILL
and
JASPER EWING BRADY
ABSORBING STORIES OF MEN WITH NERVES OF STEEL,
INDOMITABLE COURAGE AND WONDERFUL ENDURANCE
Fully Illustrated
CHICAGO
JAMIESON-HIGGINS CO.
1902
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1898, 1899
By S. S. McClure Co.
Copyright 1899
By Doubleday & McClure Co.
Copyright 1900
By Jamieson-Higgins Co.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
PART I. PAGE
Jim Wainright's Kid 7
An Engineer's Christmas Story 35
The Clean Man and the Dirty Angels 57
A Peg-legged Romance 75
My Lady of the Eyes 97
Some Freaks of Fate 151
Mormon Joe, the Robber 191
A Midsummer Night's Trip 227
The Polar Zone 253
PART II.
CHAPTER
I. Learning the Business--My First Office 1
II. An Encounter with Train Robbers 11
III. In a Wreck 12
IV. A Woman Operator Who Saved a Train 25
V. A Night Office in Texas--A Stuttering Despatcher 33
VI. Blue Field, Arizona, and an Indian Scrimmage 42
VII. Taking a Whirl at Commercial Work--My First
Attempt--The Galveston Fire 52
VIII. Sending a Message Perforce--Recognizing
an Old Friend by His Stuff 62
IX. Bill Bradley, Gambler and Gentleman 68
X. The Death of Jim Cartwright--Chased off a Wire by a Woman 80
XI. Witnessing a Marriage by Wire--Beating a
Pool Room--Sparring at Long Range 87
XII. How a Smart Operator was Squelched--The Galveston Flood 96
XIII. Sending My First Order 104
XIV. Running Trains by Telegraph--How It is Done 111
XV. An Old Despatcher's Mistake--My First Trick 125
XVI. A General Strike--A Locomotive Engineer for a Day 137
XVII. Chief Despatcher--An Inspection Tour--Big River Wreck 147
XVIII. A Promotion by Favor and Its Results 160
XIX. Jacking up a Negligent Operator--A Convict
Operator--Dick, the Plucky Call Boy 168
XX. An Episode of Sentiment 185
XXI. The Military Operator--A Fake Report that
Nearly Caused Trouble 192
XXII. Private Dennis Hogan, Hero 203
XXIII. The Commission Won--In a General Strike 222
XXIV. Experiences as a Government Censor of Telegraph 237
XXV. More Censorship 246
XXVI. Censorship Concluded 257
XXVII. Conclusion 269
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
List of Illustrations
PART I.
"Quick as a flash the Kid had my arm." Frontispiece
TO FACE
"I noticed his long, slim hand on the top of the
reverse-lever" 22
"It was a strange courting ... there on that engine" 70
"We carried him into the depot" 100
"He was the first man I ever killed" 176
"'Mexican,' said I" 236
"What seemed to be a giant iceberg...." 282
"A white city ... was visible for an instant" 292
PART II.
Facsimile of a completed train-despatcher's order 1
"Two of the men tied my hands in front of me" 16
"After many efforts I finally reached the lowest cross-arm" 30
"One of them picked up the lantern, and swaggering over to
where I sat all trembling...." 38
"He looked at me ... then catching me by the collar...." 100
"... Half lying on the table, face downward, dead by his own hand" 128
"'See here, who is going to pull this train?'" 144
"Are you not doing it just because I am a woman?" 190
"... Dennis, lying under the telegraph line. His left hand
still grasped the instrument" 219
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
DANGER SIGNALS.
PART I.
JIM WAINRIGHT'S KID
As I put down my name and the number of the crack engine of America--as
well as the imprint of a greasy thumb--on the register of our roundhouse
last Saturday night, the foreman borrowed a chew of my fireman's
fine-cut, and said to me:
"John, that old feller that's putting on the new injectors wants to see
you."
"What does he want, Jack?" said I. "I don't remember to have seen him,
and I'll tell you right now that the old squirts on the 411 are good
enough for me--I ain't got time to monkey with new-fangled injectors on
_that_ run."
"Why, he says he knowed you out West fifteen years ago."
"So! What kind o' looking chap is he?"
"Youngish face, John; but hair and whiskers as white as snow.
Sorry-looking rooster--seems like he's lost all his friends on earth,
and wa'n't jest sure where to find 'em in the next world."
"I can't imagine who it would be. Let's see--'Lige Clark, he's dead;
Dick Bellinger, Hank Baldwin, Jim Karr, Dave Keller, Bill Parr--can't be
none of them. What's his name?"
"Winthrop--no, Wetherson--no, lemme see--why, no--no, Wainright; that's
it, Wainright; J. E. Wainright."
"Jim Wainright!" says I, "Jim Wainright! I haven't heard a word of him
for years--thought he was dead; but he's a young fellow compared to me."
"Well, he don't look it," said Jack.
After supper I went up to the hotel and asked for J. E. Wainright.
Maybe you think Jim and I didn't go over the history of the "front."
"Out at the front" is the pioneer's ideal of railroad life. To a man who
has put in a few years there the memory of it is like the memory of
marches, skirmishes, and battles in the mind of the veteran soldier. I
guess we started at the lowest numbered engine on the road, and
gossiped about each and every crew. We had finished the list of
engineers and had fairly started on the firemen when a thought struck
me, and I said:
"Oh, I forgot him, Jim--the 'Kid,' your cheery little cricket of a
firesy, who thought Jim Wainright the only man on the road that could
run an engine right. I remember he wouldn't take a job running
switcher--said a man that didn't know that firing for Jim Wainright was
a better job than running was crazy. What's become of him? Running, I
suppose?"
Jim Wainright put his hand up to his eyes for a minute, and his voice
was a little husky as he said:
"No, John, the Kid went away--"
"Went away?"
"Yes, across the Great Divide--dead."
"That's tough," said I, for I saw Jim felt bad. "The Kid and you were
like two brothers."
"John, I loved the--"
Then Jim broke down. He got his hat and coat, and said:
"John, let's get out into the air--I feel all choked up here; and I'll
tell you a strange, true story--the Kid's story."
As we got out of the crowd and into Boston Common, Jim told his story,
and here it is, just as I remember it--and I'm not bad at remembering.
"I'll commence at the beginning, John, so that you will understand. It's
a strange story, but when I get through you'll recall enough yourself to
prove its truth.
"Before I went beyond the Mississippi and under the shadows of the Rocky
Mountains, I fired, and was promoted, on a prairie road in the Great
Basin well known in the railway world. I was much like the rest of the
boys until I commenced to try to get up a substitute for the link
motion. I read an article in a scientific paper from the pen of a
jackass who showed a Corliss engine card, and then blackguarded the
railroad mechanics of America for being satisfied with the link because
it was handy. I started in to design a motion to make a card,
but--well, you know how good-for-nothing those things are to pull loads
with.
"After my first attempt, I put in many nights making a wooden model for
the Patent Office. I was subsequently informed that the child of my
brain interfered with about ten other motions. Then I commenced to
think--which I ought to have done before. I went to studying _what had
been done_, and soon came to the conclusion that I just knew a
little--about enough to get along running. I gave up hope of being an
inventor and a benefactor of mankind, but study had awakened in me the
desire for improvement; and after considerable thought I came to the
conclusion that the best thing I could do was to try to be the best
runner on the road, just as a starter. In reality, in my inmost soul, my
highest ideal was the master mechanic's position.
"I was about twenty-five years old, and had been running between two or
three years, with pretty good success, when one day the general master
mechanic sent for me. In the office I was introduced to a gentleman,
and the G. M. M. said to him in my presence:
"'This is the engineer I spoke to you of. We have none better. I think
he would suit you exactly, and, when you are through with him, send him
back; we are only lending him, mind,' and he went out into the shop.
"The meaning of it all was that the stranger represented a firm that had
put up the money to build a locomotive with a patent boiler for burning
a patent fuel--she had an improved valve motion, too--and they had asked
our G. M. M. for a good engineer, to send East and break in and run the
new machine and go with her around the country on ten-day trials on the
different roads. He offered good pay, it was work I liked, and I went. I
came right here to Boston and reported to the firm. They were a big
concern in another line, and the head of the house was a relative of our
G. M. M.--that's why he had a chance to send me.
"After the usual introductions, the president said to me:
"'Now, Mr. Wainright, this new engine of ours is hardly started yet.
The drawings are done, and the builders' contract is ready to sign; but
we want you to look over the drawings, to see if there are any practical
suggestions you can make. Then stay in the shops, and see that the work
is done right. The inventor is not a practical man; help him if you can,
for experience tells us that ten things fail because of bad _design_
where one does because of bad manipulation. Come up into the
drawing-room, and I will introduce you to the inventor.'
"Up under the skylight I met the designer of the new engine, a mild
little fellow--but he don't figure in this story. In five minutes I was
deep in the study of the drawings. Everything seemed to be worked out
all right, except that they had the fire-door opening the wrong way and
the brake-valve couldn't be reached--but many a good builder did that
twenty years ago. I was impressed with the beauty of the drawings--they
were like lithographs, and one, a perspective, was shaded and colored
handsomely. I complimented him on them.
"'They are beautiful, sir,' he said; 'they were made by a lady. I'll
introduce you to her.'
"A bright, plain-faced little woman with a shingled head looked up from
her drawing-board as we approached, shook hands cordially when
introduced, and at once entered into an intelligent discussion of the
plans of the new record-beater.
"Well, it was some months before the engine was ready for the road, and
in that time I got pretty well acquainted with Miss Reynolds. She was
mighty plain, but sharp as a buzz-saw. I don't think she was really
homely, but she'd never have been arrested for her beauty. There was
something 'fetching' about her appearance--you couldn't help liking her.
She was intelligent, and it was such a novelty to find a woman
