On Duty | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Feb 22, 1883

On Duty.

I WAS in the W. N. and R. Railroad office on a little matter of business, when a man came in and asked for a situation as engineer. His papers were satisfactory; he was a good-looking man, and the clerk might, perhaps, have given him some encouragement had not the superintendent been present. He looked up from his conversation with me, and asked pleasantly:—

“Do you smoke?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you drink?”

“Not on duty, sir.”

“Do you play cards?”

“Sometimes, sir.”

“On duty?”

“I have done such a thing, but not often. It is not my habit.”

“You won’t do for the W. N. and R. I am sorry,” he said, as the man’s face clouded with disappointment, “but I am trying to ennoble the calling of a locomotive engineer by having only good, reliable, safe men in the business; men to whom we may trust our property, our lives, and the lives of our loved ones with impunity. I like your looks, my man, and will give you a job when you can say honestly that you belong to that class.”

“You are quite right, sir,” said the man, touching his cap as he went out, “but you will find it easier to bring up your new men in the right way than to reform your old ones.”

“I feel deeply upon this subject,” said the superintendent, turning again to me; “all the more deeply for the reason that I once was a locomotive engineer myself, and fully realize all the pressure they are under which tempts them to fall into the smoking, drinking, card-playing habits that are too often the primary causes of the dreadful accidents that so often shock the community. I was a poor orphan boy, only a child, indeed, when I began helping old ‘Pat,’ the watchman, about wiping the freight engines up at the Woolwich terminus. I was a natural machinist, and the railroad men all amused themselves by teaching me the principles of mechanics, which I caught at so quickly, and grew so self-sufficient over, that I soon received the nickname of the ‘Old Man,’ as the master mechanic on nearly every railroad is dubbed by the help. As soon as I was strong enough I was given a situation as fireman, and not very long afterwards the company, for some reason, running short of engineers, I was sent out with a local freight. I did so well that they kept me right along on that train for some months, changing me then to an express freight, with a new first-class engine. I was delighted at my promotion, and supposed I was just as good an engineer as there was in the business, not realizing that I lacked judgment, or that I had no idea of the responsibility of my position, and fully enjoying the reputation which I soon earned of being the most reckless engineer on the road. It was my great delight to cut all sorts of capers to raise a laugh. I talked to my engine as if it were a horse, and the boys used to say, ‘The Star knows Fred, and does whatever he tells her, whether he touches the lever or not.’ At a certain point on our road there was a long, heavy grade, over which we were obliged to labor along at a pace that was a great trial to me, until I took up the plan of calling the train men into the cab, and playing euchre to while away the time. One day we had been drinking considerable before we started out, and I had been boasting of my power over the ‘Star.’ We were loaded unusually heavy with pig iron, and as I put the steam on I said:—

“This, with a little encouragement in the way of coal from Jake, the fireman, will carry us to the top of the hill, and when we pitch over the summit I shall not have to shut off. I have trained her so now she will obey my voice without raising a puff of objection. ‘It is your deal, Tommy,’ I went on to my conductor, who was my partner; ‘play your best now;’ and I talked to him and encouraged the Star, in an absurd way, that kept the men in a continual roar of laughter.

“We stood about the cab holding our cards slipped between our fingers, as I have only seen railroad men hold them, and instead of playing by throwing them upon a flat surface, we reached up and tucked the edges under a spring bracket that was screwed to the side of the cab to hold the running cord, thus preventing any probability of their being jostled out of place. Jake, the fireman, had the counters tucked under the band of his greasy felt hat, and not being in the game kept tally for both sides. Playing euchre under difficulties, you will say, but all the difficulties only increased the excitement of the game. I was playing a lone hand when we reached the top of the grade. The men were all engaged in the game, and none of us realized where we were until the last card was played. Then after a shout of merriment over my pretended discomfiture at being euchered, we came to a realizing sense that the momentum of the train had considerably increased.

“We are over the summit,” shouted the conductor.

“And one of the brakemen cried:—

“‘Speak to the Star, Fred; just sing out to her and she will slow up.’

“And I was just reckless enough to keep the fun, by striking an attitude and shouting, ‘Whoa! whoa!’ in a way that made the men, for the moment helpless with laughter. It was only for a moment, however, and then they all took in the situation. Fun was forgotten, and they rushed to their places like true men, as they were in reality, only having got in the way of thinking that all the fun and merriment they could crowd into each trip was clear gain, they went beyond bounds sometimes.

“The grade that we had just started upon was a very heavy one; we never used any steam in going down it, and had to hold the train by the brakes.

“As the conductor seized the forward brake I saw that it was broken. Not until I had whistled for brakes, shut off the steam, and satisfied myself that every brake was set, did I admit even to myself that the train was out from under my control. It was a long grade, but it seemed to me now that it was endless. The rate of speed at which we were going was simply frightful, and increasing every moment. I looked back at the men and saw them lying flat on top of the cars, clinging to the running board for safety.

“‘I am going to jump,’ shouted my fireman in my ear, and looking into his face, I saw it as white as a dead man’s, through the grim.

“‘Stick to the ship,’ I shouted back; and although he was twice my size, seized him by the shoulders and set him down upon his box. He said afterwards there was such a look in my eyes he dared not move.

“I pulled open the whistle, fastened it back, and on we plunged through forests, over bridges, the engine whistling like a mad creature. The iron with which the platform cars were loaded was hurled in every direction.

“Once or twice as we rounded the curves, the velocity with which the great locomotive ran upon one rail for some distance, and it seemed that it must lose its equilibrium; but it righted itself again, and went bowling on.

“It appeared to me that I lived hours in those few minutes. The responsibility of my course as an engineer, came up to me with overwhelming force. In imagination I looked back at the brakemen and saw them crushed, mangled, and dead. I saw their weeping wives and children, and felt that I was alone to blame for their misery. I saw that life was something besides the burlesque I made of it, and for the first time realized that I made my own position in it.

“We were going into the Roaring River Junction ahead of time. I knew we always made a close connection there, and it was ten chances to one if we found the main track clear and the switches all right. But they heard us coming quite a long distance off. It was one of those days when the density of the atmosphere is such that every sound can be heard much further than usual.

“The yard men at once divined the situation. They said afterwards that my alarm whistle sounded like a cry of despair, and the roar of the car wheels was like the noise made by a buzz saw. We flew through the yard past the station, and out upon the straight track, right side up, after having faced death fair and square for seven miles.

“I never expect to see a whiter-faced group of men than came forward into the cab when we reached the terminus, which was six miles further on. I did not wait to be discharged, but went directly to the office, told my story, and asked for what money was due me.

“‘No one was to blame but me,’ I said, ‘and this would not have happened but for the cards, and,’ I paused a moment, ‘we should not have been playing euchre on duty had we not been drinking first;’ and I remember now we were about to fill and light our pipes all around when some one noticed that we were over the hill. So I see, tobacco came to mind before duty; and I will never drink, nor smoke, nor play at cards again, nor run another locomotive until I have the stability of character that makes me fit for it.

“I went out of the shop, and, getting into a mail stage that stood by the depot, rode away off to the hills, where I hired out to a farmer.

“The natural love for machinery kept my mind employed, and I soon got up a cut-off, which I had patented. In riding to see how it worked I got to running again. The patent brought me some money, and in time I was promoted to be assistant master mechanic, then to master mechanic, where I took my old title of ‘Old Man’ by good right; and now I am general superintendent. I keep my eye upon my men, especially upon the engineers. We have very few accidents, and I attribute the fact mainly to the steady, reliable men that we have upon the foot-board.”—Church and Home.