Pretty much so, said John. They did manage a mile or two more, Im told, but that was their average of crawlin with full steam on.
And you sometimes drive at sixty or seventy miles an hour?
Yes, maam.
With people in the carriages?
Cernly, maam.
How I wish that I had lived a hundred years ago! sighed poor Mrs Tipps.
Youd have bin a pretty old girl by this time if you had, thought the engine-driver, but he was too polite to give utterance to the thought.
And what was my son doing when you passed him at that frightful speedyou could see him, I suppose?
Oh yes, maam, I could see him well enough. He was talkin an laughin, as far as I could make out, with an uncommon pretty girl.
Indeed! exclaimed Mrs Tipps, flushing slightlyfor she was extremely sensitive,and evidently much relieved by this information. Well, my good man, what do you wish me to do for you? anything that is in my power to
Thankee, maam, but I dont want you to do nothin for me.
Then what have you to say to me? added the old lady with a little smile that was clearly indicative of a kind little heart.
Ive come to take the liberty, maam, of askin you to do one of my mates a favour.
Most willingly, said Mrs Tipps with animation. I shall never forget that you saved my dear Josephs life by pulling him off the line when one of your dreadful engines was going straight over him. Anything that I am capable of doing for you or your friends will be but a poor return for what you have done for me. I have often asked you to allow me to make me some such return, Mr Marrot, and have been grieved at your constant refusal. I am delighted that you come to me now.
Youre very good to say so, maam. The fact is that one o my friends, a porter on the line, named Sam Natly, has a young wife who is, I fear, far gone wi consumption; shes worse to-night an poor Sams obliged to go on night dooty, so he cant look arter her, an the old ooman theyve got aint worth nothin. So I thought Id make bold, maam, to ask you to send yer servant to git a proper nurse to take charge of her to-night, it would be
Ill go myself! exclaimed Mrs Tipps, interrupting, and starting up with a degree of alacrity that astonished the engine-driver. Here, write down the address on that piece of paperyou can write, I suppose?
Yes, maam, replied John, modestly, as he bent down and wrote the address in a bold flowing hand, I raither think I can write. I write notes, on a paper Ive got to fill up daily, on the engine; an wen a mans trained to do that, maam, its my opinion hes fit to write in any circumstances whatsomedever. Why, youd hardly believe it, maam, but I do assure you, that I wrote my fust an last love-letter to my missus on the engine. I was drivin the Lightenin at the timethats the name o my engine, maam, an they calls me Jack Blazes in consikencewell, Id bin courtin Molly, off-an-on, for about three months. She blonged to Pinchley station, you must know, where we used to stop to give her a drink
What! to give Molly a drink?
No, maam, replied John, with a slight smile, to give the ingine a drink. Well, she met me nigh every day xcept Sundays at that station, and as wed a pretty long time thereabout five minuteswe used to spend it beside the pump, an made the most of it. But somehow I took it into my head that Molly was playin fast an loose with me, an I was raither cool on her for a time. Howsever, her father bein a pointsman, she wos shifted along with him to Langrye stationthats where your son is, maaman as we dont stop there we was obleeged to confine our courtship to a nod an a wave of a handkerchief. Leastwise she shook out a white handkerchief an I flourished a lump o cotton-waste. Well, one day as we was close upon Langrye stationabout two milesI suddenly takes it into my head that Id bring the thing to a pint, so I sings out to my matethat was my fireman, maamsays I, look out Jim, an I draws out my pencil an bends my legsyou must always bend your legs a little, maam, wen you writes on a locomotive, it makes springs of em, so to speakan I writes on the back of a blank time-bill, Molly, my dear, no more shilly-shallyin with me. Times up. If youll be tender, Ill be locomotive. Only say the word and were coupled for life in three weeks. A white handkerchief means yes, a red un, no. If red, youll see a noo driver on the 10:15 a.m. express day after to-morrow. John Marrot. I was just in time to pitch the paper crumpled up right into her bosom, continued the driver, wiping his forehead as if the deep anxiety of that eventful period still affected him, an let me tell you, maam, it requires a deal o nice calculation to pitch a piece o crumpled paper true off a locomotive goin between fifty and sixty miles an hour; but it went all straightI could see that before we was gone.
And what was the result? asked the little old lady as earnestly as if that result were still pending.
Wy, the result wos as it should be! My letter was a short un, but it turned out to be a powerful brake. Brought her up sharpan we was coupled in less than six weeks.
Amazing phase of human life! observed Mrs Tipps, gazing in admiration at the stalwart giant who stood deferentially before her.
Well, it was a raither coorious kind o proposal, said Marrot with a smile, but it worked uncommon well. Ive never wanted to uncouple since then.
Pardon me, Mr Marrot, said Mrs Tipps, with little hysterical laughknowing that she was about to perpetrate a jokemay I ask if there are anyany little tenders?
Oh, lots of em, replied John, quite a train of em; four livin an three gone dead. The last was coupled on only a short time ago. Youll excuse me now, maam, he added, pulling out and consulting the ponderous chronometer with which the company supplied him, I must go now, havin to take charge o the 6:30 p.m. train,it aint my usual train, but Im obleeged to take it to-night owin to one of our drivers havin come by an accident. Evenin, maam.
John bowed, and retired so promptly that poor Mrs Tipps had no time to make further inquiry into the accident referred toat the very mention of which her former alarm came back in full force. However, she wisely got the better of her own anxieties by throwing herself into those of others. Putting on her bonnet she sallied forth on her errand of mercy.
Meanwhile John Marrot proceeded to the engine-shed to prepare his iron horse for action. Here he found that his fireman, Will Garvie, and his cleaner, had been attending faithfully to their duty. The huge locomotive, which looked all the more gigantic for being under cover, was already quivering with that tremendous energythat artificial lifewhich rendered it at once so useful and so powerful a servant of man. Its brasses shone with golden lustre, its iron rods and bars, cranks and pistons glittered with silvery sheen, and its heavier parts and body were gay with a new coat of green paint. Every nut and screw and lever and joint had been screwed up, and oiled, examined, tested, and otherwise attended to, while the oblong pit over which it stood when in the shedand into which its ashes were periodically emptiedglowed with the light of its intense furnace. Ever and anon a little puff issued from its safety-valve, proving to John Marrot that there was life within his fiery steed sufficient to have blown the shed to wreck with all its brother engines, of which there were at the time two or three dozen standingsome disgorging their fire and water after a journey, and preparing to rest for the night; some letting off steam with a fiendish yell unbearably prolonged; others undergoing trifling repairs preparatory to starting next day, and a few, like that of our engine-driver, ready for instant action and snorting with impatience like war-horses scenting the battle from afar. The begrimed warriors, whose destiny it was to ride these iron chargers, were also variously circumstanced. Some in their shirt sleeves busy with hammer and file at benches hard by; others raking out fire-boxes, or oiling machinery; all busy as bees, save the few, who, having completed their preparations, were buttoning up their jackets and awaiting the signal to charge.