TORTURES OF TOPHET.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVII, Issue 61, 11 March 1916, Page 13

TORTURES OF TOPHET.

FIVE MINUTES IN AN INFERNO.

(By CLYDE L. CAER.)

The late Professor William James! has stated in one of 'his text books that, but for the persistence and insistence of habit, the work of the -world could not proceed. There are occupations, arduous, exacting and painful, a strange devotion to which is maintained solely by the fact of use and custom—by ignorance of and a lack of qualification for anything better. Here, eurely, i≤ something for the advocate of a free and epeedy education of the masses to consider. Here, at least, is a. plea for ■ technical and utillitarian education and mechanic development. Much has been written about the men who, far down below the etratum of the luxurious passenger, eweat and swear in the stokehold of the ocean liner. But there are others who demand mention and sympathy. "Care to come inside, mate?" It was on the Rimutaka incline. Three of those big, epecial engines, built, eurely, with an eye rather to utility than to beauty, were laboriously hauling an extra long train up the steep gradient. Standing on the carriage platform immediately behind the third engine, I was peering into the lurid interior of the cab. The night being dark and cold, and even the compartment carriage from -which I had come being checrlese enough, I readily accepted the invitation to share the warmth and glow of the furnace fire. Scarcely had I done so when every possible means ol venfilation waa closed. Then, suddenly and suffocatingly, as one might encounter the choke-damp following on the heels of a mine explosion, we entered a Jong tunneL From the first moment the perspiration burst simultaneously from every pore. From the first moment it eeemed as though the smoke, instead of escaping in the usual way with the draught of the exhaust, struck the roof of the tunnel, rebounded, and swept back through flue and red-hot furnace to the eweltering cab in which we huddled.

Every second the temperature rose. Every second the atmosphere became more and more sulphurous and suffocating. I had heard of the torturee of sponge-diving, of sinking bridge cylinders, of life in a submarine. I had read in Carlyle of a "reverberating furnace." I had even read perfervid disquisitions on an obsolete material hell. "Obsolete," did I say? Here was the veritable inferno, and I a doomed soul. Here, in our Will Lawson's heroic phrase, "We stoked away like sinners damned."

At least the fireman did. What had we done to deserve this? Even the guilt of my own past record seemed unworthy of such a fate. Could we but trust our most abandoned criminals to do the i work, here surely wae the problem o£i their most fitting punishment eoivt.JL

What an eternity it eeemed! I coughed, gasped, and spluttered. On the advice of the engine driver I attempted to breathe — I tfould just hear him— through my handkerchief, and choked worse than ever.

Throb, throb, throb, beat the iron heart of the stricken monster. Ch—ch —chouff came hie poisonous, labouring breath. I overpowering asphyxiation and an impending dread of annihilation! At last I could stand it no longer. At all risks, even to the caress of a shovel about my head, I slid the door open, let myself down on to the footplates, and clambered back to the platform of the adjoining car. Then, scarce -knowing what I did, I rushed into the long carriage and sank gasping into a seat. How was I to know that my features were red and swollen and streaming with sootbegrimmed perspiration? After a co-far so heroic achievement, it wae indeed galling to be laughed at. Later on, I renewed acquaintance with my companions in torture. They had survived the inquisition. I had funked it just too soon.

"We are sort of used to it, you β-ee," they explained with commiseration. "But a man can't stand it for long. We take it in shifts." Ever since that night I have cherished a salutary terror of hellfiiv, and a deep and intelligent sympathy with i.lie stokers and engineers on the Kimutaka Incline.