THE FLYING SCOTSMAN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20324, 3 August 1929, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE FLYING SCOTSMAN.

THRILLS ON THE FOOTPLATE.

SEVENTY-FIVE MILES AN" HOUIt

Travelling on the footplate of the " Flying Scotsman" on its record non-stop run is an experience one does not readily forget, even though one does not anticipate such a mishap as occurred recently at the Helton Ford crossing, says a writer in an English paper. We had ten tons of coal and 5000 gallons of water on our tender as we set out on our 392-milo journey to Edinburgh. Bewilderment was inv first sensation, and only by shouting at the top of my voice could I hear myself speak. After eight hours it was scarcely surprising that I had no voice left. The fireman worked feverishly, but the driver sat with his eyes glued to the little window, one hand on the throttle and the other on the brake. The strain on the driver is a nervous, not a physical one. From the window on the other side of the cab 1 watched the splendid panorama—but things did not seem to be flashing by as I had expected. I roared to the fireman: "When do we get up speed?" The reply—"We're doing fifty-five!"—astonished me. Later, asked to take out my watch, I found we covered a five-mile stretch in four minutes: seventy-five miles an hour. If that was seventy-five, why not do one hundred ? And we could do it, Driver Pibworth proudly informed me. The regulator was only half-open! With a light train he has touched ninety. That little round window gives a long view of things. Seen from the train, they just flash by. Names of stations, indecipherable from a carriage window, can be read from the " footplate." Invited to take the shovel. I attempted what I have seen the fireman do—to get it right into the corners of the fire. Alas! The incandescent inferno, reaching out lone; arms to assail me, made me throw science to the winds. I pushed in the fuel and hastily withdrew. My "swab" was surrendered to the flames, and the shovel nearly followed !

Coal-dust I found the arch-enemy, but it was when we picked up water that the height of drama was reached. Twelve seconds to pick up four thousand gallons! (We were not empty). Six times during the run are the enginemen subjected to this nerve-testing experience.

Getting one's " sen-legs" on a locomotive is not easy. It was when I got one foot, on the tender and one on the engine that the wnrst trouble arose. At Inst the litflo door in the tender opened, and the relief crew appeared. The first crew washed, changed and dined. Back at the "footplate," I saw the brakes suddenly applied. A signal against us. From the brakes, a pungent smell of burning metal and oil. Slower—and slower yet. . . Could the " Flyer" stop ? Then anxiety passed as down came the semaphore. Of! again! So at. last to Edinburgh.