LOCKED UP IN A BURNING RAILWAY CARRIAGE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 266, 20 March 1869, Page 3

LOCKED UP IN A BURNING RAILWAY CARRIAGE.

{From All the Year Round.)

We were close packed (in number, thirteen of us), in the middle compartment of a second-class carriage on the Midland line, some two years ago. Our carriage was the centre carriage of a long train, and the compartments on either side empty. The journey, from Bedford to London, was express, the pace near fifty miles an hour. We had stopped at only one little station, and we were now oft on a clear run of forty miles, to be done in ten minutes under the hour, without stoppage. The oil-lamp in the roof of the carriage flickered pale and wan in the broad daylight — for it was noontide — and in the glass cup beneath a spoonful of oil wagged and jogged and lurched about with the motion. Ihe company was monotonous and taciturn. Being wedged in the middle of the seat between two gentlemen of enormous proportions, where it was impossible to command a window, I took to looking at this drop of wagging oil as the only available object that kept time to the jolting and swaying and clatter of the train. Although watching the drop of oil intently, and noting the lively interest it seemed to evince in our progress — leaping forward as we ran whioh-sh past a station, or vibrating as cr-r-r-sh-shoot we shot by another train — I was aware of the wainscoted weodwork round it and the painted oak shingle that seemed to dance and quiver with our motion. I saw it without looking at it. What surprised and puzzled me, however, was this — my eyes told me the pattern of the wainscot was changing. New shingle seemed to rise up and swallow up the old, and then the whole appeared to rise and fall in tiny waves. The solution my mind suggested was, that I bad biologised my sight, the oil-lamp serving as a disc. My fellowpassengers began to talk. I heard them ; my eyes were still fastened on the jolting drop of oil, which was baating time to a tune that engine, carriages, and rails, were playing in my head. " Auybody smoking ?" a deep voice said, snappishly. It seemed there was not. " Then something is burning," another voice said. " It's only the guard putting the breaks on," some one else explained. I knew this was not so; our pace was unchanged; we had thirty more miles to run before the break would be put on. I saw why the pattern on the wainscot changed. The paint rose up in great blisters, and the smell of burning paint became powerful. The roof was on fire ! Fearing to alarm the rest by an outcry, I momentarily scanned the faces of the passengers, who were loudly complaining of the smoke. I was trying to find a face that had a quiet spirit of help in it. I saw in the corner a calm- faced man of thirty, caught his eye, and pointed to the roof; for his was the only face in which I had confidence. I was right. " Don't be alarmed," he said, address ing the passengers, and pointing ; "it is there — the lamp; it has just caught the woodwork a trifle ; there is no danger ; I am an engineer, and will stop the train." Looking up, we all saw a brown blistered cloud spreading over the roof, and heard the hissing and craskling of burning wood. The carriage quickly filled with smoke, and became very hot; forthe fire was fanned hy a flfty-mile-an-hour blast. "Do as I do," the engineerpassenger called to me, flinging me his railway key. I got to one door, and opened it, as he had done the other. Leaning out of the carriage, the engineer-passenger then gave a long shrill whistle, produced with two fingers against his teeth, harsh and grating almost as a railway whistle. I imitated him as I best could, and by incessantly slamming the doors on both sides we kept up such a tattoo as one would have thought could not fail to attract the attention of the guard, or tlie driver, or both. But five minutes passed, and we had not even made ourselves heard in the next carriage. Meantime tongues of fire were darting through the roof, and the volumes of hot pungent smoke became almost insupportable. The rest of the passengers were utterly bewildered; crouching together on the floor and against the draught of the doorways for air, feebly crying at intervals, "We are on fire. "Fire." "We shall be burned alive." Two wished to jump out and risk certain destruction rather! than burning or suffocation ; but we kept the] doors. The engineer made a good captain ; he found them something to do. " Use your voices then," he cried ; " shout away, but altogether. Now ! " And every one shouted " Fire ! " with a will, and we resumed banging the doors. We had made ourselves heard in the next carriage, but the occupants were powerless to help us, and did not even know the cause of our dismay. As to communicating with the guard, it was simply hopeless. Ten minutes had gone since first we saw the blister. We had twenty good miles to run, and the daggers of flame were leaping far down from the roof. "Don't be afraid," said the engineer ; "if we can't get the guard

to; help us, we'll help ourselves." He tied handkerchiefs to umbrellas and sticks, aod gave them to two passengers to wave out of the window to attract attention at the next station we shot past ; some one might see our condition, and telegraph on to stop us by signal. At least, it would serve to keep the passengers quiet by finding them employment, which was a great point. Then he said, turning to me : " Whatever is the cause of the Are, it is something on the roof, and not the roof itself. Will you climb the roof on one side, while Ido the same on the other ? Only mind and get up to windward to clear the flames." We each set a foot on the doorrail, caught hold of the luggage-rod and swung ourselves up on the roof that was dashing along and pitching and tossing like a wild thing in a whirlwind. We could only kneel, for the rush of wind at the pace we were going would have carried us away had we stood up. The crash, the rattle, the swaying, the cutting draught, and the arches we shot through, that seemed to strike us on the head and make us cower down as we flashed by, the dazzling rails and the swift sleepers flying past in a giddy cloud, took my breath for the moment. But the engineer was busy cutting adrift, with his pocket-knife, a flaming pile of tarpaulins which the lamp had kindled, and which the wind was now drifting away in great pieces of fire along the line. I helped him with my knife and hands, and between us we quickly had the worst of the burning mass over in the six-foot way. The roof, however, was still burning badly, the fire eating out a large hole withered and angry edges that flickered fiercely an > the draught. With the aid of bits of the unburnt tarpaulins, we managed to rub these edges and stifle and smother out the worst of the fire, until the occupants of the carriages had really very little to fear. Whether the guard or engine-driver observed us on the carriageroof and so pulled up the train, or whether the handkerchief signals of distress were seen at some station whence the station-master telegraped to a signalman to stop the express I never ascertained ; but as soon as the fire was well-nigh subdued, the train slackened and stopped. And I well remember that while the officials were busily eagaged in drenching the now empty carriage with buckets of water, a director, who happened to be in an adjoining carriage, very severely reprimanded us for what he told us was an indictable offence, namely, leaving a train in motion. As we stood there with blackened faces and black blistered hands, it scarcely occurred to us to make the obvious defence that, in an isolated compartment, without any possible means of communication with the guard, we had no alternative but to choose between burning and breaking the company's rules. Ido not know the engineer-passenger, and have never seen him since, or I would have exchanged congratulations with him on the company's having had the merciful consideration not to take proceedings against us.

. At a parish church in Essex, the clerk, . feeling unwell, asked his friend, a railway l porter, to take his place for a Sunday. He did so, but, being worn out with night-work, fell asleep. When the hymn was announced a neighbour gave him a nudge, upon which, he started up, rubbed his eyes, and called out, " Change here for Elmswell, Thurston, and Bury 1 " A poor fellow, hungry and out at elbows, presented himself one day before a Bleek wellfed Poor-law guardian, and asked for a little relief out of the stores provided by the parish. "My friend," said the guardian, " I deplore your condition — it outs me to the heart. You ought to be prosperous, instead of poor ; well-clothed, instead of in rags; abundantly fed, instead of half - starved. Somebody must relieve you quickly and without stint. You have come to the right man for help. I rejoice to be of service to you. Sit down and be thankful, and I will give you— my advice 1"