WEARY VIGIL

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 88, Issue 5, 7 January 1944, Page 6

WEARY VIGIL

TRAIN TRAVELLERS RAILCAR DERAILMENT o Wellington, Jan. 5. bomeone had told them that the train would leave Paraparaumu at about 6.60 p.m., so Shortly after 6 o’clock they began to gather their bits and pieces about the beach house and make for the railway station. Arriving in ample time to catch any train, they soon learned that the train that was to have left at 6.50 p.m. was going north, not south. That was only the first disappointment. Then, to the little crowd that sat or stood round the station the news was conveyed that there had been a mishap on the line -further north, and trains would be running late. No one worried much, as it was still broad daylight on a warm summer’s evening. As time went on, however, tempers frayed a little. Confirmed, too, was the story of the accident to a northbound railcar. The hours dragged by—7, 8,9, 10 p.m. Darkness had long since closed down upon the scene, and everyone became tired and worried. Still no tran showed a friendly gleam down the long straight track to the north. Some time after 11 p.m. a train actually did snort into sight. It slowed down enough for at least one man to swing aboard; then it went on. It was said to be the first through train from Gisborne. Grim Despair. Someone observed that it was a mean thing not to have taken them all on board, as might have been done. After that grim despair set in. It looked like an all-night sitting. At about midnight,. one of the trippers, who had a cottage not so far away, suggested that they all adjourn and have a cup of tea at his expense. This was positively heroic. They all agreed that battles were won by such as he. Tea was drunk; bread-and-butter was eaten. Once more the party returned to the station. Some time after midnight a dog howled on a distant farm. Someone said it was the midnight express. Another said there was no such thing—only in melodramas. So the time passed. Only when hope had dwindled to vanishing point, and the davyn could be smelt, did a train puff importantly into the station. It was the train with the racegoers from the Marton races. How tired they were could be seen from their departure from the horizontal at any old angle. They were past caring. “If I were a winner I would not care so much,” said one dreary-eyed punter, “but to lose £l5 and then drag home at this rate is asking too much of any sport.” “Cheer up,” said one of his friends, “you might have been on the car that struck the bull. What a cow that would have been!” This train, true to its breeding and tradition, made its usual stop at Paekakariki, where more tea was drunk. Then the home stretch saw the train doing its best to get to Wellington by 230 am. By this time someone had decided that it was only right that these people should be taken to their homes. Buses were waiting at the station, and soon the grumbling group was distributed to the points of the compass, other than north, and a memorable night came to an end.