CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
GERTIE IS MYSTERIOUSLY CARED FOR--SAM NATLY DINES UNDER DIFFICULTIES INCONNEXION WITH THE BLOCK SYSTEM.
One day, not long after the half-yearly meeting described in the lastchapter, Mrs Marrot--being at the time engaged with the baby--receiveda visit from an elderly gentleman, who introduced himself as a lawyer,and said that he had been sent by a client to make a proposal to her--
"Of course," he said, with a bland smile, "I do not refer to amatrimonial proposal."
Mrs Marrot felt and looked surprised, but waited for more in silence.
"To come to the point at once," continued the elderly gentleman, "myclient, who is rather eccentric, has taken a great fancy, it seems, toyour little daughter Gertrude--Gertie he calls her--and is desirous ofgiving her a good education, if you have no objection."
Mrs Marrot, being under the impression that this would involve Gertie'sbeing taken away from her, and being put to a boarding-school, at oncelooked her objections so plainly, that her visitor hastened to explainthat his client did not wish Gertie to quit her parents' house, butmerely to go for a few hours each day to the residence of a teacher inthe neighbourhood--a governess--whom he should provide.
This altered the case so much that Mrs Marrot expressed herself quiteready to allow Gertie to undergo _that_ amount of education, and hopedit would do her good, though, for her part she did not believe ineducation herself, seeing that she had got on in life perfectly wellwithout it. She also expressed some curiosity to know who was so goodas to take such an interest in her child.
"That, my good woman, I cannot tell, for two reasons; first because myclient has enjoined me to give no information whatever about him; and,secondly, because I do not myself know his name, his business with mehaving been transacted through a young friend of mine, who is also afriend of his. All I can say is, that his intentions towards your childare purely philanthropic, and the teacher whom he shall select will notbe appointed, unless you approve. That teacher, I may tell you, is MissTipps."
"What! Miss Netta teach my Gertie?" exclaimed Mrs Marrot in greatsurprise--"never!"
"My good woman," said the lawyer with a perplexed look, "what is yourobjection to Miss Tipps?"
"Objection? I've no objection to Miss Netta, but she will have someobjection to me and Gertie."
"I thought," said the lawyer, "that Miss Tipps had already taught yourchild, to some extent, gratuitously."
"So she has, God bless her; but that was in the Sunday-school, where sheteaches a number of poor people's children for the sake of our dearLord--but that is a very different thing from giving or'nary schoolin'to my Gertie."
"That may be," rejoined the lawyer; "but you are aware that Miss Tippsalready teaches in order to increase her mother's small income, and shewill probably be glad to get another pupil. We mean to pay her well forthe service, and I suppose that if _she_ has no objection _you_ willhave none."
"Cer'nly not!" replied Mrs Marrot with much emphasis.
Whenever Mrs Marrot said anything with unusual emphasis, baby Marrotentertained the unalterable conviction that he was being scolded; nosooner, therefore, did he observe the well-known look, and hear thefamiliar tones, than he opened wide his mouth and howled with injuredfeeling. At the same moment a train rushed past like an averageearthquake, and in the midst of this the man of law rose, and sayingthat he would communicate with Mrs Marrot soon, took his leave.
Next evening Mrs Tipps was seated at tea with Netta, planning withanxious care how to make the two ends meet, but, apparently, withoutmuch success.
"It is dreadful, Netta," said Mrs Tipps; "I was never before brought tothis condition."
"It _is_ very dreadful," responded Netta, "but that renders it all themore imperative that we should take some decided step towards thepayment of our debts."
"Yes, the liquidation of our debts," said Mrs Tipps, nodding slowly;"that was the term your dear father was wont to use."
"You know, mamma, at the worst we can sell our furniture--or part ofit--and pay them off, and then, with a system of rigid economy--"
A postman's knock cut short the sentence, and in a few seconds MrsDurby--careworn and subdued--presented a letter to her mistress andretired.
"My--my dear!" exclaimed Mrs Tipps, "th-this is positively miraculous.Here is a cheque for fifty pounds, and--but read for yourself."
Netta seized the letter and read it aloud. It ran thus:--
"Clarendon Hotel, London.
"Dear Madam,--There is a little girl living in your neighbourhood, inwhose father I have a deep interest. I am particularly anxious to givethis child, Gertrude Marrot by name, a good plain education.Understanding that your daughter has had considerable experience inteaching the young, and is, or has been, engaged in tuition, I ventureto propose that she should undertake the training of this child, whowill attend at your daughter's residence for that purpose at any hoursyou may deem most suitable. In the belief that your daughter will haveno objection to accept of this trust I enclose a cheque for 50 pounds--the first year's salary--in advance. I am, dear madam, your veryobedient servant,
"Samuel Tough."
Although the above can scarcely be considered a brilliant achievement ofEdwin Gurwood, it nevertheless accomplished its purpose; for the letterwas, in all respects, so very unlike Captain Lee, that neither MrsTipps nor her daughter suspected him for an instant. On the contrary,they took it in good faith. Netta wrote a reply by return of postagreeing to the proposal, and on the day following began her pleasanttask, to the inexpressible delight of Gertie, who would joyfully, on anyterms whatever, have been Netta's slave--not to mention pupil.
A considerable time after this happy arrangement had been made, MrsDurby, in a moment of confidential weakness, related to little Gertiethe circumstances attending the loss of the diamond ring. Gertie, onreturning home, communicated the matter to Loo, and gave it as heropinion that it was a pity such a valuable ring had been lost.
"Couldn't father find out about it somehow?" she asked with a hopefullook--hopeful because she believed her father capable of doing anythinghe chose to set his mind to.
"Perhaps he could, but he won't be home to-night," replied Loo,thoughtfully.
"I think Sam Natly could tell us how to find it. Suppose I go and askhim," said Gertie.
Loo laughed, and said she thought Sam couldn't help them much. Thechild was, however, a resolute little thing, and, having taken up theidea, determined to go and see Sam forthwith, as he was on duty not farfrom John Marrot's cottage.
Sam had recently been advanced from the position of a porter, to theresponsible office of a signalman. The great sin he had committed ingoing to sleep in a first-class carriage, when unable to keep his eyesopen, had been forgiven, partly because it was his first offence, partlybecause of the good and opportune service he had rendered on the day ofthe attempted robbery, and partly on account of his being one of thesteadiest and most intelligent men on the line. Sam's wife, under thecare of Mrs Tipps and Mrs Durby, had made a marvellous recovery, andSam's gratitude knew no bounds. Mrs Tipps happened to refer to him oneday when conversing with Captain Lee, and the latter was much pleased todiscover that the man in whom Mrs Tipps felt so much interest, was thesame man who had come to his help in the hour of his extremity. Hetherefore made inquiry about him of the station-master at Clatterby.That gentleman said that Sam was a first-rate man, a stout,hard-working, modest fellow, besides being remarkably intelligent, andclear-headed and cool, especially in the midst of danger, as had beenexemplified more than once in cases of accident at the station, inaddition to which Sam was a confirmed abstainer from strong drink. Allthese facts were remembered, and when the block system of signalling wasintroduced on that part of the line Sam was made a signalman.
The scene of his new labours was an elevated box at the side of theline, not far from Gertie's home. As this box was rather curious weshall describe it. It was a huge square sentry-box, with three of itssides composed of windo
ws; these commanded a view of the line in alldirections. On the fourth side of the box hung a time-piece and aframed copy of signal regulations. There was a diminutive stove in onecorner, and a chest in another. In front of the box facing the clockwere two telegraphic instruments, and a row of eight or ten long ironlevers, which very much resembled a row of muskets in a rack. Theselevers were formidable instruments in aspect and in fact, for they notonly cost Sam a pretty strong effort to move them, but they moved pointsand signals, on the correct and prompt movements of which depended thesafety of the line, and the lives of human beings.
Just before little Gertie reached the station, Sam happened to beengaged in attempting to take his dinner. We use the word _attempting_advisedly, because our signalman had not the ghost of a chance to sitdown, as ordinary mortals do, and take his dinner with any degree ofcertainty. He took it as it were, disjointedly in the midst of alarms.That the reader may understand why, we must observe that the "blocksystem" of signalling, which had recently been introduced on part of theline, necessitated constant attention, and a series of acts, which gavethe signalman no rest, during certain periods of his watch, for morethan two minutes at a time, if so long. The block system is the methodof protecting trains by "blocking" the line; that is, forbidding theadvance of trains until the line is clear, thus securing an interval of_space_ between trains, instead of the older and more common method ofan interval of _time_. The chief objection to the latter system isthis, that one accident is apt to cause another. Suppose a traindespatched from a station; an interval of say quarter of an hour allowedand then another sent off. If the first train should break down, thereis some chance of the second train overtaking and running into it. Withthe block system this is impossible. For instance, a train starts fromany station, say A, and has to run past stations B and C. The instantit starts the signalman at A rings a telegraph bell to attract B'sattention, at the same time he indicates on another telegraphicinstrument "Train on line," locks his instruments in that position, andputs up the "stop" signal, or, blocks the line. B replies,acknowledging the signal, and telegraphs to C to be ready. The momentthe train passes B's station, he telegraphs to C, "Train on line," andblocks that part of the line with the semaphore, "Stop", as A had done,he also telegraphs back to A, "Line clear," whereupon A lets a secondtrain on, if one is ready. Very soon C sends "Line clear" to B,whereupon B is prepared to let on that second train, when it comes up,and so on _ad infinitum_. The signals, right and left are invariablyrepeated, so that there is no chance of mistake though the failure ofthe telegraph instruments, because if any of these should fail, the wantof a reply would at once induce a telegram through the "speaking"instrument with which each station is furnished, and which is similar tothe telegraph instruments used at most railway stations, and the linewould remain "blocked" until a satisfactory answer set it free. Theworking of the semaphore signals, which are familiar to most people astall posts with projecting moveable arms, is accomplished by themechanical action of the "levers" before mentioned. There are two"distant" signals and one "home" signal to be worked by each man.Besides these there are levers for working the various "points" aroundthe station which lead to sidings, and when these levers are in action,i.e. placed for the shunting of a goods train, they self-lock the leversthat "block" the line, so that while this operation of shunting (whichjust means shoving a train to one side out of the way) is going on, thesignalman could not make the mistake of letting a train pass the distantsignal--the thing is rendered impossible.
From this it will be seen that the signalman has entire control of theline, and if we consider that shunting of waggons, carriages, and trainsis a pretty constant and lively operation at some stations, we caneasily conceive that the office of signalman can only be filled by avery able and trustworthy man.
As we have said, just before Gertie's arrival Sam Natly chanced to beattempting to dine. The telegraph needles pointed to "Line clear" onboth sides of him. Dinner consisted of a sort of Irish stew cooked in alittle square iron pan that fitted into the small stove. Being aplacid, good-humoured man, not easily thrown off his balance eithermentally or physically, Sam smiled slightly to himself as he put thefirst bit of meat into his mouth. He thought of his wife, wished thatshe was there to assist in the eating of it and shut his lips on thesavoury morsel. A piece of potato was arrested by the sharp telegraphbell--one beat--of warning. The potato followed the meat as he was inthe act of rising. Sam touched his telegraphic bell in reply to hissignal-friend on the right, and "Train on line" was marked by atelegraphic needle pointing to these words. As the train was yet agreat way off, at least as to distance, he sat down again and disposedof bit number two. Number three followed, and he had made some approachto engulfing number four when a shrill whistle struck his ear. Up hesprang, glanced at the time-piece, wiped his mouth, and went to thelevers. He touched his bell--a single note of warning to hissignal-friend on the left and received a reply, one beat, meaning"Ready." The train appeared, came up like a rocket and went past like athunderbolt. When Sam saw its red tail-light, and thus knew that allthe train was there,--that none of the tail carriages or trucks hadbroken loose and been left behind,--he gave a mighty pull to one of thelevers, which turned up the arms of his distant signal, and thus blockedthe line to all other trains. The needle was now "pegged down" or fixedat "Train on line," so that there could be no mistake about it, and notrusting to memory. Having accomplished this, he went to a large bookwhich lay open on a desk in a corner, glanced at the time-piece,recorded the passage of the train--a passenger one, and once more satdown to dinner.
The distance between his station and the next to the left was somewhatgreater than that on the right, so that at least three mouthfuls insuccession, of the Irish stew, were disposed of before the wicked littlebell summoned him again. He rose as before with alacrity, rung his bellin reply, and unstopped his needle. The friend on his left at oncepointed it to "Line clear," whereupon Sam again went to his levers, andlowered the obstructing arms on his right. Having thus a clear line onright and left, he sat down for the third time to dinner, with a clearhead and a clear conscience.
But he was interrupted sooner than before, indeed he had barely got onemouthful deposited when he was rung up by the friend on his right, with_two_ beats of the bell, to pass a heavy goods train, which, withsomething like the impatience of stout people in crossing dangerousroads, was anxious to get on and out of the way as fast as possible, forit knew that a `limited mail' was tearing after it, at a fearfullyunlimited pace. Sam knew this too--indeed he knew, and was bound toknow, every train that had to pass that station, up and down, during hisperiod of duty. He therefore replied, sat down, had a bite or two, andsprang up when the whistle of the train was audible. There was longerdelay this time, for the goods train had to stop, and be shunted, atthis station. Moreover, another goods train that had quietly, butimpatiently, been biding its time in a siding, thought it would try totake advantage of this opportunity, and gave an impatient whistle. Samopened one of his sliding windows and looked out.
"Couldn't you let me shunt over a truck t'other side _now_, Sam?" askedits driver remonstratively.
Sam glanced at his time-piece with an earnest thoughtful look, andsaid--
"Well, yes; but look sharp."
He had already pulled the lever of the home signal, and now, with twomighty pulls, blocked both up and down lines with the distant signals.At the same time he pulled other levers, and shifted the "points," so asto let the plethoric goods train just arrived, and the goods train inwaiting, perform their respective evolutions. It required nearly allSam's strength to "pull over" several of those levers, because, besidesbeing somewhat heavy to work, even at their best, several of them hadgot slightly out of order--wanted oiling, perhaps. It was quite evidentto the meanest capacity that there was room for improvement in thisdepartment of the Grand National Trunk Railway. In performing this lastoperation Sam locked all the semaphores, and so rendered his part of theline abso
lutely impregnable. There was so much vigorous action andwhistling here, and such puffing and backing and pushing on the part ofthe engines, that a superficial observer might have supposed there was agreat deal of movement and confusion to no purpose, but we need scarcelysay that such was not the case. Several trucks of goods were dropped byboth trains, to be carried on by other trains, and several trucks thathad been left by other trains, were taken up, and thus in a few minutesa part of the enormous traffic of the line was assorted.
Sam had judged his time well. He had got a good piece of work advanced,and both trains well out of the way, just before the bell againintimated the approach of the limited mail. He replied, set the linefree, booked the passage of the goods train, and sat down once more todinner, just as the door of his box opened and the pretty face of Gertiepeeped in.
We are not sure that such a visit would be permitted in these days ofstringent "rules;" at that time they may not have been very particularas to visitors, or perhaps Gertie, being one of themselves, as it were,was privileged. Be this as it may, there she was with a laughing face.
"May I come in, Sam?"
"May a cherub from the skies come in--yes," replied Sam, rising andlifting Gertie in his strong arms until he could print a kiss on herforehead without stooping. "All well at home, Gertie?"
"Very well, thank you. We expect father home to tea."
"I know that," said Sam, sitting down at his small table and attemptingdinner once again.
"How do you know that?" asked Gertie in surprise.
"'Cause I've got to pass him up wi' the express in half-an-hour,"replied Sam, with his mouth full, "and, of course, he don't prefertakin' tea on the _Lightenin'_ with his mate Bill Garvie, w'en he's gota chance o' takin' it wi' his wife and a little angel, like you."
"I wish you'd not talk nonsense, Sam," remonstrated Gertie with aserious look.
"That ain't nonsense," said Sam, stoutly.
"Yes, it is," said Gertie; "you know angels are good."
"Well, and ain't you good?" demanded the signalman, filling his mouthwith a potato.
"Mother says I am, and I feel as if I was," replied Gertie with muchsimplicity, "but you know angels are _very_ _very_ good, and, of_course_, I'm not near so good as them."
"You are," said Sam, with an obstinate snap at a piece of meat; "you'rebetter than any of 'em. You only want wings to be complete."
Gertie laughed, and then remarked that Sam dined late, to which Samreplied that he did, that he preferred it, and that he didn't see whygentlefolk should have that sort of fun all to themselves.
"What's that?" exclaimed Gertie, as Sam dropped his knife and fork, ranghis electric bell, and laid hold of a lever.
"The limited mail, my dear," said Sam, as the train rushed by.
"Oh, how it shakes the house! I wonder it don't fall," exclaimed thechild.
"It's made to be well shaken, like a bottle o' bad physic," replied Sam,as he went through the various processes already described, beforesitting down to finish his oft-interrupted meal.
"Do you always take your dinner in that uncomfortable way?" askedGertie, sitting down on the chest and looking earnestly into the manlycountenance of her friend.
"Mostly," said Sam, at last finishing off with a draught of pure water,and smacking his lips.
"Sometimes it's all I can do to get it eaten--other times I'm not sohard pressed, but it's never got over without interruption, more orless."
"Are breakfast and tea as bad?"
"Not quite," replied Sam with a laugh; "about breakfast time the trafficain't quite so fast and furious, and I takes tea at home."
"How long are you here at a time?" asked the inquisitive Gertie.
"Twelve hours, my dear, and no time allowed for meals."
"Surely you must be very tired?"
"Sometimes, but they talk of shortening the hours soon. There's a wantof signalmen just now, that's how it is. But what good fortune has sent_you_ here this evenin', Gertie?"
"I want to ask you about a ring, Sam."
"A ring! What! you ain't goin' to get married already, are you?"
Gertie replied by bursting into a hearty fit of laughter; when she hadsufficiently recovered her gravity, she revealed her troubles to thesympathising signalman.
"Well, it _is_ a perplexin' business. What was the old woman doin' wi'such a ring tied up in such a queer way?"
"I don't know," said Gertie.
"Well, it ain't no business of mine, but we must try to git hold of itsomehow. I'll be off dooty at six, and your dad'll be passin' in a fewminutes. After I'm free, I'll go up to the shed and have a palaver with'im. There he is."
As he spoke the bell was rung by his signal-friend on the left repliedto in the usual way, and in a few minutes the chimney of the _Lightning_was seen over the top of the embankment that hid a bend of the up-linefrom view.
"Put your head out here at this window, and be ready to wave your hand,Gertie," said Sam, placing the child.
The "Flying Dutchman" came on in its wonted wild fashion, and for a fewseconds Gertie saw her father's bronzed and stern face as he lookedstraight ahead with his hand on the regulator. John Marrot cast oneprofessional glance up, and gave a professional wave of his right handto the signalman. At that instant his whole visage lighted up as if abeam of sunshine had suffused it, and his white teeth, uncovered by asmile, gleamed as he flew past and looked back. Gertie wavedfrantically with her kerchief, which flew from her hand and for somedistance followed the train. In another moment the "Flying Dutchman"was a speck in the distance--its terrific crash suddenly reduced bydistance to a low rumble.
"Evenin', Jack," said Sam, as his successor or comrade on the"night-shift" entered the box, "Come along now, Gertie. We'll go andsee your father. He'll be up at the station in no time, and won't takelong to run back to the shed."
So saying, Sam Natly assisted Gertie down the long iron ladder, by whichhis nest was reached, and walked with her to the engine-shed, which theysoon reached. They had not waited long before John Marrot's iron horsecame panting slowly into its accustomed stable.
As there were at least twelve iron horses there in all stages ofbeing-put-to-bedism, and some, like naughty boys, were blowing off theirsteam with absolutely appalling noise, it was next to impossible forGertie and Sam to make known their difficulty to John. They thereforewaited until he had seen his satellites in proper attendance upon hischarger, and then left the shed along with him.
When the case was made known to John, he at once said, "Why didn't theyapply to the Clearin' House, I wonder?"
"Ah, why not?" said Sam.
"Nurse doesn't know about that place, I think," suggested Gertie.
"Very likely not; but if she'd only gone an' seen any one as know'danything about the line, she'd have found it out. However, the parcel'spretty sure to be somewhere, so I'll set some inquiries a-foot w'en Igoes up to town to-morrow. Good-night, Sam."
"Good-night, John," answered the signalman, as he turned off in thedirection of his own dwelling, while the engine-driver and his littledaughter pursued the footpath that led to their cottage.
Sam Natly's residence was a very small one, for house-rent was high inthat neighbourhood. There were only two rooms in it, but these two boreevidence of being tended by a thrifty housewife; and, truly, when Sam'sdelicate, but partially recovered, wife met him at the door that night,and gave him a hearty kiss of welcome, no one with an atom of good tastecould have avoided admitting that she was a remarkably pretty, as wellas thrifty, little woman.
"You're late to-night, Sam," said little Mrs Natly.
"Yes, I've had to go to the shed to see John Marrot about a diamondring."
"A diamond ring!" exclaimed his wife.
"Yes, a diamond ring."
Hereupon Sam related all he knew about the matter, and you may be surethe subject was quite sufficient to furnish ground for a very lively andspeculative conversation, during the preparation and consumption of asnice a litt
le hot supper, as any hard-worked signalman could desire.
"You're tired, Sam," said his little wife anxiously.
"Well, I am a bit. It's no wonder, for it's a pretty hard job to workthem levers for twelve hours at a stretch without an interval, even formeals, but I'm gittin' used to it--like the eels to bein' skinned."
"It's a great shame of the Company," cried Mrs Natly with indignation.
"Come, come," cried Sam, "no treason! It ain't such a shame as itlooks. You see the Company have just bin introducin' a noo system ofsignallin', an' they ha'n't got enough of men who understand the thingto work it, d'ye see; so of course we've got to work double tides, asthe Jack-tars say. If they _continue_ to keep us at it like that I'llsay it's a shame too, but we must give 'em time to git things intoworkin' order. Besides, they're hard-up just now. There's a deal o'money throw'd away by companies fightin' an' opposin' one another--cuttin' their own throats, I calls it--and they're awful hard used bythe public in the way o' compensation too. It's nothin' short o'plunder and robbery. If the public would claim moderately, and jurieswould judge fairly, an' directors would fight less, shareholders wouldgit higher dividends, the public would be better served, and railwayservants would be less worked and better paid."
"I don't care two straws, Sam," said little Mrs Natly with greatfirmness, "not two straws for their fightin's, an' joories, anddavydens--all I know is that they've no right whatever to kill my'usband, and it's a great shame!"
With this noble sentiment the earnest little woman concluded theevening's conversation, and allowed her wearied partner to retire torest.