Farther down the yards was the office of the yardmaster, a little, square, frame building, standing6 like an island amid the ocean of tracks which surrounded it. Here was kept the record of every car which entered or left the yards—the road it belonged to, its number, whence it came, whither it went, by what train, at what hour. This dingy7 little building was one link in that great chain of offices which enables every road in the country to keep track of the cars it is using, to know where ? 13 ? they are, what progress they are making, and what service they are performing.
Every one who has seen a freight-train has noticed that it is almost always composed of cars belonging to many different roads, and must have wondered how these cars were kept accounted for. Every road would prefer to use only its own cars, and to keep them on its own system, but this is impossible. A car of sugar, for instance, sent from New York to Denver, must pass over at least two different lines. It can go from New York to Chicago over the New York Central, and from Chicago to Denver over the Santa Fé. Now, if the car belonging to the New York Central in which the sugar was loaded at New York be stopped at Chicago, the sugar must be reloaded into another car belonging to the Santa Fé, a long and expensive process to which neither the shipper nor the road would agree.
To avoid this loading and unloading, freight in car-load lots is always sent through to its destination without change, no matter how many roads the car must traverse, and when it reaches its destination and is emptied, it is usually held until it can be loaded again before it is sent back whence it came. When the traffic is not evenly balanced,—when there is more freight, that is, being sent one way than another,—the “empties” must be hauled back, and as “empties” produce no revenue, this is a dead expense which cuts deeply into the ? 14 ? earnings8. The roads which use a car must pay the road which owns it a fee of fifty cents for every day they keep it in their possession, whether loaded or empty; hence the road holding it tries to keep it moving, and when business is slack and it is not needed, gets it back to its owner as quickly as possible. If it is damaged in an accident on a strange road, it must be repaired before it is returned to its owner; if it is totally destroyed, it must be paid for.
It is the duty of the conductor of every freight-train, as soon as he reaches a terminal, to mail to the superintendent9 of car service at headquarters, a report giving the initial and number of every car in his train, its contents, destination, and the hour of its departure from one terminal and arrival at another. These reports, as they come in from day to day, are entered in ledgers10 and enable the superintendent of car service to note the progress of every car, and to determine the per diem due its owner. These accounts are balanced every month.
The books at headquarters are always, of necessity, at least three days behind, since the conductors’ reports must come in from distant parts of the road; but reports so old as that are of small service in tracing a car, so it is the duty of the employees of the yardmaster’s office to keep a daily record of the movement of cars, which shall be up-to-date and instantly available. Every train which enters ? 15 ? the yards is met by a yard-clerk, book in hand, who makes a note of the number and name of every car as it passes him. The men who do this gain an amazing facility, and as the cars rush past, jot11 down numbers and initials as unconcernedly as though they had all the time in the world at their disposal. Allan had observed this more than once, and had often wondered how it was possible for a man to write down accurately12 the number of a car which had flashed past so rapidly that he himself was not able to distinguish it.
There was a train coming in at the moment, and Allan paused to watch the accountant with his note-book; then he went on to the office to leave the two letters addressed to John Marney, the yardmaster, a genial13 Irishman with bronzed face and beard tinged14 with gray, who knew the yards and the intricacies of “making up” better than most people know the alphabet. Allan knew him well, for many an evening had he spent in the little shanty15, where conductors and brakemen assembled, listening to tales of the road—tales grave and gay, of comedy and tragedy—yes, even of ghosts! If I stopped to tell a tenth of them, this book would never be. finished!
“How are ye, Allan?” the yardmaster greeted him, as he opened the door. “So ye’ve got a new job?”
“Yes, sir; official mail-carrier,” and he handed him the letters.
? 16 ?
“Hum,” grunted16 Marney; “this road never was over-liberal. You’re beginnin’ at th’ bottom, fer sure!”
“Just where I ought to begin! I’ve got to learn the ropes before I can begin to climb.”
“Well, it won’t take ye long, my boy; I know that,” said Marney, his eyes twinkling. “You’ll soon begin t’ climb, all right; they can’t kape ye down!”
“I fully5 expect to be superintendent some day,” said Allan, laughing.
“Of course ye will!” cried the other. “I don’t doubt it—not fer a minute. Yes—an’ I’ll live t’ see it! I’ll be right here where I’ve allers been; an ye mustn’t fergit old Jack17 Marney, me boy.”
“I won’t,” Allan promised, still laughing. “I’ll always speak to you, if I happen to think of it.”
“Let me give you one piece of advice,” went on Marney, with sudden earnestness. "You’ll be knockin around these yards more or less now, all th’ time, an’ if ye want t’ live t’ be suprintindint, you’ve got t’ kape your eyes open. Now moind this: when you’re crossin’ th’ yards, niver think of anything but gittin’ acrost; niver step on a track without lookin’ both ways t’ see if anything’s comin; an’ if anything is comin’ an’ you’re at all doubtful of bein’ able t’ git acrost ahead of it at an ordinary walk, don’t try. Give it th’ right o’ way. I’ve been workin’ in these yards goin’ on forty year, an’ I’ve managed t’ kape all my arms ? 17 ? an’ legs with me by allers rememberin’ that rule. Th’ boys used t’ laugh at me, but them that started in when I did are ayther sleepin’ in th’ cimitery, or limpin’ around on one leg, or eatin’ with one hand. A railroad yard is about th’ nearest approach to a human slaughter-house there is on this earth. Don’t you be one o’ th’ victims."
“I’ll certainly try not to,” Allan assured him, and went out with a livelier sense of the dangers of the yard than he had ever had before; and, indeed, the yardmaster had not overstated them, though the crushing and maiming and killing18 which went on there were due in no small degree to the carelessness and foolhardiness of the men, who grew familiar with danger and contemptuous of it from looking it every day in the face, and took chances which sooner or later ended in disaster.
The person Allan had next to find was the master-mechanic, whose office was a square, one-storied building behind the great shops which closed in the lower end of the yards. He knew the shops thoroughly19, for he had been through them more than once under Jack Welsh’s guidance, and had spent many of his spare moments there, for there was a tremendous fascination20 about the intricate and mammoth21 machinery22 which filled them, almost human in its intelligence, and with which so many remarkable23 things were accomplished24.
So on he went, past the great roundhouse where ? 18 ? stood the mighty25 engines groomed26 ready for the race, or being rubbed down by the grimed and sweaty hostlers after a hundred-mile run; past the little shanty with “21” in big figures on its door—headquarters of Section Twenty-One, and receptacle for hand-car and tools,—the hand-car which he had pumped along the track so many times, the tools with which his hands had grown familiar. The door of the “long-shop” lay just beyond, and he entered it, for the shortest path to the master-mechanic’s office lay through the shops; and Allan knew that he would probably find the official he was seeking somewhere among them, inspecting some piece of machinery, or overseeing some important bit of work.
The “long-shop,” so named from its peculiar27 shape, very long and narrow, is devoted28 wholly to repairing and rebuilding engines. Such small complaints as leaking valves and broken springs and castings may be repaired in the roundhouse, as the family medicine-chest avails for minor29 ailments30; but for more serious injuries the engines must be taken to the experts in the long shop, and placed on one of the operating-tables there, and taken apart and put together and made fit for service again. When the injuries are too severe—when, in other words, it would cost more to rebuild the engine than the engine is worth—it is shoved along a rusty31 track back of the shop into the cemetery32 called the “bone-yard,” and there eventually dismantled33, ? 19 ? knocked to pieces, and sold for “scrap.” That is the sordid34 fate, which, sooner or later, overtakes the proudest and swiftest empress of the rail.
In the long-shop, four or five engines are always jacked up undergoing repairs; each of them has a special gang of men attached to it, under a foreman whose sole business it is to see that that engine gets back into active service in the shortest possible time.
To the inexperienced eye, the shop was a perfect maze35 of machinery. Great cranes ran overhead, with chains and claws dangling36; shafting37 whirred and belts rattled39; along the walls were workbenches, variously equipped; at the farther end were a number of drills, and beyond them a great grindstone which whirred and whirred and threw out a shower of sparks incessantly40, under the guidance of its presiding genius, a little, gray-haired man, whose duty it was to sharpen all the tools brought to him. There was a constant stream of men to and from the grindstone, which, in consequence, was a sort of centre for all the gossip of the shops. Once the grindstone had burst, and had carried the little man with it through the side of the shop, riding a great fragment much as Prince Feroze-shah rode his enchanted41 horse; and though there was no peg42 which he could turn to assure a safe landing, he did land safely, and next day superintended the installation of a new stone, from which the sparks were soon flying as merrily as ever.
? 20 ?
And even if the visitor was not confused by this tangle of machinery, he was sure to be confounded by the noise, toward which every man in the shop contributed his quota43. The noise!—it is difficult to give an adequate idea of that merciless and never-ceasing din2. Chains clanked, drills squeaked44, but over and above it all was the banging and hammering of the riveters, and, as a sort of undertone, the clangour from the boiler45-shop, connected with the long-shop by an open arch. The work of the riveters never paused nor slackened, and the onlooker46 was struck with wonder and amazement47 that a human being could endure ten hours of such labour!
Allan, closing behind him the little door by which he had entered, looked around for the tall form of the master-mechanic. But that official was nowhere in sight, so the boy walked slowly on, glancing to right and left between the engines, anxious not to miss him. At last, near the farthest engine, he thought that he perceived him, and drew near. As he did so, he saw that an important operation was going forward. A boiler was being lowered to its place on its frame. A gang of men were guiding it into position, as the overhead crane slowly lowered it, manipulated by a lever in the hands of a young fellow whose eyes were glued upon the signalling hand which the foreman raised to him.
“Easy!” the foreman shouted, his voice all but inaudible in the din. “Easy!” and the boiler was lowered so slowly that its movement was scarcely perceptible.
“‘LOOK OUT!’ HE CRIED, AND SEIZING HIM BY THE ARM, DRAGGED HIM SHARPLY BACKWARDS48.”
? 21 ?
There was a pause, a quick intaking of breath, a straining of muscles—
“Now!” yelled the foreman, and with a quick movement the young fellow threw over the lever and let the boiler drop gently, exactly in place.
The men drew a deep breath of relief, and stood erect49, hands on hips50, straightening the strained muscles of their backs.
There was something marvellous in the ease and certainty with which the crane had handled the great weight, responsive to the pressure of a finger, and Allan ran his eyes admiringly along the heavy chains, up to the massive and perfectly51 balanced arm—
Then his heart gave a sudden leap of terror. He sprang forward toward the young fellow who stood leaning against the lever.
“Look out!” he cried, and seizing him by the arm, dragged him sharply backwards.
The next instant there was a resounding52 crash, which echoed above the din of the shop like a cannon-shot above the rattle38 of musketry, and a great block smashed the standing-board beside the lever to pieces.
点击收听单词发音
1 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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2 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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3 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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4 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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5 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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6 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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7 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
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8 earnings | |
n.工资收人;利润,利益,所得 | |
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9 superintendent | |
n.监督人,主管,总监;(英国)警务长 | |
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10 ledgers | |
n.分类账( ledger的名词复数 ) | |
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11 jot | |
n.少量;vi.草草记下;vt.匆匆写下 | |
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12 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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13 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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14 tinged | |
v.(使)发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15 shanty | |
n.小屋,棚屋;船工号子 | |
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16 grunted | |
(猪等)作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 ); (指人)发出类似的哼声; 咕哝着说 | |
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17 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
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18 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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19 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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20 fascination | |
n.令人着迷的事物,魅力,迷恋 | |
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21 mammoth | |
n.长毛象;adj.长毛象似的,巨大的 | |
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22 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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23 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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24 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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25 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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26 groomed | |
v.照料或梳洗(马等)( groom的过去式和过去分词 );使做好准备;训练;(给动物)擦洗 | |
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27 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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28 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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29 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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30 ailments | |
疾病(尤指慢性病),不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
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31 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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32 cemetery | |
n.坟墓,墓地,坟场 | |
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33 dismantled | |
拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 ); 拆卸; 废除; 取消 | |
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34 sordid | |
adj.肮脏的,不干净的,卑鄙的,暗淡的 | |
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35 maze | |
n.迷宫,八阵图,混乱,迷惑 | |
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36 dangling | |
悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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37 shafting | |
n.轴系;制轴材料;欺骗;怠慢 | |
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38 rattle | |
v.飞奔,碰响;激怒;n.碰撞声;拨浪鼓 | |
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39 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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40 incessantly | |
ad.不停地 | |
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41 enchanted | |
adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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42 peg | |
n.木栓,木钉;vt.用木钉钉,用短桩固定 | |
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43 quota | |
n.(生产、进出口等的)配额,(移民的)限额 | |
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44 squeaked | |
v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 );吱吱叫;告密;充当告密者 | |
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45 boiler | |
n.锅炉;煮器(壶,锅等) | |
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46 onlooker | |
n.旁观者,观众 | |
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47 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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48 backwards | |
adv.往回地,向原处,倒,相反,前后倒置地 | |
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49 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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50 hips | |
abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯,耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 );[建筑学]屋脊;臀围(尺寸);臀部…的 | |
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51 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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52 resounding | |
adj. 响亮的 | |
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