In a word, he was narrowing into a specialist, as every man who really accomplishes anything in the world must do. His work had become the only really necessary and vital thing to him. He had found his groove1, and while he still possessed2 the power to climb out of his groove occasionally and to look about the world and find amusement in it, it was in his groove that he felt most at home, that he was strongest and most efficient and most contented3.
For his efficiency—the knowledge that he was really doing something in the world—rejoiced him and moved him to stronger effort.
So his feet naturally led him back to the great depot4 which formed the union terminal for all the lines of railroad entering Cincinnati. It was a place which might well be interesting to any one, so crowded was it with life and well-directed skill. To any one looking at it understandingly it was more than interesting. It was engrossing6. Nowhere else did the life-blood of traffic pulse quite so strongly; nowhere else was there quite such an opportunity to study human nature; and nowhere else was perfection of organization in railroading so necessary and so evident.
It was this latter point which interested Allan most of all, and so, with merely a fleeting8 glance at the crowds hurrying past him, he bent9 his steps along one of the narrow cement platforms which ran out under the train-shed like long, gray fingers. In the midst of the tangle10 of tracks just beyond the train-shed, stood a tall, box-like structure, its upper story entirely11 enclosed in glass. Dodging12 an outgoing train, Allan hastened toward this queer tower, climbed the narrow stair which led to its upper story, opened the door and looked in.
“Hello, Jim,” he said, to a man in shirt-sleeves who stood looking down upon the busy yards. “May I come in?”
The man turned quickly and held out his hand.
“Sure, Mr. West,” he said. “Come in and sit down,” and he motioned toward a chair.
Just then a bell overhead rang sharply.
“That’s the Pennsylvania limited,” he said. “Give her track number twelve, Sam.”
There were two other shirt-sleeved men in the little room, standing5 before a long board from which projected what appeared to be a series of little handles like those one sees on water-cocks. At the words, one of the men turned one of these little handles.
Again the bell rang.
“Number seventeen for the accommodation,” said the man Allan had addressed as Jim, and another little handle was turned, while still a third, which had been turned, sprang back to its original position.
“There goes that school-teachers’ special from eleven,” added Jim. “Fix her, Nick,” and the third man turned a handle at his end of the board.
Allan, meanwhile, had taken a seat, and gazed down over the network of tracks. Trains were arriving and departing almost every minute. Busy little yard-engines were hustling13 strings14 of coaches about, pulling them out from under the great train-shed or backing them up into it. Down the long cement walks beneath the shed, arriving and departing passengers were hurrying to and fro; trucks piled high with luggage or groaning15 under a load of mail-sacks or express matter were being propelled back and forth16 with almost superhuman skill; engineers were “oiling round,” blue-coated conductors were reading their orders, hostlers with flaring17 torches were taking a last look at wheels and connections—in a word, the busy life of a great terminal was at full blast.
And above it all, controlling it, as it were, by a movement of a finger, stood Jim—James Anderson Davis, if you care for his full name—gazing down upon it nonchalantly, and giving a terse18 order now and then. For Jim is the chief towerman, than whom, in his sphere, no autocrat19 is more autocratic and no czar more absolute.
It is a fearful and wonderful thing, this controlling the trains that arrive at and depart from a great terminal—almost too fearful and wonderful to be put upon paper. But at least we will make the effort.
Most modern terminals resemble each other in general plan. Railroads have found it not only convenient for the public but economical for themselves to build “union stations” in the larger cities, wherever possible. That is, a suitable site is selected, as near the business centre of the city as it is possible to get, and the roads join together in providing the money necessary to purchase it and erect20 the station building, the cost being pro-rated in proportion to the amount of traffic which each road gets from the station.
“CONTROLLING IT, AS IT WERE, BY A MOVEMENT OF FINGER, STOOD JIM.”
The side fronting upon the street is usually handsomely embellished21, for it is this side which the public sees as it approaches, and all railroads know that to make a good impression is to do good advertising22. So with the main waiting-room, which always lies directly behind the street doors. Here marble, mosaic23 and gilding24 are always in evidence and no opportunity is lost to impress the travelling public with the wealth and magnificence of the road which it is using. On either side of the main waiting-room are smaller waiting- and retiring-rooms, there is a row of ticket-booths, a news-stand, telephone booths, baggage-rooms, a dining- and lunch-room and, of course, inevitably25, the long rows of seats, back to back, where the waiting public spends so many weary minutes.
In the stories overhead are the executive offices of the various roads—as many of them as there is room for—but to these the general public seldom penetrates26.
Beyond the swinging doors along the side of the waiting-room opposite the entrance is the main platform or concourse, and from it, stretching down between the tracks like long fingers, are the narrow cement platforms upon which the passengers alight or from which they mount to their trains. The tracks are laid in pairs, and a platform extends between every pair, each platform thus serving two tracks, one on either side. Overhead is the great echoing vault27 of the train-shed with its mighty28 ribs29 of steel, stretching in one enormous arc across the tracks beneath—a marvel30 of engineering skill, if not of architectural beauty.
This is what is known as the head-house plan, and is the ideal one for the passenger, since it permits him to go to and from his train without crossing any tracks or climbing to any overhead bridges. It is, however, expensive for the railroads since, of course, all through trains must be backed out and switched around until they are headed on their way again—a process which requires no little expenditure31 of time and energy, as well as money. However, in a great city, a right of way which would enable the through trains to continue straight onward32 toward their destination is frequently so expensive that it is cheaper to back them out the way they came in, and send them by a detour33 around the city.
And upon no one is this backing-out process more wearing than on the towerman, for the trains must be handled twice over the same track, and of course the track must be kept clear until the train is out again and safely on its way. Now there is never any surplusage of tracks in a terminal. Indeed, as one sees the tracks narrow and narrow as the terminal is approached, until they are merged34 into those which plunge35 beneath the train-shed, one is apt to think they are all too few. Yet their number has been calculated with the greatest care; there is not one more than is needed by the nicest economy of operation—nor one less. The number is just right for the station’s needs—so long as the towerman knows his business and keeps his head.
And now to return to the glass-enclosed perch36 where, for eight hours of every day, Jim Davis and his two assistants send the trains in and out over the network of tracks. That long row of little handles is the last word in switch-control. Time was—and is, in all but the most important stations—when the towerman opened or closed the yard-switches by means of great levers. To throw one of these levers was no small athletic37 feat38, especially if the switch it controlled was at some distance, and to keep at it eight hours at a time reduced the strongest man to mental and physical exhaustion39. When the towerman left his work at the end of his trick, he was, in the expressive40 parlance41 of the day, “all in.” Now when men are “all in,” they are very apt to make mistakes, hence in a busy terminal under the old system, accidents more or less serious were of almost every-day occurrence. Besides which, the number of levers which one man was physically42 able to operate was comparatively small, so that there must be many men and a consequent divided responsibility and opportunity for confusion.
The tower itself had been an evolution, for, at first, these yard-switches had been controlled by a brigade of switchmen, each of whom had two or three under his supervision43, which he turned by hand whenever he saw a train coming his way. Then the hand switchmen were supplanted44 by a cluster of levers in a tower, operated by a single man. The tower was so located that its occupant had a general view of the yards, and the levers were connected by steel rods with the switches and signals which protected them. For every switch must have its signal—that is, a device by which the engineer of the approaching train may see whether the switch is properly set—the old standards showing yellow when the switch was open and red when it was closed—and since replaced by arms, or semaphores, which hang down when the train may pass and bar the way when it must stop.
This grouping of the levers in the tower simplified the control of the yard and placed the responsibility upon a more intelligent and more highly paid man than the average switchman, and consequently broadened the margin45 of safety. But terminals grew and yards grew and switches increased in number, until even this system was unable to meet the demands made upon it.
It was at a time when this state of affairs seemed seriously to threaten the safety of operation of great terminals that some genius invented the pneumatic control. Instead of a row of great levers requiring the strongest muscles, the towerman found himself confronting a battery of tiny ones, operated by the touch of a finger. And that finger-touch against the slender lever is instantly magnified to the pull of a giant arm against a switch half a mile or more away.
How? By a bewildering intricacy of cogs and valves, by the aid of the electric current and of compressed air, for, in order to perfect this mechanism46, man has harnessed the whirlwind and the lightning. That finger-touch brings instantly an electric touch; the electric touch raises a valve which releases the compressed air from a cylinder47 into which it has been pumped; and the air thus withdrawn48 from the cylinder in the tower basement is also in the same instant withdrawn from a cylinder opposite the switch-point, by means of a slender pipe which connects the two; and a plunger in the cylinder at the switch moves the switch-point and the signals which protect it.
That seems enough for any mere7 machine to do—but it does much more. For, by a series of interlocking devices, the switches are so controlled by each other that no signal for a train to proceed can be given until all the other switches over which the train will pass have been properly set and locked, nor can any switch be moved as long as any signal is displayed which gives right of way over it. Thus was the margin of safety further broadened, and the control of a great terminal brought down to three men on each eight hour trick, representing the very cream of their profession.
Approaching trains announce their coming by ringing an electric gong, the chief towerman, of course, knowing just which train is due at that particular instant—knowing, too, if any train is late, and how late and with what other trains it conflicts. He must know the precise second of departure of each train from the shed, and every train must glide49 smoothly50 in and out without let or hindrance51. He must know; he mustn’t merely think he knows, for this is one of the positions in which a man never has a chance to make two mistakes. For, while the tower machinery52 is wonderfully adapted to its purpose, it is, after all, the mind of the chief towerman which controls and directs it.
It was not by any means the first time that Allan West had sat watching this fascinating scene, but it had never grown uninteresting and he had never ceased to wonder at it.
“I used to think train-dispatching was a pretty nerve-racking business,” he remarked, after a while, “but it’s child’s play compared with this.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Jim, his eyes on a through train threading its way cautiously out of the terminal and over the network of switches. “We don’t have to worry about big accidents up here—the interlocking takes care of that. We can’t have a head-end collision, for instance—at least, not while the signals are working properly. What we’ve got to look out for is tangles53. If we have to hold one train two or three minutes, that means that two or three other trains will be held up, and before you know it, you’ve got a block ten miles long. Then’s when somebody up here has to do some tall thinking and do it quick. The only way to keep things straight is to keep ’em moving. Sixteen,” he added to his assistants, as the overhead bell rang.
They watched the train as it rolled in, saw it disgorge its load of passengers, saw the baggage and express and mail matter hustled54 off, saw the yard-engine back up and couple on to the rear coach, and slowly drag the train out from under the train-shed.
“I never watch that done,” added Jim, as the train disappeared down the yards, “but what my heart gets right up in my throat. You don’t know what a way those pesky little yard-engines have of jumping switches. Open sixteen, Sam,” he added, as the big engine which had brought the train in rolled sedately55 down the yards on the way to the round-house, to be washed out and raked down and coaled up. “Ring off thirteen, Nick,” he said, and Nick touches one of the little handles, a blade on a signal bridge opposite the end of the train-shed drops, there is a sharp puff56, puff, of a locomotive, and another train starts slowly from the train-shed on its journey east or west, north or south, as the case may be.
Meanwhile, the little switch-engine has set its train of coaches in upon one of the innumerable sidings away down the yards where passenger cars are stored—and one would scarcely believe how many miles of such storage track every great terminal requires—has uncoupled and started back toward the train-shed for another load—her movements, by the way, as well-known to and thoroughly57 understood by the chief towerman as are those of the most glittering through train. Already the train of coaches is in the hands of the cleaners and stockers, for it will start out again presently upon another trip. Modern passenger cars represent too much money to be allowed to repose58 on a siding a minute longer than necessary.
The cleaners swarm59 into the coaches, dusty and dirty and foul60 after the long journey, dragging behind them long lines of hose. The hose carries compressed air, and in half an hour those cars are sucked clean of dirt and are as fresh and sweet as when they first came from the shops. Other cleaners are washing the windows and polishing the metal fittings. Trucks pull up loaded with ice, with clean linen61, and the stockers see that every car is supplied. Farther along is the diner, and to it come the butcher’s cart, the baker’s cart, the grocer’s cart; dozens and dozens of napkins and table-cloths are taken aboard, and already the chef is making out the menu for the dinner which will be served in an hour or two somewhere out on the road. It is all wonderful—fearful and wonderful, when one stops to think of it—impossible to set on paper except in broad suggestive splashes, as an impressionist paints a sunset.
“Are you going back on Two?” asked Jim.
“Yes,” said Allan, glancing at the tower clock.
“Well, there she comes,” said Jim, and motioned toward a cut of coaches being backed into the train-shed by one of the ever-present switch-engines.
“All right,” said Allan. “I’ll go down and hunt up Mr. Schofield. He’s going back with me. This is a great place, Jim.”
“Come again,” said Jim heartily62. “You’re always welcome. He’s a fine young fellow,” he continued, as Allan went down the stairs. “He’ll have his office up yonder one of these days,” and he motioned toward the towering stories of the terminal building. “Number eight, Sam,” he added, as the bell rang. “There comes the St. Louis express.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
groove
|
|
| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
depot
|
|
| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
engrossing
|
|
| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
fleeting
|
|
| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
tangle
|
|
| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
dodging
|
|
| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
hustling
|
|
| 催促（hustle的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
strings
|
|
| n.弦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
groaning
|
|
| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
flaring
|
|
| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
terse
|
|
| adj.(说话，文笔)精炼的，简明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
autocrat
|
|
| n.独裁者；专横的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
embellished
|
|
| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
advertising
|
|
| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
mosaic
|
|
| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
gilding
|
|
| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
penetrates
|
|
| v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 )；刺入；了解；渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
vault
|
|
| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
ribs
|
|
| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
marvel
|
|
| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
expenditure
|
|
| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
onward
|
|
| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
detour
|
|
| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
merged
|
|
| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
perch
|
|
| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
athletic
|
|
| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
feat
|
|
| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
exhaustion
|
|
| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
parlance
|
|
| n.说法；语调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
physically
|
|
| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
supervision
|
|
| n.监督，管理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
supplanted
|
|
| 把…排挤掉，取代( supplant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
mechanism
|
|
| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
cylinder
|
|
| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
withdrawn
|
|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
glide
|
|
| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
hindrance
|
|
| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
machinery
|
|
| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
tangles
|
|
| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
hustled
|
|
| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
sedately
|
|
| adv.镇静地，安详地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
puff
|
|
| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
swarm
|
|
| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |