Steampunk Prime_ A Vintage Steampunk Reader - Mike Ashley [30]
The nearer the train got to the middle of the tunnel the wetter the walls became; they streamed with water, and, as the engineer had said, a veritable rain fell from the roof and flooded the permanent-way. Under the passing of the heavy train the whole tunnel vibrated in an alarming way. The rumbling of the wheels became a hollow roar. One could well understand Harward’s apprehensions; this abnormal state of things was surely the precursor of some dreadful catastrophe?
James Harward put the question to himself as he anxiously followed the flight of the miles on the indicator. Then the gradient changed; the critical point was passed. Harward breathed more freely. Soon now the European shore would be reached and the danger passed. The rain from the roof ceased and at each revolution of the wheels the damp grew less and less. All peril seemed passed, and the engineer, overjoyed, began to reproach himself for his foolish fears and to feel rather sheepish at having voiced them to Mr. Glencoe. Oh well, everything was going all right, so what did it matter?
Then suddenly the electric lights flickered for a moment and went out. The humming of the motors ceased and the speed slackened. In a black obscurity, which was only emphasized by the feeble flicker of the hastily-lighted emergency lamps, two hundred yards below the level of the sea, and nearly eight miles from the tunnel’s mouth, the Gibraltar Tunnel Express came to a standstill.
In the power-house at Algeciras the chief electrical engineer, with a curious look on his face, stood at the ammeter and noted the registration of the current absorbed by the train. A foreman approached him.
“Well, what is it?” Asked the engineer.
“The delivery of water from the pumps has increased tremendously since this morning, sir. We must put on more pressure at once.”
“I’ll come and see.”
‘The two men went towards the shaft. A special gauge registered the level of the water at the bottom. At the moment it registered two hundred and fifteen yards below the level of the sea.
“Hardly fifteen yards below the floor of the tunnel,” said the engineer. “We must reduce that at once.”
The motor of the pump thrummed a little more, but still, slowly, the level rose instead of decreasing; the engineer knitted his brows.
“Get the emergency pump running,” he ordered, “and put her at full pressure.”
A second thrumming joined itself to the first, and the delivery of water was doubled; the level ebbed little by little, and the engineer went back to the power indicator.
What was this that met his gaze? It was impossible! The electric consumption had suddenly increased tenfold! No, he was making no mistake; overloaded, the machines behind him were slackening. The engineer flung himself towards the tunnel telephone. Mr. Glencoe already had the receiver in his hand.
“Halloa! Halloa! What’s wrong? How do you mean nothing? No damage? You are in darkness? But there is no interruption of the current here with us; the machines are delivering six thousand amperes. You have no current on the train? But how can that be when we’re sending you plenty?”
At this moment the foreman ran in, his face expressive of dismay.
“Sir! The level!”
“What now?”
“It is one hundred and ninety-eight yards.”
“What! It was at two hundred and fifteen a moment ago!”
“It has suddenly risen. In less than a quarter of an hour! The pumps are flooded.”
“But — then — the line is flooded, too!” Cried the director, overwhelmed.
“And the third rail is short-circuited by the sea-water,” added the engineer, curtly.
The silence of tragedy descended on the three men.
“At all costs we must send them some current,” said the managing director, after a moment. “Start the stand-by machines, and at full pressure.”
The engineer went off to carry out the order, the while Mr. Glencoe and the foreman hurried towards the