Steampunk Prime_ A Vintage Steampunk Reader - Mike Ashley [32]
Feverishly Harward manipulated the apparatus. Immediately the lights reappeared on the train; the current, now cut off from the sea, was restored. Running as fast as he could the engineer regained the train, and in a moment they were going full-speed ahead.
Was this salvation? Earnestly James hoped so. Behind the train the sea was steadily creeping up; before long the section on which the train was running, would be immersed, there would be another short circuit, the sea would again absorb the current. “We must manage to get off this section and then isolate it before the fatal moment when the sea reaches it,” thought Harward. But the next isolating-switch was at the sixteenth mile, over three miles distant, and the sea even now was gaining, gaining, gaining! It was almost on them. They could never do it! Even at full speed they could never do it! And there was nothing to be done nothing! The motor-man had the lever in the last notch; the speed now depended on the power-house above. Ah, perhaps there was a ray of hope there! Harward unhooked the receiver.
“Yes, we are running. We managed to cutoff the damaged section, but we are not making enough speed. Can you raise the voltage? Yes, every ounce of power you can manage. If the sea reaches us we’re done for. That’s it. Not a moment to lose. What’s that? No, the passengers don’t guess anything’s wrong. For a moment, yes, there was the beginning of a panic. I was able to reassure them. Halloa! Mr. Glencoe is there, you say? Yes? Well, tell him that Mrs. Glencoe and his daughter are on the train. Good-bye.”
Harward hung up the receiver. Almost at once the lamps burned more brilliantly, the humming of the motors increased; the works were sending more power. The train, like a sentient thing, seemed to make a last effort to escape its implacable pursuer, hurling itself forward on its mad race to safety.
Overjoyed, Harward noted the flight of the miles — thirteen, fourteen, fifteen; a few more moments and the menaced section would be left behind; a few more revolutions of the wheels —
Then his blood seemed to freeze and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. The lights were going down!
For the second time the lamps went out and the train was plunged in darkness. For a second time the motors were silenced.
One glimmer of hope remained to James and the mechanician; perhaps their own momentum would carry them off this cursed section. Very slowly they glided towards the sixteenth mile-mark, and then the two men had to renounce this last hope. The wheels, with a grinding noise, ceased to revolve. Again the sea had vanquished the man, again the train was in dire peril.
What was to be done? There were no means here of isolating the rail behind the train; the tremendous current which the power-house was supplying flowed into the treacherous water, while the train, immobile for want of that wasted current, seemed to wait the coming of the sea — the coming of death.
Dismayed, the engineer and the motor-man looked at each other helplessly. A sudden clamor roused them from their speechless contemplation of the calamity. The passengers, now thoroughly alarmed were demanding explanations. Some of them, wild with fear, wanted to escape along the tunnel on foot.
“It is four miles from here to the tunnel-end,” said the engineer.
“Well; what of it? That’s only a short walk. One can easily do that.”
“You won’t have time to do it,” replied Harward.
“What do you mean? Not time? What threatens us?”
“Is it fire?” Cried one.
“Is the roof giving way?” Gasped another.
“What is it? What’s the danger? What do you fear-? Tell us! Speak — speak!”
Harward remained silent. Rage at his impotence was shaking him as with an ague. The circle of faces closed in on him, pressing closer. The