“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 hustling strings 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 groaning
under a load of mail-sacks or express matter were being propelled back
and forth with almost superhuman skill; engineers were “oiling round,”
blue-coated conductors were reading their orders, hostlers with flaring
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 terse order now and then. For
Jim is the chief towerman, than whom, in his sphere, no autocrat 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 erect the station
building, the cost being pro-rated in proportion to the amount of
traffic which each road gets from the station.
[Illustration: “CONTROLLING IT, AS IT WERE, BY A MOVEMENT OF FINGER,
STOOD JIM.”]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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