WAS IT MURDER?

I have thought it over and over, and cannot come to any definite conclusion. Was I justified in killing the man? If I was, I am a benefactor to some of my fellow-creatures; if I was not, I am a murderer. My readers shall have an opportunity of judging, and I hope their judgment may be lenient.

Some years ago, I was well off, and received the education and bringing-up of a gentleman; but partly through my own folly, and partly through unfortunate speculations, I gradually lost all my capital; and about two years ago I found myself penniless, and saw starvation grinning at me within measurable distance. Then I determined to attempt no longer to keep up appearances, but to try and earn a bare existence in any walk of life that was open to me. After some fruitless efforts and a good deal of the ‘hope deferred’ which ‘maketh the heart sick,’ I obtained, through the kindness of a gentleman connected with the Great Junction Railway, the position of stoker. I never was given to drink, so that I was well enough able to fulfil the lowly duties of my position. I am now a station-master; and it is during my few hours of leisure that I prepare this plain narrative for the decision of a discerning public.

It is a great point for a stoker to be on good terms with the engine-driver, and I generally found little trouble in making friends with my nearest travelling companion.

On the day when I went through the most disagreeable experience of my life, I was travelling from Padlington to Cowchester on the well-known—to railway employees—engine named ‘Pluto.’ She is a fine upstanding, bold sort of engine, and when in good temper, does her work right well. The engine-driver on this occasion was a man named John Morgan. I had not often travelled with him before, only two or three times, and I never could get on comfortably with him. He had been many years in the Company’s service, and bore an excellent character for steadiness, but was considered rather taciturn. He seemed to be always in the sulks, and was, I suppose, of a surly temper. Before we started, he hardly answered any remark I addressed to him, and seemed more surly than usual. Once when I took up a cloth to brighten one of Pluto’s taps, he called out to me in a savage tone: ‘Let her alone, can’t you. I’ll make her travel to-day without your bothering.’

I made him no answer, as I did not see the good of having a quarrel in the small space we were confined to. The train was to start at twelve noon, and before that time, we on the engine were all ready; but it was a quarter past twelve before we got the signal to move. There was such a crowd of people of all classes on the platform, that room could hardly be found for them in the train. However, at last the head-guard gave us the signal, and Morgan turned the handle, and we moved slowly and steadily out of the station. When we got well out into the country, Morgan turned to me and said shortly: ‘More coal.’

Now, in my opinion, no more coal was wanted, as there was quite enough in the fire to keep up the usual speed. However, as a stoker, I was only an underling, and must obey reasonable orders. So I stoked as bidden, and then curiously watched to see if the engine-driver would turn on full speed. He did nothing of the sort, but sat with his back to the boiler, and began to talk to me quite affably. Amongst other things, he said he was quite tired of this perpetual travelling, and that he meant to look out for a wife with a little money, and never set foot on an engine again. There was nothing at this time peculiar in his manner, except that he was more talkative than usual, and he would now and then turn half-round to the engine and call out: ‘Get on, old girl, get on!’ We had before us a run of an hour and a half, and by that time we were due at Blinton, a big junction, at which every train must stop; so we had plenty of time to talk.

About an hour after leaving Padlington, Morgan stopped suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and said: ‘Well, I must get to work now.’ Then he opened the firebox door and called out to me: ‘More coal.’

I expostulated with him, and pointed out that we were going at a high rate of speed, and would not need more coal before Blinton; but this seemed to excite him terribly. ‘Shovel it in!’ he roared, with an oath; ‘I’m going to make her travel.’

To pacify him, I took up a shovelful, and managed to upset a good deal of it before I reached the firebox.

‘You clumsy fool!’ he called out; ‘here, give it to me;’ and snatching the shovel out of my hands, he crammed on as much coal as he could get in.

I was beginning to get alarmed; and looking out over the well-known country—for I had travelled that journey many and many a time before—I saw that we were much nearer to Blinton than we ought to be at that hour. However, I thought it did not much matter, for the line was signalled clear in front of us, and the damage done was, as yet, simply a little waste of coal. In a few minutes, our speed increased enormously, and I calculated we were travelling at the rate of seventy miles an hour. I thought it was time to remonstrate; and turning to Morgan, I noticed that the indicator showed full speed. I called his attention to the fact, and begged him to reduce the speed, or we should run into Blinton without being able to stop.

‘Ha, ha!’ he cried in reply. ‘Stop! I’m never going to stop again! I told you I’d make her travel. What do you want to stop for?—Get on, old wench, get on!’ Then he burst into a hideous peal of laughter.

A cold sweat of absolute terror broke out on me as I realised the state of things. Here was a raving maniac, a far stronger man than myself, in charge of a train full of people. I bit my lips and clenched my hands, and tried to collect my scattered ideas and decide what was best to be done. Meanwhile, Morgan sat on a rail near the boiler flourishing a shovel and shouting uproariously. The train rushed on with incredible speed, not steadily and evenly, but with leaps and bounds, that threatened to cast the engine off the line at every yard. There was no doubt the man was as mad as a man could be, and he was also master of the situation. I made one effort to reach the handle by which the steam is turned off; but the madman was too sharp for me. ‘No, you don’t!’ he shouted. He brought his shovel down with a tremendous blow on the rail at my side, just missing my head. It was plain I could do nothing by force. Would stratagem be of any use?

I looked out to the country; time was running short; we were not more than twenty miles from Blinton Junction; and if we did not stop there, the whole train must inevitably be wrecked, and probably not one passenger would escape uninjured, and but few with their lives. I looked back to the train. Outside the windows were hands gesticulating, and frightened, alarmed faces. At the end of the train, the guard was waving a red flag. Something must be done, and by me, or we should all be inevitably lost. I made up my mind. I turned to Morgan with a smile on my face, and I said: ‘Old boy, you’re quite right; this is a fine pace; but it ain’t quite fast enough. Look here!’ and I caught him by the arm and led him to the side of the engine next to the double rail. ‘See!’ I cried; ‘there is another train coming up faster than us, and she will pass us; we must go faster: but let’s see first who is driving her; lean forward and look. Can you see?’

The poor maniac stepped outside the rail and leaned forward to look for the imaginary train, when I gave him a sudden push, and he fell in a heap on the side-rails and was killed on the spot. With a gasp of relief I sprang back to the engine and turned off the steam. It was not a moment too soon. We were well in sight of Blinton Junction before I had the train properly under control. I pulled up at the platform all right, and then I fainted.

When I came to, I was lying on a bench in the waiting-room, and the inspector was standing over me, with his note-book in his hand, prepared to take down my statement. What I stated was, that the engine-driver had gone mad, and that, to save the lives of the passengers, I had knocked him off the engine just in time to get the train under control before running into the station. This was corroborated by the guard and several passengers; and the case was brought before the solicitors of the Company. I gave my evidence at the inquest, and heard no more of the matter until one day the passenger superintendent handed me ten sovereigns and a letter appointing me station-master at Little Mudford. It was evident the directors condoned my conduct; and I hope that my readers will agree with them, and, in consideration of my having saved a train full of people, will acquit me of murder, and bring in a verdict of justifiable homicide.