The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1891-06-19
A RAILROAD ACCIDENT T.
A Drummer Relates the Story OF
a Terrible Experience.

at was in the winter of '87 that l was
making trip TO San Francisco over the
Union Pacific One evening / WAS sitting
in my seat waiting until it should be late
enough to retire. My eyes paining me some
what, | did not care TO read, so l sat 10y the
window gazing out into the darkness. The
absence of moon and stars made it lmpos-
slble to distinguish anything. Occasionally
the flicker Of q lamp in settlers cabin gave
evidence hat there was some human being
in that uninhabited waste. Sometimes as a
curve was turned the rails for distance
could be seen lighted by the headlight of the
locomotive.
"Gradually, as l sat there. sleep began to
oyerpower ME. My eyes were continually
closing, my head noddng. l sat enjoying
that dreamy feeling trying TO decide whether
to dOZe there longer or 60 and summon the
porser 10 make up my berth. | never de-
cided. Seemingly without slowing up, the
train dashed into an obstacle | NaS thrown
to the floor amid the general wreck, and ut
ter darkness followed.
Il tried to rise, but could not. Some
heavy object, car seat or piece of frame
work, was wedged in above and keeping
Inc down. | felt no pain, except that caused
by few bruises and my cramped position
The shTl6kS OF the wounded were heart
ing steam in the darkness made tue situa-
ton all the more horrible.
II spoke. There was no answer. The
few passengers of the car were either dead
or by some chance had been thrown far
from me. 1t was of no use 10 call. The
survivors were probably doing al in their
power TO rescue the wounded. Ny turn
would come in time, and | was much better
able to wait than the others. So | lay there
quietly, trying occasionally TO move and
ease my cramped and somewhat painful
position.
Gradually the sounds of escaping steam
subsidized, and the cries OF the wounded
grew more faint. Then l fancied | heard
dim cracking sound. | listened atten-
lively Yes, il was the sound of burning
wood. The wreck was on fire. Could they
put it out? Would | be rescued before the
flames reached me? l called for help.
There Was no response. The cracking
sounded nearer and louder. | smelt smoke.
Although the night was cold and raw and |
had become somewhat numb, l now grew
warmer.
The cracking had grown to the roar of
raging furnace. The smoke was sutfO-
eating, the heat intense. Could it be that
was to be burned alive? How could l meet
with death so horrible? | called and
shrieked for help, but could disting uish 10
sound of re5cuerS. | was almost stifed
by the smoke, almost scorched by the heat.
nrousN space IN the QeDrlS could see
light 1t was the frs that was creeping Oh
to deyOur me.
II do not remember any pRrtieuIar
thoughts of that occasion. All my energy
was devoted to calling for help, ! thought
neither of home nor friends nor of previous
deeds | did not even stop 10 realize the
awful death that awaited me. The thought
of being saved was the only one that entered
my mind. Breathing was now almost i'm
possible. My head was aching from the
intense heat The roar Of the fire was deaf
ening. At last full In my face came the
bright flames, and l gave I'D all hope of
being saved
Then voice close to my ear said:
81 guess. young man, yOu would find it
more comfortable in bed than huddlod up
on the floor between the seats. l am afraid
you will burn your forehead on that steam
pipe, too
IL opened my eyes. There was the con-
ductOr's lantern full in my face l had gone
to sleep and fallen on to the floor | lay
cramped up between the seats, with my
head resting on the iron frame that inclOses
the steam-pipes. Soon afterward l retired
in the proper manner and went to sleep
under much more pleasant conditions. 1t
was the only railroad accident | ever expe-
rlenced. boston Herald.