A FATAL EXCURSION
A FATAL EXCURSION
Threeis a large school in Honolulu, called the Royal School. It is so named because at one time only children of royal blood were allowed to attend it. But that is another story.
Business with the principal took me up there one day, and, while waiting for him, I sat and talked with the janitor.
The school is on a small hill and the road near it is quite steep. Trolley cars run up that road and come down with the speed of lightning.
“Whew!” I could not help exclaiming as one car in particular shot past us, “if some day an axle should break, more than one person would get hurt, and badly too.”
“You bet,” replied the janitor. There was a pause, and then he said, “Anyhow, I never ride in them cars unless I can’t help it. I hate anything with wheels.”
I smiled, sympathetically, I thought, but I suppose in his estimation it was a smile of incredulity for he hastened to say, “I used to be a locomotive fireman, but since the day that Jim got killed, I’ve had but little use for anything but my legs.”
Scenting a story, I asked, “How was that?”
He bit off a fresh bite of tobacco and then began:
“As I said before, I used to be a locomotive fireman over on Hawaii. Good job alright, but I couldn’t stand it after Jim died. Jim was my friend, and a right good fellow he was. His job was night watchman on the docks, but his health gave way and the doctor told him the best thing he could do was to go to ’Frisco.
“My run included Kohala—ever been there?”
I shook my head.
“Well, you don’t know what you have missed then. The scenery is magnificent. I had often talked with Jim concerning the place, and he was just crazy to go and see for himself. He never had a chance, though, because he used to sleep all day and work all night. But when the doctor ordered him to throw up his job, he came to me and asked me to try and get him a permit to ride on my train. We were on a freighter, and didn’t carry passengers, so I went up to the manager, and told him the circumstances. But the manager was cross that dayand of course he said ‘no’; said he’d quit giving passes to people. I told that to Jim and he was dreadfully disappointed; told me he wanted to see the place before he went back to the States. So I went to my engineer and asked him to take Jim as a brakeman. At first he refused, but I insisted, and while we were talking, a kanaka woman came up and said that her Joe wouldn’t be able to work that trip, as he was sick.
“I jumped up and made the engineer promise to take Jim in his stead. He said ‘yes,’ and I went to tell Jim that he might go, and to explain his duties to him. We were to leave at six o’clock Sunday morning, and I left Jim’s house early so as to let him sleep enough to get up early the next morning.
“Sunday morning came, and, by Jove! I never saw a more beautiful morning again. The birds were singing most glorious, and the sun shining through the heavy dew drops, made them look like so many diamonds.
“Before you get to Kohala, you have to come to a steep, curved incline. We always whistled for ‘brakes’ when we got there and I had explained to Jim that when we’d blow three whistles, he was to apply the brakes. He said he understood and took his seat on a brake, one of them circular kind that you turn with your hand, you know. He sat on the last box car,but there were a whole lot of flat cars back of him.
“We started off; Jim enjoying the air, and I, happy in thinking that I had been able to give the poor fellow such pleasure. By and by we came near that curve and the engineer blew the whistle for brakes. Before we started, Jim seemed to understand the signals, but now the cars were coming down that hill faster than I had ever seen them before.
“‘What’s the matter with that brakeman?’ the engineer asked me.
“‘I dunno,’ I said, ‘unless he’s fallen off.’
“‘Maybe that’s it,’ the engineer told me, ‘when we get to the bottom of this, we’d better see.’ So when we got to the foot of the hill, he stopped the engine and we walked back.
“It was at the beginning of the curve that we found Jim. Yes, he had fallen off. Poor fellow; ten flat cars had gone over him, and there was mighty little left of him. He had been cutting up some tobacco for his pipe, and we found his pipe and a plug of tobacco and his knife lying near him. I’ve got the knife at home now.
“When we got back from Kohala, I packed up and came to Honolulu. I couldn’t stand any more railroading.
“That’s why, I can’t bear cars of any sort. Do you blame me?”
I couldn’t say that I did.