XXXIII.
RAILWAY TUNNELS.
TUNNELS AMONG THE ANCIENTS.—HOW THEY WERE MADE.—MODERN TUNNELS AND THEIR LENGTH.—LAUGHABLE INCIDENTS IN RAILWAY TUNNELS.—THE TWO LOVERS.—THE ANXIOUS FRENCHMAN.—ROBBERS.—THE HOOSAC TUNNEL.—ITS HISTORY.—THE AUTHOR’S VISIT.—NATURE AND PROGRESS OF THE WORK.—AN EXPLOSION.—ACCIDENT FROM NITRO-GLYCERINE.—THE CENTRAL SHAFT.—THE TERRIBLE CALAMITY OF 1867.
Quite recently I picked up a newspaper about thirty years old, and read in it an account of the great engineering difficulties which had been overcome in the construction of the Boston and Lowell Railway.
This road, twenty-five miles in length, was among the earliest constructed in America, there being less than half a dozen railway lines which are older. The account proceeded to say that the great obstacle was the deep cut through solid rock, near the city of Lowell; and I can remember, in my boyhood days, riding over this road, and as we reached the cut, the attention of passengers was called to it, and at least half our number projected their heads through the windows to look at the wonderful work. Three times was the work let out on contract, and twice did the contractors fail, one of them failing not only to complete the work, but to pay the men he employed. The third contractor succeeded, but I believe he made no money out of his speculation.
This once famous cut through solid rock is only a few hundred feet in length, and I think about forty feet in depth. It has dwarfed into almost microscopic insignificance by hundreds of other railway cuts in this country and in Europe.
Railway tunnels were at that day unknown, though tunnels existed in Europe for other purposes, some of them of very ancient date.
LENGTH AND EXTENT OF TUNNELS.
Tunnelling, in civil engineering, is an underground passage usually constructed for conducting a canal or road beneath elevated ground. In mining the term is also sometimes applied to horizontal excavations. Tunnels are more common in Europe upon railways and canals than in this country. In the United States the total length of tunnels is not more than one mile for every thousand miles of road. In Great Britain it is considered cheaper to tunnel through rocks than to make open cuts deeper than sixty feet. In England the Wood-head Tunnel exceeds three miles in length; and there is another on the London and North-western Railway nearly three miles long. Twelve or fifteen others on different roads exceed one mile each. The Box Tunnel on the Great Western Railway, between Bath and Chippenham, is thirty-one hundred and twenty-three yards long, or rather more than one and three fourth miles.
On the canals of England there are five tunnels exceeding three thousand yards in length. The longest of these is the Marsden Tunnel, fifty-five hundred yards long. In France there is one tunnel on the St. Quentin Canal over thirteen thousand yards long.
Some of the tunnels of the ancient Romans were quite extensive in their character. One which was constructed by the Emperor Claudius was cleared out some years since by the Italian government. It proved to be about three miles long, thirty feet high, and twenty-eight feet wide at the entrance, and was nowhere less than twenty feet high.
The excavation seems to have been conducted, after the plan practised at the present time, by means of a number of vertical shafts first sunk on the line of the tunnel, and from the bottom of these shafts the work was carried on simultaneously in opposite directions.
Another tunnel, made in the early period of the Roman republic for the partial drainage of the Alban Lake, is more than one mile long.
TUNNELS IN AMERICA.
Most of the tunnels in America are on the lines crossing the Alleghany Mountains. There is one tunnel on the PennsylvaniaRailway thirty-six hundred feet long. It was built in two years, and cost half a million dollars. There are many short tunnels on the line of the Baltimore and Ohio Railway? and there is a tunnel on the Blue Ridge Railway in Virginia forty-two hundred feet long. In South Carolina there are several tunnels, one of them nearly six thousand feet long. The Long Dock Tunnel in Bergen, New Jersey, opposite New York city, was completed in 1860. It is forty-three hundred feet long, twenty-three feet high, and thirty feet wide. On the line of the Central Pacific Railway, over the Sierra Nevada Mountains, there are several tunnels, the longest of them exceeding a mile; and railway engineering was carried to such perfection in the construction of this road that its tunnels were completed in a shorter time than in works of the same kind and with an equal hardness of rock anywhere else in the United States.
A journey through a railway tunnel is always more or less interesting to a novice, but an old traveller soon gets accustomed to it, and pays very little attention. On most roads, when a long tunnel is approached, it is customary in the daytime to light the lamps but this is by no means the general rule. Some queer incidents occur in these dark journeys through tunnels.
The darkness is so thick that one could almost cut it with a knife. It affords opportunities for enterprise, either for entertainment or mischief. Enterprising robbers sometimes conduct their operations in railway tunnels. Half a dozen of them will jostle a passenger, pick his pocket, and carry away his satchel, and when he emerges from the tunnel the robbers will have disappeared. It not unfrequently happens that loving couples bestow attentions upon each other in passing through tunnels which they would hardly indulge in were they in open daylight, and under the eyes of their fellow-passengers.
Every one has read, and many have seen, demure couples sitting quietly in their seats as the train enters a tunnel. There would be heard the sounds of a slight struggle, andalso of less slight kisses. When the train emerges into the daylight, the pair will be sitting as demure as ever, but with reddened cheeks and a general appearance of disorder.
INCIDENT IN BERGEN TUNNEL.
On one occasion I was riding on a train approaching the Bergen Tunnel, near New York. The lamps were not trimmed and burning, and when in the tunnel we were as much in the dark as an ignorant newsboy attempting to read a page of Sanscrit.
In front of me was a young couple, and by their devoted attention to each other I concluded that they were not married, or, if married, were wedded to somebody else than to themselves. The gentleman was reading a newspaper; the lady was busy with a novel, and giving an occasional glance out of the window. As soon as the train entered the tunnel it was so dark that you could not see anything. I heard a struggle. There seemed to be a dislocation of hair, accompanied by a shower of hair pins. The gentleman’s hat fell to the floor, and I heard his paper crush as though it had been taken up by a clothes-wringer. Then there were several warm osculations, accompanied by ejaculations which sounded like, “You ought to be ashamed. Somebody will hear you.”
These utterances seemed to be more a matter of form than anything else, as the kissing went on like a company of infantry engaged in file-firing. You would have imagined that a whole flock of school-girls had met another flock of school-girls, from whom they had been separated at least six months.
By and by the train came out of the tunnel.
The gentleman recovered his hat and pretended to be reading his newspaper; he had it upside down, and it was torn, half through. The lady’s book was open at about the first page, though she had been reading it for three hours. Her hair had been loosened, and was falling down. Her lace collar was disordered, and quite in keeping with the collar of her masculine friend, one side of which was turned up like the toe of an old boot, while his neck-tie had lost its trim knot, and its ends were dangling like a pair of fish lines over the side of a ship. The gentleman and lady were very red in theface, and somewhat exhausted, and altogether they looked like a pair of butterflies that had been run through a sausage machine.
AN UNHAPPY FRENCHMAN.
A story is told of a Frenchman travelling in a railway coach in England, who was very anxious to change his shirt in order to make a visit after the train had arrived, without taking the trouble to go to a hotel. His guide-book indicated a tunnel on the road, and he asked the guard or conductor how long the train would be in the tunnel. The guard mistook his question, and supposed he asked how long before the train would reach the tunnel. He answered briefly, “Half an hour.”
The coach in which the Frenchman was travelling was filled with ladies and gentlemen. The traveller got down his valise, unlocked it, and made everything ready for a change of apparel while they were in the tunnel. As soon as they entered it he pulled off his shirt, and prepared to put on a clean one; but imagine his surprise, and that of his companions, on discovering that the train remained only three minutes in the tunnel, instead of thirty. As they came out in open daylight he was standing in their midst in a condition quite unfit for a mixed company of ladies and gentlemen.
The longest railway tunnel in the United States, is the Hoosac Tunnel, in Massachusetts. Its total length is twenty-four thousand five hundred feet, or more than four and one-half miles. Its width is eighteen feet, and its depth fourteen feet. As long ago as 1825, the Hoosac Tunnel route was surveyed, and a legislative commission was appointed to investigate the practicability of building a canal from Boston to the Hudson River. They made their report, in which they recommended a tunnel through the mountain.
In 1828 another commission reported to the legislature of Massachusetts that they could get over the mountain with a railway more quickly and more cheaply than through it, and recommended the Boston and Albany line, which was opened for travel in 1842.
From Boston to the Hudson River the route by way of theHoosac Mountain is very feasible, with the exception of the mountain itself.
A story is told that Loammi Baldwin, the engineer who made the first survey for the canal, was very much in favor of this route. With a map or plan spread before him, he would say to the listener, “Why, sir, it seems as if the finger of Providence had marked out this route from the east to the west.” “Perhaps so,” said a listener, one day; “but what a pity it is that the finger of Providence had not been thrust through the Hoosac Mountain!”
THE HOOSAC TUNNEL.
In 1848 a company was chartered to construct a railway between Troy and Greenfield. Three years later the work was begun, and the directors voted to expend twenty-five thousand dollars in making experiments upon the proposed tunnel. An enormous machine was constructed and set to work in the winter of 1852. It was expected to perform wonders, and it did; but they were all the wrong way. The chief wonder was, that the machine, so carefully constructed, at such great cost, could do nothing whatever.
According to the description, it was “designed to cut a groove around the circumference of the tunnel thirteen inches wide and twenty-four in diameter, by means of a set of revolving cutters. When this groove had been cut the proper depth, the machine was to be run back on its railway, and the centre core blasted out by gunpowder, and split off by means of wedges.” This wonderful engine was not all that fancy painted it. It cut a very smooth and beautiful hole into the rock for about ten feet. Then it became deranged, and then—it never smiled again. Its cutting days were over, and when it was withdrawn it was quickly discarded and sold for old iron.
Another boring machine of the same sort, which was to cut a hole only eight feet in diameter, was tried at the other end. That, too, made a most glorious failure. Its failure was even more brilliant than that of the first machine, for it never succeeded in cutting a single inch of rock.
Different engineers have tried their hands and their skillon the Hoosac Tunnel. In 1854, the legislature of Massachusetts appropriated two millions of dollars to the Troy and Greenfield Railway, and in the following year they were at work in earnest.
CROSSING THE HOOSAC MOUNTAIN.
General Haupt, who became famous in the late war as a bridge-builder, attempted to pierce the Hoosac Mountain; but after several years he abandoned the work, and the whole property of the company was transferred to the State of Massachusetts. When the state took possession it began work on its own account, and in 1868 the legislature appropriated five millions of dollars, and made a contract with Walter and Francis Shanly, of Canada, for the completion of the tunnel. They began work in the following March, and there is very little doubt of their completing the tunnel.
In 1870 I made an excursion up the valley of the Connecticut as far as Greenfield, and there took the railway train to the Hoosac Mountain. At the east side or end of the tunnel I abandoned the cars, and took to a six-horse coach. I managed to obtain a seat near the driver, a burly, moon-faced fellow, who collected fifty cents extra for the privilege of riding near him. He treated everybody on the outside as politely as though he were king of the Cannibal Islands, and we were his subjects. For downright impudence, with a good deal of rudeness to the bushel, I will back an American stage-driver against any other man in the world.
Soon after dinner we drove away from the station, and after the horses had given us a little circus exhibition on their own account, which threatened to overturn us and break half a dozen necks, we climbed slowly up the valley skirting the edge of a forest, whose leaves were tinged with the varying colors of autumn. Our progress up the eastern face of the mountain was slow, but when we came down the western side the case was different. On the upper part of the mountain there is a long and comparatively level stretch of ground, on which there are many fine farms, and a general appearance of prosperity. Approaching the western face of the mountain, we overlooked the flourishing town ofNorth Adams, and a region of country spread out before us like a beautiful panorama. I have looked from mountains in many countries, but rarely have I gazed upon a landscape more beautiful and more attractive than this. It is not grand—awfully grand—in its character, like many other landscapes, but there is an air of beauty about it which makes it charming in the extreme.
The road winds, in a sort of zigzag, down the side of the mountain, and our horses went at a good speed. The coach swung from side to side, and the baby of a feminine passenger screamed as if a dozen pins were being driven an inch or so, into its arms and legs. Down, down, down the mountain we went, and soon we were inside the busy town, and were driven up in front of the Wilson House. There I concluded to remain, and take my point of departure the next day for the tunnel.
On the following morning it was raining, not exactly cats and dogs, but a drizzly, misty, damp—very damp—sort of rain. I did not care very much for rain, though, especially as it made no difference, when once in the tunnel, what the outside weather might be. When breakfast was over, I started for the tunnel under the escort of the proprietor of the hotel.
VISITING THE TUNNEL.
The western portal of the tunnel is two miles south of the village. The road leading to it is among some small hills that appear trying to hug the mountain. Mr. Haupt began his work on this side of the mountain, in a limestone rock, from which he expected to pass directly into the solid primary rock, forming the base of the mountain; but to his surprise and mortification, his hopes were not realized.
DEMORALIZED ROCK.
Instead of reaching the solid rock, he entered into a mass that is known as demoralized rock, a sort of combination of mica, quicksand, water, and everything else that is disagreeable. It was perfectly unmanageable. As fast as they dug it out it flowed in. Imagine a mouse attempting to construct a tunnel through a barrel of swill, and you can form a very good idea of the difficulty of working in this rock. Youmight as well attempt to make a tunnel through a thousand cart-loads of soft mud; in fact, you could get along easier in the mud than in this demoralized rock, because you could take precautions against the flowing in of the mud, which you could not take against this disintegrated mica. It is a sort of soft stuff which French miners denominate “moutarde,” and English miners allude to as “porridge.”
In order to escape this porridge, the engineer tried to make a tunnel farther up the hill-side; but it was of no use. There was the stuff again, and somehow it must be met. Not only was it impossible to prevent its caving in, but it was necessary to prevent its rising upward. Consequently an arch must be made below, as well as above; in fact, it was necessary to construct the brick-work in such a way that it would form, when completed, a perfect cylinder, as the pressure of the porridge would be exerted in all directions. As the work was put forward and completed, a casing of timber was made, and inside this casing of timber the brick arch of the tunnel was built.
EASTERN ENTRANCE.WESTERN ENTRANCE.THE HOOSAC TUNNEL, MASSACHUSETTS.—LENGTH 24,500 FEET. COST ABOUT $15,000,000. FIRST TRAIN OF CARS PASSED THROUGH APRIL 5, 1875.
EASTERN ENTRANCE.
WESTERN ENTRANCE.
WESTERN ENTRANCE.
THE HOOSAC TUNNEL, MASSACHUSETTS.—LENGTH 24,500 FEET. COST ABOUT $15,000,000. FIRST TRAIN OF CARS PASSED THROUGH APRIL 5, 1875.
Our first visit was made to the western portal, into which we penetrated several hundred feet. For about seven hundred feet, the tunnel is laid in brick seven or eight courses thick, and forms a complete arch. Beyond that the rock is quite soft, but sufficiently hard to sustain itself long enough to permit the construction of an arch. When this work is completed there will be some two thousand feet of brick arching.
We thought that in entering this western part of the tunnel, we should get out of the rain; but we found streams of water occasionally coming through the brick-work, and especially through the stone at the heading, where the work of arching was going on. Quite a stream of water ran through the bottom of the tunnel, and I managed, in the course of my walk, to get my feet pretty thoroughly soaked. However, I had been wisely encased in a suit of old clothes, and when I emerged, there was more mud than clothing visible about me.
Climbing out of the western portal, we took the open roadagain, and went to what is known as the western shaft. The work through the demoralized rock and porridge was so slow that the engineers determined to sink a shaft farther up the mountain. It is about half a mile from the portal, and is three hundred and eighteen feet deep.
As soon as the shaft was sunk, the miners turned and worked outwards through the soft rock, cutting a small passage through to the western portal, so as to allow the water to drain off, and thus save the use of the pumps. In the other direction, that is, towards the east, the miners had found the solid rock of the mountain. At the time of my visit they were about half a mile from the bottom of the shaft.
FLOODING A TUNNEL.
Along our road forming the portal to the shaft, there was a small stream of water. My guide explained to me that in the great flood a year before, the water came down, tearing away the embankment which separated the brook from the tunnel. In a few minutes the embankment was all torn away, and the whole force of the stream was poured into the tunnel. An alarm was given as quickly as possible, and by running rapidly, the men who were working in the tunnel escaped, with the exception of one who was doing his first day’s work there, and was probably delayed by his unfamiliarity with the place. In a very short time the water completely filled the tunnel, and it was some weeks before the works were restored to their old condition.
Along this brook and around the west shaft there was quite a village occupied by the miners and their families. The town of North Adams provided a school-house and a school for the children, of whom nearly one hundred received instruction there during the week. For a part of the year the school-house was occupied at different hours, on Sunday, by two Sunday schools, one conducted by some of the Protestant churches, while the other is under the care of the Roman Catholics.
Around the shaft were the usual buildings and shops for the repair of tools, and for the ordinary machinery used about the mine. After a pleasant talk in the office of the superintendent,I was requested to dress in an oil-skin suit and a lantern, preparatory to going below. When all was ready, we went to the shaft, entered a cage, and descended. From the bottom of the shaft we struck out along the tunnel to make our way to the heading.
Our guide explained to us that there would be a blast in, about twenty minutes, and that we must move forward at good speed in order to see it. “Step right out without fear,” said he; “there is no danger of falling through, as the bottom is perfectly solid. You need not mind splashing those boots with water and mud, as they are used to it.”
WALKING UNDER GROUND.
I obeyed his directions and followed him, and I did some very rapid walking. The lanterns gave out just about light enough to make darkness visible. Away in the distance we could see the lights of the miners, and hear the noise made by the machinery and the tools of the workmen. An iron pipe six inches in diameter lay at one side of the floor, and through this was forced the air which furnished the power to the drilling machinery, and at the same time ventilated the tunnel. A channel had been cut in the solid floor to carry off the water which flowed in from various seams in the rock.
A short distance from the foot of the shaft were the stables, containing several mules, which were used for hauling the cars. The mules seemed to look at us with a desponding gaze, as if connecting us in some way with the outside world, which they would never see again.
“Did these animals,” said I, “come down in the cage where we descended?”
“Certainly,” said the assistant superintendent. “How else could they come down? They were sent down in that box, not all together, but only one at a time.”
I endeavored to ascertain how it was possible to pack a live animal into that cage without killing him. The assistant said it was easy enough if you only knew how, and could induce the animal to do as you wanted him to. “They are good mules,” said he, “and with a strong rope you candouble them up any way, though they do not exactly like it. If they live two years longer, they will get out alive, otherwise they will die here. It does not pay to be hoisting live mules out, and lowering other live mules in. When they get here, they stay till we are through with them.”
About half way from the shaft to the heading we passed a couple of surveyors, who were making an alignment of the tunnel, to see that everything was correct. They had the ordinary instruments used for levelling purposes in the open air, but it seemed rather odd to find them using the same instruments by the light of lanterns, and laying out the track far down in the interior of the mountain. Every foot of the work of the tunnel had to be laid out with the utmost care, in order that the ends, when they met, could be made to join perfectly.
SUGGESTION OF A VISITOR.
There was a narrow track along the bottom of the tunnel, where cars drawn by mules, for the removal of the rock to the foot of the shaft, where it could be hoisted out. My guide told me that a recent visitor to the tunnel asked, with apparent innocence, why they hoisted out all that rock, and suggested that it would be much easier to dig a hole in the bottom of the tunnel, and bury it there; but he did not suggest what should be done with the rock which they removed to make the hole. We encountered several of these cars, and at one place were crowded rather closely against the walls.
Originally gunpowder was used for blasting purposes in the tunnel, but later in the work nitro-glycerine was adopted.
Several accidents with explosive materials occurred during the construction of the tunnel, one of the most serious being in 1869. The magazine where the nitro-glycerine was stored for operations on the eastern part of the tunnel, was about a quarter of a mile from the portal. Three of the miners went one morning to prepare the nitro-glycerine for the day’s use, and an explosion occurred, killing them all. Two of them were inside the building at the time, and nothing but a few pieces of them were found; the other, who was outside the building, was so badly disfigured that it was almost impossible to identify him, and the force of the explosion was so great that not a plank or a timber of the building remained.
THE GREAT EXPLOSION.
On the 19th of October, 1867, a terrible accident occurred at this shaft. A depth of nearly six hundred feet had been reached, and thirteen men were at work below. The gasoline apparatus used for lighting the works exploded, and set fire to the buildings. The engineer was badly burned, and driven from his post, and the men perished by suffocation. The shaft was soon filled with water, but it was not until next day that the fire was extinguished so that anybody could descend. A workman named Mallory was lowered, with three lanterns attached to him. Near the bottom two of his lanterns went out, and at a signal he was drawn up nearly insensible from breathing the foul air. He said there were fifteen feet of water in the shaft, and no signs of the men. It was necessary to erect buildings and machinery to clear the shaft, and it was not until a year after that the water was pumped out, and the bodies of the victims were recovered. They were all in a good state of preservation, but crumbled to pieces soon after exposure to the air.
WORK AT THE HEADING IN HOOSAC TUNNEL.
WORK AT THE HEADING IN HOOSAC TUNNEL.
As we neared the heading the noise increased. The shouts of the miners and the sound of the drilling machines overpowered any ordinary tones of the voice. The drilling machine was an iron frame, resting upon trucks, and was pushed as near as possible to the face of the rock. The drills were fastened to it in such a way that they could be turned upon any designated point. They were operated by compressed air, and worked with great rapidity, striking as many as three hundred blows to the minute. The quality of the rock was generally so hard that the drills became dull and blunt in a short time, and required to be sharpened; but they worked much more expeditiously than hand drills. Under the ordinary process of hand drilling it would take six weeks to accomplish the distance made in a single week by them.
When the drill-holes had been sunk to the required depth, the machine was moved back, and some plank doors were closed in front of it to prevent injury by the flying fragments of rock. Just as we reached the end of the heading the noise ceased, and the machine was drawn back, preparatory to blasting. The holes were cleared, and then three men came forward with thecharges of nitro-glycerine in long tin tubes. These were put in the holes, the wires were fastened in their places, and then the men moved back; it is hardly necessary to say that I moved back at the same time, and quite as far as the workmen. Everything being ready, the signal was given.
“Look out that you are not blown down!” said my guide.
I did look out. There came a sound and a quick explosion, followed by the rumbling and crashing of the rock, and then a rush of air and smoke that almost threw me over.
The pressure of the air in the iron pipe for working the drills and ventilating the tunnel was about six atmospheres, or ninety pounds to the square inch. As soon as the blast was made, the air was turned on; the smoke from the blast was driven back, and the miners found themselves in a clear atmosphere.
After this blast it was intimated that there was nothing more to see, and we made our way out of the tunnel into the open air again, and back to the Wilson House.
On December 12th, 1872, the east heading was connected with the one driven east from the central shaft. The west heading was connected with the one driven west from the shaft on the 27th of November, 1873. This proved a splendid engineering feat.
The road bed was finished and the track laid early in 1875, and the first freight train passed through on the 5th of April of that year. The first passenger train was run through, July 8th, 1875.
ACCIDENT AT THE CENTRAL SHAFT.
Owing to the explosive action of nitro-glycerine the rock was broken for some distance beyond the limits planned in constructing the sides and arch of the tunnel, and there was constant danger of pieces of rock falling upon the track. The plan of arching it with brick was conceived of, and a contract was made in 1874, to do the arching and also to enlarge a portion of the tunnel at the eastern terminus. This work was completed, and the road is now in complete running order.
The cost of the work in the aggregate is nearly $15,000,000. The construction of the tunnel opens direct communication between Boston and Troy, and is of inestimable advantage to Massachusetts from a commercial point of view.