In which Phileas Fogg and party
travel by the Pacific railroad
"From ocean to ocean"--so say
the Americans; and these four
words compose the general designation
of the "great trunk line" which
crosses the entire width of the
United States. The Pacific Railroad
is, however, really divided into
two distinct lines: the Central
Pacific, between San Francisco
and Ogden, and the Union Pacific,
between Ogden and Omaha. Five
main lines connect Omaha with
New York.
New York and San Francisco
are thus united by an uninterrupted
metal ribbon, which measures
no less than three thousand seven
hundred and eighty-six miles.
Between Omaha and the Pacific
the railway crosses a territory
which is still infested by Indians
and wild beasts, and a large
tract which the Mormons, after
they were driven from Illinois
in 1845, began to colonise.
The journey from New York to
San Francisco consumed, formerly,
under the most favourable conditions,
at least six months. It is now
accomplished in seven days.
It was in 1862 that, in spite
of the Southern Members of Congress,
who wished a more southerly route,
it was decided to lay the road
between the forty-first and forty-second
parallels. President Lincoln
himself fixed the end of the
line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The
work was at once commenced, and
pursued with true American energy;
nor did the rapidity with which
it went on injuriously affect
its good execution. The road
grew, on the prairies, a mile
and a half a day. A locomotive,
running on the rails laid down
the evening before, brought the
rails to be laid on the morrow,
and advanced upon them as fast
as they were put in position.
The Pacific Railroad is joined
by several branches in Iowa,
Kansas, Colorado, and Oregon.
On leaving Omaha, it passes along
the left bank of the Platte River
as far as the junction of its
northern branch, follows its
southern branch, crosses the
Laramie territory and the Wahsatch
Mountains, turns the Great Salt
Lake, and reaches Salt Lake City,
the Mormon capital, plunges into
the Tuilla Valley, across the
American Desert, Cedar and Humboldt
Mountains, the Sierra Nevada,
and descends, via Sacramento,
to the Pacific--its grade, even
on the Rocky Mountains, never
exceeding one hundred and twelve
feet to the mile.
Such was the road to be traversed
in seven days, which would enable
Phileas Fogg--at least, so he
hoped--to take the Atlantic steamer
at New York on the 11th for Liverpool.
The car which he occupied was
a sort of long omnibus on eight
wheels, and with no compartments
in the interior. It was supplied
with two rows of seats, perpendicular
to the direction of the train
on either side of an aisle which
conducted to the front and rear
platforms. These platforms were
found throughout the train, and
the passengers were able to pass
from one end of the train to
the other. It was supplied with
saloon cars, balcony cars, restaurants,
and smoking-cars; theatre cars
alone were wanting, and they
will have these some day.
Book and news dealers, sellers
of edibles, drinkables, and cigars,
who seemed to have plenty of
customers, were continually circulating
in the aisles.
The train left Oakland station
at six o'clock. It was already
night, cold and cheerless, the
heavens being overcast with clouds
which seemed to threaten snow.
The train did not proceed rapidly;
counting the stoppages, it did
not run more than twenty miles
an hour, which was a sufficient
speed, however, to enable it
to reach Omaha within its designated
time.
There was but little conversation
in the car, and soon many of
the passengers were overcome
with sleep. Passepartout found
himself beside the detective;
but he did not talk to him. After
recent events, their relations
with each other had grown somewhat
cold; there could no longer be
mutual sympathy or intimacy between
them. Fix's manner had not changed;
but Passepartout was very reserved,
and ready to strangle his former
friend on the slightest provocation.
Snow began to fall an hour
after they started, a fine snow,
however, which happily could
not obstruct the train; nothing
could be seen from the windows
but a vast, white sheet, against
which the smoke of the locomotive
had a greyish aspect.
At eight o'clock a steward
entered the car and announced
that the time for going to bed
had arrived; and in a few minutes
the car was transformed into
a dormitory. The backs of the
seats were thrown back, bedsteads
carefully packed were rolled
out by an ingenious system, berths
were suddenly improvised, and
each traveller had soon at his
disposition a comfortable bed,
protected from curious eyes by
thick curtains. The sheets were
clean and the pillows soft. It
only remained to go to bed and
sleep which everybody did-- while
the train sped on across the
State of California.
The country between San Francisco
and Sacramento is not very hilly.
The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento
for its starting-point, extends
eastward to meet the road from
Omaha. The line from San Francisco
to Sacramento runs in a north-easterly
direction, along the American
River, which empties into San
Pablo Bay. The one hundred and
twenty miles between these cities
were accomplished in six hours,
and towards midnight, while fast
asleep, the travellers passed
through Sacramento; so that they
saw nothing of that important
place, the seat of the State
government, with its fine quays,
its broad streets, its noble
hotels, squares, and churches.
The train, on leaving Sacramento,
and passing the junction, Roclin,
Auburn, and Colfax, entered the
range of the Sierra Nevada. 'Cisco
was reached at seven in the morning;
and an hour later the dormitory
was transformed into an ordinary
car, and the travellers could
observe the picturesque beauties
of the mountain region through
which they were steaming. The
railway track wound in and out
among the passes, now approaching
the mountain-sides, now suspended
over precipices, avoiding abrupt
angles by bold curves, plunging
into narrow defiles, which seemed
to have no outlet. The locomotive,
its great funnel emitting a weird
light, with its sharp bell, and
its cow-catcher extended like
a spur, mingled its shrieks and
bellowings with the noise of
torrents and cascades, and twined
its smoke among the branches
of the gigantic pines.
There were few or no bridges
or tunnels on the route. The
railway turned around the sides
of the mountains, and did not
attempt to violate nature by
taking the shortest cut from
one point to another.
The train entered the State
of Nevada through the Carson
Valley about nine o'clock, going
always northeasterly; and at
midday reached Reno, where there
was a delay of twenty minutes
for breakfast.
From this point the road, running
along Humboldt River, passed
northward for several miles by
its banks; then it turned eastward,
and kept by the river until it
reached the Humboldt Range, nearly
at the extreme eastern limit
of Nevada.
Having breakfasted, Mr. Fogg
and his companions resumed their
places in the car, and observed
the varied landscape which unfolded
itself as they passed along the
vast prairies, the mountains
lining the horizon, and the creeks,
with their frothy, foaming streams.
Sometimes a great herd of buffaloes,
massing together in the distance,
seemed like a moveable dam. These
innumerable multitudes of ruminating
beasts often form an insurmountable
obstacle to the passage of the
trains; thousands of them have
been seen passing over the track
for hours together, in compact
ranks. The locomotive is then
forced to stop and wait till
the road is once more clear.
This happened, indeed, to the
train in which Mr. Fogg was travelling.
About twelve o'clock a troop
of ten or twelve thousand head
of buffalo encumbered the track.
The locomotive, slackening its
speed, tried to clear the way
with its cow-catcher; but the
mass of animals was too great.
The buffaloes marched along with
a tranquil gait, uttering now
and then deafening bellowings.
There was no use of interrupting
them, for, having taken a particular
direction, nothing can moderate
and change their course; it is
a torrent of living flesh which
no dam could contain.
The travellers gazed on this
curious spectacle from the platforms;
but Phileas Fogg, who had the
most reason of all to be in a
hurry, remained in his seat,
and waited philosophically until
it should please the buffaloes
to get out of the way.
Passepartout was furious at
the delay they occasioned, and
longed to discharge his arsenal
of revolvers upon them.
"What a country!" cried he. "Mere
cattle stop the trains, and go
by in a procession, just as if
they were not impeding travel!
Parbleu! I should like to know
if Mr. Fogg foresaw this mishap
in his programme! And here's
an engineer who doesn't dare
to run the locomotive into this
herd of beasts!"
The engineer did not try to
overcome the obstacle, and he
was wise. He would have crushed
the first buffaloes, no doubt,
with the cow-catcher; but the
locomotive, however powerful,
would soon have been checked,
the train would inevitably have
been thrown off the track, and
would then have been helpless.
The best course was to wait
patiently, and regain the lost
time by greater speed when the
obstacle was removed. The procession
of buffaloes lasted three full
hours, and it was night before
the track was clear. The last
ranks of the herd were now passing
over the rails, while the first
had already disappeared below
the southern horizon.
It was eight o'clock when the
train passed through the defiles
of the Humboldt Range, and half-past
nine when it penetrated Utah,
the region of the Great Salt
Lake, the singular colony of
the Mormons.
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