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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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