by Jules Verne
Chapter 26
In Which Phileas Fogg and Party Travel by the Pacific Railroad
"From ocean to ocean"--so say the Americans; and these fourwords compose the general designation of the "great trunk line"which crosses the entire width of the United States. The PacificRailroad is, however, really divided into two distinct lines: theCentral Pacific, between San Francisco and Ogden, and the UnionPacific, between Ogden and Omaha. Five main lines connect Omahawith New York.
New York and San Francisco are thus united by an uninterruptedmetal ribbon, which measures no less than three thousand sevenhundred and eighty-six miles. Between Omaha and the Pacific therailway crosses a territory which is still infested by Indiansand wild beasts, and a large tract which the Mormons, after theywere driven from Illinois in 1845, began to colonize.
The journey from New York to San Francisco took, formerly, underthe most favorable conditions, at least six months. It is nowaccomplished in seven days. In 1862, in spite of the SouthernMembers of Congress, who wished a more southerly route, it wasdecided to lay the road between the forty-first and forty-secondparallels. President Lincoln himself fixed the end of the line atOmaha, in Nebraska. The work was started at once and pursued withtrue American energy. The rapidity with which it went on did notinjuriously affect its good execution. The road grew, on theprairies, a mile and a half a day. A locomotive, running on therails laid down the evening before, brought the rails to be laidthe next day, and advanced upon them as fast as they were put inposition.
The Pacific Railroad is joined by several branches in Iowa,Kansas, Colorado and Oregon. On leaving Omaha, it passes alongthe left bank of the Platte Rivet as far as the junction of itsnorthern branch, follows its southern branch, crosses the Laramieterritory and the Wahsatch Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake,and reaches Salt Lake City, the Mormon capital, plunges into theTuilla Valley, across the American Desert, Cedar and HumboldtMountains, the Sierra Nevada, and descends, via Sacramento, tothe Pacific--its grade, even on the Rocky Mountains, neverexceeding one hundred and twelve feet to the mile.
Such was the road to be traveled in seven days. It would enablePhileas Fogg--at least, so he hoped--to take the Atlanticsteamer at New York on the 11th for Liverpool.
The car which he occupied was a sort of long omnibus on eightwheels, with no compartments in the interior. It was suppliedwith two rows of seats, perpendicular to the direction of thetrain on either side of an aisle which led to the front and rearplatforms. These platforms were found throughout the train, andthe passengers were able to pass from one end of the train to theother. It was supplied with saloon cars, balcony cars,restaurants and smoking-cars. Theatre cars alone were missing,and they will have these some day.
Book and news dealers, sellers of edibles, beverages and cigars,who seemed to have plenty of customers, were continuallycirculating in the aisles.
The train left Oakland station at six o'clock. It was alreadynight, cold and cheerless, the heavens being overcast with cloudswhich seemed to threaten snow. The train did not proceed rapidly.Counting the stops, it did not run more than twenty miles anhour, which was a sufficient speed, however, to enable it toreach Omaha within its designated time.
There was but little conversation in the car, and soon many ofthe passengers were asleep. Passepartout found himself beside thedetective, but he did not talk to him. After recent events, theirrelations with each other had grown somewhat cold. There could nolonger be mutual sympathy or intimacy between them. Fix's mannerhad not changed; but Passepartout was very reserved, and ready tostrangle his former friend on the slightest provocation.
Snow began to fall an hour after they started, a fine snow,however, which happily did not deter the train. Nothing could beseen from the windows but a vast, white sheet, against which thesmoke of the locomotive had a greyish aspect.
At eight o'clock a steward entered the car and announced thatbedtime had arrived. In a few minutes the car was transformedinto a dormitory. The backs of the seats were thrown back,bedsteads carefully packed were rolled out by an ingenioussystem, berths were suddenly improvised, and each traveler soonhad at his disposition a comfortable bed, protected from curiouseyes by thick curtains. The sheets were clean and the pillowssoft. It only remained to go to bed and sleep--which everybodydid--while the train sped on across the State of California.
The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not veryhilly. The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its startingpoint, extends eastward to meet the road from Omaha. The linefrom San Francisco to Sacramento runs in a northeasterlydirection, along the American River, which empties into San PabloBay. The one hundred and twenty miles between these cities wereaccomplished in six hours. Towards midnight, while fast asleep,the travelers passed through Sacramento; so that they saw nothingof that important place, the seat of the state government, withits fine quays, its broad streets, its noble hotels, squares andchurches.
The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction,Roclin, Auburn and Colfax, entered the range of the SierraNevada. 'Cisco was reached at seven in the morning; and an hourlater the dormitory was transformed into an ordinary car, and thetravelers could observe the picturesque beauties of the mountainregion through which they were steaming. The railway track woundin and out among the passes, now approaching the mountainsides,now suspended over precipices, avoiding abrupt angles by boldcurves, plunging into narrow defiles, which seemed to have nooutlet. The locomotive, its great funnel emitting a weird light,with its sharp bell, and its cowcatcher extended like a spur,mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents andcascades, and twined its smoke among the branches of the giganticpines.
There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route. Therailway turned around the sides of the mountains, and did notattempt to violate nature by taking the shortest cut from onepoint to another.
The train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valleyabout nine o'clock, going always northeasterly. At midday itreached Reno where there was a delay of twenty minutes forbreakfast.
From this point the road, running along Humboldt River, passednorthward for several miles by its banks. Then it turnedeastward, and kept by the river until it reached the HumboldtRange, nearly at the extreme eastern limit of Nevada.
After breakfast, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their placesin the car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded asthey passed along: the vast prairies, the mountains lining thehorizon, and the creeks, with their frothy, foaming streams.Sometimes a great herd of buffaloes, massing together in thedistance, seemed like a movable dam. These innumerablemultitudes of beasts often form an insurmountable obstacle to thepassage of the trains. Thousands of them have been seen passingover the track for hours in compact ranks. The locomotive is thenforced to stop and wait till the road is once more clear.
This happened to the train in which Mr. Fogg was traveling. Abouttwelve o'clock a troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalocovered the track. The locomotive, slackening its speed, tried toclear the way with its cowcatcher; but the mass of animals wastoo great. The buffaloes marched along with a tranquil gait,uttering now and then deafening bellowings. There was no use ofinterrupting them, for, having taken a particular direction,nothing can moderate and change their course. It is a torrent ofliving flesh which no dam could contain.
The travelers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms.But Phileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be in ahurry, remained in his seat, and waited philosophically until itshould please the buffaloes to get out of the way.
Passepartout was furious at the delay, and longed to dischargehis arsenal of revolvers upon them.
"What a country!" he cried. "Mere cattle stop the trains, and goby in a procession, just as if they were not impeding travel!Parbleu! I should like to know if Mr. Fogg foresaw this mishap inhis program! And here's an engineer who doesn't dare to run thelocomotive into this herd of beasts!"
The engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle, and he
waswise. He would have crushed the first buffaloes, no doubt, withthe cowcatcher; but the locomotive, however powerful, would soonhave been checked, the train would inevitably have been thrownoff the track, and would then have been helpless.
The best course was to wait patiently, and regain the lost timeby greater speed when the obstacle was removed. The procession ofbuffaloes lasted three full hours, and it was night before thetrack was clear. The last ranks of the herd were now passing overthe rails, while the first had already disappeared below thesouthern horizon.
It was eight o'clock when the train passed through the defiles ofthe Humboldt Range, and half-past nine when it penetrated Utah,the region of the Great Salt Lake, the singular colony of theMormons.