"Well, it's settled, then," Fowler said, also smiling. Pierce saw that he was looking at the girl with interest. "But would you like to come with me? My compartment is just a short way forward." He pointed up the line of first-cla.s.s coaches.

Pierce, of course, intended to sit in the last compartment of the final first-cla.s.s coach. From there, he would have the shortest distance to travel, over the tops of the cars, to reach the luggage van at the rear.

"Actually," Pierce said, "I've my own compartment down there." He pointed toward the back of the train. "My bags are already there, and I've paid the porter, and so on."

"My dear Edward," Fowler said, "How did you get yourself way back there? The choice compartments are all toward the front, where the noise is minified. Come along: I a.s.sure you, you'll find a forward compartment more to your liking, and particularly if Miss Lawson feels poorly...." He shrugged as if to suggest the conclusion was obvious.

"Nothing would delight me more," Pierce said, "but in truth I have selected my compartment on the advice of my physician, after experiencing certain distress on railway journeys. This he has attributed to the effects of vibrations originating in the engine, and therefore he's warned me to sit as far back from the source as possible." Pierce gave a short laugh. "He said, in fact, that I should sit second cla.s.s, but I cannot bring myself to it."

"And little wonder," Fowler said. "There is a limit to healthy living, though you cannot expect a physician to know it. My own once advised me to quit wine--- can you imagine the temerity ? Very well, then, we shall all ride in your compartment.

Pierce said, "Perhaps Miss Lawson feels, as you do, that a forward carriage would be preferable."

Before the girl could speak, Fowler said, "What? And steal her away from you, leaving you solitary upon the journey? I would not think of it. Come, come, the train will soon leave. Where is your compartment?"

They walked the length of the train to Pierces compartment. Fowler was in unshakable good spirits, and chattered at length about physicians and their foibles. They stepped into Pierce's compartment and closed the door. Pierce glanced at his watch: it was six minutes to eight. The train did not always leave precisely on schedule, but even so, time was short.

Pierce had to get rid of Fowler. He could not climb out of his compartment onto the roof of the train if there were any strangers--- and certainly anyone from the bank--- in his compartment. But at the same time, he had to get rid of Fowler in such a way that no suspicion would be aroused; for in the aftermath of the robbery Mr. Fowler would search his memory--- and probably be questioned by the authorities--- to uncover the least hint of irregularity that might explain who the robbers were.

Mr. Fowler was still talking, but his focus was directed toward the girl, who gave every appearance of rapt and fascinated attention. "It's the most extraordinary luck, running across Edward today. Do you travel this route often, Edward? I myself do it no more than once a month. And you, Miss Lawson?"

"I been on a train before," the girl said, "but I never gone first cla.s.s; only my mistress, this time she buys me a first ticket, seeing as how, you know..."

"Oh, quite, quite," Fowler said, in a hearty, chin-up manner. "One must do all one can for one in times of stress. I must confess, I am under no little stress myself this morning. Now, Edward here, he may have guessed the reason for my travel, and therefore my stress. Eh, Edward? Have you a guess?"

Pierce had not been listening. He was staring out the window, considering how to get rid of Fowler in the remaining few minutes. He looked over at Fowler. "Do you think your bags are safe?" he said.

"My bags? Bags? What--- Oh, in my compartment? I have no bags, Edward. I carry not so much as a ease of briefs, for once in Folkestone, I shall remain there just two hours, hardly the s.p.a.ce of time to take a meal, or some refreshments, or smoke a cigar, before I am back on the train, homeward bound."

Smoke a cigar, Pierce thought. Of course. He reached into his coat pocket, and withdrew a long cigar, which he lit.

"Now, then, dear girl," Fowler said, "our friend Edward here shall surely have surmised the purpose of my journey, but I fancy you are still in the dark."

The girl was, in fact, staring at Mr. Fowler with her mouth slightly open.

"The truth is that this is no ordinary train, and I am no ordinary pa.s.senger. On the contrary, I am the general manager of the banking firm of Huddleston & Bradford, Westminster, and today, aboard this very train--- not two hundred paces from us as we sit here--- my firm has stored a quant.i.ty of gold bullion for shipment overseas to our brave troops. Can you imagine how much? No? Well, then--- it is a quant.i.ty in excess of twelve thousand pounds, my dear child."

"Cor!" the girl exclaimed. "And you're in charge of all that?"

"I am indeed." Henry Fowler was looking plainly self-satisfied, and with reason. He had obviously overwhelmed the simple girl with his words, and she now regarded him with dizzy admiration. And perhaps more? She appeared to have entirely forgotten Pierce.

That is, until Pierce's cigar smoke billowed in gray clouds within the compartment. Now the girl coughed in a delicate, suggestive fashion, as she had no doubt observed her mistress to do. Pierce, staring out the window, did not seem to notice.

The girl coughed again, more insistently. When Pierce still made no response, Fowler took it upon himself to speak. "Are you feeling well?" he inquired.

"I was, but I'm faint...." The girl made a vague gesture toward the smoke.

"Edward," Fowler said. "I believe your tobacco causes Miss Lawson some distress, Edward."

Pierce looked at him and said, "What?"

"I say, would you mind---" Fowler began.

The girl bent forward and said, "I feel quite faint, I fear, please," and she extended a hand toward the door, as if to open it.

"Just look, now," Fowler said to Pierce. Fowler opened the door and helped the girl--- who leaned rather heavily upon his arm--- into the fresh air.

"I had no idea," Pierce protested. "Believe me, had I but known---"

"You might have inquired before lighting your diabolical contraption," Fowler said, with the girl leaning against him, weak-kneed, so that much of her bosom pressed against his chest.

"I'm most dreadfully sorry," Pierce said. He started to get out himself, to lend a.s.sistance.

The last thing Fowler wanted was a.s.sistance. "You shouldn't smoke anyway, if your doctor has warned you that trains are hazardous to your health," he snapped. "Come, my dear," he said to the girl, "my compartment is just this way, and we can continue our conversation with no danger of noxious fumes." The girl went willingly.

"Dreadfully sorry," Pierce said again, but neither of them looked back.

A moment later, the whistle blew and the engine began to chug. Pierce stepped into his compartment, shut the door, and watched London Bridge Station slide away past his window as the morning train to Folkestone began to gather speed.

PART FOUR :

THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY : May, 1855

Chapter 42.

A Remarkable Revival

Burgess, locked in the windowless luggage van, knew by now the location of the train at any moment by the sound of the track. He heard first the smooth clacking of the wheels on the well-laid rails of the yard. Then, later, the hollow, more resonant tones as the train crossed Bermondsey on the elevated overpa.s.s for several miles, and, still later, a transition to a deader sound and a rougher ride, signaling the beginning of the southward run outside London and into the countryside.

Burgess had no inkling of Pierce's plan, and he was astonished when the coffin bell began to ring. He attributed it to the vibration and sway of the train, but a few moments later there was a pounding, and then a m.u.f.fled voice. Unable to make out the words, he approached the coffin.

"Open up, d.a.m.n you," the voice said.

"Are you alive?" Burgess asked, in tones of wonderment.

"It's Agar, you d.a.m.nable flat," came the answer.

Burgess hastily began to throw the catches on the coffin lid. Soon after, Agar--- covered in a dreadful green paste, smelling horrible, but acting in normal enough fashion--- got out of the coffin and said, "I must be quick. Get me those satchels there." He pointed to the five leather valises stacked in a corner of the van.

Burgess hurried to do so. "But the van is locked," It said. "How will it be opened?"

"Our friend," Agar said, "is a mountaineer."

Agar opened the safes and removed the first of the strongboxes, breaking the seal and taking out the dull gold bars of bullion--- each stamped with a royal crown and the initials "H & B." He replaced them with small bags of sewn shot, which he took from the valises.

Burgess watched in silence. The train was now rumbling almost due south, past the Crystal Palace, toward Croyden and Redhill. From there it would go east to Folkestone.

"A mountaineer?" Burgess said finally.

"Yes," Agar said. "He's coming over the tops of the train to unlock us."

"When?" Burgess said, frowning.

"After Redhill, returning to his coach before Ashford. It's all open country there. Almost no chance of being seen." Agar did not glance up from his work.

"Redhill to Ashford? But that's the fastest part of the run."

"Aye, I suppose," Agar said.

"Well, then," Burgess said, "your friend is mad."

Chapter 43.

The Origin of Audacity

At one point in the trial of Pierce, the prosecutor lapsed into a moment of frank admiration. "Then it is not true," said the prosecutor, "that you had any experience of the recreation of mountaineering?"

"None," Pierce said. "I merely said that to rea.s.sure Agar."

"You had not met Mr. Coolidge, nor read extensively on the subject, nor owned any of the particular devices and apparatus considered vital to that activity of mountaineering?"

"No," Pierce said.

"Had you, perhaps, some past experiences of athletic or physical endeavor which persuaded you of your ability to carry out your intended plan?"

"None," Pierce said.

"Well, then," said the prosecutor, "I must inquire, if only for reasons of ordinary human curiosity, what on earth, sir, led you to suppose that without prior training, or knowledge, or special equipment, or athletic prowess--- what on earth led you to believe you might succeed in such a palpably dangerous and, may I say, nearly suicidal undertaking as clambering about on a swift-moving railway train? Wherever did you find the audacity for such an act?"

Journalistic accounts mention that at this point the witness smiled. "I knew it would be no difficulty," he said, "despite the appearance of danger, for I had on several occasions read in the press of those incidents which are called railway sway, and I had similarly read of the explanation, offered by engineers, that the forces are caused by the nature of swiftly moving air as shown in the studies of the late Italian, Baroni. Thus, I was a.s.sured that these forces would operate to hold my person to the surface of the coach, and I should be utterly safe in my undertaking."

At this point, the prosecutor asked for further elucidation, which Pierce gave in garbled form. The summary of this portion of the trial, as reported in the Times, was garbled still further. The general idea was that Pierce--- by now almost revered in the press as a master criminal--- possessed some knowledge of a scientific principle that had aided him.

The truth is that Pierce, rather proud of his erudition, undertook his climb over the cars with a sense of confidence that was completely unfounded. Briefly, the situation was this: Beginning around 1848, when railway trains began to attain speeds of fifty or even seventy miles an hour, a bizarre and inexplicable new phenomenon was noted. Whenever a fast-moving train pa.s.sed a train standing at a station, the carriages of both trains had a tendency to be drawn together in what was called "railway sway." In some cases the carriages heeled over in such a p.r.o.nounced fashion that pa.s.sengers were alarmed, and indeed there was sometimes minor damage to coaches.

Railway engineers; after a period of technical chatter, finally admitted their perplexity outright. No one had the slightest idea why "railway sway" occurred, or what to do to correct it. One must remember that trains were then the fastest-moving objects in human history, and the behavior of such swift vehicles was suspected to be governed by some set of physical laws as yet undiscovered. The confusion was precisely that of airplane engineers a century later, when the "buffeting" phenomenon of an aircraft approaching the speed of sound was similarly inexplicable, and the means to overcome it could only be guessed at.

However, by 1851 most engineers had decided correctly that railway sway was an example of Bernoulli's Law, a formulation of a Swiss mathematician of the previous century which stated, in effect, that the pressure within a moving stream of air is less than the pressure of the air surrounding it.

This meant that two moving trains, if they were close enough, would be sucked together by the partial vacuum of air between them. The solution to the problem was simple, and soon adopted: the parallel tracks were set farther apart, and railway sway disappeared.

In modern times, Bernoulli's Law explains such diverse phenomena as why a baseball curves, why a sailboat can sail into the wind, and why an airplane wing lifts the aircraft. But then, as now, most people did not really understand these events in terms of physics: most jet-age travelers would probably be surprised to learn that a jet flies because it is literally sucked upward into the air by a partial vacuum over the wings' upper surface, and the sole purpose of the engines is to propel the wings forward fast enough to create a stream of pa.s.sing air that produces this necessary vacuum.

Futhermore, a physicist would dispute even this explanation as not really correct, and would insist that a rigorous explanation of events is even further from the public's "common sense" idea about these phenomena.

In the face of this complexity, one can readily understand Pierces own confusion, and the erroneous conclusion. he drew. Apparently he believed that the airstream around the moving carriage, as described by "Baroni," would act to suck him down to the carriage roof, and thus help him to maintain his footing as he moved from car to car.

The truth is that Bernoulli's Law would not operate in any way on his body. He would simply be a man exposed to a fifty-mile-an-hour blast of rushing air, which could blow him off the train at any moment, and it was absurd for him to attempt what he did at all.

Nor was this the extent of his misinformation. The very fact that high-speed travel was so new left Pierce, along with his contemporaries, with very little sense of the consequences of being thrown from a fast-moving vehicle.

Pierce had seen Spring Heel Jack dead after being thrown from the train. But he had regarded this with no sense of inevitability, as the outcome of some inexorable physical laws. At this time, There was only a vague notion that to be thrown from a speeding train was hazardous, and somewhat more hazardous if the train was moving rapidly. But the nature of the hazard was thought to lie in the precise manner of a person's fall: a lucky man could pick himself up with a few sc.r.a.pes, while an unlucky man would break his neck on impact. In short, a fall from a train was regarded pretty much like a fall from a horse: some were worse than others, and that was that.

Indeed, during the early history of railroads, there had been a sort of daredevil's sport called "carriage-hopping," favored by the kind of young men who later scaled public buildings and engaged in other madcap escapades. University students were particularly p.r.o.ne to these amus.e.m.e.nts.

Carriage-hopping consisted of leaping from a moving railway carriage to the ground. Although government officials condemned the practice and railway officials flatly forbade it, carriage-hopping enjoyed a brief vogue from 1830 to 1835. Most hoppers suffered nothing more serious than a few bruises, or at worst a broken bone. The fad eventually lost popularity, but the memory of it bolstered the public belief that a fall from a train was not necessarily lethal."

In fact, during the 1830s, most trains averaged twenty-five miles an hour. But by 1850, when the speed of trains had doubled, the consequences of a fall were quite different, and out of all proportion to a fall at slower speeds. Yet this was not understood, as Pierce's testimony indicates.

The prosecutor asked: "Did you take any manner of precaution against the danger of a fall?"

"I did," Pierce said, "and they caused me no little discomfort. Beneath my ordinary external garb, I wore two pairs of heavy cotton undergarments, which had the effect of making me unpleasantly heated, yet I felt these protective measures necessary."

Thus, wholly unprepared and entirely miscalculating the effects of the physical princ.i.p.als involved, Edward Pierce slung a coil of rope over his shoulder, opened the compartment door, and clambered up onto the roof of the moving carriage. His only true protection--- and the source of his audacity--- lay in his complete misunderstanding of the danger he faced.

The wind struck him like an enormous fist, screaming about his ears, stinging his eyes, filling his mouth and tugging at his cheeks, burning his skin. He had not removed his long frock coat, and the garment now flapped about him, whipping his legs "so fiercely that it was painful."

For a few moments, he was totally disoriented by the unexpected fury of the shrieking air that pa.s.sed him; he crouched, clutching the wooden surface of the coach, and paused to get his bearings. He found he could hardly look forward at all, because of the streaking particles of soot blown back from the engine. Indeed, he was rapidly covered with fine black film on his hands and face and clothing. Beneath him, the coach rocked and jolted in an alarming and unpredictable fashion.

He very nearly abandoned his intent in those first moments, but after the initial shock had pa.s.sed he determined to go forward with his plan. Crawling on his hands and knees, he moved backward to the end of the coach, and paused at the s.p.a.ce over the coupling that separated his carriage from the next. This was a gap of some five feet. Some moments pa.s.sed before he gathered the nerve to jump to the next car, but he did so successfully.

From there he crawled painfully down the length of the car. His frock coat was blown forward, covering his face and shoulders and flapping around his eyes. After some moments of struggle with the garment, he shucked it off and saw it sail away, spun twisting in the air, and eventually fall by the roadside. The whirling coat looked enough like a human form to give him pause; it seemed a kind of warning of the fate that awaited him if he made the slightest error.

Freed of the coat, he was able to make more rapid progress down the second-cla.s.s coaches; he jumped from one to the next with increasing a.s.surance, and eventually reached the luggage van after a period of time he could not estimate. It seemed an eternity, but he later concluded it had not required more than five or ten minutes.

Once atop the van, he gripped an open slapper, and uncoiled his length of hemp. One end was dropped down the slapper, and after a moment he felt a tug as Agar, inside the van, picked it up.

Pierce turned and moved to the second slapper. He waited there, his body curled tight against the constant, unyielding blast of the wind, and then a ghastly green hand--- Agar's--- reached out, holding the end of the rope. Pierce took it; Agar's hand disappeared from view.

Pierce now had his rope slung from one slapper to the next. He tied the loose ends about his belt, and then, hanging on the ropes, eased himself over the side of the van until he was level with the padlock.