d, as we went down
the track like a thunderbolt, but fortunately we held to the rails.
There was scarcely a word spoken in the caboose, every one being intent
upon holding on and thinking of the horrible scene we were soon to view.
When we reached Truxton we found the track walker there, and after
hearing his story in brief, we pulled out for the bridge. Our ride from
Truxton over to the wreck was frightful. It was still raining torrents,
the wind was coming up again, lightning flashed, thunder rolled and the
track was so soft in some places that it seemed as if we would topple
over; but we finally reached there--and then what a scene to behold!

The bridge, a long wooden trestle, was completely gone, nothing being
left but twisted iron and a few broken stringers hanging in the air.
Four mail clerks, the express messenger, and the baggage man were
drowned like rats in a trap. Poor Ben Roberts had hung to his post like
the hero, that he was, and was lost. Sampson, the conductor, and Carter,
the fireman, were both missing, and in the forward coach, which was not
entirely submerged, having fallen on one end of the baggage car, were
many passengers, a number of whom were killed, and the rest all more or
less injured.

The river was not very wide, and I had the headlight taken off of our
engine and placed on the bank; and presently a wrecker came up from the
south, and her headlight was similarly placed, casting a ghastly weird,
white light over the scene of suffering and desolation. I cut in a
wrecking office, Truxton took off his ground, I put on mine, and Mr.
Antwerp was soon in possession of all the facts. A little later I was
standing up to my knees in mud and water, and I heard a weak voice say:
"Mr. Bates, for God's sake let me speak to you a minute."

I looked around and beheld the most woebegone, bedraggled specimen of
humanity I had ever seen in my life. "Well, who under the sun are you?"
I asked.

"I'm Carter, the fireman of No. 21. When I felt the bridge going I
jumped. I was half stunned, but managed to keep afloat, being carried
rapidly down the stream. I struck the bank about a mile and a half below
here, and I've had one almighty big struggle to get back. For the love
of the Virgin give me a drink; I'm half dead;" and with that the poor
fellow fell over senseless.

I called one of the doctors and had him taken to the caboose of the
wrecker, and when I had time I went in and heard the rest of his story.