The Signal Man by Charles Dickens Hollo Bollo the when he heard a voice thus
calling to him, he was standing at the door of his box, with
a flag in his hand, furled round its short pole. One would have
thought, considering the nature of the ground, that he could not have doubted
from what quarter the voice came. But instead of looking up to where I
stood at the top of the steep cutting nearly over his head, he turned
himself about and looked down the line. There was something remarkable in his manner
of doing so, though I could not have said for the life of me
what, but I know it was remarkable enough to attract my notice, even
though his figure was foreshortened and shadowed down in the deep trench, and mine
was high above him, so steeped in the glow of an angry sunset that
I had shaded my eyes with my hand before I saw him at all,
Hollo billo. From looking down the line, he turned himself about again,
and raising his eyes, saw my figure high above him. Is there any
path by which I can come down and speak to you? He looked up
at me without replying, and I looked down at him without pressing him too
soon with a repetition of my idle question. Just then that came a vague
vibration in the earth and air, quickly changing into a violent pulsation and an
oncoming rush that caused me to start back, as though it had forced to
draw me down. When such vapor as rose to my height from this rapid
train had passed me and was skimming away over the landscape, I looked down
again and saw him refurling the flag he had shone while the train went by.
I repeated my inquiry. After a pause, during which he seemed to
regard me with fixed attention, he motioned with his rolled up flag towards a
point on my level, some two or three hundred yards distant. I called
down to him, all right, and made for that point. There By
dint of looking closely up at me, I found a rough zigzag descending path
notched out which I followed. The cutting was extremely deep and unusually precipitate.
It was made through a clammy stone that became oozier and wet as I went
down. For these reasons, I found the way long enough to give me
time to recall a singular air of reluctance or compulsion with which he had pointed
out the path. When I came down low enough upon the zigzag descent to
see him again, I saw that he was standing between the rails on the
way by which the train had lately passed, in innattitude, as if he
were waiting for me to appear. He had his left hand at his chin,
and that left elbow rested on his right hand crossed over his breast.
His attitude was one of such expectation and watchfulness that I stopped a moment wondering
at it. I resumed my downward way, and, stepping out upon the
level of the railroad, and drawing near to him, saw that he was
a dark, sallow man, with a dark beard and rather heavy eyebrows.
His post was in a solitary and as dismal a place as ever. I
saw on either side a dripping wet wall of jagged stone, excluding all view
but a strip of sky. The perspective one way only a crooked prolongation of
this great dungeon, the shorter perspective in the other direction, terminating in a
gloomy red light, and the gloomier entrance to a black tunnel in whose massive
architecture there was a barbarous, depressing, and forbidding air. So little sunlight
ever found its way to this spot that it had an earthy, deadly smell,
and so much cold wind rushed through it that it struck chill to me,
as if I had left the natural world before he stirred. I was
near enough to him to have touched him, not even then, removing his
eyes from mine, he stepped back one step and lifted his hand. This
was a lonesome post to occupy, I said, and it had riveted my
attention. When I looked down from up yonder. A visitor was a rarity,
I should suppose, not an unwelcome rarity, I hoped in me.
He merely saw a man who had been shut up within narrow limits all his
life, and who, being at last set free, had a newly awakened
interest in these great works. To such purpose, I spoke to him,
But I'm far from sure of the terms I used, for besides that,
I am not happy in opening any conversation. There was something in the man
that daunted me. He directed a most curious look towards the red light near
the tunnel's mouth, and looked all about it as if something were missing.
From it, and then looked at me. That light was part of his
charge? Was it not, he answered, in a low voice, don't
you know it is? The monstrous thought came into my mind as I perused
the fixed eyes and the saturnine face, that this was a spirit, not
a man. I've speculated since whether there may have been an infection in his
mind. In my turn, I stepped back, But in making the action
I detected in his eyes some latent fear of me. This put the monstrous
thought to flight. You look at me, I said, forcing a smile,
as if you had a dread of me. I was doubtful, he
returned. Whether I had seen you before? Where? He pointed to the
red light he had looked at there, I said, intently, watchful of
me, he replied, but without sound, Yes, my good fellow,
What should I do there? However? Be that as it may? I
never was there? You may swear I think I may, he rejoined.
Yes, I am sure I may. His manner cleared like my own,
he replied to my remarks with readiness and in well chosen words. Had he
much to do there? Yes, that was to say he had enough responsibility
to bear, But exactness and watchfulness were what was required in him, and
of actual work, manual labor, he had next to none. To change
that signal, to trim those lights, and to turn this iron handle now
and then was all he had to do under that head. Regarding those many
long and lonely hours of which I seemed to make so much, he would
only say that the routine of his life had shaped itself into that form,
and he had grown used to it. He had taught himself a language down
here, if only to know it by sight, and who have formed his
own crude ideas of its pronunciation could be called learning it. He had also
worked at fractions and decimals, and tried a little algebra, but he was,
and had been, as a boy, a poor hand at figures.
Was it necessary for him, when on duty, always to remain in that
channel of damp air? And could he never rise into the sunshine from between
those high stone walls? Why that depended upon times and circumstances. Under some
conditions there would be less upon the line than under others, and the same
good as to certain hours of the day and night in bright weather, he
did choose occasions for getting a little above these lower shadows, but being at
all times liable to be called by his electric bell, and at such times
listening for it with redoubled anxiety, the relief was less than I would suppose.
He took me into his box, where there was a fire, a
desk for an official book in which he had to make certain entries, a
telegraphic instrument with its dial, face and needles, and the little bell of
which he had spoken on my trusting that he would excuse the remark that he
had been well educated, and I hoped, I might say, without offense,
perhaps educated above that station. He observed that instances of slight incongruity in
such wise would rarely be found wanting among large bodies of men. That he
had heard it was so in workhouses, in the police force, even in
that last desperate resource, the army, and that he knew it was so
more or less in any great railway staff. He had been when young,
if I could believe it. Sitting in that hut, he scarcely could a
student of natural philosophy, and had attended lectures, but he had run wild,
misused his opportunities, gone down, and never risen again. He had
no complaint to offer about that he had made his bed, and he lay
upon it. It was far too late to make another. All that I
have here condensed, he said, in a quiet manner, with his grave,
dark regards divided between me and the fire. He threw in the word
sir from time to time, and especially when he referred to his youth,
as though to request me to understand that he claimed to be nothing but what
I found him. He was several times interrupted by the little bell, and
had to read off messages and send replies. Once he had to stand without
the door and display a flag as a train passed, and make some verbal
communication to the driver in the discharge of his due. I observed him to
be remarkably exact and vigilant, breaking off his discourse at a syllable and remaining
silent until what he had to do was done. In a word, I
would have set this man down as one of the safest of men to be
employed in that capacity, but for the circumstances that while he was speaking to
me he twice broke off with a fallen color, turned his face toward the
little bell when it did not ring, opened the door of the hut,
which was kept shut to exclude the unhealthy damp and looked out towards the red
light near the mouth of the tunnel. On both of those occasions he came
back to the fire with the inexplicable air upon him which I had remarked without
being able to define when we were so far asunder, said I, when
I rose to leave him. You almost make me think that I have met
with a contented man. I am afraid I must acknowledge that I said it
to lead him on. I believe I used to be so. He rejoined
in the low voice in which he had first spoken. But I am troubled,
sir, I am troubled. He would have recalled the words if he
could. He had said them, however, and I took them up quickly
with what what is your trouble? It is very difficult to impart, sir.
It is very very difficult to speak of. If ever you make me
another visit, I will try to tell you. But I expressly intend to
make you another visit. Say when shall it be? I go off early
in the morning, and I shall be on again until ten tomorrow night,
Sir, I will come at eleven. He thanked me and went out at
the door with me I'll show you my white light, sir, he said,
in his peculiar low voice, till you have found the way up.
When you have found it, don't call out. And when you are at
the top, don't call out. His manner seemed to make the place strike
colder to me. But I said no more then, very well, And
when you come down to morrow night, don't call out. Let me ask
you a parting question. What made you cry? Hallo below there to night?
Heaven knows? Said I. I cried something to that effect. Not
to that effect, sir, Those were the very words. I know them
well, admit, those were the very words I said them, no doubt,
because I saw you below for no other reason. What are the reason
could I possibly have? You had no feeling that they would convey to you
in any supernatural way. No. He wished me good night and held up
his light. I walked by the side of the down line of rails with
a very disagreeable sensation of a train coming behind me, until I found the
path. It was easier to mount than to descend, and I got back
to my inn without any adventure. Punctual to my appointment. I placed my
foot on the first notch of the ze Zag. Next night, as the
distant clocks were striking eleven, he was waiting for me at the bottom with
his white light on. I have not called out, I said, when
we came close together. May I speak now by all means, sir?
Good night then, and here's my hand, good night, sir, and
here's mine. With that, we walked side by side to his box,
entered it, closed the door, and sat down by the fire. I
have made up my mind, sir, he began bending forward as soon as
we were seated, and speaking in a tone but a little above a whisper,
that you shall not have to ask me twice? What troubles me?
I took you for some one else yesterday evening. That troubles me, that
mistake, No, that's someone else. Who is it? I don't know,
Like me, I don't know. I never saw the face. The
left arms across the face, and the right armies waved violently, waved this
way. I followed his action with my eyes, and it was the action
of an arm gesticulating with the utmost passion and vehemence for God's sake, clear
the way one moonlit night, said the man. I was sitting here when
I heard a voice cry, hullo below there. I started up, looked
from that door and saw this some one else standing by the red light near
the tunnel, waving as I just now showed you. The voice seemed hoarse
with shouting, and it cried, look out, look out, and then
again hullo below there, look out. I caught up my lamp, turned
it on red, and ran towards the figure, calling what's wrong? What
has happened? Where it stood just outside the blackness of the tunnel. I
advanced so close upon it that I wondered at its keep, being the sleeve
across its eyes. I ran right up at it and had my hands stretched
out to pull the sleeve away. When it was gone into the tunnel,
said I no. I ran on into the tunnel five hundred yards. I
stopped and held my lamp above my head, and saw the figures of the
measured distance, and saw the wet stains stealing down the walls and trickling through
the arch. I ran out again, faster than I had run in,
for I had a mortal abhorrence of the place upon me. And I looked
all round the red light with my own red light, and I went up
the iron ladder to the gallery on top of it, and I came down
again and ran back here. I telegraphed both ways an alarm has been given,
Is anything wrong? The answer came back both ways all well. Resisting
the slow touch of a frozen finger tracing out my spine. I showed him
how that this figure must be a deception of his sense of sight, and
how that figures, originating in disease of the delicate nerves that minister to the
functions of the eye, were known to have often troubled patience, some of
whom had become conscious of the nature of their affliction, and had even proved
it by experiments upon themselves. As to an imaginary cry, said, I
do but listen for a moment to the wind in this unnatural valley, while
we speak so low, and to the wild harp it makes of the telegraph
wires. That was all very well. He returned after we had sat listening
for a while, and he ought to know something of the wind and the
wires, he who so often passed long winter nights there alone and watching.
But he would beg to remark that he had not finished. I asked his
pardon, and he slowly added these words, touching my arm. Within six
hours after the appearance, the memorable accident on this line happened, and within
ten hours the dead and wounded brought along the tunnel over the spot where the
figure had stood. A disagreeable shudder crept over me. But I did my
best against it. It was not to be denied. I rejoined that this
was a remarkable coincidence, calculated deeply to impress his mind. But it was
unquestionable that remarkable coincidences did continually occur, and they must be taken into account
in dealing with such a subject. Though to be sure, I must admit,
I added, for I thought I saw that he was going to bring
the objection to bear upon me. Men of common sense did not allow much
for coincidence in making the ordinary calculations of life. He again begged to remark
that he had not finished. I again begged his pardon for being betrayed into
interruptions. This he said, again, laying his hand upon my arm and
glancing over his shoulder with hollow eyes, was just a year ago. Six
or seven months passed, and I had recovered from the surprise and shock.
When one morning, as the day was breaking. I standing at the door,
looked towards the red light and saw the specter again. He stopped with
a fixed look at me. Did it cry out, no, it was
silent. Did it wave its arm no. It leaned against the shaft of
the light with both hands before the face like this once more. I followed
his actions with my eyes. It was an action of mourning. I have
seen such an attitude on stone figures, on tombs. Did you go up
to it? I came in and sat down, partly to collect my thoughts,
partly because it had turned me faint. When I went to the door
again, daylight was above me and the ghost was gone. But nothing followed.
Nothing came of this. He touched me on the arm with his forefinger
twice or thrice, giving a ghastly not each time. That very day,
as a train came out of the tunnel, I noticed at a carriage window
on my side what looked like a confusion of hands and heads, and something
waved. I saw it just in time to signal the driver stop. He
shut off and put his brake on, but the train drifted past here a
hundred and fifty yards or more. I ran after it, and as I
went along, heard terrible screams and cries. A beautiful young lady had died
instantaneously in one of the compartments, and was brought in here and laid down
on this floor between us. Involuntarily, I pushed my chair back as I
looked from the boards at which he had pointed to himself. True, sir,
True, precisely as it happened, So I tell it you. I
could think of nothing to say to any purpose, and my mouth was very
dry. The wind and the wires took up the story with a long,
lamenting wail, he resumed, Now, sir, mark this and judge how
my mind is troubled. The specter came back a week ago. Ever since,
it has been there now and again by fits and starts at the light,
at the danger light. What does it seemed to do? He repeated,
if possible, with increased passion and vehemence, that former gesticulation of for
God's sake, clear the way. Then he went on, I have no
peace or rest for it. It calls to me for many minutes together in
an agonized manner. Below there, look out, look out, It stands
waving to me. It rings my little bell. I caught at that.
Did it ring your bell yesterday evening when I was here and you went to
the door twice? Why? See, said I, How your imagination misleads
you. My eyes were on the bell, and my ears were open to
the bell, And if I am a living man, it did not ring
at those times. No, not at any other time, except when it
was rung in the natural course of physical things by the station communicating with you,
He shook his head. I have never made a mistake as to that
yet, sir, I have never confused the specter's ring with the man's.
The ghost's ring is a strange vibration in the bell that it derives from nothing
else. And I have not asserted that the bell stirs to the eye.
I don't wonder that you failed to hear it. But I heard it,
and did the specter seem to be there? When you looked out? It
was there both times, he repeated, firmly, both times. Will you
come to the door with me and look for it? Now? He bit
his under lip, as though he were somewhat unwilling, but arose. I
opened the door and stood on the step. While he stood in the doorway,
there was the danger light there was the dismal mouth of the tunnel.
There were the high wet stone walls of the cutting. There were the stars
above them. Do you see it? I asked him, taking particular note
of his face. His eyes were prominent and strained, but not very much
more so, perhaps than my own had been when I had directed them earnestly
towards the same spot. No, he answered, it is not there.
Agreed, said I. We went in again, shut the door, and
resumed our seats. I was thinking how best to improve this advantage, if
it might be called one, when he took up the conversation in such a
matter of coarse way, so assuming that there could be no serious question of
fact between us, that I felt myself placed in the weakest of positions.
By this time. You will fully understand, sir, He said that what
troubles me so dreadfully is the question what does the specter mean? I was
not sure. I told him that I did fully understand. What is its
warning against? He said, ruminating with his eyes on the fire, and
only by times turning them on me. What is the danger? Where is
the danger? There is danger overhanging somewhere on the line, some dreadful calamity
will happen. It is not to be doubted this third time, after what
has gone before. But surely this is a cruel haunting of me. What
can I do? He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the drops from his
heated forehead. If I telegraphed danger on either side of me, or on
both, I can give no reason for it. He went on, wiping
the palms of his hands. I should get into trouble and do no good.
They would think I was mad. This is the way it would work.
Message danger, take care, answer danger where message don't know, But
for God's sake, take care. They would displace me. What else could
they do? His pain of mind was most pitiable to see. It was
the mental torture of a conscientious man, or pressed beyond endurance by an unintelligible
responsibility involving life when it first stood under the danger light. He went on,
putting his dark hair back from his head and drawing his hands outward,
across and across his temples, in an extremity of feverish distress. Why not
tell me where that accident was to happen? If it must happen, why
not tell me how it could be averted. If it could have been averted,
when on its second coming it hid its face, why not tell me
instead, she is going to die. Let them keep her at home.
If it came on those two occasions only to show me that its warnings were
true, and so to prepare me for the third, why not warn me
plainly now? And I Lord help me a mere poor signal man on this
solitary station, Why not go to somebody with credit to be believed and power
to act. When I saw him in this state, I saw that for
the poor man's sake as well as for the public safety, what I had
to do for the time was to compose his mind. Therefore, setting aside
all question of reality or unreality between us, I represented to him that whoever
thoroughly discharged his duty must do well, and that at least it was his
comfort that he understood his duty, though he did not understand these confounding appearances.
In this effort I succeeded far better than in the attempt to reason him
out of his conviction. He became calm the occupations incidental to his post.
As the Knight advanced began to make larger demands on his attention, and I
left him it too. In the morning. I had offered to stay through
the night, but he would not hear of it. That I more than
once looked back at the red light as I ascended the pathway, that I
did not like the red light, and that I should have slept but poorly
if my bed had been under it. I see no reason to conceal,
nor did I like the two sequences of the accident and the dead girl.
I see no reason to conceal that either. But what read most in my
thoughts was the consideration, how ought I to act? Having become the recipient
of this disclosure. I had proved the man to be intelligent, vigilant,
painstaking and exact, But how long might he remain so? In his state
of mind? Though in a subordinate position, still he held a most important
trust, And would I, for instance, like to stake my own life
on the chances of his continuing to execute it with precision? Unable to overcome
a feeling that there would be something treacherous in my communicating what he had told
me to his superiors in the company without first being plain with himself and proposing
a middle course to him, I ultimately resolved to offer to accompany him,
otherwise keeping his secret for the present to the wisest medical practitioner we could hear
of in those parts, and to take his opinion. A change of time
in his duty would not come round next night, he had apprised me,
and he would be off an hour or two after sunrise, and on again
soon after sunset. I had appointed to return accordingly. Next evening was a
lovely evening, and I walked out early to enjoy it. The sun was
not yet quite down when I traversed the field path near the top of the
deep cutting. I would extend my walk for an hour, I said to
myself, half an hour on and half an hour back, and it would
then be time to go to my signal man's box. Before pursuing my stroll,
I stepped to the brink and mechanically looked down from the point from which
I had first seen him. I cannot describe the thrill that seized upon me
when close at the mouth of the tunnel I saw the appearance of a man
with his left sleeve across his eyes, passionately waving his right arm. The
nameless horror that oppressed me past in a moment. For in a moment I
saw that this appearance of a man was a man indeed, and that there
was a little group of other men standing at a short distance, to whom
he seemed to be rehearsing the gesture he made. The danger light was not
yet lighted against its shaft. A little low hut entirely new to me had
been made of some wooden supports in top paullen. It looked no bigger than
a bed. With an irresistible sense that something was wrong, with a flashing
self reproachful fear that fatal mischief had come of my leaving the man there and
causing no one to be sent to overlook or correct what he did, I
descended the notched path with all the speed I could make. What is the
matter? I asked the man, schegelman killed this morning, sir, Not
the man belonging to that box. Yes, sir, not the man I
know. You will recognize him, sir, if you knew him, said
the man who spoke for the others, solemn, uncovering his own head and
raising an end of the top pollen for his face is quite composed. Oh,
how did this happen? How did this happen, I asked, turning
from one to another. As the hut closed in again, he was cut
down by an engine. Sir, No man in England knew his work better,
but somehow he was not clear of the outer rail. It was just
a broad day. He had stuck the light and had the lamp in his
hand. As the engine came out of the tunnel. His back was the
water and she cut him down. That man drove her and was showing how
it happened. Show the gentleman Tom, the man who wore a rough dark
dress, stepped back to his former place at the mouth of the tunnel.
Woman round the curve in the tunnel, Sir, he said, we saw
him at the end, like as if I saw him down a perspective glass.
There was no time to check speed, you know. He knew him
to be very careful, as he didn't seem to take heed of the whistle
or we shut it off when we were running down upon him and called to
him as loud as I could call. What did you say, bo?
He said, be low there, look out, look out, for God's
sake, clear the way I started. Ah, It was a dreadful to
him, sir, or he never left off calling to him, or he
put this arm before my ease not to see, and or he weaved this
arm to the last. But it was no use, without prolonging the narrative,
to dwell on any one of its curious circumstances, more than on any
other. I may, in closing it, point out the coincidence that the
warning of the engine driver included not only the words which the unfortunate signal man
had repeated to me as haunting him, but also the words which I,
myself not he had attached, and that only in my own mind, to
the gesticulation he had imitated. And of the signal man