CHAPTER XVII.. Belfast and the County Down--(continued)

BELFAST AND THE COUNTY DOWN--(continued)

During the first few years of my service on the County Down little occurred to disturb the even tenor of my way. In a sense the duties of my new position were simple. There were no such things as joint lines, joint station working, running powers or joint committees, as in England and Scotland, to distract attention or consume time which could more usefully be devoted to the affairs of one's own railway. Gradually I grew familiar with out-door matters, and duties that seemed strange at first grew as easy as second nature. I learned a good deal about signalling, became an adept in single line working, an expert in engine running economies, and attained some success in the management of men.

One thing especially gave me pleasure--my monthly visit to the Managers' Conference at the Irish Railway Clearing House in Dublin. There I met my brother managers in the Irish railway world, and learned something of the other lines. The leading men at the Conference were Ilbery, Great Southern and Western; Cotton, Belfast and Northern Counties; Plews and Shaw, Great Northern; Ward, Midland Great Western; and Skipworth, Manager in Ireland of the London and North-Western. Of all the managers who assembled there I was the youngest, and the greatest personality was Edward John Cotton. By common consent, he had acted as Chairman of the Conference from the year 1864. No one had ever dreamed of assuming the position when he was present. This continued till 1890, when Tom Robertson came on the scene. He was all for change and innovation, and managed to get the principle of formal election to the chairmanship established. Many of us thought it was a pity to make the change in Cotton's time, but Edward John seemed the least concerned of us all, for nothing ever disturbed his good humour. Robertson was a veritable Hotspur and upset for a time the serenity of our meetings. He was overcharged with energy, and a bachelor.

It is my belief that had our genial Cotton chosen the stage for a profession he would have found a place among the distinguished actors of his time, if not in tragedy, certainly in comedy. His face, voice, manner and style all proclaimed it. You had only to hear him read in public, which he loved to do, see how natural his dramatic action was, and feel the effect of a mere wave of his hand through his abundant hair, to be convinced of this. In railway circles throughout England, Scotland and Ireland he was widely known. He attended all railway conferences for he loved movement and travel. Shrewd and well-informed, his knowledge was acquired not from books or study but from close observation of passing events and free and friendly intercourse with all whom he met. His railway was very popular and he and it were held in high esteem. Easily accessible to all, courteous and reasonable ever, he was in many respects a model railway manager. His success lay not so much in the work he performed himself as in obtaining the best results from those around him, and the capacity to accomplish this is certainly one of the most useful qualities a railway manager, or any man in a position of authority, can possess. It is not too much to say that his staff loved him; certainly they all admired him. He was the readiest man I ever met to generously acknowledge the worth of those who served him, and whenever possible he took occasion to do so in public.

I have spoken previously of the beaux I knew in the higher ranks of the railway service but, strange to say, omitted to mention Edward John who, in some respects outshone all others. His coat may not have been cut by a west-end tailor, his hat may not have been a Lincoln Bennett, or his necktie the latest production of Burlington Arcade, but who could wear a tall white hat with a black band, with the least little rakish tilt, and a light grey frock coat with a rose in the buttonhole, with such an air and grace as he? He appreciated keenly all the good things that life can give and loved his fellow men. Pax vobiscum, kind, warm-hearted Edward John! You were an ornament to the railway world and always my friend.

It was Cotton and his Chairman, the Right Hon. John Young, who put in my way my first arbitration case, to which I have in a previous chapter alluded. This, as far as I remember, occurred in 1886. A dispute had arisen between the Northern Counties Company and a small railway company whose line they worked, concerning, I think, the payment for and use of some sidings. I conducted the proceedings of course with the greatest of care, attended, perhaps, with a little trepidation, summoned every possible witness to appear before me, and visited in state the locus. Edward John was, I think, a little amused. Much older than I he had long since passed through these youthful phases. I issued my award, with the usual result that while each party was fairly well pleased neither was altogether satisfied. I was proud of my debut as an arbitrator, especially as it was rewarded by, what seemed to me then, a very handsome fee.

In January, 1886, an incident that is worth narrating occurred. In my office a new junior clerk was required. An advertisement in the newspapers produced a large number of applications, and about a dozen of the applicants were selected to be seen, one after the other, by Pinion and myself. Before lunch one day we interviewed half a dozen or so. Returning together from lunching in the city, as we neared the station, Pinion drew my attention to a youth who was evidently making for the railway premises. Said I to Pinion: "If that youth is one of the candidates, I'll be surprised if he's not the boy for us." It was only a back view we had of him, but he held himself so well, walked so briskly, looked so neat, smart, and businesslike that he arrested attention. That boy, Charles A. Moore, then fresh from school and just fifteen, is now general manager of the railway!

It was in 1886, too, that I first met Walter Bailey, between whom and myself a friendship sprung up which grew in depth and sincerity as time went on, lasted for thirty years, and was only terminated by his lamented death in January, 1917. The friendship thus formed yielded much pleasure and happiness to me and, I think I may safely say, also to my departed friend. Bailey, who was about my own age, came to Ireland from the South- Eastern Railway, soon after my settlement in Belfast, to fill the position of Accountant to the Belfast and Northern Counties Railway. Two young Englishmen, landed in Ireland, engaged in the same sort of business, in the same city, would naturally gravitate towards each other but, more than this, what made us such intimate friends were, tastes in common, similarity of views, especially concerning railway affairs, a mutual liking for literary matters, and--well, other less definable things that form the foundation of all true friendships. Throughout our long intimacy we often took counsel together on subjects of mutual interest, but it was I who sought his advice and help much oftener than he sought mine, for he was cleverer than I. Indeed in the whole railway world I never met an intellect so quick, or so clear and luminous as his.

Bailey was the most unselfish man I ever knew; the readiest to help others. His pen, his remarkable stores of knowledge, and his spare time too, were always at the service, not only of his friends, but often of those who were scarcely more than mere acquaintances. The amount of work which he cheerfully imposed upon himself in this way was astounding and never was it done grudgingly or half-heartedly, but always promptly and generously. It afforded him a pleasure that only one endowed as he could feel. This part of him was often the subject of talk with those of us who knew him well. But what charmed me most, more even than his brilliant mental gifts, were the sweetness of his disposition and his quaintly quizzical and happy humour. Ambition was not strong in him, was in fact all but absent, and he often rallied me on mine. He never in all his life asked for any improvement in salary or position; but, in spite of his inveterate modesty, rose high, became Chief Accountant of the Midland Railway of England and, I should say, the leading railway accountant in the United Kingdom. On railway matters he was a writer of great skill, and all he wrote was enlivened with the happiest humour. To the Railway News he was a valued contributor, and in railway polemics a master.

The Director on the County Down with whom I became most intimate was the Right Honourable (then Mr.) Thomas Andrews. He was brother to Judge Andrews; brother-in-law of Lord Pirrie; became Chairman of the Company; was made a Privy Councillor; a Deputy Lieutenant of Down; High Sheriff of that County and President of this and that, for he was a man of ability and character, but simple in mind and manners as the best men mostly are. Eloquent in speech, warm-hearted and impulsive, he found it difficult to resist a joke, even at the expense of his friend. In April, 1890, he wrote me: "I hope you were not at all annoyed at my pleasantries to Mr. Pinion. I am not exactly one of those men who would rather lose a friend than a joke, but I find it hard to resist a joke when a good opportunity presents itself. I am bound to say that I would be sorry to annoy you, by a jest or in any other way." His temper was lively but though quickly roused soon subsided, and he never harboured resentment. At the conclusion of the very first Board meeting I attended as general manager at the County Down, he followed me into my room, complimented me on the way I had discussed the business of the day, and added: "I'm sure you'll be successful in Ireland for you have the suaviter in modo combined with the fortiter in re." It was a pretty compliment, and sincere I knew, for no one could meet him without recognising his frank outspoken nature. On the threshold of my new work such encouragement greatly cheered me and increased my determination to do my best. Until his death, not long ago, we often corresponded on railway and other matters, and he was always my staunch friend. He had a taste, too, for poetry which we sometimes discussed. The Thomas Andrews, who went down with the Titanic in the North Atlantic, on the 14th April, 1912, was his son, the story of whose short but strenuous life, and its tragic end, is told in a little book written by Shan F. Bullock. Sir Horace Plunkett wrote an introduction to it, in which he says: "He was one of the noblest Irishmen Ulster has produced in modern times, to whom came the supreme test in circumstances demanding almost superhuman fortitude and self-control. There was not the wild excitement of battle to sustain him; death had to be faced calmly in order that others--to whom he must not even bid farewell--might live." A few minutes before the end, so it is recorded, on the boat deck of the Titanic, the grandest sight of him was seen, as he stood with wonderful calm, throwing overboard deck chairs to those who were struggling in the water below. He had no thought of himself, but only of duty and of others. Then came the end: the Titanic, with a low long slanting dive went down and with her Thomas Andrews. He was only 39, but had attained the high position of a Managing Director of the great firm of Harland and Wolff. I knew him as a boy, manly, handsome, high-spirited, clever--"the father of the man." That this terrible tragedy shortened the life of his father is certain.

In 1887, and again in 1888, Bailey and I took our holidays together, visiting Normandy, Paris, Belgium, Holland and the Rhine, doing a great deal of walking, which he liked as much as I. He was the prince of travelling companions, always gay and sprightly, and spoke French with great fluency. His happy disposition, unfailing good humour, and keen enjoyment of everything, even of the occasional discomforts that arose, as in travelling discomforts will arise, especially when funds are not too plentiful, made every hour of our holiday enjoyable. He had the happy gift of seeing always the humorous and the best side of things. He acted as paymaster on our tours and presented with great regularity records of our joint expenditure with the neatness and accuracy of the perfect accountant. Never a pipe smoker, he had no special interest in pipes, but to me the happiness of our first holiday was increased by the colouring of a new meerschaum. In this delightful art I was a disciple of Samuel Swarbrick, though I needed not, as he did, the services of another in the early stages of the colouring process. Whoever has been the votary of a meerschaum will understand the pride with which I frequently displayed my pipe and its deepening colour to Bailey, often to his great amusement I must admit. In a hotel in the city of Antwerp, where we stayed for several days, we occupied adjoining bedrooms having a communicating door. One night, towards early morn, but before daylight had dawned, I was suddenly awakened out of a sound sleep, and to my astonishment saw Bailey with lighted candle standing by my bedside, with a serious look on his face. "Great Scott! what's the matter?" I exclaimed. "My dear boy, I can't sleep; do let me see your pipe," he answered. With such like pleasantries he beguiled the happy times we spent together.

In these years I had another pleasure: I learned to ride, taking lessons in horsemanship at a riding school in Belfast. I soon acquired a firm seat, and my good friend H. H. (who was a practised horseman, and then lived in Belfast too) and I had many delightful rides in the beautiful country around the city. For many years, so far as opportunity and means allowed, I indulged myself in this best of all exercises.