Few phrases have become so familiar to the ear as from the “Cape to Cairo.” It is a phrase that has made history, though perhaps not so rapidly as its creator anticipated. When Cecil Rhodes first cast his eyes from north to south, and conceived the idea of binding the two extreme points of the African continent together, there is no indication that he experienced great difficulty in finding a title for his undertaking. There was Cairo in the north, and Cape Town in the south. He aspired to join the two by rail. Consequently, from the “Cape to Cairo” was obvious. Probably the alliteration caught his fancy, and conveyed his complete thought so forcibly in three words, and in a manner that could not fail to impress the public, that it inadvertently flew through his mind.

When the materialisation of this vision commenced, the general knowledge of the interior of the continent had not been widened very appreciably since the travels of Livingstone and Stanley. It was “Dark” in the truest sense of the word, and conquest either by the mysteries of peace or the arts of war was necessary before the steel rail could be driven either northward or southward. However, it was determined to carry the idea to fulfilment—the question of the penetration of the hostile country could be taken in hand when the railway was within measurable distance of its borders so far as Rhodes was concerned, while in the north the English Government had decided to settle terms with the Mahdi.

There was one benefit accruing from the empire-builder’s dream—he gave the engineers of South Africa elbow-room in which to display their ability within certain limits. It might be said that he inaugurated a new railway-construction policy so far as South Africa was concerned. The railway-builders had an extensive territory to cover, and they appeared to cherish the belief that the best means by which this conquest could be achieved was upon the most expensive lines possible. Thus, for instance, the railway network in Natal, the Transvaal and Orange Free State cost about £15,000, or $75,000, per mile, and those of Cape Colony about £10,000, or $50,000, per mile—sums out of all proportion to the railway needs of the time, and which served to commit the countries to a heavy capital outlay and interest charges. When Cecil Rhodes outlined his project he set himself to a limit of about £5,000, or $25,000, per mile.

Such a line was a pioneer road in the fullest sense of the word, but it would suffice to meet the demands of the country for many years to come, and could be improved as circumstances demanded. The time will come, doubtless, when a standard-gauge road from the waters of the Mediterranean to the southern end of the continent will become imperative, but a few decades will have to pass before the line of 3 feet 6 inches gauge becomes inadequate.

The Cape to Cairo is remarkable in many respects: in fact, it might be described as a string of record-breaking feats in railway engineering. In the first place it was the first trans-continental road ever to be driven longitudinally through a continent—the coast to coast lines in other parts of the world cut across the continent from east to west. When completed it will be the longest continuous trunk iron road ever built. In its length are comprised both the highest and longest bridges in Africa, in its realisation the highest speed in track-laying has been recorded, and it has been driven steadily forward under conditions such as never have attended the realisation of any comparative project—war, plague and famine.

When the scheme was commenced the railways of the southern colony had penetrated 647 miles up-country from Cape Town to the diamond mines at Kimberley. Consequently, Diamondopolis was selected as the starting-point for the northward advance, through the hinterland now known as Rhodesia. The first rail out of Kimberley was laid in 1889, and by October, 1894, it had gained Mafeking, 223 miles beyond.

While this part of the work was under way the colonisation of Mashonaland had proceeded, and had progressed so favourably that the railway’s advance became an urgent necessity, especially as the Matabele under Lobengula were giving signs of trouble, and it was essential that the latter should be subdued. So in 1896 the dull, grey snake resumed its tortuous crawl to the north. Further trouble was experienced at this juncture, and retarded operations to a material degree. The deadly rinderpest broke out, and swept off the settlers’ cattle like flies. Transport was paralysed, and the engineers were called upon to perform a superhuman task to pour supplies and material forward. As animals were unavailable, traction engines had to be brought up-country to ply between the point where the locomotive stopped and the construction camps strung out ahead.

However, Rhodes decided that the rails must reach Buluwayo before the end of 1897. Seeing that 492 miles divided the railhead from the latter point, this was no mean order; but Messrs. Pauling & Co., the contractors, promised that his wishes should be fulfilled. Large forces of natives were whipped up, and by superhuman effort the apparently impossible was achieved, the 492 miles of metals being laid in 500 working days.

As might be supposed from the low cost of the line (£4,500 or $22,500, per mile), the engineering work was not of an elaborate character. Rapidity of construction, combined with low cost, were the two governing considerations that had to be borne in mind, for the sooner railway transportation was provided, the earlier settlement would take place. The terms governing construction demanded that the line should be of such a character as “would be capable of effectually conveying traffic at a speed of twelve miles an hour on completion, and that grades and curves were not to be sharper and heavier than generally prevailed upon a line of this gauge.” Ballasting was only to be used on such portions of the line as was necessary to ensure the safe running of the trains during the rainy season.

In laying the road very little regard was paid to formation, and wherever the surface of the ground was even it was followed, the steel sleepers being packed with the minimum of ballast to give a moderately smooth running top. The shallower streams and rivers were not bridged, but the railway was carried across over a ford. If the water rose above the track a few inches, a thrilling spectacle was offered when a train crossed. It would creep carefully down the bank and crash full tilt into the water, sending up a column of spray which entirely obliterated the front of the engine from view. Later, the line was overhauled and brought into conformity with modern requirements, bridges of steel being introduced to span all obstructions of this character. Timber was impossible, owing to the ravages of white ants, though creosoted wood was found to offer a substitute for the metal for a short period, and was adopted sparingly.

Buluwayo lies at an altitude of 4,400 feet, and from this point the line falls steadily until it gains the Gwaai River, 1,200 feet lower. Crossing this waterway, the line makes a straight cut across the flat, sandy and wooded country for 71 miles as the crow flies, to enter the Wankie coalfield.

In this district the surface run could not be continued, and consequently heavy cuttings and embankments had to be carried out over a distance of 59 miles.

Beyond the Wankie coal territory, and 282 miles north of Buluwayo, the line ran up against the first serious physical difficulty, but one of such proportions as to make amends on the part of Nature for the easiness of the grading hitherto. This was the Victoria Falls on the Zambesi River, and the location of the line compelled a crossing of this magnificent waterway just below the cataract, where the water, after tumbling over the ledge, is forced through a deep, narrow gorge 400 feet in depth.

The situation demanded the consummation of some monumental piece of work. The Niagara gorge had been bridged, but the task of spanning that chasm was mere child’s play in comparison with that confronting the engineers below the Victoria Falls. The cliffs are sheer practically, for the canyon through which the water rushes for some 20 miles is but a fissure in the earth’s crust.

The surveys, which were carried out with great difficulty, showed that the break would have to be bridged in a single span about 500 feet in length from brink to brink, with the rails over 420 feet above low water. For purposes of comparison, it may be mentioned that, although the structure of the same type thrown across the Niagara gorge to carry the Grand Trunk railway from Canadian to American soil has a main span 50 feet wider, while the bridge itself is almost twice as long, the rails are laid only a little more than half the height above the water—226, as compared with 420 feet.

One early difficulty was the establishment of communication with the opposite bank, to avoid a long detour of about ten miles in order to cross the river. First, in order to bring the camps perched on each cliff closer together, a telephone wire was thrown across the ravine. This frail connection was completed in an ingenious manner. A thin string was tied to the stick of a rocket which was fired across the gorge. The opposite party secured the stick and end of the stout twine, and by its means hauled across a thicker length of string, which in turn was followed by one still stouter, with which the telephone wire was hauled across. In this way the opposite camps were brought as closely into touch with one another as if they were side by side on the same bank. Previously, attempts had been made to fly a string across by means of a kite, but the upward rush of eddying air from the vortex of the water caused the kite to become the sport of the wind and to play sorry pranks, without gaining the opposite bank. The complete success of the rocket caused a similar cycle of operations to be repeated, only in this case, instead of hauling a telephone wire across the gorge, a marked wire was handled, the idea being to measure accurately the width of the gap, a spring balance being introduced at one end to compute the extent of the “sag” of the wire for the purposes of calculations.

The result of these investigations served to countercheck the surveys, which were found to be strikingly correct, and the design of the bridge was taken in hand immediately by Mr. G. A. Hobson.

Actual construction was commenced without delay, the task being undertaken by the Cleveland Engineering & Bridge Building Company of Darlington, who, by the successful completion of this task, once more emphasised the predominance of the British bridge-building engineer. The main span is a graceful curve of steel springing from the cliff-face on either side, the latter being excavated for the purpose of securing the foundations. As construction was possible only on the cantilever principle from either side, facilities had to be provided for the transportation of material as it was brought up by the railway, from the south to the opposite cliff, and for this purpose an overhead cableway was slung across the gorge. This vehicle of transport was employed not only for the building of the bridge, but also for the conveyance of other necessities for the railway, as the latter was pushed ahead from the north bank while the bridge was being erected. Workmen were also slung across the gorge by this means in a little cage, and occasionally visitors who were anxious to experience a new sensation made the trip at a cost of 10s., or $2.50 per head.

One feature of the undertaking was the extreme care taken to protect the workmen from certain death in the river below if they slipped from their precarious perches in mid-air. A heavy, strong net was slung across the chasm beneath the actual working point to catch “boys and tools should they inadvertently drop.” The two ribs of steel were pushed outwards from either bank, and finally met in the centre, where the final bolts, securing first the two sections of the bottom members together, were slipped in without any untoward incident. At the point where the maze of steel springs from the cliff-face the bridge measures 105 feet from the bottom to the top member, while at the crown of the arch the depth is 15 feet. The width at the rail-level is 30 feet, while the bottom curved steel ribs, at the point where they are secured to the rock, are about 54 feet apart.

Notwithstanding the difficulties, attending the erection of such a massive bridge upon such a site, construction was carried out so rapidly that the first train was enabled to cross the structure within about eighteen months of work being commenced. The celerity with which this task was completed was striking, bearing in mind that native labour was employed for the most part, under the supervision of English foremen and engineers.

At the time it was built it ranked as the loftiest bridge in the world, but it has been deposed since from that premier position by the wonderful Fades viaduct which spans the Sioule River in the French province of Puy de Dôme, where the train crosses the water at a height of 434½ feet.

By the time the Victoria bridge was able to permit trains to pass from bank to bank, the end of steel had been hurried towards Kalomo, the capital of North-Western Rhodesia, 1,733 miles from Cape Town. On this section another remarkable record was established. The engineer, Sir Charles Metcalfe, Bart., was in the field on one of his periodical visits, and was accompanied by an interested French engineer, who had built railways in French West Africa. The latter was greatly interested in the progress of the Cape to Cairo line, but observing the methods of the native workmen, ventured to ask how many miles of track could be laid per day.

“Well, what do you think we can lay?” asked Sir Charles Metcalfe.

“Oh, I don’t think you can lay more than half-a-mile. That seems to me a fair estimate,” remarked the French railway-builder.

The English engineer had a brief conversation with his lieutenant in charge of the rail-laying operations, and the latter in a few brief words galvanised the whole of the crew into electric movement. In twenty minutes the track had advanced a quarter of a mile before the astonished French engineer’s eyes. He scarcely could credit what he had seen, and left the spot with a high regard for the English engineer’s organisation and methods of handling the natives to be able to wrest such a spurt at a moment’s notice.

This incident impressed Sir Charles Metcalfe, and, after a chat with the English overseers, foremen and engineers surveying the placing of the 33-feet lengths of steel upon the ground, it was decided to make an experiment just to see what could be accomplished under an emergency with native labour. The black men were marshalled up for a full day’s work, and were urged to let themselves go, the desire of establishing a record being communicated to the more enterprising spirits. The natives love a contest, and they girdled into the work with astonishing zest. They did not seem to tire, and they spurned the heat. The result was that when the ten hours’ labour was completed for the day the steel had crept forward no less that 5¾ miles—a world’s record. Yet everything proceeded so smoothly that it appeared, from the stranger’s point of view, as if work were being carried out at the normal rate of a mile a day.

This result, with native labour, was remarkable. The engineers in charge of the wonderful track-layer used in America point to the speed with which the metals can be laid with its aid. Yet it comes somewhat as a shock to their pride to learn that their best performances of 3 to 4½ miles a day can be exceeded by unskilled black men, with no tools whatever.

From Kalomo the engineers pushed north-eastwards to Broken Hill, 280 miles beyond. In this stretch, however, another obstacle had to be overcome. This was the Kafue River, which is the most important tributary to the Zambesi River, and indeed forms one leg of this great waterway. The great width of the Kafue River, 1,300 feet, called for a lengthy bridge. Although the waters are shallow during the dry season, the average depth being 9 feet, in the wet season, however, the river rises to 17 feet or so. It is a comparatively sluggish waterway, the speed of the current being about 3 miles an hour.

Mr. G. A. Hobson was responsible for the design of this bridge also, and he decided that a light structure, divided into 13 spans each of 100 feet, would meet the case. The actual construction was carried out by Mr. A. L. Lawley as supervising engineer on behalf of the railway-builders. The bridge is of the lattice girder type, the trains running through the bridge. The whole of the steel-work was prepared in England, shipped to Cape Town, and then transported 2000 miles up country by railway to a yard improvised on the river bank, where the ribs of steel were assembled to form the spans. In addition, a pontoon, likewise of steel, was sent up in pieces in a similar manner, assembled on the bank and launched. This pontoon was utilised to float the spans into position, and also to convey material across the river to enable the grade to be pushed ahead while the waterway was being spanned. The pontoon was pulled from bank to bank by means of an endless wire cable, driven by a steam engine.

The spans are supported on masonry piers, each 18 feet wide by 8 feet thick. Mr. Lawley found the river-bed to be composed of rock and gravel, which gave a first-class foundation, and favoured the expeditious erection of the piers. Consequently he concluded, if the piers were pushed forward at low water, that it would be possible to set the steel-work directly the river once more gained flood-level, and arrangements to this end were carried out. Timber coffer-dams were built around the sites for the piers, and by the aid of pumps the interior was kept clear of water to permit the workmen to achieve their stone-setting task within under the most favourable conditions.

While the piers were progressing other gangs of natives were hard at work in the improvised shipyard riveting the steel-work together. Each span measured 100 feet long, 14 feet in width, 20 feet in height, and weighed 56 tons. The pontoon itself measured 95 feet long by 45 feet wide.

Work continued so favourably that by the time the masonry work on the piers was completed the spans had been assembled, and all was ready for transhipping them from the yard to their respective positions on the piers. Novel means for transporting the weighty and bulky masses of steel were adopted. The pontoon was brought endwise against the river bank and made fast. A length of railway track was laid from end to end along the deck of the pontoon, and was brought against the ends of another short track running down the river bank, thereby making a continuous length of railway line. As the completed spans were ranged side by side in the yard at right angles to the river, they had to be hauled sideways for some distance. Rails were laid under each end of the spans at right angles to the railway and were well greased so as to become a kind of “ways” such as are used to launch a vessel. Gangs of natives tugged at the span to haul it broadside until it rested on the railway line, which also was lubricated. Then two locomotives were brought up to the rear end of the span, and by sheer steam force pushed it down the bank railway on to the pontoon, where it rested fairly and squarely, and overhanging equally each end of the pontoon, which was five feet shorter than the span.

The pontoon was then released from its moorings and was hauled out into the stream by means of the endless cable, until it came centrally between the two piers on which the span was to be placed. From each pier a hawser was passed to stanchions on either end of the pontoon. The endless cable was slackened, and the pontoon, with its novel cargo, was permitted to drift slowly down-stream towards the space between the two piers, being guided in its course by manipulation of one or the other of the two hawsers. In this manner the craft was steered delicately into position and was made fast. The actual transference of the span from the pontoon to the masonry bed was carried out by hydraulic jacks, which lifted the whole mass of steel. When the jacks were released, the ends of the span rested firmly on the two piers. By hauling on to the endless cable the pontoon now was drawn clear of the bridge to return for another load.

This novel method proved so completely successful that the 13 spans were transferred from the bank and set in position within the short space of 8 days!—half the time the engineer had computed as being requisite for the operation. The whole undertaking was accomplished in record time, bearing in mind the peculiar conditions prevailing in the heart of Africa, and the use of native labour; for, from the time the first move towards the erection of the piers was made, to the setting of the last span, only five months elapsed. The total cost of this mass of steel, weighing 728 tons and stretching in an unbroken line for 1,300 feet across the river, was £50,000, or $250,000.

When Broken Hill was gained, 2,013 miles from Cape Town, construction was brought to a stop. The mastermind had passed away some time before, and the colleague who had assisted Rhodes when other financial magnates turned a deaf ear to the project, had also joined the great majority. By the time Broken Hill was gained, £8,000,000 (or $40,000,000) had been sunk in the enterprise. For months the stack of 2000 tons of steel for the resumption northwards remained untouched, through lack of funds, though Mr. Alfred Beit had left £1,500,000 (or $7,500,000) towards the continuation of the work. Then the mineral wealth around Katanga in the Congo Free State, which was under exploitation, demanded transportation to the coast. Accordingly, the line was pushed on to the border of the adjacent country. Rhodes’ objective was Kituta, at the southern end of Lake Tanganyika, 450 miles north of Broken Hill, which point marks the limit of British sway in South Africa, a distance of about 2,700 miles by rail from Cape Town.

When Rhodes’ vision presented the railway stretching in an unbroken thread from north to south, the knowledge of the country lying between the Zambesi and the Nile was somewhat scanty. As the scheme progressed it became known that Lake Tanganyika was hemmed in by precipitous mountains, where railway-building would soar to an enormous figure per mile. On the other hand, the lake is a splendid sheet of water, offering excellent navigation throughout its length of 400 miles. Therefore, there should be no reason why the example of the Russian Government, in regard to the use of ferry steamers on Lake Baikal, should not be emulated to transport trains intact from Kituta at the southern, to Usamburu at the northern, end of Lake Tanganyika.

Ninety miles north of Usamburu is Lake Kivu, and the dividing neck of land offers no great difficulties to construction beyond a gradual rise of 2000 feet. Reaching Lake Kivu, which is also surrounded by lofty ridges, the railway would once more take to the water for some 60 miles. Continuing northwards, there is another stretch of rising country to be crossed, where the track would be lifted to its greatest height, or summit level, between Cape Town and Cairo, to gain the head of Lake Edward, which is 75 miles in length. Owing to the flat character of the country around this sheet of water lending itself to cheap railway construction, probably it would be found preferable to keep to the land, especially as the country is healthy, thickly populated, and offers great promise of becoming wealthy under commercial development.

But the line, after leaving Lake Kivu, has to pass through Belgian territory, and as this location is inevitable unless it were decided to swing somewhat to the east to pass through German East Africa, an easier route has been offered through the Congo. The railway has been taken from Broken Hill to Elizabethville. The Belgian authorities are anxious that it should be extended from that point to Bukana on the Congo River. Boats could be used between this point and Congolo, where communication by rail would extend to Kindu, to be followed by another stretch of river as far as Ponthierville. The existing railway to Stanleyville would then be pressed into service, and from the last-named point the line would debouch to the north-east to gain the Albert Nyanza, and there link up with the railway that has been driven southwards from Cairo.