Working Class Engines

Please Note:
1.All information used to help me write the stories is copyrighted by their respective owners.

2.William is based on the engine “William Beck.”

Working Class Engines

Written By: ThomasForever!

Foreword:

Dear Friends,

Mr. Fergus Duncan, at the age of 81, has officially retired. He is now a part of the Arlesdale Railway Board. The new General Manager is Mr. Corris Simmers, but he is still known by everyone on the railway as the Small Controller.

“I brought in a new engine, and although the engine caused a little trouble, is indeed really useful,” he told me.

I think you’ll find, like I have, that Mr. Simmers will be a fine controller for the Arlesdale Railway.

The Author

Story 1: William

(inspired by the Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway buying a new engine from Spain, and naming it William Beck. http://trainfromspain.org/history/st

The cranes at Arlesburgh Harbour were being eyed by the new Small Controller, Corris Simmers. His first order as Small Controller was to help control the increase in passenger and goods traffic by bringing in another engine. The engine and its tender were finally attached to their respective flat-trucks.

“Welcome to the Island of Sodor, and also, welcome to the Arlesdale Railway. I’m the controller, Mr. Simmers.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Sir,” said the new engine nervously.

And away they went to the new engine’s home, Arlesburgh West.

The tender engine was unloaded and Frank was given the honor to shunt it to the Steam engine sheds. The sheds also housed the railway’s workshop.

“Make way please,” grumbled Frank. “Special engine coming through.”

“As if yo-” began Mike, but he stopped when he saw the new engine.

“Hullo...Mike, it looks like?”

Mike was speechless; he was more interested in the engine’s design and the wheel configuration.

“I never thought it’d be possible that a minimum gauge engine could have the wheel arrangement of a Pacific!”

Over the next three weeks, the new engine got inspected, painted navy blue and named William. Since none of the diesels needed repairs, it was impossible for them to go and take alook at the newcomer. So one day when Frank spotted Rex getting more coal from a coal-bunker close by, he went to ask about the new engine.

“He’s been named William, and today is the first time he’s worked in decades!”

“How’s that possible,” said Frank, not believing Rex. “Mr. Simmers only just found him.”

“The Small Controller might have found him in Spain, but he and a couple of his members were to work on a new railway, which never came to being. But before the plans were dropped William was being overhauled.”

“So that’s why he came into traffic so rapidly,” said Frank, now understanding. “I’m at least glad I haven’t been stuck in storage for decades.”

“Same here,” called Rex as he went to fetch some empty hoppers. His job was to work with Jock, taking granite blocks from Marthwaite Quarry to the crushing plant near Ffarquhar Road.

“Man, it’s half-past noon, and we delivered ten trainloads,” said Rex proudly as he left the quarry.

He was nearing the goods loop in the station yard at Marthwaite, when he started to feel weak.

“Your injector’s failed,” said his driver. “Your fusible plugs inside your firebox has put out the fire due to the water level going below the crown plate. Hence why you’ve become weak.”

William was reaching Arlesdale when Control radioed his driver.

“Upon arrival, please go to Marthwaite and collect Rex and his train, and bring him up to Arlesdale. We’d like for you then to bring him back to Arlesburgh on your Up train.”

His driver wasted no time in uncoupling the coaches, and they were soon running tender-first back down the line. They immediately spotted Rex and his train.

“It’s a good thing the goods loop is close by,” chuckled William’s driver. “Otherwise, I would’ve missed it!”

He tried to get William going again, but he wasn’t trying. He could see the long line of trucks.

“Come on,” grumbled Rex. “We’re going to delay the operation of the Granite Company.”

“I won’t pull those trucks with you,” said William stubbornly.

“What do you think we’ll do,” snapped the hoppers. “Push you until you derail while going round a bend?! If so, you’re wrong. We’re the most behaved trucks on the whole Island.”

“I’ve heard stories about trucks causing trouble, and how they say things very similar to what you just told me.”

“That’s it,” sighed William’s driver. “Let’s get help from Control.”

In the end William only took Rex up to Arlesdale, while Jock took the hoppers to the crushing plant. William was pleased with himself; until he returned to Arlesburgh and came to the sheds.

“What a disgrace you are to our railway,” hissed Mike angrily.

“The Small Controller should’ve never bought you,” added Jock.

“SILENCE,” snapped Mr. Simmers. “William, you caused the Granite Company to fall behind on their work, and changes needed to be made for another engine to help Jock. You shall stay in the sheds, and when you come out, I expect you to be better.”

William, feeling ashamed, shunted Rex further into the sheds to the workshop area. Then he went back to where the others were. He wishes now he had pulled the trucks.

Story 2: Could Care Less

(Inspired by a real event:

http://www.railwaysarchive.co.uk/docsummary.php?docID=1588)

It has been two weeks now since William got shut up in the shed. The other engines were pleased when they saw Rex back at work a few days ago. This brought ease to the heavy burden of passenger and goods traffic; but without William, it became too much for a couple of the engines, Mike in particular. He was pleased to finally have a rest in the sheds.

“Oi, William! I want a word with you.”

“What’s going on now Mike? Don’t you go complaining about doing more passenger services. Everyone knows you passionately hate it.”

“It wasn’t about that at all,” thundered Mike in fury. “It’s about you! If you thought about Rex, you wouldn’t be in the sheds, and then the rest of us wouldn’t have extra work.”

“Do I look like the Small Controller,” asked William, who was now feeling defensive. “I don’t assign the jobs.”

“Rubbish,” snapped Mike dismissively. “But then again, I suppose it makes a little sense you wouldn’t think much of others, seeing how you had to think about yourself being able to see the light of day again.”

“I think of others more than you do,” said William angrily, “and that includes passengers!”

The two engines gave each other dirty looks until Mike left to pull a train.

In another part of the yard, at the Diesel Sheds, the Blisters were in deep conversation themselves.

“I’ve noticed that Sigrid is getting more work than anyone else,” noted Blister II.

“She arrives at seven with the “Employee Works” train, then leaves ten minutes later with passengers, and when she returns at noon is shunting,” agreed Blister I.

“I think one of us should swap jobs with her,” said Blister II thoughtfully. “At least until things die down.”

“Shh! She’s coming now.”

Sigrid was worn out. She rolled slowly into a berth between the Blisters.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you due out with a passenger train?”

“I am; but I’m trying to use the time to rest my wheels before I leave again.”

“You know, we were thinking about one of us swapping jobs with you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” called Mr. Simmers, walking up towards them.

“Blister II, you shall do Sigrid’s work for today. And Sgird, due to your hard work, I’m putting you in charge of a special train that was ordered by a local railway enthusiast club.”

Once the drivers of the two engines had their new schedules, they went their own ways; Blister II to the station and Sigrid to be cleaned.

At 12:30 Arlesburgh West station was full of railway enthusiasts. They made a fuss round Sigrid, taking many photographs, and asking questions, in which some were repeated due to not hearing the response the first time over the excitement of the others..

“Right you lot,” called the guard. “Please board the train. We’re due to leave in three minutes.”

The group of seven strolled away to find their seats. At last, they were off. Sigrid was proud not to deal with the fans for a while.

“How annoying they are,” she grumbled. “Asking me the same questions a thousand times! Having flashes of cameras in my face!”

“They may mean well,” agreed her driver, “but they are very demanding. I signed autograph books until my arms ached! I suppose it’ll start all over again when we reach Arlesdale, because not everyone came to see us.”

They flew down the line, making great progress; Sigrid’s train was being treated as an express. As she whizzed through Marthwaite, she spotted Jock waiting in the goods loop.

“You poor engine,” she teased as she went by. “Looks like the Line Controller doesn’t look at your ballast train as important. Otherwise, you’d have the right of way!”

He just wheeshed angrily as she roared into the distance. The line was beginning to curve;

“Arlesdale Cutting,” noted Sigrid’s driver. “We’ll soon have a good long rest before heading back to Arlesburgh.”

But as they continued round the bend they both saw a horrible sight. Mike was coming up the line with a passenger train himself.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” he cried frantically. “Please brakes, help stop me. Please!”

Sigrid’s driver threw the transmission into reverse to slow Sigrid down and crouched on the cab floor, ready for the derailment. Sigrid on the other hand, shut her eyes, preparing herself too; but all she heard was metal rubbing against metal, making a horrible screeching noise.

“What?! Oh, thank goodness I’m still on the rails. Now, what about my passengers…”

The rim of Mike’s bufferbeam rested on Sigrid’s buffers.

Sigrid’s driver climbed down and went to speak with Mike’s driver.

“Control told me that I was to go straight to Arlesdale. What were you thinking?! Coming up the line with your passenger train! I hope your passengers aren’t hurt!”

“It’s not my fault,” shouted Mike’s driver angrily. “It was Mike; he nearly threw me off the footplate.”

“Maybe if everyone treated me with respect by allowing me to be happy by doing what I wanted, then I wouldn’t have done so,” said Mike crossily.

“Bother respect! You don’t deserve any respect.”

While the drivers and Mike argued, the guard of Mike’s train ran back to the passing loop near Arlesdale Green to call for help. Buses, emergency services, and an inspector came on the scene a half-hour later. As the buses and emergency services dealt with the injured and unhurt people, the inspector investigated the causes of the accident.

“Great job Mike,” said the inspector sternly. “You’ve damaged one of your coaches by sending an old sixteen-seater on top of the saloon in front of it. From what I heard, 12 passengers were either bruised or are in shock because of it.”

With that, the inspector drove away, leaving a crane and lorry to clean up the mess.

When the two engines returned to Arlesburgh, Mr. Simmers was waiting for them by the carriage sheds.

“Sigrid, please go immediately to the workshops to have your buffers mended,” he ordered. He then turned to Mike as she went away. “Mike, you shall stay in the sheds and wait until the traffic has decreased a little. We need money to help the injured passengers and to mend Sigrid, plus the damaged saloon.”

Mike went to the sheds; Sigrid was already far inside at the workshop portion of the sheds. Now the engines were cross with Mike, but for William, he just smirked at Mike, as to say “I told you that I care more about others than you do.”

Story 3: Trespassers

(Inspired by a post on Facebook about people trespassing on railway property to get pictures and footage of Royal Scot)

It had been a week since William returned to service. He was put to work at the Quarry, and grew fond of the trucks.

“You trucks were right,” said William, feeling foolish. “You are very well-behaved.”

“It’s thanks to you engines that we see no need to play any tricks.”

That evening William was on his way back to the yard when he was diverted into the Ffarquhar Road passing loop to let Sigrid pass with her evening “Employee Works” train. As he entered, he noticed a figure at the end of the loop.

“What...but it can’t be...a person?!”

A woman with a camera was taking pictures of William; she soon fled the loop as William came closer, and now stood where the woman was standing beforehand.

“That makes no sense whatsoever,” grumbled William’s driver. “I shall report her to the police when we return.”

William told the others that night in the sheds about his encounter.

“Are you sure you saw this woman,” questioned Bert. “I mean, something like that hasn’t happened, at least from what I know.”

“It sounds idiotic to me,” added Rex. “Why can’t they just stand a few yards from the lineside?”

“Well, I’m not concerned,” boasted Jock. “I bet William only imagined it.”

“I didn’t!”

“Did too!”

The two engines argued until they were too tired to continue.

The next morning Jock was still chuckling to himself as he picked up a line of empties for the Quarry.

“People standing on the line, what nonsense. William’s now got the Blisters and Frank concerned. I’ll show them the truth.”

But the hoppers were cross at this.

“If William says there’s people trespassing, then they are.”

“Let’s show him a thing or two,” whispered another.

All the way to the Quarry they made their plan; but they knew it was likely Jock wouldn’t be using them. So they told the hoppers on the next road the plan. And told more that were close by.

“Pass it on, pass it on,” they encouraged each-other.

Eventually many of them knew about the idea; Jock was even using some that knew about it, but he was unaware of what they were going to do.

Jock was running nicely and was switched onto the goods spur at Ffarquhar Road that lead to the crushing plant.

“There better not be anyone on the line,” thought Jock nervously. “What am I thinking?! I haven’t seen an-”

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of two boys on the line up ahead.

“You stupid boys! Get off the tracks,” said Jock, his brakes squealing.

“On, on, on,” said the hoppers.

“Why mess with me now,” groaned Jock. He was now several yards away. The two boys, scared, ran off the rails. Seconds later Jock stood where they had once been.

“Two boys were on the line,” Jock’s driver radioed to Control.

They then continued on their way. Jock remained silent for the rest of the day, and when he came back home the others had already heard about the incident.

“No such thing, eh Jock,” teased Rex.

“Shut up,” hissed William. “He’s lucky to have stopped in time.”

“You were right William,” admitted Jock quietly.

“Never mind. I clearly didn’t believe myself until I got close up,” said William. “It’s too hard when it comes to people. Now, if they were animals, we’d have more time to stop.”

Jock just had to smile at that. After that, the Blisters and platelayers worked to put up chain-linked fences at certain parts of the line, with notices saying: “RAILWAY PROPERTY! ONE STEP PASS THIS FENCE, AND YOU’LL BE FINED!”

Story 4: Left Behind

It was mid-September; the holidaymakers were leaving, and now the only passenger traffic would be commuters. By now the railway had plenty of money, which lead to Mike finally being repaired.

“Oh, it’s nice to have my wheels moving again,” he groaned as he puffed onto the turntable. But his cheerfulness quickly left him when he spotted William taking on water near by. “Oh yes, I still have to deal with him, and the passengers too,” he sighed.

He was to pull passengers today; he could care less though. He’d rather be at work than stuck in the sheds.

“Hullo, you’re that engine that put my uncle in the hospital for a week. He’s better now, but I must warn you. Today’s my birthday, and I expect nothing wrong to happen.”

The boy then started to take pictures of Mike.

“Matthew dear,” called his Mum, “please board the train.”

He was about to take one more picture when Mike let off steam.

“You ruined my picture,” Matthew pouted as he went to join his mother in one of the open carriages.

Mike was soon back to feeling cheerful. He was running on time, and approached Marthwaite early.

“Wow, I’ve never expected myself to be this early at a station,” thought Mike excitedly as he

Matthew and his Mum went to the ice-cream cart.

“Strawberry! But I wanted chocolate!”

“Strawberry’s all I got,” said the Ice-Cream Man.

“I’ll get you a nice, big chocolate ice-cream when we get to Arlesdale. Sound good?”

“Yes Mummy,” said Matthew, going back up the ramp and to see Mike.

“Here, have a treat,” said Matthew rudely, throwing the ice-cream at Mike; it hit him and was soon dripping down his side.

“We’ll show that boy how to treat engines,” grumbled Mike’s driver.

At last they reached Arlesdale. Mike was parked in the sheds for a rest. Inside the station, the passengers were getting something to eat, talking with friends, or buying things at the little gift shop.

“Alright Matthew. What do you want?”

“I want one model of the engines, including the new engine, William!”

They found Mike, Jock, and Bert, along with several coaches and bogie hoppers. They also picked up two books that were written about the Arlesdale Railway. The time of departure was nearing; people waited in line at the cash-register to pay. Matthew’s mother began to take things out of the two baskets.

“Hurry up,” complained the passengers. “The train leaves in ten minutes!”

Because Matthew and his mother ignored them, the passengers and children dropped their items and went to the coaches.

“PEEP! PEEP!”

“No, stop! Come back,” shouted Matthew’s mother, running off with one of the baskets still full of unpaid products. The ticket inspector at the barrier stopped her.

“Engines don’t wait for passengers,” he said firmly. “And we frown upon stealing in these here parts.”

Matthew only walked out of the station with two bags full, of only a third of what he wanted. His mother, furious, had them take a bus back to Arlesburgh, where she went to complain to the Small Controller himself.

“Pardon me Sir,” said the stationmaster, “but a lady and her son would like to see you.”

“My apologies Sir,” said Mr. Simmers to the Chairman of the AR. “Please let them in.”

The Chairman stayed and watched as Mr. Simmers calmly worked out the situation.

“The only answer I can give to you Madam, is that you missed the train. The Line Controller says that Mike left on time, and he doesn’t lie about arrivals or departures.”

“Then I shall not return to the railway,” she said, slamming the door.

“Well done Corris,” praised the Chairman. “I think you’ll be a fine Controller.”

Back at the sheds, Mike went to the berth next to William. His driver and the cleaners started to hose him down.

“How did things go for you today,” asked Mike nervously, uncertain of how to begin the conversation.

“It was calm and stable,” said William, also feeling nervous. “It must have been difficult dealing with that spoil-sport.”

“No, but it was a wonderful trick driver and I played on him,” chuckled Mike, seeing that there was nothing to be worried about.

“What did you do?”

“Driver and I left exactly on the dot.”

“That’s brilliant. I must admit that the people here are very fond of engines. They take pictures of me a thousand times...oh, it’s annoying.”

Before long Mike and William were good friends, and they are both agreed on the same subject on how annoying passengers can be.