Henry limped sadly home to Tidmouth Sheds to rest before his evening mail train. As Henry was a shy steamer, it took quite a while for him to return to the sheds. He backed uneasily into the sheds, where Gordon and James were already waiting.
"Stay a while, Henry!" Gordon chuckled, but Henry wasn't focused on Gordon. "Sorry, Gordon, I have to keep my fire up for my mail train tonight."
Gordon rolled his eyes. He was used to Henry's worriedness. But tonight wasn't about Henry.
"Henry, we have to talk. James and I have been recently discussing the issue of the shunting we've had to do, in light of Thomas'…absence."
"Yeah," interrupted James, "since the tank engine went off to run his branch, we've been stuck going around the sidings getting our stupid trucks and coaches."
"Quiet, James," scolded Gordon sharply, "As I was saying, the Fat Controller has relegated us to shunting when we should have our trucks and coaches waiting at the platform for us!"
"The Fat Controller has said that he's trying to find another tank engine, so I don't see why any "action" is necessary." Henry's driver began shoveling more coal to keep Henry's fire burning.
"But Henry, when did the Fat Controller say he was going to get another tank engine to help us…?" Gordon smirked at the big green engine, who thought for a while before speaking.
"Well it has been a while, but.."
"Exactly. Who's to say that the Fat Controller wasn't just lying to us? We have to show him that we, as the cornerstone of the North Western Railway, need another engine to shunt our coaches for us. And this is where I propose something that will force the Fat Controller to listen to us." He paused impressively.
"Gentlemen, I propose that we stage…a strike."
"A strike?" Henry raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, Henry, a strike means that we don't do any work until the Fat Controller listens to us."
"I know what a strike is, Gordon. I just don't see how it's a good idea. If we aren't being useful, the Fat Controller can just send us away like '62 and '46!" Henry scoffed, "And another thing, can't our drivers just force us out?"
Gordon chuckled, before whispering so Henry's busy crew wouldn't hear.
"We don't have to move if we don't want to." Gordon smirked and Henry rolled his eyes.
"Gordon, this is insane. You can strike if you want to, but I'd rather be a really useful engine while I can. Now, if you excuse me, I have a mail train to pull." And Henry puffed away in a cloud of steam, leaving Gordon and James alone once more.
"Guess it's just us, eh Gordon?" James smiled awkwardly to try and break the ice, but Gordon's smirk sustained.
"He'll come around. I know Henry and he's on the end of his rope. Something will push him over the edge soon, and then he'll come running back to us." James was rather unsure, but Gordon was certain. Suddenly, Gordon's crew arrived.
"Come on, Gordon. We have an express to pull tonight." Gordon's driver and fireman stepped up and began to tend to his fire.
"I guess this is it for the evening. Farewell, James, I have an express to pull. Something our dear Henry could never be capable of." Gordon steamed away, leaving James by his lonesome. As Gordon disappeared, it began to rain, leaving puddles on the ground.
"What am I doing?" James said to himself, looking at his reflection in the puddle nearby his berth. He then began to remember what caused him to be part of the strike in the first place, that faithful week some time ago…
The Fat Controller had called James to Knapford Station to speak to him after he had returned from the works.
"You've been working very hard since I got you your new brakes, James. You are a mixed-traffic engine. As a result, your new duties will give more trains than ever, both trucks and coaches. I know you're eager to get back to work, but I want you to have a run to get used to your new brakes. So, I'm having Edward pull a train with you in order to allow you to get your bearings."
"Yes, sir!" James said excitedly. He headed over to the tower where Edward was taking on water
"Now, James," said Edward calmly, "I know you're excited, but we have to provide a reliable, smooth service. That means no bumping around!"
James scoffed. "I know, Edward. I wasn't built yesterday."
"I'm well aware of that James, but…"
"Come on, Edward, I have to show the passengers my new shiny red paintwork!" James puffed away to the platform, leaving Edward alone.
"I hope he doesn't get himself into trouble." Edward sighed and headed off for the station building as well.
James had already fetched the coaches and they were waiting at the platform. James simmered excitedly as the passengers marveled at his paintwork. The Fat Controller had exited his office and was attempting to shoo the passengers into their coaches.
"As nice as James' paintwork looks, this is a station, not an art gallery. Please board the train, or you'll be late!" The Fat Controller tripped on a woman's bag, and fell to the ground.
"Apologies, ma'am…get in quickly please!" The Fat Controller picked up his top hat and began to dust it off.
"Ah, my new top hat…nothing could ever ruin you!" He happily began adjusting it. However, the passengers that hadn't been shooed in the train were complimenting James' paintwork, and the red engine was feeling very proud.
"What a splendid red engine, must be the pride of the whole railway!"
"Why, thank you!" James was feeling very full of himself. So full of himself, that he felt the need to let off steam. He did so. Steam clouded the station, causing the air to become very wet. Passenger panicked aboard their coaches, station staff hid under canopies, and almost everyone was covered. Everyone except the Fat Controller, that is.
"My…my hat!" He started at his soaked top hat in his hands. James saw this and realized what he had done.
"Oh no!" And almost before the guard had blown his whistle, James started off.
"Whoa, James!" Edward was surprised by James' sudden start, but decided to keep going.
"James! James, get back here! JAMES!" The Fat Controller's cries were drowned out by a whistle.
"Did the Fat Controller just say something? I thought I heard him say something," said Edward.
"No. No, he didn't. Keep going!" James began to go faster, causing Edward to increase in speed as well. Edward was confused, but deduced that James was simply trying to keep to time.
James and Edward were making splendid time as they thundered along the line. James, however, was still nervous about the Fat Controller. He was so nervous, that as they approached Maron Station, James began to go much too fast.
"Slow down, James!" cried Edward, but James was too busy thinking about the Fat Controller's top hat.
"Brake, James! Brake!" Edward screeched on his brakes, taking James away from his thoughts.
"What? Whoa!" James braked hard as well as the train screeched through the station and came to an abrupt stop.
"James, pay attention! The passengers could have been hurt!" Edward was very cross, and James was embarrassed.
"Sorry, Edward," said James quietly.
"And now we have to back up, too. We're beyond the platform!" James looked back and realized that Edward was right; the last coach was beyond the platform, and the passengers were cross.
James backed up sheepishly to the platform, as the passengers got on and off. They weren't singing his praises now. James groaned. He hoped the Fat Controller wouldn't find out.
The rest of the journey was relatively smooth. But that didn't stop the Fat Controller from speaking to James that night, complete with a bowler hat that just didn't look right on his head to replace his soaked top hat.
"James, I give you new brakes and new paint, and what do you do? You give the passengers a rough time, and you spoil my brand new top hat! If you have more mishaps like this, I shall have you painted blue!"
"Yes, sir." And as the Fat Controller slept, an upset James went to sleep.
The following morning, James was cross. As punishment for his mishaps, the Fat Controller had made him shunt coaches for the other engines when he wasn't working. He hated it, and because of this he was rough with the coaches.
"OW! OW! Stop it James!" But James wasn't paying attention to the coaches, he was mostly grumbling to himself.
"I'm just as useful as Gordon, or Edward, and certainly more than Henry! Why do I have to shunt stupid trucks in the yards!" He banged the coaches hard. They groaned, but James went off on his way to fetch some water before his afternoon train.
"We'll pay him out," said one.
"He'll be sure never to bump us…" chuckled another, and the coaches began conspiring to make a plan.
James returned to the platform and banged the coaches hard. He waited impatiently for his passengers to board.
"Easy, boy!" James' driver was attempting to soothe the irate red engine; "You're not due on this train for another few hours!"
"I know," grumbled James. He was anxious to leave so the other engines couldn't tease him for his platform incident.
At last, the guard's whistle blew and James was off. He thundered down the line with his heavy coaches, they bashed and bumped against him.
"Stupid things," he snorted, and bumped them back. James was giving the passengers quite a bumpy ride, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was get the train to its destination. Suddenly, however, he began to slow down. The coaches laughed.
"What's happening? What did you do?" James shrieked in fury as he crawled to a stop.
"More like what did you do, James." His driver stepped down and inspected the coaches. He called to the fireman.
"A brake pipe in one of the coaches has sprung a leak, most likely from James banging them around like a paddleball. That'll teach you not to be rough with the coaches, you great silly engine." The fireman got down and took a look as well, as did the guard.
"What do you think we should do?" The fireman asked the driver.
"I have an idea, but we'll need a newspaper and a leather bootlace."
"How are we ever to get a leather bootlace?" The driver turned to the guard.
In no time at all, every passenger on the train was gathered in the field beside the line. The driver stepped on a box and addressed the crowd of people.
"We've stopped the train because of an issue. There is a hole in the brake pipe of one of the coaches. We have a way to fix it, but we need one of you to supply a leather bootlace. If you have one, please speak up now, or we'll be stuck here until another engine comes."
The crowd talked amongst themselves. No one was quite sure who had a leather bootlace. However, there was one man towards the front of the group who was trying to hide his shoes underneath his trenchcoat. The guard noticed this.
"Excuse me, sir. May we please see your shoes?" The man turned away.
"No." As he backed up however, he tripped over another passenger and fell, showing that he was wearing boots with leather bootlaces.
"Sir, we need your bootlaces or we'll all be stuck here!"
"But my shoes are brand new! Giving you the laces will ruin them!" The crowd took notice of their argument and began to call out.
"Come on, Jobling, give him the laces!"
"Yeah, or we'll all be stuck here, Jeremiah!"
Jeremiah Jobling grunted, and after a short argument, he relinquished his laces and he and the other passengers returned to the coaches. James' driver tied the newspaper around the hole using the bootlace, and slowly but surely James started back for home.
James arrived to the station only a few minutes late, but that didn't stop the passengers from throwing him, and Jeremiah Jobling for the matter, dirty looks. The Fat Controller was not happy when he heard the news.
"James, you're lucky I'm putting this incident down to a fault with the coaches, but this is your last chance." And with that he left. The other engines, however, found it very funny. For a long while, they would talk of nothing but bootlaces, much to James' chagrin.
James awoke the following morning to find his driver stoking him up.
"Come on, James. We have to shunt our trucks today!"
As James shunted his trucks into to place, he heard their chatter.
"Hey, James, you want some bootlaces?"
"Heard you might need some bootlaces!"
"Bootlaces!"
"Bootlaces!"
"Bootlaces!"
James bumped the trucks hard to shut them up, but the damage was done. James was furious.
"I'll show them. I'll show them all…" he muttered darkly, before puffing away.
So, here we are! The second chapter is up! Certainly more beefy than the first, almost double the length as a matter of fact. So now we know James' motives for participating in the strike, the conception of said strike, and Henry not initially wanting to partake in it. Yes, and don't worry, in the next chapter we will see Thomas! So, next chapter, prepare for Chapter 3: Neglected.
