"Just fully release the brake. You can't coddle it."
The engine's wheels slipped furiously as it attempted to gain any leverage to start pulling the heavy coaches.
"Nope. No no no. Ease it back on. Let the pressure build so you can use the counterweights to accelerate."
Gordon stood arms crossed behind Rebecca as she attempted to remedy her approach.
The newly arrived Bulleid engine had been proving harder to handle than Rebecca had initially anticipated. It was finicky. Large Boxpok wheels with enormous counterweights caused the powerful locomotive to want to let loose at any change in the regulator. As Rebecca re-engaged the brake hoping for the wheels to catch, she let out an exasperated sigh of frustration.
"There! Open it up." Gordon quipped as Rebecca felt the wheels garner traction, she released the brake and felt the express finally begin to inch up the track and gather steam.
She pulled out her yellow handkerchief and mopped her brow as she kept a hand on the engine's regulator. Gradually she pulled it back as the engine was steadily making its way beyond the station.
"You're getting it. That was a lot better." Gordon commended as he balanced himself against the cab wall. "We do need to beat the signal at Wellsworth if we're going to make up any time. Once we're passed the junction…."
He trailed off as his eyes rested on newly varnished rails by the points. Despite the thorough clean up and repair from the accident, the area continued to haunt Gordon's mind as he recalled seeing the mangled metal and burnt remnants of Numbers 2 and 10.
"Passed the junction…" Rebecca prompted, trying not to be too direct.
"Passed the junction… yes, once we're passed the junction we only need to maintain speed until Tidmouth, then at the tunnel we can go full steam over the viaduct and hopefully make up time."
Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose and lightly shook his head regaining focus. A pause between the two drivers was deafening as the wheels of the Bulleid drummed deeply along the track.
"Have you heard anything about them?" Rebecca asked cautiously. She was curious but didn't want to overstep.
Gordon paused and exhaled wearily. "Henry's still on bed rest, but he's home and feeling fine. Catching up on his David Attenborough specials I'd imagine." Gordon grinned meekly. "But as for Edward and Douglas… The last I heard they were still in the hospital."
Gordon felt his stomach churn. He felt too guilty to go see Henry and was embarrassed for his fumbling when his friend was unconscious. Added to the unexpected fear and worry for his two fellow workmen, it had been a lot of sleepless nights.
Rebecca felt her position deeply. She hadn't known any of the men involved in the incident, but with three drivers and engines out of commission, the railway was relying on her to quickly become independent and confident in her abilities with the newly acquired engine. The pressure continued to mount as she had been told at the start of the week that she would be taking over express duties considering the route was the only experience she'd had and knew at this point. Relegating Gordon to use his knowledge of the rest of the railway's workings to fill in for odd jobs when he wasn't mentoring her. The shift in responsibilities had created a terse dynamic between the two.
Taking a breath, Rebecca bowed her head and opted to tie her yellow handkerchief around her neck. "I know I keep saying it, but I hope you know I mean it each time. I'm genuinely sorry Gordon."
He bit his cheek and exhaled through his nose. It wasn't Rebecca's fault. None of what had occurred had been due to her. But for some reason, having essentially a stranger as a catalyst to vent his animosity toward was his coping mechanism. It wasn't deserved, but Gordon was all but numb at this point and was latching onto the only emotion he could. His short fuse.
"I know. I know it, I know you are." Gordon said shortly, wincing his eyes and pulling out his blue handkerchief to dab his forehead. "We just need to get through and wait until we have any news."
"Waiting is the hardest part." She goaded. Taking any stab at levity she could.
Gordon huffed. "Points are coming up, slow down."
Rebecca obliged, brow furrowed in the process.
Number 37 beat the rails emphatically as the chunky tank engine coerced it's heavy cars around the bend. Crossing from ballast to concrete and steel, the train began to slow as it approached the dockside.
John Porter and Sam (Salty) Fehrle sat on crates at a large spool on the loading bay along the outside line of the dockyard. Sandwiches in hand they had each exchanged a 'bird' with the crane operator across the way as he made his way back to the controls.
"Argh and they call me Salty." Salty chortled as he took a heaping mouthful of ham and cheese.
"Cranky son of bitch that one." Porter replied taking a handful of crisps from the center of the spool. "Hey! Loo' whofs pulli' in"
"Blow me down, say it don't spray." Salty grimaced watching flecks of crisp dust the 'table.' "Ah har har look! Haven't seen Rosie since the tides were restless!"
"That's what I was tryin' to say!" Porter frowned. The two watched earnestly as Number 37 slowed to a stop in front of the large loading crane. Rosie poked her head out from the cab gave a big wave to them.
"Wotcher boys! Whatcha havin'!?" Rosie put a hand to her cheek and called before she began descending the steps of her engine.
"Weeeeellllllll I think I've got me an apple left if you want it!" Salty shouted back as he blindly searched under the spool for his pail.
"Blimey, sod that. Pass me some o' those crisps." Rosie declared as she took Porter's extended hand to heave her onto the loading deck.
"Help yourself. So long's you don't mind spit." Salty said, pointedly looking at Porter.
The man in turn extended a prominent middle finger as Rosie took a handful of the crisps anyway.
"What brings you here Rose? Could've sworn you'd been relocated to Vicarstown." Porter asked after caging his bird.
"Double shifts. After the big accident I've been having to cover Douglas' work as well as my own." Rosie popped a crisp in her mouth and hip checked Porter to share his crate.
"Argh that sounds worse than a boat full o' holes." Salty mused, finally finding his lunch pail and taking a chunk out of his apple.
"It's just hard ya know? Donald is understandably all out of sorts. But having to work directly with him is a productivity nightmare. I haven't gotten anywhere on time all week." Rosie polished off the crisps in her hand and took out her burgundy handkerchief to wipe off the grease off her fingers.
"I can't even imagine. Just have to keep patience." Porter sighed. "At least your days won't get too boring."
"YOU THERE! PUSH YOUR DAMN WAGONS FORWARD! I CAN'T REACH MY HOOK THAT FAR!"
"Argh and there's Cranky again." Salty laughed.
"Damn. I haven't gotten a chance to eat all day." Rosie mulled. She stood up wearily.
"Here, have the rest of mine." Porter offered. "I'll get your cars moved."
And he leapt from the loading bay and walked candidly toward Number 37.
I'm sorry y'all. I wasn't sure how to proceed after the big accident. Everything I tried to write about the recovery efforts felt too forced. I haven't explored the characters enough to try making anyone care about them just yet.
So I've opted to time skip slightly and focus on growing dynamics and continuing to world build. Maybe I'll flashback or return to the accident at some point. But for now there's so much more story I want to tell.
Also I loooove the idea of the dynamic with the dockyard boys and Rosie. It feels like such a fun fit since Rosie, to me, is one of those 'blank slate' characters I talked about earlier. (Also couldn't tell you where I pulled those proper names from for Porter and Salty other than Salty's last name is that of one of his creators.)
But of course I'm appreciative for feedback and please know I thank you for reading. -REN