The Gravity of the Situation
The Skarloey Railway was not like the other railways that made up the Island of Sodor. It only had two engines to its name. Only one engine worked during the day, and although it specialised in passengers and goods traffic, outsiders only seemed to see the two little engines hauling coaches up and down their little line.
Skarloey and Rheneas, the two little engines, were very proud of their work ethic, but never to the point of becoming conceited.
They were not the same engines they had been when they first came to the island. For one thing, they were both given cabs and extra parts, but their experiences had changed them, perhaps for the better.
But no matter how old and experienced you are, you will never stop learning.
"I envy you sometimes," James commented one morning at the terminus.
"Envy us, James?" Rheneas replied, raising an eyebrow as he was coupled to his train.
"Yes," the larger red engine confirmed loftily. "It must be wonderful doing nothing but take passengers all day. No dirty trucks, no dirty sidings. What bliss!"
"We have to take trucks, too, you know," Rheneas chuckled. "How else will your Fat Director get his slate?"
Before either of them could say anything else, there was the distant sound of a bugle.
TA-TAN-TARAA!
"What was that?" James asked, bemusedly. "They don't go fox hunting around here, do they?"
Rheneas smirked knowingly. Before James could ask another question, there was a rattle, a roar, and a line of loaded slate trucks slid towards the wharf, three brakemen perched atop them.
James was speechless. "The workmen are in charge of the trucks?" he spluttered. "How do they pull them up hills?"
Rheneas chuckled. "They don't. Skarloey or I pull them to the mine, and we let gravity bring them back down"
James's shock quickly gave way to envy. "On our railway, trucks moving by themselves are called a runaway," he sniffed. "I suppose this proves that you two are much too lazy to do real work if you depend on others to do it for you!"
Rheneas smirked. "The Fat Director shut you up for not shunting your trains the other week," he grinned. "I don't think you're in a position to call anyone lazy"
James went redder than ever, and banged his coaches by mistake when the guard blew his whistle.
"If you keep doing that, you'd better hope one of your passengers has bootlaces!" Rheneas winced.
"VERY FUNNY!" James snarled as he stormed out of the station.
Rheneas just couldn't resist.
"Be careful of elephants hiding in the tunnel!" he shouted after the retreating tender engine, "And mind the turntable, my driver says the wind's picking up!"
James noisily let off steam. The little tank engine assumed it was to drown him out.
"...Wasn't it Henry who ran into the elephant?"
"Yes, but if you ask me, it was James who lost it. He was the one who took the circus away, from what Edward told me"
The two old engines were partaking in their favourite pastime before they went to sleep. Regaling what had happened during the day.
"I've been thinking about the Fat Director's engines of late," Skarloey commented. "They still have a lot to learn. They either have silly accidents or they're being selfish. Imagine refusing to work because of rain? Or having to pull a goods train? Or having to shunt your own coaches and trucks?"
"I know," Rheneas observed slyly. "Perhaps they should be covered with a tarpaulin or run into a mud slide? That might bring them down a peg or two"
Skarloey glared, and then burst out laughing.
"That was years ago," he protested teasingly, "I'm not the same engine I was then!"
"That might be true," Rheneas conceded. "If a horrid old crosspatch like you can change, there's hope for those big engines!"
"Just as long as they don't start making me pull trucks more often, we'll be fine," Skarloey replied.
The pair continued talking and reminiscing until they drifted off to sleep.
The following morning, it was Skarloey's turn to go out.
The first thing he did was bring empty trucks up the line to the slate quarry. Here, the workmen would fill the trucks and bring them back down to the wharf at the top station.
The idea of trucks moving of their own accord seemed dangerous, but the men knew how to keep them under control. It was the railway line itself that they had to be aware of.
Gantries had been erected along the line. Each one was thirty metres away from a footbridge or a tunnel. A long stretch of rope dangled down from each one.
The railwaymen called these ropes "rat tails". They were not for the engines, but for the breakmen who rode the trucks back to the wharf. It was to warn them of potential hazards ahead, and to keep them from standing up or doing something silly.
Skarloey had never liked them. As he rumbled under the gantry, he grimaced as the rat tail brushed his smokebox and slithered around his funnel.
"Stupid things!" he muttered. "They could cause an accident!"
He arrived at the quarry, and then went back for his coaches.
An hour later, all of the trucks were filled to the brim with slate.
It seemed like a normal day for the quarrymen, but something was different.
Three breakmen would ride the trucks down the line, as it was dangerous for one of them to manage alone. But today, there was only two, as the third had taken ill.
The foreman was worried.
"Mind how you go," he warned. "Keep your eyes on the tracks, make sure to keep the train's speed to fifteen miles an hour, and mind the rat tails!"
"You're worrying over nothing!" the first brakeman scoffed, absentmindedly polishing his bugle. "I've heard these gravity trains have run for years and nothing's ever gone wrong"
"Besides," the second brakeman agreed, "the two of us can handle trucks. We know the line like the back of our hands!"
With that, the brakes were released, and the slate trucks began their journey to the wharf.
The brakemen felt exhilarated as they began their rapid descent. It didn't matter how many times they made this journey, there was just something wonderful about seeing the landscape sliding along.
The peace was broken only by the rhythmic clattering of the wheels rolling on the rails and the brassy blasts as the first brakeman blew his bugle.
TA-TAN-TARAA!
As Glennock Station came into view, the second brakeman made a grave error.
"Do you think they'll build a rollercoaster at Blackpool like this if the Thin Controller gave them the idea?" he asked.
The first brakeman turned around to answer. If he had paid attention, and noticed that the rat tail was drawing near, perhaps history would have played out a little differently.
The first brakeman felt the rope smack against his side, knocking him off balance.
His heart seemed to stop as his legs shot upwards towards his torso, the world seemed to spin and he landed painfully in a ditch alongside the track.
Seeing stars, he looked up to see ten loaded slate trucks thundering away without him. The second brakeman looked back in shock.
The first brakeman knew that he could never keep up with them now. And, as he stumbled back onto the soft grass and hard tree roots, he found his ankle had been sprained.
He began to blow his bugle, hoping the sound would alert people that the gravity train was out of control.
TA-TAN-TARAA! TA-TAN-TARAA!
The second brakeman began to panic, and frantically tried to slow them down, but the slate trucks went faster and faster.
"Well, hello, Gordon!" Skarloey greeted cheerfully. "It must be nice to get a view of the line instead of the express, eh?"
"How amusing, old thing," Gordon sniffed, with a slight hint of sarcasm. "Although, yes, it's simply grand to be pulling trains after being locked up in the shed"
"Rheneas and I were talking about you last night," Skarloey ventured, a cheeky smile forming on his lips. "We said it was a shame that your trains couldn't be brought to the platform by themselves. It would have saved a lot of bother, you know!"
"You mean like those gravy trains James was talking about?" Gordon sniffed. "Quite a dangerous practice if you ask me"
"Gravity, Gordon, gravity!" Skarloey chortled. "And it's perfectly safe. Our railway has brought goods down by gravity since I first came here, and nothing's gone wrong. The men know what they're doing!"
Just then, both engines heard a rattle, and several shouts.
"What's going on?" Gordon questioned, an eyebrow rising.
Both engines saw ten loaded slate trucks thunder into the wharf.
The second brakeman saw the edge of the wharf drawing closer and closer. He knew that it was now far too late to prevent an accident. He leapt off the trucks, tumbling head over heels to safety.
"They're coming in too fast!" Skarloey gasped. "Stop!"
There was a cacophony of yelling, the rumbling of the trucks, and finally a mingled bursting crash of splintering wood, clanking metal and shattering stone.
A pile of broken trucks and slate lay on the main line, right in Gordon's path.
Skarloey's face went as red as his paint as Gordon glowered at him.
Although the crash had only lasted a few seconds, cleaning up the mess lasted considerably longer.
Percy brought the breakdown train to hoist the broken slate trucks back onto the wharf, while the men cleared the debris from the rails.
Skarloey would have helped with the operation, but he was reminded that his passengers couldn't be kept waiting. He steamed away, flashing a sheepish look at the fuming blue engine.
After the breakdown crew had made sure the tracks weren't damaged, the express was able to get underway again.
Gordon swept away, grumbling audibly about his perfect record being ruined by "incompetence".
The injured first brakeman had been helped by a local farmer and, after he and the second brakeman had a stern talking-to about keeping a good look-out, was given time off to recover.
That evening, the Thin Controller came to speak to Skarloey and Rheneas.
"Today has given me a lot of thought regarding the way we handle goods work," he announced. "After a considerable waste of slate, and having to pay Sir Hatt for the damage to his railway, I have made a decision"
He paused impressively. The two old engines knew what he was going to say.
"These rat tails the workmen have made have proven to be hazardous if distractions are caused," the Thin Controller began, "To avoid a repeat of what's happened today, I have decided to scrap the gravity train. From tomorrow, bringing slate back down from the quarry shall be added to your duties. This will be a safer method"
"Come along, you lot! No nonsense!" Rheneas barked at his slate trucks, giving them a bump.
"Look who's finally getting into the world of real work, then!" a familiar voice chuckled.
Rheneas rolled his eyes while James smirked.
"I suppose the change must be overwhelming," the tender engine persisted, annoyed at the lack of a response. "Having to pull trucks to and from your little quarry. Less time for your coaches. Less time for a rest"
"You're quite right, James," Rheneas interrupted.
"I am?"
"Skarloey and I aren't happy. We're going on strike"
"You are?"
"Well, we would be. But if the Thin Controller shut us up, there'd be no-one to run the line. Unlike the engines on your railway, Skarloey and I are indispensable!"
James's mocking demeanour faded.
"The Fat Director wouldn't replace me! I'm insensible too!"
"Well, at least you admit it!" Rheneas laughed.
"Listen to me, you little twerp!"
But whatever James had to say, Rheneas never heard it. He clattered away, mirth spreading through him, finishing the first job that would continue to endeavour for years to come.
The End