James and the Diesel Engines (SpartanPrime101 Rewrite) – Chapter 5

Before I do or say anything else, I want to give praise and glory to God Almighty. Lord, I thank you for being with me and for guiding me over the past few months. Thank you for giving me the strength to acknowledge and battle the demons that resided in my soul. Thank you for the wonderful people in my life, including my family and mentors. Thank you!

…

Disclaimer: I don't own Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends. If I did, it would be just like the model series episodes that aired HiT and Mattel took over – when the producers and writers actually cared about making a story that was enjoyable for everyone.

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Story 5: Deep Freeze

Winter had lasted longer than usual that year, and for many days it had everything in an icy grip. The countryside was frozen hard, trees were white with frost, and icicles hung from bridges and water columns. Mercifully, no heavy snow had fallen, so the engines could continue their work without snowplows.

"Too cold for snow, thank goodness," shivered James' driver, as he and the fireman huddled on the sheltered side of the cab. James had an open footplate, and everyday his crew came to work muffled to the eyebrows in scarves and jerseys. They joked of how they resembled the native wanderers on the Arctic – "Inuits, they're called," explained his driver – bundled up against the icy winds.

Sometimes, water-columns froze too, and then the engines couldn't get the water they needed. It wasn't uncommon for some engines to be delayed due to frozen water pipes. Fortunately, this never happened at the Works station, so the engines would make sure to top up whenever they had to stop here. One day, the frost seemed harder than ever. As James was passing through with a local goods train, his driver stopped him beside the water column there.

"We'll give you a good topping-up while we can," he said. "There's no telling when we might get some more." James shivered as the icy water cascaded into his tender, but he knew his driver was right. As he waited, James couldn't help but worry of what the other engines would say to him in the sheds later on.

James was still on limited privileges after his actions with D261 during the winter holiday season. D261 had been brought from the Other Railway to help with the increased passenger traffic during the holidays. James was angry for having to share his passenger duties with the diesel, and out of spite, had run through the junction without topping up on water. This left him stranded on the mainline without water, and were it not for a passing lorry, no one would've come to help him until later that night.

The Fat Controller had punished him severely: he had been locked up in the sheds for several weeks, and had only been allowed back out a few days before. He was also restricted to limited goods work, and had to help Boco and Bear with their trains when they were busy.

The other engines were displeased with him too; Gordon and Henry had verbally ripped him a new smokebox for risking the welfare of his passengers. Every night, the engines would share stories about boot-laces, leaves-under-wheels, broken signals, and tar wagons. Normally, James would try to retort with tales of tunnels and ditches, but he was too ashamed to do so.

Just then, he felt his tank fill up to the brim with water, because the fireman forgot to tell the driver to tell the tap off. Water overflowed onto James' tender, making him shiver again. "Right," said the fireman. "Let's be off – I want to warm myself up shoveling coal."

"We can't go yet," laughed the driver. "They haven't finished loading the last cargo wagon."

"Brrrrrr, well, I wish they'd hurry," grumbled the fireman, blowing on his hands. "I'm frozen from standing on that tender." At last, the last van was loaded, and the guard blew his whistle. Slowly at first, James soon began building speed as he chuffed out of the station.

All engines have a tap called an injector. It allows the driver or fireman to transfer water from the tender to the boiler, and is very important. Without it, the water-level in the boiler could become too low to make steam properly. Again, James thought back to when he rushed through the junction without stopping, and hoped he wouldn't have the same problem again.

They had not gone far before James felt thirsty. "I need a drink, please," he called. The driver switched on the injector, but nothing happened. The fireman tried his duplicate; still nothing.

James soon felt a growing discomfort in his boiler, which became worse and worse as he chuffed down the line. "I've got such a pain," he groaned.

The driver soon found the problem. "Your injector's failed," he said. "Blockage in the pipe, most likely. Just what we needed – and we only just got underway, too. We'll have to stop and deal with your fire – can't go on without water."

"Don't set the sleepers on fire," pleaded James. "Henry would never let me hear the end of it."

The fireman laughed. "You'll be all right if we just damp you down," he said. "There's no need to throw the fire out, like Henry did. Although," he chuckled again, "if we did that, then you would look like a fire engine."

They stopped near a signalbox and James' driver asked the signalman to telephone for help.

"Wendell's helping with a derailment at the junction near Kellsthorpe Road," said the signalman. "He'll be along to take James to the Works as soon as he's finished."

The driver and fireman were relieved, but James was cross. Wendell the Works Diesel had been brought to help with the maintenance train the previous autumn. He had helped Henry after the green engine's coupling had broken, and his fire had set the sleepers alight. James had heard the other engines talk about Wendell in the sheds – they had all met the diesel and were quite fond of him. James, however, had not met him yet, and was not too eager to do so now.

"Rescued by a diesel," he snorted, disgustedly. "It's degrading. I won't go!"

"Let's see how sure you are when your boiler isn't keeping you warm against the cold," snapped his driver. Then, he and the fireman went into the signalbox, where the signalman served them hot cups of coco.

James' driver was right. Now that his fire was down, his boiler was cooling and he could feel the icy wind swirl around his funnel and cab. Bear soon arrived to take on the goods train to Wellsworth. He glared at James as he was coupled up, and he rolled away without a word.

At last, Wendell arrived. He gave a polite toot as he rolled alongside. "Hello, hello!" he said. "What's happened here? Injector problems? Nasty business, that is. Seen too many engines brought to a halt cause their injector starts giving them bother."

James said nothing.

"Nothing to it, old fellow," the diesel continued. "We'll get you to the Works, and they'll set you right." With that, he coupled up behind James, while his crew climbed into Wendell's cab. Soon, they were trundling down the line back towards the Works station.

"I must say," Wendell spoke up, "I've met quite a number of you Sudrians since I've arrived here. Quite the friendly lot, each and every one of ya. In fact, I'd say you're about the only engine I haven't met – up to now, that is. Of course, it's hard not to see you about, being the only red engine on the island and all."

James remained silent.

"Did you know," said the diesel, "I myself was once painted red after a haul-out? The workers said it was a mix up with the paperwork. They were supposed to paint the coaches I was meant to deliver to a nearby goods yard; instead, they lathered me from cab to cab in bright, cherry red. The other diesels teased me for weeks after that, saying that I looked like a big red barn on wheels. It didn't help that my engine was still on the fritz, and sounded like an angry cow squabbling with a flu-stricken rooster."

James couldn't help but smirk at this.

"My driver practically begged our controller to send me back for another overhaul – told him that, 'if he had to listen to my 'brawling-barn' engine for one more day, he would go as barmy as the chickens he used to raise as a boy in Wales'. Our controller was hesitant at first, until he heard my engine first-hand. Couldn't get me to the repair shop fast enough, claiming that he had no patience for 'brawling-barns' making a ruckus on his railway."

"Well," said James, ruefully, "you are square-shaped like a barn."

"Aye, that's exactly what my old driver said," chuckled Wendell. Both engines laughed, and they talked until they reached the Works. When they arrived, James was shunted into a repair berth, and a workman climbed up onto his tender. When he tried to open the filler-cap, he found that it was completely iced over and wouldn't budge.

"There's your answer, James," said the workman. "Your filler-cap's frozen solid, likely because the water overflowed. Ice is stopping air from getting into the tank, so the injectors can't work. You'll be right as rain when the ice melts."

And he was; the ice had melted within the hour, and James was able to puff out of the Works under his own power. Before he left, he stopped by the siding where Wendell was being refueled. "Thank you for helping me," he said, hesitantly.

"No worries," said the diesel. "Always happy to lend a helping buffer for any engine. I'm sure I've seen, and will see, all that and more during my time here; be it a failed injector, a frozen filler-cap, or an engine who runs dry while pulling a holiday train on the mainline."

He smiled knowingly at James' dumbfounded expression. "I heard about what happened between you and D261; he's a good friend of mine, you see. He also told me about when Bowler and Stuck-Up came to your railway. Seen too much of their ilk back on my old line: they come in all puffed up and boastful, only to end up getting themselves into trouble."

"I, for one, never bought into that nonsense. What should it matter whether we're steam or diesel? We all run on the same rails, handle the same jobs, and even share the same fears of being sent away. What matters is how well we handle the work given to us. And besides," he added, "can you say that you haven't met another steam engine who wasn't rude or boastful to others?"

Just then, the foreman approached the two engines. "We just got a call from the stationmaster at Vicarstown – an engine pulling an enthusiast train has stalled just outside the station. You need to help clear the line for Gordon with the Express."

"Right," said the diesel. "On my way." And he rolled down the line, but not before giving a friendly farewell toot to James, who had much to think about as he followed shortly after.

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Well, I'm going to be blunt: this is, by far, the weakest story of the original book written by Christopher Awdry. For starters, he could've done more to write about what James and the Works Diesel actually talked about on their way to the Works. It would've had to be something that would break the ice between them, and show James that not all diesels were arrogant, self-absorbed prats.

Second, I made sure to emphasize the consequences of James' actions in the previous chapter – getting reprimanded by his fellow engines; receiving bitterness from Boco and Bear for his attitude towards diesels; and, of course, his driver and fireman aren't too pleased with him either.

Thirdly, I wanted to expand on Wendell the Works Diesel following his meeting with Henry back in chapter 3. While I'm glad Christopher introduced a new character into the RWS, I'm disappointed that nothing else was done to expand his character and role in said series. As such, my intent was to give him a more prominent role on Sodor, rather than a one-shot cameo for the story's plot. Hopefully, I'll be able to include him in my future stories/adaptations.

And finally, I've finally started James on the road to redemption, though it will take some time to rebuild the trust he's lost. And, this also paves the way for the events of my next chapter in the series.

Until then, please read and review.