All kinds of ships use the big harbor just north of Knapford Station. The passenger ships and cruise liners have spotless paint and shinning brass. Other ships, although smaller and dirtier, are important too. They take coal, machinery and other materials abroad, and bring back meat, timber and things the people of Sodor need.

Fishing boats also come here and, as part of their daily routines, unload the day's catches on the quay. Some of it is sent to the shops and markets in and around Knapford and Tidmouth, and the rest go on a special train bound for places further up east. This is the train the railwaymen call

The Flying Kipper

Written by the Reverend W. Awdry, Hufflepuff Batboy & Broa Island

Proofread and Corrected by BNSF1995

Isle of Sodor: 1935

One winter evening, just after New Year's, Henry brought his last train of the day into Knapford Station. The green engine was still in rather hot water with most of the other engines, but he didn't care, his new supply of Welsh coal was working well. As the passengers disembarked, the stationmaster walked along the platform to Henry's cab. He handed the driver a piece of paper, tipped his hat, and returned to his office. The driver quickly unfolded the paper and silently read the note written upon it.

"What's the matter, Jackson?" asked the fireman. The driver turned to his colleague, a broad smile on his face.

"We'll be up early tomorrow," he said. "We've got to take the Flying Kipper."

"You mean that express fish train the Red Engines take in turns with?" asked Henry who had overheard the two men's conversation.

"The very same," confirmed the driver, "Ringo was meant to pull it tonight, but he and Alec are busy elsewhere." He glanced side-to-side before whispering, "Don't tell Gordon, but I think if we pull the Kipper nicely, the Fat Director will let us pull the actual express."

This made Henry very excited. His condition had never allowed him to take the express without failing. But now thanks to his special coal, a successful run of the express with him at its head was a certain possibility!

"Hurrah!" cheered Henry after he'd broken out of his day-dreaming, "That will be lovely."

After an accident involving two engines from one of the Steam Reserve Corps' platoons, Ringo and Alec had been sent to help out on the mainland for a few days. As Henry would be taking Ringo's position on the Flying Kipper, the Fat Director now only to find someone to take over Alec's midnight goods train from Elsbridge to Barrow. Naturally, as he was the NWR's relief engine, The Fat Director chose Klondike for the job. And my word, the C2 wasn't at all thrilled about running a goods train in the dead of night.

Nevertheless, that night, around three in the morning, Klondike arrived at Elsbridge Station to collect his trucks. He found them standing at the station's bay platform.

"A goods train. A goods train. A goods train," grumbled Klondike as he backed onto the train.

"Oh stop complaining," said his driver. "Why can't you thankful that you have work to do, or would you rather watch paint dry in that shed of yours?"

Although Klondike didn't admit it, he knew his driver had a valid point. Soon the guard blew his whistle, and the Atlantic slowly pulled out of the station, his wagons groaning and clanking behind him. Klondike, however, ignored the trucks' racket, as he was still thinking of how to get rid of Henry.

About two hours later, Henry arrived at the harbor to pick up the Flying Kipper. The ground was covered in a thin blanket of snow and frost, and a howling wind swooped under and around the dockside cranes. As Henry backed onto the train, men hustled and shouted, loading the refrigerated vans with crates of fish. The last door was slammed shut, the guard showed his green lamp,

The Flying Kipper was ready to go!

Henry's wheels slipped on the icy rails. "Come on! Come on!" he barked to the vans.

A non-faceless van was startled from his slumber. "Alright lads," he called to the other wagons, "that's our que!" With that, the non-faceless vans carefully released their brakes and Henry brought the train up to speed.

"Bit of a rough start," Henry said to himself as he shunted over the viaduct leading out of the harbor, "but no matter. It's still early days, yet."

The green engine's driver and fireman were very impressed. Normally, Henry would've given up at the first sign of trouble. They had never seen their engine display this amount of positivity since they were first assigned to him.

Clouds of smoke and steam poured from his funnel into the cold air, and the orange light from his firebox was reflected off the surrounding white snow like the beam of a warship's search light! "Hurry, hurry, hurry," panted Henry. He whooshed under bridges and clattered though stations, green signal lights shown as they passed.

Further up the line, just after Henry's Tunnel, Klondike was making good time with his train when he noticed a red signal coming up fast. Carefully, he began to slow.

"Hey-up. What's the matter boy?" asked the driver.

"A red signal," explained Klondike, "bloody nuisance these things are."

"I agree. But signals are here for a reason, you know. But… why would there be a red signal at this hour? We're the only train on the mainline right now, aren't we?"

This time, Klondike ignored his driver's words of wisdom. As he brought the train to a stop, he noticed that the signal was in a rather cumbersome spot right underneath a large tree covered in snow. Before he had enough time to process it, he saw the signalman walking along the track towards them, lamp in hand.

"Looks like the signalman wants to see us," observed the fireman.

"Rather him then us," put in the driver. "Klondike's fire's so warm, I don't want to leave it."

"Well good for you," said Klondike sarcastically. His driver should be thankful he wasn't the one pulling a good train while being exposed to the elements.

Before engine and crew could fall into a full-blown argument, the signalman walked up to Klondike's cab, knocking on the metal to get the two men's attention.

"Oh, uh, sorry lad," said the driver when he noticed the signalman standing there. "What seems to be the problem?"

The signalman sighed, clearly frustrated. "Some mongrels put a rail spike in the points leading to the passing siding," he said. "I was able to remove it, but now the bloody thing's frozen solid. Unless you three have a solution to our little problem, I don't think you'll be going any further tonight lads."

Klondike groaned; this was the last thing he wanted to hear. "Oh now this just perfect!" he vented. "First, I get outdone by a failure, then, I have to spend god-knows how long on a siding in the middle of the frickin' winter!"

"Oh stop your boiler aching!" scolded the signalman, "I don't give a damn about you. I'm more worried about Henry, he's supposed to be passing through with the Flying Kipper, and if he gets held up here, I don't even want to think about the paperwork such a delay would…"

Klondike didn't hear the rest of the signalman's worries; he was deep in his own thoughts. Henry? he thought. Did he say Henry? Klondike began recounting the recent events in his mind.

Signal. Tree. Snow. Points. Siding. Frozen. Henry. Kipper. Signal. Tree. Snow. Points. Siding. Frozen. Henry. Kipper. Signal. Tree. Snow. Points. Passing siding. Frozen. Henry. Kipper. SIGNAL. TREE. SNOW. POINTS. SIDING. FROZEN. HENRY. KIPPER!

With all of his might, Klondike prevented a smile from forming across his face as his plan finally took shape!

"Well," he said unknowingly interrupting the signalman's ramblings, "I suppose there's nothing we can do about the issue at present. I'll bring my train into the siding, and you just keep that signal set at danger. With time, Henry will see it, stop, and then you can explain the situation to him and his crew."

The driver thought for a moment. "Well, it's the only real plan we've got, so I say we go for it!" He turned back to the signalman, "Thanks for the heads up, my friend." The signalman nodded a 'thank you' and walked back to his box.

As he prepared to bring his train over the frozen points and into the passing siding, Klondike let off a huge cloud of steam, clouding his driver and fireman's vision of the landscape around them. The smoke coiled around the tall tree like a boa constrictor strangling it's prey. The snow nestled in the tree's branches was disturbed and began to fall to the ground below.

One particularly large clot struck a perfect bullseye on the signal, forcing it's arm down with a SQUELCH! and a SNAP! Neither the driver nor fireman noticed what had happened, it probably would've been better if they did.

Klondike, satisfied with his work, snickered to himself as he pulled away, leaving a twitching, green signal behind!

They were on the last leg of their journey.

As Henry rushed past the River Hoo, the sun was beginning to rise up from behind the distant hills. He knew they were almost at Vicarstown, they just had to pass through Ballahoo Ridge Tunnel. As they approached, the tunnel, a distant warning signal appeared ahead. It's arm was up, meaning 'Proceed with Caution'. Henry shut off the steam going into his cylinders and prepared to stop, but as he emerged from the other side of the tunnel, he saw that the home signal was down.

"All clear, Henry!" cried his driver. "Away we go!"

They couldn't know that the points from the mainline to a siding were frozen, and that the home signal was meant to be set at 'Danger', but a fall of snow forced it down!

Any moment now, he thought.

Klondike along with his goods train sat in the siding waiting for confirmation that the Flying Kipper had been halted. However, Klondike knew otherwise. The C2 waited in overwhelming anticipation for, what he'd hoped to be, Henry's demise.

His driver and fireman, completely unaware of their engine's plan, were having cocoa in the brake van with the guard. The driver pulled out his watch. "The Kipper is due."

The fireman scoffed. "Who cares? This is good cocoa."

"Come on, Cyril," said the driver, getting up, "back to our engine." He grabbed the fireman's arm to pull him to his feet, but he pulled it away from the driver's reach.

"Hey!" the fireman grumbled, "I haven't finished my cocoa yet!"

"Wait!" cried the guard, who'd stayed silent for most of their cocoa break. "Do you fellas hear that?" The three men hushed… and listened… but they couldn't hear anything.

The driver blinked; his vision briefly consumed by darkness. What should have lasted less than a second turned into two seconds, then three, then four… then sixty. The driver tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't, he was stuck in an empty black void.

Suddenly, he heard something. It was very faint, but he could just make it out. It sounded like his engine, Klondike, laughing maniacally paired with the crackling of flames.

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd known your place, failure!"

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the noise dissipated, and the driver was consumed by silence once more…

Soon, once the sun was high in the sky, Yang arrived with the breakdown train and some workmen. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over the H2 as she brought the cranes alongside the crushed and twisted remains of Klondike's goods train. The sound of a workman screaming "CALL AN AMBULANCE!" while digging through the wreckage only strengthened that growing feeling of dread in Yang's boiler.

She realized that she, Ruby, and the Red Engines should have forgiven Henry when they had the chance. As the green engine may not be with them much longer.

Henry's driver and fireman had jumped clear before the crash, both men only receiving a few broken bones for their troubles. Henry, on the other hand, lay on his side, his green paint blackened the short fires caused by the initial impact, the sickness he'd thought to have left him for good slowly spreading though his firebox and boiler. That sickening feeling grew stronger when he saw the Fat Director climb down from Yang's cab and quickly walk up to him.

The Fat Director stopped for a moment, his attention focused on the workmen and paramedics loading three body-bags into a waiting ambulance. Once he had recomposed himself, he turned the foreman. "How's Klondike?" he asked.

"It's hard to say," replied the foreman. "That engine won't respond to anything my men ask him. I think he's gone into a state of shock."

"Thank you, my good man. That'll be it for now." The Fat Director then turned to Henry, who was dreading what the man with the top hat was going to say to him.

"The… the signal was… down, sir…" croaked Henry with great difficulty.

"I understand, Henry; this couldn't have possibly been your fault," said the Fat Director, holding back tears. "I've been told that it was ice and snow that caused this… this terrible tragedy. We'll get you onto a flatbed, Yang will take you to the Steamworks, and you'd be good as…"

The Fat Director trailed off. He looked Henry up and down. No, he thought. This is fair beyond the Steamworks' capabilities. I wonder… Yes, it's about time I cashed in.

And with that, the Fat Director walked thoughtfully away, accidently leaving a fearful Henry hanging, and failing to notice the wicked grin on Klondike's face. For all he knew, his plan had worked.

Henry was gone! Sentenced to the scrapyard! And Klondike would soon be the NWR's new number three!

But, as we know, Klondike was wrong. As the Fat Director wasn't one who'd give up on his engines easily!

One William Stanier watched from his office window as two Jintys pulled into the foundry limits of Crewe Works. The tank engines were double heading a short train made-up of only two flatbed and a single brake van, but it was what was on the flatbeds that really caught Mr. Stanier's attention. As the train came to a halt just before the Erecting Shop, a man stepped down from the brake van, a man that Mr. Stanier instantly recognized.

Quickly, William Stanier hurried out of his office to greet the visitors. "Topham, my old friend," he said shaking the man with the top hat's hand. "This is quite an unexpected surprise."

"Yes," said Sir Topham Hatt, "it's great to see you too, Bill. But I wish this reunion could've been made on better terms." He gestured to the large green engine sitting on the two flatbeds the two men stood beside.

Mr. Stanier looked closely at the large non-faceless engine, who had been sedated with Green Water before the seventy-eight-mile trek between Barrow-in-Furness and Crewe. "What… What is this?" he asked rather perplexed. "It looks like one of Gresley's builds, but I've never seen anything like it."

"William Stanier, this is my number three, Henry," Sir Topham said firmly, and then he told Mr. Stanier everything. Everything about Henry's problems, and everything that had happened on the Island of Sodor ever since Black Thursday. From the original Railway Board's reign of terror, to the three big engines' strike, and finally the recent Flying Kipper disaster. Mr. Stanier listened carefully.

"Looks to me that Henry here's going to need a complete rebuild and essence transfer," said Mr. Stanier after a prolonged moment of silence. "I'm… I'm guessing you want to cash in that favour I owe you, correct?" Sir Topham nodded and Mr. Stanier chuckled knowingly. "Very well Topham. Come. We'll discuss the details in my office."

With that, the guard in the brake van blew his whistle in a sort of triumphant tune, and the two tank engines pulled Henry into the workshop. At that very moment, a L&YR Class 21 'Pug' dragged something big, something powerful out of the workshop on the parallel track. This something caught Sir Topham Hatt's attention.

It was large steam locomotive, painted from funnel to wheels in an orange undercoat. The engine had four leading wheels and six driving wheels like Henry, but that was where the similarities end. It had a square-shaped firebox, a boiler that sloped downwards, and a set of top-of-the-line Caprotti valve gear emerging from the sides of the smokebox like the droopy ears of a canine.

Mr. Stanier smiled, "Ah, I see you've taken an interest in my new Stanier Class Five 4-6-0, or 'Black Fives' as the men have started calling them," he said. "My latest design of mixed-traffic engine, and my best work if I do say so myself. We've already got about fifty of these bad boys running on the LMS mainlines, but this one in particular is special. An experimental design with added Caprotti valves."

"She's quite the beauty," observed Sir Topham as a workman climbed into the Black Five's cab to fire up the large locomotive for the first time.

"Yes… she is…" Mr. Stanier then put his hand on Sir Topham's shoulder and led him to his office. "Don't you worry Topham, we'll give your Henry and new shape with a larger firebox, that way the NWR's Board don't have to keep throwing their money into a Welsh coal fueled bonfire anymore! Won't that be nice?"

"It depends on whether your men can restore Henry or not."

"My good man, it's not a question on 'whether', it's 'when'! When we're done here, your Henry will be the main driving force of the North Western Railway, as my Black Fives are to the LMS!"

"What? Like a fulcrum of some kind?" asked Sir Topham Hatt.

William Stanier smiled and looked back over his shoulder at the now non-faceless Black Five undergoing their Awakening. A white owl, attracted by the warmth from the engine's boiler, nestled on the powerful machine's cab roof.

"Yes Topham, I guess you could say that."

Oh… But what about Klondike? I shouldn't say anymore, or I shall spoil the next Tale.