Brothers In The Pits: Stories of Industrial Steam

Chapter One: Dire Beginnings

     If you were ever to travel on British Railways' secondary lines through Yorkshire, you likely would've been through a town called Norwood Heath. It was a quiet town; not home to any major industries or docks, it was big enough to warrant a two-track station, a small goods yard, and a water tower. To the side of the station, however, were a few sidings. These sidings joined a piece of track that curved away from the main line. These were exchange sidings, and were part of the National Coal Board's Beckington line.
     From Norwood Heath, the Beckington line traveled for seven miles, up through the hills and winding its way lazily through the valley. With a passing siding and halt four miles along to serve the workmans' residences at the clearing known as Agarus, the railway then climbed a steep hill, ducking under a bridge before arriving at Beckington colliery itself. It was a large installation by anyone's standards; an eight-track tipple, a marshaling yard big enough to make British Railways engines jealous, and a two-road engine shed that was long enough to fit four engines inside.
     There were usually four engines stabled Beckington, three of which had been there for years. Alan was the oldest, decades older than any engine in the area. This, of course, made him the most experienced, and also the most straight-laced of the trio. He was friendly to be sure, but he was much more concerned about getting the day's work done than he was about sharing a few jokes in between duties.
     Mike and Melissa couldn't be any more different from Alan. A pair of Hunslet Austerities, they'd been purchased from the Army as surplus only a few years prior, being built for use in the horror-filled years of World War Two. Despite their grim origins, they were talkative, sociable engines. Mike was the jokester of the two, while Melissa tended to leave her witty remarks for when they were sorely needed, tending to favor more work-based conversations.
     The three engines had seen several major changes to the railways of Britain since the end of the war. The Big Four were now part of one railway, one that was pushing itself into the years of Modernization. While steam engines still handled the goods traffic through Norwood Heath, the Diesel Multiple Unit was now a common sight as it grumbled its way in and out of the station. New wagons were there too, metal-bodied mineral wagons replacing the more versatile, but more delicate, planked variants. The engines were about to witness another change, as, at the end of a breezy September day in 1959, Alan shoved a knackered Andrew Barclay into the out-of-use line.
     Once he had returned to the shed, he found the twins already there, having their fires dropped. Mike spoke first. "So, how's the Scotsman faring?" He asked.
     Alan sighed. "Isaac's a mess. Burst safety valve, cylinders that are just about to go, and goodness knows what else. I don't think we'll be getting more work out of him."
     "I'm afraid that's the case, Alan," said a voice. The engines looked to see Mr. Johnson, the colliery manager, walking towards them. "I've just gotten of the phone with the Coal Board's central workshops," he continued. "Isaac isn't going to be repaired. He'll be taken to the mainline on tomorrow's first train down." The engines were grateful for this; the Barclay had never been a pleasant sort.
     "Looks like we'll have some peace and quiet at last," quipped Melissa. There was a collective chuckle before Mr. Johnson spoke again.
     "Maybe so, Melissa," he said, "but I'm afraid this means we'll be short an engine for the time being. Until we get a replacement in, you three will have to manage on your own." He then turned to Alan. "Alan, I know you don't mind hard work, but you've been getting on in years for some time now. So, you'll be seeing use on lighter duties. I'm afraid it's just shunting here and workmen's trains for you now."
     "Never mind, sir," Alan said. "As long as I've got work, I'm happy. I won't let you down."
     Mr. Johnson smiled at the old engine's determination. "There's a good engine," he said proudly. With that, he bade his engines goodnight, and went to the office to clock out for the night.
The next morning, Mr. Johnson sat in his office, trying to arrange for an engine to be brought up from the Coal Board's workshops to help out the Beckington engines. Try as he might, it couldn't be done. Any engines being completed were already reserved, and he didn't have time to wait for one further down the queue. Irritated, and desperate for a solution, he made a call, then decided to head to town and grab something to eat.
An hour or so later, Mr. Johnson was standing at Norwood Heath station, waiting for an old friend. He hadn't been there long before a mid-morning passenger service growled into the station. The friend, a shedmaster who worked for British Railways, stepped out and greeted Mr. Johnson, and the two made their way back to the colliery in his car. All the while, Mr. Johnson explained the dilemma.
"And that's why I called you, Phil," he finished as they arrived back at the colliery office. "I understand if you don't have any engines spare, but I'm bloody desperate."
Phil paused, looking out at the yards as the engines went about their work. Mike was dragging another line of wagons under one of the chutes, and Alan was just finishing arranging a train for Melissa to take down to the main line. "Just a small tank engine then Fred?" He asked.
"That's right," Mr. Johnson replied. He threw Phil a questioning look. "Have you got something in mind?"
"Well," Phil said, "I did just get a new Class 08 in, and our resident Jinty is scheduled for withdrawal. If you get the approval from your higher-ups, I could probably sell him off to you."
And so it was arranged. Mr. Johnson's bosses were reluctant to purchase another engine, but after hearing of the dilemma they agreed. The engine would be given a light overhaul and be sent to Norwood Heath in two weeks' time. For now, all they had to do was wait.