Brothers In The Pits: Stories of Industrial Steam

Chapter Five: Bumps In The Night

     Halloween of 1964 was fast approaching. In the five years since Kent had arrived, not much had changed. Beckington was still a major colliery in the area, and the engines were still hard at work each day. They did notice one thing, though; the steam engines on the main line weren't coming through very often any more. Where once they had been a daily sight as they passed through Norwood Heath, a diesel was more likely to be at the head of a train. Those steam engines who did come through were dirty, ill, and worn out. Try as they might, the four industrials couldn't help but feel nervous that the diesels might come for their work too.
     "It's almost certain," Kent said one night as the engines discussed the dilemma. "The only reason I'm here is because a diesel took my work in the yard. Without that, I would've been scrapped by now."
     "Being here isn't a bad thing, is it?" Alan asked, a hint of disapproval in his voice.
     "What? No, I-"
     The old engine chuckled. "Merely joking, Kent. Well, for the meantime, we've still got our work, so let's just be thankful for that. Goodness knows there are worse ways to go than being scrapped."
     "What could be worse than being cut up?" Mike asked.
     Alan looked out towards the tip and sighed. "Oh, I've heard stories," he said simply. "For now, I think it's best we get some rest." With that, the others went to sleep. Alan stayed up for a few minutes longer. "I'll tell them on Halloween," he said to himself, closing his eyes.
     On Halloween night, Mellisa had been asked to handle the shunting before heading off to the sheds for the night. As she marshaled the trains together so they would be ready for the morning, she thought she heard something. It sounded like the rattle of old wheels on the rails. "Hello?" She called. "Is someone there?" Nobody replied.
     The rattling got louder, and then the sound of puffing began. Melissa was getting scared. Suddenly, there was a whistle, shrill and loud. It echoed through the yards, making everyone jump. The puffing went on, then grew faint as it seemed to move away. Suddenly, there was an almighty crash at the tip! Melissa's crew and several workmen ran to see what had happened, but they found nothing. Everything seemed to be in order, and there was no sign of a crash
anywhere. The crew returned to their engine, scratching their heads. Melissa, badly shaken, was taken to the sheds.
     When she arrived, the others were already there. "What was that?" Mike asked. "We heard a crash." Melissa explained what she heard, and that the crew hadn't found anything. Mike just scoffed. "You've breathed in too much coal dust, it's making you soft!"
     "I wish that were true," Alan said quietly.
     The sheds went silent. "Alan, do you know something about this?" Kent asked.
     "I'm afraid I do," the old engine replied. "What you heard, Melissa, was an engine I knew many years ago. An engine who never got the chance to learn his lesson." He looked at the others, who were all giving him a pleading look. He smiled sadly. "Well, I suppose it is Halloween." And so, Alan began his story.
     "Back in the 1930s, the colliery was owned by a manager who was quite the penny-pincher. Instead of keeping a fleet of engines, he merely had me, and would rent out an engine from the LMS for a few weeks at a time. None of these engines were pleasant. They would grumble constantly about their time there, saying that they 'didn't deserve it' or whatever came to their minds. One of these engines was called Randall."
     "Randall was from the Lancashire And Yorkshire railway, and almost as old as I was. Despite his age, he had all the confidence and swagger of the newest express engines. 'The big railway,' he would say, 'has no place for a dirty industrial like you.'"
     "Sounds like Kent when he first got here," Melissa said jokingly. The twins laughed as the Jinty went red with embarrassment. Alan shushed the two Austerities before continuing his story.
     "On Halloween night, Randall was put in charge of shunting the waste to the tip. He moaned and griped about it, but had to comply. As he shoved the wagons to the tip, nobody noticed that he was going a bit too fast to be safe. And nobody noticed when one of the rails broke under the weight of the trucks. Randall hit the broken rail and derailed, turning over and rolling down the tip."
     The others gasped. The old engine sighed. "The LMS didn't want him back when they heard what had happened. Not that it mattered - Randall was long dead by the time he stopped rolling. He wouldn't have been much use to them. His shattered remains were pulled back up to the rails and taken away for scrap. Ever since, on Halloween night, Randall roams the colliery yard, aimlessly wandering his final resting place."
     The engines were silent. At least, until Mike started laughing. "That was pretty good, old man," he said teasingly. "Maybe next year you'll come up with something more convincing!" With that, he drifted off to sleep.
     "Well, that was rude," Kent said. "Are you alright, Alan?"
     Alan smiled. "Of course," he said. "It's just a story. Anyway, we should get to sleep." The three engines bade each other good night, and they were all soon fast asleep.
     The next morning, Alan was fired up early to get ready for the morning workmen's train. He was parked in the sidings, and his crew went to the office to speak with Mr. Johnson and get the day's assignments. As the old engine sat by himself, the sounds of rattling wheels began. Alan smiled. "You did a good job of scaring Melissa, you know," he said, as Randall's ghostly silhouette sidled up alongside.
     The specter said nothing. "I know you aren't happy with the way you went," Alan continued, "but your accident was well over thirty years ago. You'll find your peace on the other side, all you need to do is move on. I'm sorry, Randall." The specter staid silent. Then, with a blow of its whistle, it rolled away towards the main line and disappeared.
     Alan watched it go, feeling sadness welling up in his boiler. The crew climbed into his cab, and the old engine moved away to collect the coaches. He hoped that Randall had indeed moved on, but then again, the paranormal wasn't something he understood. All he knew was that, when the day came when he left the earth, he'd at least have someone welcome him.