Engines Come and Engines Go

Other engines came and went, but He outlasted them all. He didn't know why. In His mind, it was the way of the world that the old gave way to the new. In its beginnings, the railway had been a horse-drawn tramway before He and the other engines came along to replace the old, graying mares. Then as time wore on, the older engines were replaced by younger ones until He was the last of the "old guard" left. At first, He racked his smokebox as to why that was, but as time went on he simply stopped questioning it.

Many engines worked on the little railway during its lifespan; Jim, Tim, Jerry, Albert, and that Mine Engine whose name escaped him were a few examples. The names and faces may have changed, but at some point they all started to blur together to him. But there were two who stood out to him above the others . A pair of young engines named Stuart and Falcon.

Stuart was a nice enough engine who didn't give Him too many problems. Yes, he was a little naive, and sometimes his babbling could be irritating, but he was nonetheless enthusiastic about being Really Useful like any other engine. The coaches and even some of the trucks seemed to like him. Stuart even built a rapport with Cora, the old guard's van.

"Never bump trucks unless they misbehave," he would sometimes say "A little bit of kindness can go a long way!" And suffice to say, it often did, not that Falcon was one to heed the advice of others, and bumped the trucks even if they did behave. However, Stuart was not without his flaws. If left unchecked, his enthusiasm sometimes led to him to becoming cheeky, or even cocky. At other times, Stuart could be too trusting of others, which some of the engines (Falcon included) would try to take advantage of.

Someday that attitude would land Stuart in trouble.

And Falcon? Falcon was a little blue blighter as far as he could tell. The older engine remembered when Falcon was new to the line and went double heading with him along the Mountain Road. Falcon was insistent that he would head the train, claiming he couldn't learn the route with another engine "lumbering ahead and blocking the view" He knew the real reason was that Falcon wanted to show off his new coat of paint, but wasn't in the mood for an argument. Truthfully, He hadn't been very thrilled to be working with the younger engine himself, nor with going up the Mountain Road, but Really Useful Engines didn't argue. For a better part of the journey, Falcon rolled along and looked anywhere but at the track, and the older engine's warnings were met with chants of "Fusspot, fusspot, fuddy-duddy, fuddy-duddy!" He had a bad feeling in his frames that he knew what was going to come next...

...And the older engine's worst fears were nearly realized when they went beyond the first tunnel. One moment they were coming out of the other end, and the next, Falcon came off the rails and was hanging over the edge. The younger engine could've been seriously hurt or worse had it not been for the intervention of both their crews, the passengers, and some workmen in a nearby cottage. He pulled Falcon back to safety and the two engines continued towards the top station without a hitch. The manager was worried when they arrived late, but the other passengers sang praises for the old engine, calling him a hero. Imagine that—him, a hero!

Falcon, though grateful, couldn't understand why the older engine rescued him after being so rude. He never gave Falcon an answer, at least, not until He finished hauling the younger engine back to the sheds. His words were brief and blunt.

"Listen, because I'm not warning you again: look at the track! I won't always be up there to save you!" warned the old engine.

Falcon didn't protest, he just looked sheepishly at his buffers, which made the older engine crosser still.

"And while you're at it, look me in the eye when I'm talking to you!" He snapped. This made Falcon jump. He wanted to say something, but his nerves were stopping the words from coming out, and just stammered instead. The older engine sighed, and softened, just a little.

"You don't know how lucky you are… a more experienced engine than you might have met his end on the Mountain Road over much less." sighed the older engine, who looked up at the Mountain line high above the yards. There was a pregnant pause before Falcon finally decided to speak up

"Did something like this happen to you?" he asked thoughtfully

The older engine was still looking up at the mountain line high above the sheds, considering his words . "You could say that." he answered cryptically.

Try as he may, He could never bring himself to outright hate Falcon. Yes, sometimes talking to Falcon felt like repeatedly bashing his smokebox into a brick wall. Though other times, Falcon reminded Him so much of a younger engine He once knew not long ago.

And so it was, from that point on, He would try to guide the younger engines as best as he could, just as the older engines had with Him before. Most of the time he was fairly successful, Stuart and Falcon being the best examples. Then of course, there was the odd engine who just refused to learn.

There was one, and hopefully this would be the only example. The engine's name and number escaped Him (Stanton, was it? Staley?) What he did remember was this engine was a rough rider from America bought after the end of the Great War to help on the main line. That lout thought he knew better than anyone else, and didn't care how many times he derailed. He had met engines like this in his younger days, and knew where that kind of attitude could lead. While Stephen-or-whatever-his-name-was got off a lot lighter than He had anticipated, the less said about how that tale had ended, the better...

He couldn't help but wonder if he'd have ended up like that engine had circumstances been different for him. Would He have ended up a story told to the younger engines to scare them into behaving better? Or worse still, stripped of his wheels and shoved down some hole, never to see the light of day again? Scrapped?

He quickly pushed that thought out of his mind. No use focusing on what was or what could've been...

Stuart and Falcon grew fond of Him as time went on and would affectionately nickname him "Granpuff." He resisted at first, arguing that he wasn't much older than Falcon, but he relented eventually. Sometimes, when He was in a good mood, he'd share stories passed down to him by the workmen and the former engines. Some of their favorites were about Proteus, an engine with a magic lamp, and the mysterious "Man in The Hills". Sometimes, he would even share a story about the old days and the engines who worked on the line then. Then one night, Falcon spoke up.

"Granpuff, I remember...the night after my accident on the Mountain Road, you said...engines had accidents there before. Whatever happened?" He asked, thoughtfully.

"It's not nice to talk about…" murmured the older engine.

"But...why?" asked Stuart, unsure if he really wanted to know, but the older engine's words had piqued his curiosity

"I've been on this railway for a long time. Young engines like you wouldn't understand." sighed the old engine. And for the rest of the night, no one spoke a word.

The next day, the little engines all went to work without a word on what was said last night. Granpuff was kept busy bringing trucks from the slate mines to the port into the afternoon.

He was on his way back to the mine with a rake of empty trucks for another delivery. Falcon was due to pass with a goods train, and the old engine was waiting for him to clear the section, when the stationmaster received bad news.

"Falcon's derailed with his train, " he said "Stuart's bringing the workmen and a crane to help clear the mess, but they'll need an engine another engine to help. I'll send for another engine to take care of your next train."

The old engine sighed, shunted his trucks into a siding, and set off to find Falcon.

He saw Falcon's guard waving a red flag up the line. Falcon was waiting impatiently as Stuart was positioning the crane on a siding to lift him back onto the rails while the men were busy re-railing the trucks.

"What took you so long?" sniffed Falcon

The older engine furrowed his brow, considering if it was best to dignify that comment with a response until Stuart decided to chip in.

"Oh never mind, Falcon" chirped Stuart "You know what they say, engines come and engines go, but Granpuff goes on forever!"

"Forever is one way of putting it…" muttered Falcon.

At last, the old engine lost patience. "What is with young engines these days? It used to be we were seen and not heard!" snapped Granpuff

"Who do you mean 'we'?" snorted Falcon "You're no spring chicken, you know!"

The older engine glared at Falcon

"You're not much younger than me, yourself! At least I'm old enough to have the sense not to let trucks get the better of me!" retorted Granpuff

"Get the better of me?" scoffed Falcon "Trucks are horrible, rickety, noisy things when all's said and done! After all, who worries about a few spills?"

Granpuff wheeshed steam angrily at this remark. Stuart sensed the growing tension and sized up the situation. If there was one thing Granpuff was legendary for besides his deeds, it was his heated arguments with Falcon. Some might even go so far as to say you could hear these arguments from all the way on the other side of the mountains.

"Never mind, Granpuff...we're..." said Stuart, who realized what he was about to say and unsuccessfully tried to retract his statement

"We're what?" snarled the older engine "Out with it, Stuart!"

Stuart jumped "We're only young once…?" he chuckled nervously. Granpuff's face already had sharp features, but the expression that crossed his smokebox looked like it could cut glass.

"Oh, you'd better mind!" bellowed the old engine.

"Why?" asked Falcon, his voice betraying the concern creeping onto his face. He was grateful that Granpuff couldn't see it from his position.

Granpuff subsided for a moment, then furrowed his brow as if in consideration

"Perhaps I should tell you a little story..."

Once upon a time, there was a little engine who lived in his own little shed on his own little railway. Actually, there were other engines on the railway, too, but they mostly worked in the mines and quarries, and rarely brought their trains down to the port where the line met with the big railway. At the time, there was only one engine who was in charge of bringing the passenger and goods trains along the main line through the hills and mountains.

This engine was known as Duke, and was named after his grace the Duke of Sodor. He was proud of this, and did everything he could to keep both the other engines, and the railway in order. But as business began increasing for the fledgling railway, it became clear that Duke couldn't manage the work alone. Both The Manager and the Board agreed it was in the railway's best interest to acquire another engine to help Duke with the goods trains.

While several builders with their own standard designs had been put forward, they felt that the second engine to run the main line should be something more extraordinary. The men originally introduced steam traction to the railway upon seeing the performances of the Skarloey Railway on the other side of the Island, so naturally, the workshops that built those engines was put forward. So an order was sent to the workshops in Lowca in earnest and arrived some months later. This engine had no name, only a number, Two.

In theory, Two should've been a reliable engine. He had unique motion that led to him having better balance than some of the other engines, and was also a fairly powerful little engine. Perhaps that went to his smokebox.

Two was a show-off, and had a tendency to ride roughly. This led to him making frequent derailments, spilling loads along the lineside, and causing several delays. Duke would often warn the young engine to be careful, but he took no notice.

One afternoon, Duke was tasked with bringing the breakdown crane and some workmen to help Two back on the rails again after yet another derailment. Duke simply looked over at the younger engine, who was scowling back at him.

"Listen, Dukey, who worries about a few spills?" he snarled

Duke simply raised an eyebrow, looked over at Two, and then back at his derailed trucks.

"We do, here!" he replied matter-of-factly

Two started to laugh, but stopped just as quickly when he saw the Manager walking towards him. He had been riding in the breakvan of Duke's train and had heard everything.

"I've got a query of my own for you. Exactly where do you find the humour in any of this?" asked the Manager pointedly

Two was taken aback, and darted his eyes nervously, and was about to answer before the manager held his hand out for him to be silent.

"Things always seem to go wrong with you. Your trains are late, to say nothing of the delays you cause for the other engines, only half of your loads seem to make it to their destination, and to you it's only 'a few spills'."

Two squirmed at this response and glanced at Duke, who remained silent. The manager shook his head.

"Duke, myself, your driver, and fireman have all tried to make you see sense. We've even taken you to pieces to see if anything is wrong," He continued "And yet you still go on in your same old way, never learning sense. I don't know what I'm going to do with you just yet, but I promise you I will soon find a way to make you useful at last. " And with that, the manager turned heel and walked away.

When Two was put back on the rails, Duke towed him back to the Works Station. By the time they got there, dark clouds were gathering over the mountains above the yards. As Duke headed back up the line to take away the trucks, it started to rain, gently at first, then harder and harder. Duke arrived to collect the trucks, and the workmen fitted him with headlamps to help him see ahead. Slowly, but carefully he trundled up the line with his train towards the Mountain Road, the driver releasing sand to build traction on the slippery rails. This part of the line very dangerous in rainy weather if the engines didn't keep their wits about them. The line here consisted of four tunnels, each long and curved, which made it difficult to see out the other side, even without the storm clouds.

As he cleared one of the tunnels, things started to go wrong. Some loose rocks fell from an outcropping beside the line, damaging his headlamps. There was worse still to come. Duke couldn't see, but a landslide brought on by the heavy rain was blocking the line ahead. Duke's driver braked hard, but the rails were slippery, and…"

Granpuff trailed off.

"Then what?" asked Falcon nervously

"The driver and fireman jumped clear as Duke hit the landslide and fell into a valley with the trucks piling up behind him. When the workmen came to rescue him, he was in bad shape, and was deemed unroadworthy. They couldn't afford the repairs Duke needed, and withdrew him from service." said Granpuff quietly

Stuart and Falcon goggled in horror at this explanation.

"But what about No. 2 ?" asked Falcon "The manager said he was going to make him 'useful at last.' But if Duke was withdrawn, surely, the manager could've ill-afforded to take two engines out of action in such a short time."

"And you would be right about that, " answered Granpuff "Though I wouldn't know what happened since No. 2 was already gone by the time I came here..."

"What happened to Duke after he was withdrawn?" asked Stuart "Surely, that wasn't the end of it...right, Granpuff?"

Granpuff looked back at Stuart and there was a long silence. His stony expression had softened, but his frown deepened. Behind the old engine's tired eyes, Stuart thought he could make out what appeared to be a tinge of...sadness?

"I don't know." he replied at last "I only knew of this story from an engine who ran this line before me. He's…" Granpuff trailed off for a moment, considering his words.

"None of the other engines saw Duke again after his accident. Some believe he was cut up for scrap and that his ghost now haunts the Mountain road, running as a warning to others...if I had a sixpence for every time I heard that one!" He chuckled sardonically.

"What do you think happened, Granpuff?" asked Falcon, mildly annoyed.

"Some believe he's still out there, waiting for someone to repair him and make him happy again...but I wouldn't go getting my hopes up, given what happened" he sighed.

"But what if he is?" asked Stuart

"That's not important, Stuart" said Granpuff "My point is, Falcon asked who worries about a few spills. Two didn't, and because of that, another engine paid the price."

When the wreckage was cleared, Granpuff took the breakdown crane and the workmen away while Stuart helped Falcon the rest of the way to the port. The two engines were unusually good for several days.

Granpuff didn't sleep in the main shed with Stuart and Falcon. He opted for a small shed off to the side, nestled in the hills beside the line. He wished for nothing more than a landslide to bury the shed with him inside it, and let the mountain swallow him into its embrace. But then he realized someone would probably be there to dig him out, because everyone always told him he was a Really Useful Engine.

It was strange, back then, he wanted nothing more than to be Really Useful like any other engine. Maybe he had an odd way of showing it, but the will was always there, at least in his mind. He just wanted to be seen as another engine, built for function, and not admiration. He never asked for this, to be treated...like a Duke.

He went unhappily to sleep, dreaming back to a time when he was a young engine, and things were much simpler.

Granpuff never told Stuart and Falcon that there was more to his story than he let on…

He had barely slept all night. If it hadn't been the storm outside keeping him awake, it was the manager's threat to make him "useful at last". What did the manager mean by that? And of all the places he could be dropped off at, why the Works station?

Maybe the manager was going to send him away to another railway. Or since he was dropped off at the Works, maybe the men were going to take him to pieces as spares for the other engines. Or perhaps he'd make sure He would never be the same engine again by taking away his wheels and reducing him to a stationary engine. The Manager had been meaning to find a new means of powering the various fixtures in the engine shed…

He was so busy running down the list of possibilities that it came as a surprise when his fire was being lit early the that morning. While this was going on, he heard a shrill whistle outside and the sound of a traction engine chuffing. He couldn't make out all the details through the shed windows, but this traction engine was pulling something large behind it.

The driver waited for him to get a good head of steam when the shed doors opened and the manager walked in. His expression was dour and his shoulders tensed.

"I'm sure you are wondering why you are being steamed right now, but do not mistake this for a reprieve. I have something to show you outside..." and with that, he turned heel and walked slowly outside, motioning for the little engine to follow him.

The driver gently opened the regulator and He moved out into the morning light. His eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight, but he could see the traction engine and the flatbed. The large shape on top of the flatbed was an engine, and as he drew closer to the flatbed, realization hit him like an express train head-on.

The engine on the flatbed, was Duke. Once a pillar of the railway, now battered and broken. His frames were bent inwards, his funnel was cracked, and his saddle tank had several dents. Duke could only look back at the young engine with a forlorn expression.

"You asked Duke yesterday who worries about a few spills?" said the Manager, breaking the silence " Well, these are the consequences right in front of you."

The young engine had so many things he wanted to say right now, but the horrible sight before him made it impossible for the words to come out.

"Your driver, fireman, and myself thought you were a lost cause, but Duke had been playing Devil's Advocate for you. He saw potential in you and hoped that he could make you into an example for the railway, just as myself and the board saw it in you when we brought you here. Good men and engines worked hard to try and help you be the best you could be. Though with the way you've carried yourself on—and off— the rails, it seems those efforts were all for naught." said the Manager pointedly

At last, the little engine spoke up. "Yesterday, you said you were going to make me useful at last...what did you mean by that?" He asked nervously

"You are correct. I did say I would make you useful at last, and I still intend to do that. I simply won't be able to do it in the way I had originally planned." said the Manager darkly "I was going to withdraw you from service, but seeing as Duke has received damage that we can't afford to repair, I can't withdraw two engines at once. Business has been increasing for our line, and I need as many working engines in traffic as I can spare. Your attitude excepted, you are still technically in working order. Your wheels will turn for another day, and you can take this reprieve one of two ways. You could either take advantage of this chance and become a Really Useful Engine, or you can carry on as you did before. The choice is yours"

The manager walked away to speak with the driver of the traction engine. The traction engine looked back at him with a pitying expression though the young engines eyes remained firmly on Duke's prone form.

He kept looking at Duke as the traction engine hauled him away until he was well out of sight. Where Duke went after that, he didn't ask, but it shouldn't have been very hard to figure out what happened next.

He did end up becoming a Really Useful Engine as time went on. He wasn't intent on showing off or riding roughly as he had before. Now the only thing that concerned him was trying to keeping his head low and fade into the crowd. All the while, other engines and even some of the trucks and coaches gave him the cold bunker, as if to tell him "It should've been you."

Even as the older engines were replaced by younger ones, even after he had gotten into the manager's good graces, he still harbored guilt over what happened to Duke.

Other engines came and went, but He outlasted them all. He stopped questioning why a long time ago.

"Who worries about a few spills?" He used to ask as a young engine

Smudger, now an older, sadder, but wiser engine knew the answer to that question better than most. He knew he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. The best he could do is try to guide Stuart and Falcon as best as he could and prevent them from making the same mistakes he did.

"It's what Dukey would've wanted" he thought sadly