The Coal Run
It was only a little after 6:00 AM, and driver Patrick Thornton was thoroughly annoyed. He’d been assigned a bloody puppy for the morning coal run.
Dash my stinking luck, he thought to himself. He had Mickey Parmenter, age 19, trailing on behind him as they moved towards their engine, old reliable 5138. She was a 5100 Class and a good engine.
The Shedmaster took Thornton aside as soon as he arrived at the engine shed. Patrick knew something was up, as the old man rarely expressed any friendly familiarity with his drivers, but here he was now, with his arm around Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick knew this was going to be bad.
The Shedmaster explained that they’d gotten a new fireman, transferred over from an eastern railroad while Patrick was off for a few days, and the new lad was rubbing everyone wrong, so he was being assigned to Patrick on an easy coal run, because Patrick had the reputation of getting on right with just about anyone. Just be gentle with the lad, he counseled. The assignment was obviously not a request.
Patrick recognized this for what it was – the old man was blowing smoke up his skirt all right. He knew that all the other drivers had refused, one after the other, to work with the lad any further, as he would have done too, but he was off for a few days, making him odd man out when he showed up this morning.
Well, that will teach me for taking some time off, he mused angrily to himself.
As he stalked across the tracks towards 5138, one of the drivers, old Bodger, eased over and intercepted him, grinning mischievously. Bodger leaned in and in a lowered voice, said, “Try not to kill Icky, eh Patrick? It won’t look good for his first run out for the day.” He did this so Patrick’s new fireman couldn’t overhear.
In response to Pat’s momentarily confused look, Bodger said conspiratorially, “He has a heavy eastern accent, so instead of Mickey, we all call ‘im Icky behind his back, on account as ‘es pretty icky.” With that, he roared with laughter and trotted off to his Class 45.
Patrick stopped and lowered his head, sighing heavily. “What was that all about?” asked Mickey. Patrick just shook his head and walked to the engine. As they climbed up into the cab, Mickey loudly exclaimed, “Wot’s this? Driver controls on the right side? A right-sider? Come on, I’m a lefty. I’ll be shoveling right hand and I’ll be doing double duty watching the signals for you! That’s right messed, it is!” Pat shut him down when he suggested Mickey go complain to the shedmaster and demand a left side engine.
Despite the fact that Mickey was predictably turning out to be a frightful pain in the backside, he was efficient, and they quickly had the engine warmed up and impatiently pawing the rails, ready to head out. Pat pulled off with a roar of the whistle, a small show of how annoyed he was, and then he backed across the mainlines to pick up a rake of empty coal wagons. The run was to the coal yard in Dearne-On- Sea, where they would leave the empties in the yard and pick up loaded coal wagons. They’d bring them back to Dearnby and then the wagons would be delivered to local yards as assigned.