Robert had pulled the new kid as a fireman-in-training for his afternoon run. The kid seemed to be fairly competent, so he might not have to yell at him too much. Robert had hopes for dinner with the family. Bess had been complaining that he never seemed to make it home for a proper sit down. Then again, she didn’t seem to mind the extra pay for when he was running late.
The job was a fairly easy one. They were tasked with taking one of the venerable 45xx engines into the Dearne on Sea yard, finding a mixed freight on Dearne On Sea Shed Road 1, and spotting the freight in the Frowhill Yard. A quick dash back to the yard, turn the engine in, and it was off to the wife and kids.
On the return to Frowhill, his back started to tighten up a bit. It was the old war wound, shrapnel from a German artillery shell at the Second Battle of the Somme. He was lucky – it had almost killed him. But, curiously, the healed wound would act up when a weather change was happening soon. He didn’t like this one bit, and urged some more speed out of his locomotive.
By the time they’d dropped the consist off at Frowhill, his back was really tight. It was also getting really cold and there was a heavy wet feeling to the cold air blowing in his face, as he hung out of the cab to watch the road ahead. He knew what that meant, so it was fast to Dearnby to turn in the engine.
The pale December sun was already trying to slip behind the western hills as they pulled into the yard. Robert suddenly got a sinking feeling in his stomach, as he saw that all the engines but his were already stabled in the Dearnby Yard. His feeling of dread was multiplied several times over as he saw the Station Master waiting for him, near the shed.
Sure enough…jammed again.
Emergency call for coal. Has to be done tonight. All other drivers had already left. Robert is the only one available. Take the kid – I’ll authorize his extra detail. The Station Master had said he was sorry to jack Robert up on this run, but Robert knew he wasn’t. Just living up to the initials the other drivers had jokingly started to give him, L.R.
There was a quick scramble to set up the lantern on the front of the engine, and catch some more coal and water. Then it was ripping off to Dearne on Sea, but this time to the coal storage yard for a run of six coal wagons, supposedly loaded. No getting off on time tonight.
The wet fog rolled in fast after the sun went down. The night was black, as black as could be. Robert’s back wound prediction was right on. The kid had never crewed after dark, so he was really nervous. Robert had run this route so many times that he knew exactly where he was at all times, even in pitch black.
He eased his engine to a stop at the first signal box to Dearnby. He gave Reggie –
had to ask the lad what his name was – the instructions to tell Old Roger in the signal box, for the movements he needed to do. It was difficult in daylight, but much more difficult at night.