Traintober 2023: Day 15 - Maintenance
Duke's Hidden Fear:
It all began when Rusty felt a cough in their engine one cold morning, not long after Duke returned to service. The old engine sidled up alongside, looking concerned.
“Are you alright, youngster?” he asked.
“It’s just a cough,” Rusty said, “but it might make me late with the maintenance train – we wanted to get a start on the trackwork before the frost grew too bad.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Duke said. “I’ll take the workmen up on the back of my mineral train.”
“That would be incredible!” exclaimed Rusty. “Thank you so much!”
Duke shunted the works train onto the back of his empty mineral trucks and hauled the lot away, bringing them up the line to their first works siding before completing his run. He brought them up to their next location while his trucks were being loaded, then brought the loaded trucks down, picking up the maintenance crew as he ran up the line with his first passenger train and bringing them to Glennock.
Rusty stayed in the shed that day and the little diesel’s driver checked their engine over. A bolt had rattled loose, and once it was tightened Rusty was ready to run again the next day.
The engines chalked Duke’s helpfulness up to just that: helpfulness; and continued on their usual schedules.
Then, it happened again. Rheneas was feeling short of steam at the end of his run, sitting at the Top Station with a full train of passengers visiting the little village by the lake for an ice-skating display. Duke sat nearby with his own coaches.
“Did you need a buffer?” offered Duke. “I can take your passengers home with mine,” he said. “We leave within ten minutes of each other, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
“I couldn’t do that,” huffed Rheneas. “I don’t want to let the passengers down.”
“You wouldn’t be doing that,” Duke said. “I can look after them, but you don’t sound well. Have your pipes had a good cleaning recently?”
Rheneas had to admit it had been a while, and after a little more badgering from Duke, he relinquished his train and headed back down the line to have his pipes checked.
That afternoon, the engines were treated to the incredible sight of Duke gamely snorting down the line with almost every coach the line had, white smoke curling up into the crystal blue sky as he brought the heavy train into the Works Station. James and Bear were most impressed, as Duke brought the coaches into the platform and the passengers thanked him for bringing them safely home.
Rheneas’ pipes did need a clean – though the workmen all agreed Rheneas would have been fine for a few more days before really needing a thorough clean.
“It’s unusual,” Rheneas said to Skarloey that evening as the pair watched Duke shunt away a line of trucks. “Most engines don’t even notice their own pipes are blocked until it gets uncomfortable – but Duke could tell my pipes were getting clogged just by listening to my pistons. It doesn’t make any sense…”
Skarloey agreed, and the pair decided to keep watch over their railway’s ‘new’ engine.
Winter continued to settle in, bringing with it icy rails, frigid snow and the upsurge in traffic that was the Christmas season. All through it, Duke worked hard. On the mornings when Rusty’s engine struggled to turn over, Duke would take out the little diesel’s first train, and when any one of the other engines felt unwell, somehow the Mid Sodor’s number one was always nearby and able to take their train as well as his own.
Sir Handel was sent down to the sheds by Duke after his piston began to jangle, Skarloey got the day off to be checked over after making a comment about a cramp in his springs (which turned out to be an ice patch which had moulded to the spring overnight) and Duncan managed to pawn several of his trains off onto the old engine. The engines were all kept very well-maintained due to this meddling, and yet the cold weather kept on producing more issues – including ones Duke hid from the others.
Still, he resolutely took on every job he could, doing far more than his fair share of the work.
And when the last trains of the Christmas and New Years’ rush were completed, all tickets punched and all parcels delivered, Duke volunteered to run the few vital trains the little heritage railway offered until the snow began to melt. Normally, the engines rotated this duty – but Duke was determined.
“I just came out of the works,” he said to the Thin Controller as he backed down onto a long line of coal trucks. “I can handle the work – and it’s a good chance for you to give them important maintenance, so we’re all at our best during the summer season.”
In the face of an argument that good, the Thin Controller had to agree.
Duke worked hard all through the winter, bringing supplies up to the towns and villages in the hills and bringing the locals down to Crovan’s Gate in return. The old engine was never out of steam, always having water in his tanks and a fire beating inside him.
“Always ready,” he vowed.
Even at night, when the icy winds howled and no sane man or machine would be out, Duke would be ready in case of emergencies – such as when an older woman broke her leg and needed to be brought to a hospital at once.
The other engines began to worry about their Granpuff. He was doing triple the work of an engine a fraction of his age, with more grit and determination than either Rusty or Duncan had ever seen.
Peter Sam, Sir Handel, Rheneas and Skarloey had though. Duke was doing exactly what he’d done on the Mid Sodor Railway; what Rheneas had done on the Skarloey Railway. He was running himself into the ground to give the other engines a break, to keep the railway open and ensure there was always an engine to run it.
It was not an unusual tactic from an older engine – especially one who had seen their railway go through hard times. But never to this extent. Duke was resolute and unmovable – he did all the work.
Peter Sam spoke up one evening, when Duke returned from bringing food up to the villagers.
“You’re running yourself into the ground,” he said. “You shouldn’t already be this tired, Granpuff – you just came out of the works.”
“I’m not tired,” huffed Duke. “I’m fine! I’m just looking after things so you all can get routine maintenance.”
“You said the same thing on our old line,” Sir Handel said. “We always got sent to be checked over the moment we began to show signs of feeling unwell, and you took everything on your wheels.”
“I did it so you could run again the next day,” Duke hissed, his façade cracking. “On our old line, they wouldn’t have paid to give either of you an overhaul if you broke down. I made sure you were in top condition so they’d never be in that position… so you wouldn’t break down and be… be sold. I did it to keep you safe—” Duke’s eyes went wide.
The old engine suddenly let off steam and escaped out of the sheds. Sir Handel and Peter Sam winced.
“Ah, so that explains it,” Sir Handel eventually said. The others looked over curiously.
“What do you mean?” asked Skarloey.
“When we were sold. They bought Peter Sam and I ‘cause we were in good condition – surprisingly good condition for how poor our line was by the end. Duke took on everything because he knew what was coming. He knew we were going under – he must have, he’s too wily not to. He deliberately ran himself into the ground to keep us safe…”
“And then he spent twenty years not knowing if he’d succeeded,” Skarloey realised. “He never left that mindset.”
No one was really sure how to help Duke with that. Rheneas had only managed to overcome his worries due to the letters he was sent by Skarloey and the sheer fact he’d succeeded in saving his home, and Skarloey had been present for much of the turnaround of their railway. But Duke lost his home.
Duke had lost his home in spite of everything he’d done. He lost it all, and it had taken everything he had just to get his youngsters into a position where they might survive. He neglected his own maintenance to make sure they were in the best condition when the buyers came sniffing.
But to help Duke recover from this sense of worry... that was something the engines weren't sure how to tackle.
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