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Jan 25

Thomas Headcanons: The Pre-NWR Engines

We recently got a lore drop on some of the engines that worked on Sodor prior to the formation of the NWR in 1914. I hadn't really given this era much thought when developing my own headcanon, but I did have some nuggets of information. With the recent lore drop, I thought it'd be fun to dig out what little I had done, dust it off, spruce it up a bit, and share it with you today. Of course, it goes without saying that most of what follows has now been rendered non-canon - but hey, I've already taken loads of liberties with the source material, so why should I stop now?

You can find everything below the cut - this all got quite a bit longer than I expected:

SODOR & MAINLAND RAILWAY

Although the S&MR received parliamentary powers to build a line from Suddery to Barrow in 1853, construction did not actually begin until 1861, starting with the section between Ballahoo and Rolf's Castle. That same year saw the company acquire its first steam engines off-the-peg from Neilson's of Glasgow. In all, three engines were bought, their names being Kerr (#1), Neil (#2, seen below) and Mitchell (#3). All three arrived wearing green undercoats, and the S&MR liked it so much that it became the railway's official livery.

Above: An artist's interpretation of S&MR #2, Neil, on the Kirk Ronan extension in May 1865. He is transporting the Skarloey Railway's #1 engine, Skarloey, to the interchange with the narrow-gauge line at Crovan's Gate.

These 0-4-0 box tanks were of a design more generally specified for contractor's work - indeed, all three saw extensive usage for this purpose during the line's construction - and they really weren't that well suited for anything more demanding. Nonetheless, the S&MR would come to depend on the box tanks as its sole motive power during the line's early years, although it is doubtful that this was the company's intention. Although we don't know for certain, it is believed that the S&MR had hopes of acquiring more powerful engines once the funds became available, at which point the box tanks would be relegated to shunting and light goods work.

As we all know, of course, things didn't pan out like that, and the box tanks had sole charge of the S&M network for the forty-odd years that it was in operation. Not that it was a particularly huge network - only running between Ballahoo and Kirk Ronan, with a few offshoots serving mines and other industries. Attempts to extend in either direction were met with failure: the planned main line to Suddery came to nothing, and nor did the proposed branches to Cronk and Peel Godred; they fared no better trying to reach Barrow, giving up after several failed attempts to bridge the Walney Channel.

So much for the S&MR itself, but what about its three box tanks? Well, they performed admirably to the best of their limited capabilities, and the company did what it could to keep them in good working order.

On at least two occasions, the money was available with which to make improvements to the engines. Kerr, for example, was fitted with a cab at some stage, which was an obvious boon to his crew on rainy days - that is, until it was realised that the cab upset Kerr's balance, causing him to bounce uncontrollably. This was obviously no good when it came to passenger trains, and so Kerr was relegated to freight and shunting duties only. Mitchell, meanwhile, was rebuilt with longer frames to accommodate a trailing axle, making him an 0-4-2T. This helped massively in reducing the rough riding inherent in the box tanks, and this in turn secured Mitchell's position as the line's main passenger engine. In both cases, these modifications were made experimentally, with a view to rolling them out across all three engines - unfortunately, this never came to pass for financial reasons.

Below: Smelter, a Neilson 0-4-2T supplied to the Redruth & Chasewater Railway in Cornwall. This engine is a good approximation of how S&MR #3 Mitchell looked following his rebuild.

The S&MR was not a financially secure company by any means, and by the late 1890s, it was teetering on the verge of bankruptcy. It tried all sorts of tricks to get itself back into the black: Neil was sold off to the Crovan's Gate Mining Company; Kerr was withdrawn from service for use as a source of spare parts for Mitchell, who was left as the line's only engine. Sadly, in 1901, this final bid for survival came crashing down - Mitchell gave up the ghost, and the S&MR shut its doors later that year.

Neil, meanwhile, soldiered on under the ownership of the CGMC. He initially carried copper from Crovan's Gate to the harbour at Kirk Ronan, until the mines at Ward Fell ran out, and closed in 1909. The mining company shifted their focus to carrying slate, and this became Neil's primary traffic. Being privately owned, he was not initially affected by the formation of the North Western Railway in 1914 - for a time, the CGMC retained running powers over the former S&MR tracks.

Eventually, though, the NWR took over the responsibility of transporting slate to Kirk Ronan and elsewhere, but luckily, Neil was not totally out of a job. You see, as an alternative to Kirk Ronan, the CGMC had built its own wharf on the western edge of Crovan's Gate, where it meets the east bank of the Ben Glas estuary. This was served by a maze of lines and sidings, and although the CGMC did allow NWR trains to use the line, on the whole it preferred to use its own motive power - namely, Neil.

Below: An overall view of Crovan's Gate Wharf. While the standard gauge lines date from the late 1910s, the narrow gauge lines did not come along until the late 1930s. Just visible is Skarloey Railway #6, Duncan.

So Neil became the regular shunter at the Wharf, and this was where he would spend the rest of his working life. He was kept busy either shunting trucks around the complex, or hauling trains up and down the branch line from the main Crovan's Gate station. Much of this traffic was slate, although the Wharf soon became a popular place for the import, export and storage of general goods.

Neil carried on working at the Wharf until the early-1940s. By this time, the Second World War had broken out, and the Wharf became strategically vital for the war effort. Sadly, this sudden upsurge in activity was more than Neil could cope with, and he was soon in danger of literally working himself to pieces. A call was sent out to the NWR to see if they could spare an engine to take over, so as to let Neil have a much-needed rest.

It just so happened that the NWR had been loaned a number of WD and USATC engines, and one of these - an S100 called Spike - was duly sent to take over Neil's duties at the Wharf. Neil himself was left in storage, but was occasionally let out on occasions when more than one engine was required. It was assumed that Spike would only be a temporary replacement, but after the War ended, he was taken on permanently, becoming the NWR's #25.

This put paid to any hope of Neil returning to his usual duties - besides which, in those days of post-war austerity, the wharf authorities couldn't spare the money to have him repaired. However, nobody had the heart to just cast Neil aside after so many years of loyal service, so he was placed on static display outside the Wharf offices. This was within sight of the narrow gauge lines into the complex, so Neil was never lonely - he always had passing Skarloey engines to talk to.

Above: Ulfstead Castle and Estate, as it looks in the CGI series - mainly because I felt we were due for another image to break up all this text!

Neil remained on display for forty-odd years, until work began in earnest on the railway museum up at Ulfstead Estate in 1984. The rest of that decade saw the Earl of Sodor making all sorts of upgrades to his estate, and gathering all sorts of interesting artifacts from the history of Sodor's railways.

Among those artifacts were engines, and among those engines was Neil. He was duly purchased by the Earl, and cosmetically restored for display in the museum. This was followed a few years later by a full mechanical restoration - the Earl's policy being for all engines to be restored to working order wherever possible.

Neil has now settled happily into his new career as a heritage engine. Most of the time, he remains on static display in the museum, but he is frequently let out to run trains on the demonstration line. On rare occasions, he even runs special charter trains on NWR metals - particularly his old stomping ground, the route of the old S&MR. Indeed, when we spoke with Neil while researching this article, he was being prepared for a special display at Crovan's Gate, to celebrate sixty years since his appearance in Very Old Engines (which shows how long ago I started writing this thing!).

WELLSWORTH & SUDDERY RAILWAY

The Wellsworth & Suddery Railway was built with the aid of contractor's engines - namely, a pair of Manning Wardle K Class 0-6-0STs. The WSR were pleased with the performance of the two engines, and ended up buying them off the contractors after construction was completed. When the line officially opened in 1870, all traffic was handled by these two engines.

The WSR was keen to get the public onside, and it sold itself as a railway built by Sudrians for Sudrians. One way it did this was to name its engines after figures from Sudrian history - St Luoc (#1) and St Abban (#2) were named after two of the first Christian missionaries to land on Sodor. Both engines were painted in a blue livery, as per the wishes of the WSR's directors and engineers.

Below: St Luoc and St Abban both bear an approximate resemblance to this 1890-built K Class, Portishead, seen here on the Weston, Clevedon & Portishead Railway.

For the first ten years or so, these two saddletanks were deemed quite adequate for the work that was demanded of them - a set number of passenger trains each day, and goods trains run as and when required. As the 1880s dawned, though, traffic began to increase, and it was decided that some extra motive power was in order.

For whatever reason, it was not possible to buy a new engine, and the WSR looked to the second-hand market. As it happened, there was a Sharp Stewart 0-6-0T up for sale - one of a batch of eighteen originally built for the Cornwall Minerals Railway. Eight of these had been sold off by the Great Western Railway when they took over in 1876, and a ninth had somehow ended up back in the hands of its builders.

Below: Treffey, one of the four CMR 0-6-0Ts to carry a name (mispelt, incidentally - there should only be one E). This is how WSR #3 looked when he first arrived on Sodor.

The WSR duly purchased the engine, had a bunker added, and gave him the number 3 and the name St Machan - after another of those Christian missionaries who'd landed on Sodor all those years ago. Unfortunately, it was soon discovered that with his bunker and tanks fully loaded, St Machan was too heavy for the WSR's lightly-laid line. He thus had to run with them only half full - which rather defeated the point of buying an engine with extra fuel and water capacity.

It was not until 1912 that the WSR finally took steps to sort out the issues with St Machan. He was sent back to Sharp Stewart, who removed his bunker and added a tender. Initially, St Machan retained his side tanks, but these were later removed in the WSR's own workshops.

Below: One of the CMR tanks, as rebuilt into a tender engine. This is how St Machan would have looked after he returned from Sharp Stewart, but before the WSR removed his side tanks.

Going back in time a bit, 1904 saw the WSR extending south to Brendam with the intention of establishing a harbour there. Another engine was brought in specifically to help with the construction, and when this was completed, she became the WSR's fourth engine - gaining the name St Tibba.

Below: St Tibba somewhat resembles this 1880-built Robert Stephenson & Co tank. Confusingly, it was also named Portishead, and also worked on the WC&PR - in fact, the Manning Wardle pictured above was actually this engine's replacement!

All four engines were definitely still in active service when the NWR was formed in 1914, and were known to have remained working up to 1919. Unfortunately, that was the last year in which all four were working at once - St Machan was withdrawn that year, and scrapped some time during 1920.

St Luoc and St Abban were both rather worn out by 1919, and it was only possible to keep one of them running. St Luoc ended up being the lucky one, and his lifespan was extended by using St Abban as a source of spare parts. The supply of usable parts dried up by 1926, and St Luoc was withdrawn and scrapped by the end of that year.

St Tibba ended up being the longest-lived of the WSR's engines, flitting around various yards and branch lines over the years. After a couple of spells on the Arlesburgh branch, she wound up back on her old stomping ground - what was now known as the Brendam branch - and was still working there when Edward took over in about 1946/47. Sadly, St Tibba's trail peters out at this point, but she seems to have been either withdrawn or sold into industry. Her history beyond this point is unknown.

TIDMOUTH, KNAPFORD & ELSBRIDGE LIGHT RAILWAY

The Knapford & Elsbridge Railway, as it was known then, originally opened in 1885 as a horse-drawn mineral railway, but when the line was extended around the headland to Tidmouth in 1905, the extra distance was deemed unsuitable for the horses. A steam engine was required, but the mining company was unwilling to put up the cash to buy one, so it fell to A.W.Dry & Co - the engineers who'd originally built the line - to build one themselves.

The task was given to Mr Topham Hatt, a bright young engineer who had a knack for working with whatever he had to hand, even if that didn't amount to much. In this case, what he had was an old portable engine, an even older wagon chassis, and whatever spare parts could be scrounged from an odd corner of the workshop. Young Mr Hatt gritted his teeth, got stuck in, and ultimately came up with...well...something a bit like this:

Above: Normally I'd use a picture without a caption, but I left it in to prove that this...thing is genuine. Make of it what you will.

Believe it or not, this contraption actually worked for a couple of years, until the boiler gave up the ghost in the spring of 1908. By this time, A.W.Dry & Co were beginning to diversify into shipbuilding, and so Topham Hatt was able to 'borrow' a spare donkey engine. He grafted this onto the back of the locomotive, retaining the original horizontal boiler to balance out the weight.

The locomotive had hitherto gone unnamed - it was known simply as Number 1 - but its new vertical boiler gave rise to the nickname Topham's Tea Urn. This nickname lasted until an incident where the engine suddenly coughed up dirty brown water from its boiler - after which it was forever known as The Coffee Pot.

By about 1910, the Coffee Pot was beginning to show its age - it could only go about 6 miles per hour, and its old wagon chassis was struggling to hold two boilers. Topham Hatt was tasked with building a replacement, and this time he had more resources to hand. The result was Glynn, who became the TK&ELR's new #1 (the old Coffee Pot was briefly relegated to standby duties, before being scrapped entirely in 1912).

Below: The sole survivor is TK&ELR #1, Glynn. Certain enthusiasts may note a certain resemblance to the Head Wrightson Type 1 of 1871 - rest assured, this is entirely coincidental!

Glynn proved to be a far superior engine to the old Coffee Pot, and was quickly followed by two more engines of the same design - Innis (#2) and Brynn (#3). All three were painted in a red livery, but this was rarely visible under the layers of grime and dirt - the three engines having inherited their predecessor's unfortunate tendency to cough up dirty brown water. As a result, they also inherited the nickname of Coffee Pots.

The three Coffee Pots passed into the ownership of the NWR upon its formation in 1914, and in 1924 they assisted with the extension of their line to Ffarquhar, and Anopha Quarry beyond. By this time, they were in a less-than-ideal condition, and not really capable of running the newly-extended line on their own.

To this end, Thomas was transferred to take charge of the branch line, with the Coffee Pots being retained for shunting, light freight and other duties. In particular, they handled most of the stone traffic from the new Quarry - although with their limited braking capacity, they occasionally came to grief on the steeply-graded tramroad.

As the Quarry expanded, it began to require engines to shunt its sidings, and it was not unknown for one of the Coffee Pots to be sent up the tramroad. Generally, Thomas would head up to collect the arranged stone trains himself, but if he was busy elsewhere, it would be left to the other two Coffee Pots to bring down the trucks for him (double-heading became common practice on these runs, in a bid to improve braking capacity).

In 1926, this arrangement was formalised when Glyyn was sold to the Ffarquhar Quarry Company, becoming their first dedicated shunter. Innis and Brynn, meanwhile, remained with the NWR, and continued their usual duties of shunting, light freight and the occasional saunter up to the Quarry. As the years went by, though, their importance to the branch line diminished, as more powerful engines became available to help Thomas out.

The war years pushed the Coffee Pots to their limit, and by the beginning of the 1950s, Innis and Brynn had become so worn out that it was deemed more economical to withdraw them from service. Both were sold to the FQC, who intended to use them as a source of spare parts to keep Glynn going. In practice, though, very little could be salvaged, and both were scrapped in 1952.

Below: A side effect of the disposal of Innis and Brynn was that Thomas now had to handle the stone trains on his own. It was during one of these trips that he had his now-famous altercation with the grumpy new constable.

Glynn soldiered on as the last Coffee Pot, but even his own importance was diminished by the arrival of Toby later on in 1951. He was retained as a standby shunter, and even helped show Toby the ropes, but as the decade rolled on, he found himself being used less and less.

Finally, at some point during the late-1950s, Glynn was finally withdrawn from active service, and converted into a stationary boiler at the Quarry. We don't have an exact date for this, but it must have been some time prior to 1962, when Mavis arrived to take his place as quarry shunter. Either way, that's where Glynn remained for the next twenty-odd years...

As mentioned above, the 1980s saw a renaissance in railway preservation on Sodor, with the development of the Ulfstead Railway Museum, and the search for engines of historical interest. This prompted newfound interest in the Coffee Pots, and in the winter of 1987, Glynn was brought out of his boilerhouse at Anopha, and restored to full working order.

Above: Glynn on his first test run following his restoration, on the line leading to Ulfstead Estate. At his controls is Sir Stephen Topham Hatt - grandson of Mr Topham Hatt who originally designed and built the Coffee Pots.

Due to his unusual design, Glynn is popular with enthusiasts, and in great demand for railtours and demonstration runs. A particular favourite event in the museum's calendar is the annual Great Railway Race, in which Glynn and some of his fellow exhibits compete to see who can complete the fastest round trip along one of the demonstration lines. Of course, there's no real racing involved - none of the competitors can go very fast - but then it's more of an excuse for the old engines to stretch their wheels, have a good natter with their friends, and show off to crowds of enthusiasts. And if any of them should actually win the race? Well, that's just a happy bonus!

#thomas the tank engine #the railway series #sodor #island of sodor #ttte headcanons #north western railway #sodor and mainland railway #wellsworth and suddery railway #tidmouth knapford and elsbridge light railway #ttte neil #ttte glynn #coffee pots

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