#wellsworth

[brendambois]

James, in a bad mood at Wellsworth

-Wellsworth Station, 1933

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 20 - Live Wire

The Telegraph Poles:

Edward stared up at the poles being installed on the island. “What are they?” he asked slowly, gazing at the wooden posts and the many wires that ran between them. “They’re telegraph and electricity wires,” Thomas explained. “We had a lot of them back in Brighton – the humans use them to communicate quickly.” “How quickly?” asked Edward. Thomas chuckled. “As fast as you can blink, apparently! Driver once showed me how it worked – he hit a button a bunch of times on one telegraph, and got a reply from London within a minute!”

Thomas thought the telegraphs and electricity wires were grand – but Edward was more apprehensive. They’d had something similar on his old line, yes – but those wires were underground. The ‘telegraph poles’ just looked unsightly to him – and then unnerved him. He wasn’t sure why, but their mere presence made him feel uneasy, as if something just wasn’t right about them.

At the time, the two ran much of the line together with the old pre-grouping engines. This meant that Edward pulled the big, important express. And as part of that, he always stopped at the station at the base of the big hill, where a former Wellsworth & Suddery engine brought passengers from Suddery and beyond.

At Wellsworth, there was a young stationmaster named Jack. Jack had only just been given his own station to run, and he was very excited about it. He wanted everything to run perfectly; moreover, he wanted everything to look perfect too.

“He’s barmy,” grumbled Neil. “No stationmaster can make his station look and run perfectly – it’s impossible!” “He just wants to make a good impression,” argued Thomas. “Especially at that station! Why, almost every single one of our Directors lives either near his station or along that branchline.” Thomas was right, and every single day the stationmaster could be seen sweeping the platforms, repainting the fence posts and cleaning out the gutters in between trains. Jack seemed to be actually managing his ambition to run both an efficient and a picturesque station!

However, there was one thing that peeved him. The telegraph poles.

Tree branches often got tangled in the wires, and it was impossible to get them down – no ladder was long enough. “It’s an eyesore!” Jack complained bitterly to Edward one afternoon, as a gentle breeze blew in from the bay. “Branches strewn about in midair! How am I meant to run my station when those telegraph wires make a mockery of all my hard work?”

The branches also made telegraphs difficult. They pinched the wires and caused ‘blips’ in the messages sent. That was why Edward and Stationmaster Jack had no clue that the gentle breezes they felt in the early afternoon were actually the beginning of a great storm that would sweep the south of the island that evening. The telegraph warning them and cancelling all trains had been interrupted by the tree branches caught in the wires, leaving the signalman clueless about what the message meant.

Edward departed for the Big Station with only a few clouds on the horizon and a gentle wind cooling the air, but by the time he reached the Big Station it was a fierce, howling gale. Wind and rain buffeted the island, halting all trains and leaving engines stranded in whatever shelter they could find.

At Wellsworth, the rain and wind were so strong that they ripped several telegraph wires from a pole. The wires landed with a crash on the platform, ending up strewn about, sparking dangerously.

The rain has lessened to a light drizzle early the next morning, and Edward was sent out with his usual express. He was making good time until he neared Wellsworth. Then, he let out a startled whistle in horror.

“Driver! Stop!” he shouted. His driver slammed on the brakes, and the blue engine’s wheels screeched as he was jolted across several sets of points and into the wrong platform. The passengers were most confused.

“What’s happening?” they demanded. Immediately, the porter sprinted up. “Stay inside your coaches, it’s not safe!” he bellowed. The passengers jumped away from the carriage doors in fright. “What’s going on?” exclaimed Edward’s driver. “Where’s Jack?” The porter didn’t reply for a moment, then quietly:

“Jack’s not able to come.” Edward’s driver was confused. “What do you mean? Is he trapped at home?” “No… he made it to the station,” replied the porter. The young man looked haunted, his eyes wide and his face pale. “Then is he busy in his office?” “No… he’s over there.”

Edward and his driver looked – and then Edward felt his boiler run cold as his driver collapsed to the footplate in shock. There, still touching some of the telegraph wires, was the crisped remains of Jack.

“What… happened to him?” gasped the fireman. “He got here as usual,” the porter replied quietly. “Only… the wires were on the platform. He went to move them and… and…” “He was electrocuted,” the signalman finished, having made his way gingerly down from his signalbox. “We couldn’t get the message out ta you ‘cause the wires have broken, but there’s no trains coming up from Suddery today.”

Edward slowly filled in the gaps. The wires were still sparking, and the water seemed to buzz with energy. The water itself was electrified, and when Jack had stepped in a puddle and grabbed some of the wires, he’d sealed his own fate.

After that, most of the wires on the North Western Railway were moved underground. “It’s just safer,” the Fat Director said quietly when Thomas asked. All the engines knew though – they knew because it was Wellsworth where they began, they knew because of the way traffic had to be rerouted through the ‘down’ platform through the station; they knew because of the hearse that visited the station once the weather had cleared and the puddles had dried away.

They knew because a man had died, and the station had been left closed until it was safe to remove him.

To this day, Edward still doesn’t like exposed live wires. He rightly believes they are a danger to everyone around them – but can you blame him?

Back to Master Post

[endoard1]

Thomas is late! (repost from my twitter)

[artdecoandmodernist]

1920s Wellsworth Motorcycle Goggles.

[brendambois]

Henry was feeling great. The Welsh coal had done a great number on his firebox and he was finally steaming properly for the very first time. He was so efficient the Fat Director let him take a fast passenger train that had important people, "bankers and businessmen and whatnot", said his driver.

Henry stopped at Wellsworth to let an important down train pass. The train was full of important resources for places hit hard by the depression (Sodor managed to cushion the blow with trackside construction projects).

Soon, Edward passed through the station and at quite a brisk pace too!

"Peep peep! Hi Henry! Peep peep! by Henry!" Edward said without even slowing, "Hello Edward" was all he managed to say before Edward was out of earshot and the signal in front of him turned green and he was off once again, bound for Knatford, then Tidmouth.

[mrlazycheese]

Cheese Alternate Universe Content

[samayla]

Sequels save lives.

[camusinpumas]

Share 5 facts about yourself and pass this onto 10 of your favorite followers :)

I have had a tumblr for over a year and have only received 15 fanmails.

I can’t change my theme because I’m too lazy to look up the disqus and tumbleroll codes I used.

I own some portal bookends but I have never actually beat the Portal games.

I have only ever really finished one game all the way through (Dragon Age).

I claim to like Camus but really I’ve only read The Stranger.