Will O' the Whistle

by Railroad Brony

The City of Ponyville

From about 1850 there had been a tremendous boom in South Appleachian industry. The world wanted Appleachain anthracite. Mine shaft after mine shaft was sunk in the valleys.

To get the coal down to the ports, railroads were constructed up the valleys. The railroads had names like Taff Valley, the Mare Valley Railroad and the Berry Railway. They were shortlines, but were extremely busy. At Fillydelphia, at the height of the coal boom, the Taff Valley had five hundred trains daily.

But, in addition to the lines that ran up the valleys from the sea, there were railroads built roughly east-south-west across the heads of the valleys, astonishing railroads that jumped the valleys, tunneled the ridges and skirted the mountain slopes. Typical of these were the lines from Ponypool Road to Neigth, and from Applegavenny to Marethyr.

The railroad on which Marefod station stood had been abandoned with others before the Griffon invasion because the mines it had served had been closed with the development of nuclear power. It had been known in the old days as the West Junction Railroad, the W.J.R.

The clouds were low over the mountain tops and the drizzle was seeping down as Spark, Macintosh and Wrench plodded along a cut by the side of the old track. The rusty rails were for the most part buried in thistles and tall grass.

“How long has it been since a train came through here?” Spark asked.
“Oh, it must be thirty years, probably more,” said Macintosh. They were tired and lapsed into silence again. The drizzle was as thick as fog, and they could see only fifty or sixty yards. The cut ended in a tunnel, but it was short and they could see a pale disc of light at the far end. They passed a semaphore with the arm at danger. The single track divided by the ruins of a signal tower into a double track. They saw earth platforms fronted with crumbling bricks and a roofless station building.

The platform sign had become almost unreadable, but they made out the letters M and D.

“This is it, this is Marefod,” said Macintosh wearily.

Spark spotted a small round object. He stooped and picked it up. It was a button embossed with the emblem of the Yellow Sword! “The Griffons have been here,” he said grimly.
“Look!” gasped Wrench ignoring him. “Look at the signal! It’s down!”

Spark peered towards the signal, just visible through the mist, and saw that the arm had dropped. “It must have dropped on its own,” he said harshly. “Maybe the wire broke—” Then he corrected himself. “No, if the wire broke the signal would go up!” He stopped abruptly. With tense, wondering faces the three men listened.

The eerie sound of a whistle reached them faintly through the mist.

“A train’s coming!” whispered Macintosh.

“Get back!” ordered Spark. “It will maybe be a Griffon patrol!” They ran into the gaping doorway of the building and peered out. Out of the mist loomed a locomotive, not an electric locomotive or a diesel, but a steam locomotive, the first Spark had ever seen in his life! With a wisp of steam blowing off from the safety valve, it came slowly into the station. The paint was smothered in grime, and yet the engine had an air of dignity and power. As it passed the doorway, Spark saw it had a name.

It was “The City of Ponyville.” He had read about it. This was a historic engine. Long ago, in 1904, while running the Ocean Mail between Canterlot and Manehattan on the Great Western Railway, it had sped down the Stallion Mountain Grade at one hundred and two miles an hour.

Behind the engine was a single passenger car and two boxcars. The engineer looked out of the cab and he was not a Griffon, but a wrinkled veteran, wearing a cap with a leather peak and a reefer jacket. Old as he was, his eyes were clear and piercing.

Spark and his companions stumbled back on to the platform. “We were told to wait here,” Macintosh blurted out, and then pointed at Spark. “This stallion is not a spy, because we saw him bring down the Punishment Machine by—”

“We know what he did, and I’ve been told to say he’s welcome to the hills,” said the engineer gruffly.

“Are you Will o’ the Whistle?” Spark asked.

"That’s what some call me, though I was known long enough as Regulator Trotterson,” responded the engineer. “Hurry up now, and get into the train!” Spark, still in a whirl of amazement at what had happened, glanced down the station platform, and saw that a man with a green lantern had opened a door for them to get in.

Author's Note:

Anthracite is a very clean burning coal with a carbon content from around 92% to 98%.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthracite
The City of Ponyville is based on The City of Truro, seen below