Lonesome Whistle

by Vauclains Understudy

The Rail Gang

Early the next morning, Gallow decided to check in on Ironside to see if he was feeling any better. Twilight and the others were worried after his unexpected departure the night before; they had never seen him simply trot out as if he wasn’t wanted anymore. She decided to keep the details of his back-story a secret, fearing that it would only add to their concern. Nevertheless, she wanted to make sure that he wasn’t still upset about having to recite his darkened past. So, once she had eaten breakfast and finished helping Spike with his chores, she made her way over to the roundhouse, following the same backwoods path that Luna and Ironside took to get to the library.

She gently trotted around to the side entrance, hoping not to be seen by any of the other workers; pedestrians were not permitted to be on railway property without written consent. She slowly opened the door, which creaked slightly on its hinges. She stepped in, and then gently shut the door behind her. Nopony seemed to have noticed her entering. Well, she thought to herself, I guess I should start looking for Mr. Ironside.

It was dark inside the roundhouse. Even though there were windows at the top, they were blackened by the copious amounts of coal smoke that would often fill the structure close to asphyxiation point. The giant stall doors were all shut. Gallow could barely make out the silhouettes of the massive locomotives she was walking near. There was no way she would find Ironside amidst all this heavy machinery. In fact, she couldn’t even see the inspection pit five feet in front of her.

There was a sudden yelp as Gallow fell hooves-first into the pit between the rails. Her jaw landed with a thud on the other side of the pit, but her front hooves dangled helplessly into it. “Oh crap,” she muttered, “I’m stuck.”

“Need some help there, li’l lady?” said a voice inside her head suddenly. Gallow looked around in surprise. She didn’t know where the voice came from, only that it wasn’t Ironside’s. This voice sounded deep and gruff, but friendly. Suddenly, a light shone down on the little filly. Temporarily blinded, Gallow blinked several times into the light to see where the source was. “Oh, I’m sorry, miss,” came the voice again, “I didn’t mean to blind you.” Gallow’s eyes widened when she saw where the voice was coming from. There, shining its headlight down on her was a massive black steam engine. Now, Gallow had seen the engines of the Ponyville Division before, but none were as big as this one. This engine seemed to tower over the other engines surrounding him on either side.

“You OK there, Gallow?” came a more familiar voice inside her head. She strained her neck to try and look in the direction of 2398, which she found at the end of the roundhouse opposite where she had entered.

“Oh, hello 2398,” the filly replied, “I seem to have fallen into this pit here.”

“Hey Mike, help a little sis out, why don’t you?” 2398 called to the black engine. The massive Mike gently rolled forwards towards the helpless filly. He nudged the end of his cowcatcher under her belly and rolled forwards some more, using the wedge of the catcher to lift her out of the pit. Gallow was surprised at how gentle of a giant Mike was. Once the little filly was clear of the pit, Mike rolled back away from the doors, allowing Gallow to slide off his cowcatcher.

“Thank you, Mr. Mike,” she said. “Oh please, dear, just call me ‘Mike,’” replied the engine.

“Mike here is our number 940,” said a Germanic female voice to Mike’s right, “I’m Hildegard, number 917.”

Gallow trotted over to the light switch at the end of the stall. Once she flipped it on, she got a chance to look at the three engines now sitting in the stall. 2398 she already recognized. Hildegard was a trim and very beautiful Danish steamer. Like 2398, she was an Atlantic, and a compound engine, except that her compound system was different. Her high-pressure cylinders were located under her steam chests and smokebox, while her low-pressure ones were located in the normal position on either side. Her smokebox saddle had a double concave shape, which resembled long black hair. Mike was much scruffier-looking than the other two, and was much more massive. He was an American 2-10-2 “Santa Fe”-type engine: two pilot wheels, ten driving wheels, and two trailing wheels under his cab. Like the others, he was also a compound. He and 2398 were actually built by the same manufacturer, and they shared similar compound designs. Their HP cylinders were physically connected to the LP ones. The main difference was that Mike’s cylinders were connected end-to-end, while 2398’s were attached over-and-under.

Gallow stared in awe at Mike. She had never seen an engine so big. “Come now, Gallow,” the big engine said, “You’re embarrassing me.” Gallow stopped staring and looked over to the other two.

“Might I ask why a young filly is trespassing on railway property?” asked Hildegard in suspicion.

“Oh, I was just looking for Mr. Ironside,” replied Gallow, “Have any of you seen him?”

“He was gone long before you got here,” replied 2398, “He was requested by the railway to test some new bogies for the sleeper cars.”

“I see,” Gallow said in a disappointed tone, “He suddenly left the library last night and didn’t seem to be doing too well. I wanted to see if he was OK.”

“Well, he seemed fine this morning,” replied Hildegard, “I wouldn’t worry about it. My little Ironside is a strong young lad.” Mike and 2398 chuckled at this. They couldn’t help but find Hildegard’s attachment to her driver anything short of comedic. Gallow sat down on the floor, unsure of what to do now that Ironside was gone for the day.

Mike happened to notice the disappointed look on Gallow’s face. He looked over at his colleagues and whispered a question to them. Both looked down at the little filly, then back at Mike. You couldn’t tell, but they smiled at him, indicating their approval of his request. “Say Gallow,” Mike said, “I’ll be leaving for the morning drag freight soon. Unfortunately, my driver is sick today. I can’t miss this assignment, so I was wondering…”

“Yes?” asked Gallow.

“Would you like to be my driver for the day?” the big engine finished. Gallow’s jaw dropped. She had never been asked to do anything like drive a train!

“I-I don’t know, Mike,” she stuttered, “It’s-it’s an awfully big responsibility.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” he replied, “We won’t be going any faster than 25 mph anyway. Besides, I can teach you how to drive me. Just listen to what I say, m’kay?” Hildegard and 2398 exchanged confused looks. Didn’t Mike remember that Ironside was his driver?

“Well…alright,” Gallow finally said, “I really have nothing better to do, and I don’t want to just sit around in the library all day.”

“Excellent!” replied Mike, “Let’s get started.” Gallow timidly stepped over towards the driver’s side of Mike’s cab, lifting herself up by her front hooves. Once inside, she gazed in amazement at the menagerie of levers and knobs that littered the backhead. She sat down on the rather comfy chair and tried her hoof at reaching for each of the controls on the engineer’s side. Mike went over the main controls with her: the throttle, the Johnson bar (reverser), the independent and train brakes, the drain cock/simpling valve lever, and the sand bar. He then instructed her to head towards the fireman’s side, and explained the controls that the fireman would deal with in keeping the boiler running smoothly. He explained that the fireman needed to control the flow of water from the tender to the boiler, as well as keeping the fire burning brightly and evenly to ensure adequate steam generation. Gallow was at least familiar with the coal shovel and its purpose. Once Mike was certain that Gallow knew what to do, he gave her the go-ahead to ease him out of the stall and onto the turntable. Gallow pushed the Johnson bar gingerly, but nothing happened. “You need to push harder than that, sweetie,” the kindly engine pointed out, “Engines like me take ‘heavy machinery’ to a whole new level.” Gallow tried again, putting all her weight into the push. This time, the bar slid forward all the way. With Mike now in full forward gear, the little filly released his independent brakes, opened his cocks and simpling valve, and eased his throttle open.

With a mighty shove, the Santa Fe engine chuffed ahead onto the turntable. Gallow stopped him once she knew he was positioned correctly and jumped out of the cab. She headed for the table’s controls, first making sure to unlock the table from its position. With the pull of a lever, she spun the 225-ton loco and tender until they faced the depot of Ponyville. She relocked the table, then hopped back into the cab and drove Mike off towards the depot to await the freight train.

“Not bad,” Mike said to his little driver as they sat at the platform, “Not bad at all. You’d make a great hostler, Gallow. How old are you exactly?”

“Twelve,” replied the filly.

“Twelve? No kidding?” the engine exclaimed. Gallow shook her head. Mike chuckled to himself. “There was a time when every little colt dreamt of becoming a locomotive engineer,” he said pensively, “I was your age around that time.”

“How old are you, Big Mike?” asked Gallow.

“One hundred-eight,” he replied.

“What?! One hundred-eight years old?!” the little filly exclaimed.

“Eeyup,” replied Big Mike, “Baldwin built me in 1903. They built 2398 three years before me, and Hanomag built Hildegard in 1909. We’re all over 100.”

"What’s Hanomag?” asked Gallow. “They’re the Hanoversche Maschinengebau or Hanomag for short,” the engine replied, “They’re a German machine company based in Hanover.”

Gallow couldn’t believe that the engines were all over 100 years old. They looked so clean and fresh, she swore they were all brand-new! “Wow,” she whispered impressively, “You guys must have been through a lot.”

“We have,” Mike replied, “And we all would be dead now if it wasn’t for Celestia and Ironside.”

Gallow was confused. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean, the three of us would’ve been cut up for scrap if Celestia hadn’t taken us in,” explained Mike, “We were retired from active service long before we came to Equestria. Bigger and better engines replaced us, and there was no place left for us. When the princess realized that bigger and faster motive power was needed for the Equestrian Railways, she sought us out and brought us here. We’re all very thankful to her for saving us.”

“So, you’re the heavy freight engine, and 2398 and Hildegard are the passenger engines, right?” said Gallow.

“Exactly,” responded Mike, “No matter how hard or strenuous our work gets, we keep chugging on because we’re thankful for still being around to work and live. It’s our duty as locomotives to care for you ponies because you care for us.”

Gallow smiled upon hearing those words. She realized how happy the engines were to be alive and well. She began to think about how she was having so much trouble trying to see her own life in the same happy light, but her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of freight cars being coupled to Mike’s tender. It was time to head off. Putting her musing aside, Gallow mimicked the same procedure she had seen Ironside pull off so many times before. Two blasts of the whistle, Johnson bar full forward, brakes off, simpling valve open, and throttle open. The familiar alternating steam jets appeared as Big Mike strained to get his heavy load going. Once he knew it was under control, he signaled Gallow to shut off his simpling valve, switching him to compound mode. Gallow pulled the cock lever back, shutting off both the drain cocks and the simpling valve. Now, all she had to do was keep the train moving at a safe and steady pace. Simple in theory, but not in practice, as driver and engine were soon to find out….

Author's Note:

More technical crap