The Island's Swansong

XIX - Tender For Gordon

This story has been rewritten from notes taken during Gordon's recital. It is now stylised like the classic Railway Series.

After being shunted back to the sheds, Gordon took a good long rest while the Fat Controller organised his repairs. He was pleased to have the company of Henry and James, though James couldn't stop boasting. He had been purchased by a wealthy museum owner on the Isle of Man, and let the other engines know so. "This individual is of high stature, and sought me out specifically when he found out our railway was in trouble."

"Our railway's not in trouble!" a diesel called Derek protested, "It's just going through a rough patch."

"Easy for you to say," mumbled Henry, "You're not tucked away on branch lines or in a shed all day."

"Anyway," James pressed, "He sought me out specifically because I am a splendid engine. My red paintwork will brighten up his railway. After how hard I've worked on this railway over the years, I'm overdue an easy retirement." He glanced at Gordon, "Looks like I'm not the only one."

"I'd much rather be pulling the express than looking fancy and posing for photos," Gordon grumped back.

"Pah, suit yourself," James sniffed.

The Fat Controller soon arrived, his face sore with sorrow. "Hello Gordon." He removed his top hat, holding it with both hands. "I know I promised I'd get up into steam again," he began, "But..."

"But?" Gordon asked.

"The Railway Board pointed out you need a full overhaul as of next week. To fully repair you would cost into the millions. They aren't willing to spend that money given the railway is still running at a loss."

"So that was my final run..." Gordon let the news sink in.

"If there was any other way, that didn't require their approval," Sir Topham added, "I would take it. But they want to remove all water towers and coaling points between here and Vicarstown to cut costs. You can't make runs like that without stopping for water."

"So that's that then," Gordon frowned, "My time is up."

The sheds dropped into silence. But then, Henry spoke up. "Give him my parts, sir."

"Henry?" The Fat Controller turned in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not needed," Henry explained, "Gordon can have whatever he needs. My piston, my valve gear, my wheels and boiler. He can have my tender. You can convert it into a second tender for storing water. He will pull the express again!"

"Henry, no!" Gordon refused, "I cannot ask that of you, or accept that from you."

"I agree, Henry," added Sir Topham, "All my engines are equal. No one is being repurposed or scrapped."

"If things continue like this," Henry held firm, "Then perhaps that's what will become of us both. But this way, Gordon gets to keep his trains running. One engine back on the rails is better than losing two."

"Henry, be quiet!" James cut in, stubbornly.

"Sir," Henry looked at his controller, "There is nothing I want more than for the railway, and my fellow engines, to survive. Let me do this."

"Henry," Sit Topham rubbed his head, and then his eyes, "I-"

"Said that if there was any other way, you would take it," Henry smiled, "Let me be that other way. I can offer no greater service to the railway than that."

The Fat Controller stood, quiet, and then sniffed. "Gordon?"

Gordon sat, staring at the big green engine across the shed, smiling with strength and courage he envied. "But-"

"No buts," Henry stopped him, "This is for you, and the railway."

Gordon said nothing, and for the first time in all he could remember, a tear pattered down onto his running board.

Both the big blue engine and the Fat Controller honoured what was Henry's final wish. Both engines were shunted down to Crovan's Gate by BoCo, but they went further first, stopping for a while on the siding in forest. Henry was silent, breathing in the smell of pines as birdsong filled the air around his smokebox. "Gordon," he spoke, "Can I ask that when you come through the forest, you slow down and appreciate it for me?"

"Of course," Gordon agreed, but he was unsure if he could say anything else.

When the day drew to a close, BoCo took both engines back to the Steamworks. They were shunted into the workshop, ready for the work to begin the next day. "How are you feeling?" Henry asked Gordon.

"I'm not sure if I feel worse about breaking down, or worse about what's to come," Gordon tried not to stifle his words.

"No matter what happens," Henry smiled, "Remember this is what I wanted."

Gordon couldn't say anything else. Before he could, Henry was fast asleep. Gordon let him dream in peace.

The next morning, The workmen went about their task.

Several weeks later, Gordon emerged into the yard. His springs were level and his pistons shifted with no friction or sticking. Even the knocking in his boiler was gone.

Sitting there, on a siding, was Henry's old tender, the coal bunker sealed shut to hold water. It was still green and bearing the number three. Gordon wasn't sure what to think. He was sad his friend was gone, but was thankful part of him was left behind.

Henry would not be forgotten.