A Drenching ... and Revenge
Concluded from Vol 3 No 9
reprinted from the ‘Birmingham Weekly Post for Friday
9th June 1944.
After a pause, my companion resumed: ‘I had some great times
with old Jack. He was a fine engineman  . I remember we were once
taking water at Walsall. The water column is at the end of the
platform. You know the kind of thing – sort of tank on a tall
pillar with a wide leather pipe – “bag” we call it
– to carry the water into our tank. We were a bit late, and as
soon as we had filled and the guard saw me taking in the bag, he gave
the “right away.”
‘Jack started her smartly; too smartly, for the bag
wasn’t quite clear, and we pulled it right away from its
connection. Unfortunately it had fouled the chain which opens the
water valve, which it pulled open as it fell. The result was a proper
cascade and the train had to run the gauntlet of a miniature Niagara,
and it wasn’t so very miniature either.
‘As it happened it was a roasting hot day and most of the
carriage windows were open, so the passengers got the full benefit of
it. At Bescot they swarmed round the engine after our blood –
ladies with ruined dresses; mothers whose offspring were soaked to
the skin; businessmen whose silk hats would never be the same again;
not to speak of sodden cushions and slopping floors. I tell you we
were glad to reach New Street without being lynched.
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‘Of course the matter was reported and Jack had to go up
before old M-, the Divisional Superintendent, a terrible martinet but
a fine railwayman, all the same. He gave Jack a rare old slanging and
fined him ten shillings. Jack felt rather sore about it, especially
the fine, for he considered it a pure accident, as I suppose it was
really, and he swore he’d get even with the Super., and he
meant it, too.
‘He got his chance about a month later. There had been some
extensive alterations at one of the stations on the Coventry line,
Berkswell as nearly as I remember. It will do anyway. The Super. had
been over to inspect the job and wanted to get back to New Street.
There was no train due to stop at Berkswell for some time, but we
happened to be working a “fast” from Coventry to
Birmingham and so he wired Coventry to have us specially stop at
Berkswell to pick him up.
‘As we were about to leave Coventry the station master came
to the engine. “Just had a message” he said.
“You’re to look out for Mr. M- at Berkswell.” Jack
was about to pass
some remark, but stopped, and I noticed a curious look in the corner
of his eye as he just nodded.
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