The firebox doors were open as the fire-man bent low while using a steel spreading rod to even the lay of the coal in the boiler. Karl Tiegue hated to admit it, but the heat from the open boiler doors was a welcome gift after the cold.
“Close the doors before you lose the heat, Blackie.” Karl climbed into the right-hand seat. He surveyed the mass of piping and controls that decorated the face of the boiler. Huge brass gauges added to the confusion as they showed the state of the boiler. From heat to water level and steam pressure; every aspect of the operational locomotive expressed in numbers that had taken Karl years to understand. Deftly, he eased pressure on the brake quadrant by pushing the small lever forward, then adjusted the air brake pressure to zero. The train was ready to roll. He grasped the cold steel of the throttle hanging from the ceiling; attached to push rods that opened the steam valves to the drive cylinders. He squeezed the lever lock open and eased the throttle forward slightly.
The eight large drive wheels of the locomotive spun slightly on the ice-covered steel rails, then bit and pulled the train from the station. Used steam vented from the drive cylinders, creating a distinctive chugging noise.
Silas Moore looked at Karl and frowned as he fiddled with the coal auger drive control. “I don’t remember a night this cold.”
Karl knew what was coming, but kept his attention on the faint images outside his window. He waited for a wooden shack that would mark two hundred and fifty feet from the station, roughly the distance from the cab to the caboose. “Keep an eye out for John’s signal. As soon as we get the green, I want to put the coal to it.”
“Yep,” Silas preferring to remain silent as he lifted the canvas to the cold.
Karl climbed from his chair and peered out a gap in the canvas to watch for his landmark. When the small shack came into view, Karl pulled back on the throttle quadrant and applied the air brakes; slowing the train with a jarring of the cars as they rattled on their knuckles. At the rear of the train, the stationmaster handed two boxes to a small man standing on the apron of the caboose; wood, food and coffee for the man who held the lives of the train’s crew.
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John Carlson would stoke his stove, pour himself a large cup of coffee, then climb to the perch of the caboose and watch for any reason to apply the brakes. It was a lonely job held by many old engineers on the northern railroad; but on this night, Karl was happy to have the man who taught him to drive a locomotive pulling up the tail.
After a few moments of waiting, a green lantern waved from the rear of the train, signaling John was ready to go.
“Green light.” Came a shout from the other side of the canvas, Silas stood atop the covered coal pile in the tender. He ducked back into the cab with hardly any disturbance of the canvas or loss of heat. “Hope the water in the tender doesn’t freeze.”
“Turn on the water jacket, Blackie.” Karl engaged the locomotives drive and increased the train’s speed. “As long as the water in the tender moves, it won’t freeze.”
Checking his gauges, Silas augured more coal into the firebox. Below his feet, the steel auger pushed coal from the tender to the firebox, where a simple rotary fan flung the coal in an even pattern for a better burn. The auger pipe was easily the width of a coal shovel, saving Silas a world of work.
“Give it five minutes, then check the tarp over the coal. Make sure it is tight.” Snow mixed in with the coal would dampen the fire and reduce the steam pressure; they needed every ounce of steam for this trip.
Reaching below Karl’s seat to a toolbox, Silas came up with a hand carved wedge of wood. There was a wooden box the size of a shoe box in the drawer that Silas took care not to touch; it contained Karl’s personal effects and earned the engineer’s instant ire if someone tried to open it. He leaned past the engineer and scraped at the ice covering the front cab window as Karl avoided the slightest touch with obvious effort. Soon Karl could see the track ahead of the train lit by the intense glare of the oil light at the front of the engine. He gave no thanks for the black man’s work, instead he stared at the tracks ahead of the train.
Snow blew thickly across the tracks, leaving only dark lines stretching into the night. It was a lonely view, worsened by the storm and the night. Karl could only imagine the people nestled in their homes safe from the ravages of winter, sleeping peacefully while others worked.
Karl tried to judge the train’s speed by looking through the front window, but it was harder than simply looking to the side. He touched a gloved hand to the frost laden window to his right, his gloved hand making no impression on the ice-covered glass. He estimated their speed at thirty miles an hour. Moving the throttle forward two more notches, he felt for the vibration of loose wheels or shaking stock. While the train rolled smoothly, he could increase the speed, but once it shook, he would have to slow down or risk derailing.