Boys Of The Glyn

Vincent Hughes

Description

The narrow gauge railway, canal, aquaduct, viaduct and tunnel all play a part in this story where two young lads rescue a girl from an abusive bargee. The Glyn Ceiriog Valley is in the north east corner of Wales.The author's grandfather was the driver on the Glyn Valley Tramway.

Informations

• Publié par: eBookPartnership.com
• Date de parution: 20 mars 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783010776
• Langue: English

Extrait

BOYS OF THE GLYN
Engine Dennis on the Glyn Valley Tramway
by Vincent Hughes.
© 2013 Vincent Hughes
Vincent Hughes has asserted his rights in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in eBook format in 2013
eISBN: 978-1-78301-077-6
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the Publisher.
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Front cover image: The engine ‘Dennis’ of The Glyn Valley Tramway. The driver, James Hughes the author’s grandfather is standing on the left of the group
Prologue
The Glyn Valley Tramway was a narrow gauge railway that ran the length of the Glyn valley on the border between England and Wales. It transported minerals and passengers to and from the Chirk main line station.
In little more than one generation transport had developed from horse drawn wagons on rails to canal narrow boat superseded by the railway and finally the motor vehicle. They were often in conflict for custom. My grandfather, James Hughes was a driver on the railway. My father- the second eldest son –is Jim in the story. Although broadly based on what little I know of his early life, what follows is a fictional account of his adventures in the Glyn Valley. With the exception of Jim’s brothers, all characters are fictional.
Acknowledgements
I am indebted to Paul Abbot MBE for his professional advice and expertise; also to my wife, Vanessa for her forbearance and valuable assistance.
I am grateful to Shelagh Thomas for drawing the map of the Glyn Ceiriog Valley.
Contents
Title Page
Prologue
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1 - A Birthday Treat
Chapter 2 – ‘Blow The Whistle Daddy’
Chapter 3 - The Great Storm
Chapter 4 - The Show Down
Chapter 5 - Days in The Sun
Chapter 6 - Changing Times
Chapter 7 - The Armististe
Chapter 8 - A Race to Survive
Chapter 9 - A New Start
Chapter 10 - Destiny Decided
Epilogue
Chapter 1: A Birthday Treat.
Dawn was breaking over the Glyn Valley, and life was stirring in the small house, which stood in proud isolation, high up on the hill overlooking the valley, on the English side of the border with Wales. The house faced onto a dusty track, which ran along the crest of the hill. The valley was shrouded in darkness and only the higher ridges were beginning to catch the morning light. For young Jim it was to be a special day. It was his birthday. He was twelve years old and his father, the driver on the narrow gauge Glyn Valley Tramway, had promised him a ride on the footplate of the engine.
Jim’s mother was as usual the first to rise. She was busy preparing the breakfast and the packed lunches for her husband and Jim. Few words passed between husband and wife; five o’clock is not the best time for animated conversation. Breakfast over, James Hughes donned his greatcoat and engineer’s cap then shouldering his lunch bag he glanced at his son to check that the lad was suitably prepared for the venture, with the parting words to his wife : ‘See you this evening.’ He made his way through the small conservatory, which served as a porch. It was the start of just another working day for an engine man.
James Hughes was employed as foreman driver on the Glyn Valley Tramway. A man of medium build; he was in his mid-forties. He had a wiry frame; so often characteristic of an engineman. From the day he left school at the age of twelve, James had worked six days a week with just two weeks holiday a year. He took life seriously, both in his work and in his Chapel activities. As a Lay Preacher, he practised what he preached and brought up his family accordingly. The previous Sunday, he had scolded his daughter Lily, for picking flowers on the Lord's Day. Mrs Hughes had interceded on her daughter’s behalf, by pointing out that the girl had meant well. A committed teetotaller; James had taken ‘The Pledge’ against the demon drink. He would ensure that his four sons did the same.
The year is 1906 and King Edward VII has imbued the age with a lighter spirit, following the sombre days of the late Victorian period. Exciting developments are taking place in the world of technology and James was continually reminded of the fact through the enthusiasm of his sons for the new technologies.
As James and his son made their way to the valley floor he crossed the bridge, which spanned; not only the fast flowing river, but also the English-Welsh border. Gazing up at the tall arches of the aqueduct and behind that, the even taller structure of the railway viaduct, James reflected on the remarkable progress that had been made in the field of transportation. The canal had arrived at Chirk around 1800 only to be superseded following the advent of the steam engine just over half a century later. Now the internal combustion engine, in the form of the horseless carriage, was in its turn, challenging steam power.
As James watched a pair of pigeons carve their way on a bow bend through the arches, he recalled that powered flight had been achieved by the Wright brothers just a few years earlier. As he and Jim laboured their way up the far side of the valley to the station, he prepared Jim for the ride. He emphasized the need to hold onto the handrail at all times as braking could be quite sudden. On entering the station he had to check in at the office, sign himself in and collect any documents for delivery. As he left the office, closely followed by his son, he was approached by the Station Master. ‘James! Good morning. A quick word – would you make a stop at Pontfaen, to pick up Mr George Hill; the new trainee driver? He is familiarizing himself with the line. You can’t miss him: hair as red as a carrot.’ James replied: ‘We could do with some backup.’ As he turned to go, the other added: ‘He is new to the area so he will want all the help he can get.’ James gave his friend an enquiring look; nodded and moved on.
Jim noticed that men were gathering along the platform all in working clothes; he knew that mining was dirty and dangerous work. As James made his way to Dennis, one of the two engines working the line, he could hear the sharp hiss of escaping steam and knew that Mervyn, the fireman, had fired up the boiler ready to go. It was as if the little engine was shaking off a night’s sleep.
‘Morning Chief!’ Mervyn’s beaming smile appeared from the footplate, he was wiping his grimy hands on an equally grimy cloth as he leant on the side door. He swung it inwards to invite the driver and his son to board.
‘Good morning Mervyn! Jim is joining us on the footplate, it’s his birthday.’ Has the guard arrived?’ The fireman said; ‘He is just handing out the last of the tickets.’ Then turning to Jim: ‘Happy birthday Jim. Welcome aboard. With an art long practiced, James checked the boiler pressure. There had to be at least one hundred and forty lbs per square inch to pull the train up the gradient of the valley. With an accustomed eye, James ran his gaze over the cabin and glanced out along both sides of the loaded wagons and carriages, which had been assembled the night before. He indicated the brass rail for Jim to hold onto.
Mervyn jumped down with the long spouted oil can, lifted one of the side hatches, which covered the moving parts of the drive and he applied oil. The fireman had transmogrified the engine into his living pet and no part of it was to go untended; from the shine on a brass handle to each and every moving part. The whole engine had the appearance of having just left the factory.
James took out his pocket hunter watch from his waistcoat, the silver chain gleaming in the morning light. The Station Master, with whistle and flag, approached the cabin to exchange a few words; then satisfying himself, that all doors were closed, he glanced at his watch and slowly the engine took up the strain. The train moved off on its journey up the valley on the first run of the day. There would be two further departures before the day was out. Jim held on to the brass handle as he felt the brakes take hold as the train began the steep incline down to the valley floor. These engines always pulled their load, driving in reverse. In that way, the driver could clearly view the line ahead through the small windows provided either side of the back of the cab - an important cautionary factor along a line, which ran at times, parallel and close to a highway, frequented by people, animals, and horse-drawn vehicles.
At the foot of the 1 in 30 incline, the driver applied the brakes conscious of the approach of the main road that linked Chirk with Glyn Ceiriog and which had to be crossed. Satisfying himself that all was clear, the train began to pick up speed, only to slow again as a lone figure appeared waiting on the track side. As the train slowed to a stop, its footplate was positioned directly in front of a young man of about thirty years. A fringe of bright red hair showed under his cap. His eyes took in the details of the engine. As the cab door opened, he stepped aboard, held out a strong hand and introduced himself saying: ‘Good Day! I’m George Hill, the new trainee driver.’ Then turning to James; ‘You must be James Hughes?’ James took the proffered hand saying: ‘Is this your first ride on the GVT?’
‘Yes, my previous experience has been on the GWR; it feels very different.’ He turned to the fireman, who said: ‘I’m Mervyn.’ He held out an oily hand, which the other shook warmly. Jim was introduced. He was beginning to feel o