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One morning, Sir Topham Hatt came to Ffarquhar Sheds with an announcement.
“Daisy, you’ve been performing so well that I’ve decided to extend your services aways down the main line. Just up to Wellsworth.”
“C’est magnifique!” exclaimed Daisy.
“Yes, yes… magnifique.” Sir Topham Hatt chuckled.
Daisy was so proud of the responsibility that the first morning of this change, she made consistent stops for fuel. On the way, she stopped at Dryaw and met Bertie while refuelling.
“Hello, Daisy, you’re in a particularly good mood, today.” he remarked.
“My services have been extended some distance up the main line.” explained Daisy, “They’ll all get to see me out there for the first time!”
“Good for you, Daisy!”
Soon, the diesel railcar came to Knapford, and while she refuelled, James watched her from nearby.
“Positively disgusting.” he muttered.
Soon, Daisy continued her journey, but before she could reach Crosby, her engine coughed and she came to a stop.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
Her driver looked inside the tank, “You must’ve taken on some bad fuel.”
“Oh dear,” moaned Daisy, “Now my passengers will never be on time.”
Just then, the railcar heard a whistle. The assistant driver called out from Daisy’s back cab, “It’s James!”
“James!” called Daisy, honking her horn. James saw Daisy and came to a stop alongside her.
“I’ve taken on some bad fuel, James,” explained the diesel railcar, “My passengers need to get to Crosby. Then, after that, I’m due to collect some passengers bound for Wellsworth. Will you help moi, s’il vous plaît?”
James was about to decline, but then realised that this was his chance to rescue a failed diesel, just like Henry had done the other day. After seeing the applause Henry had gotten, James was certain he’d receive the same.
“I have no idea what those last words meant, but I will help you, Daisy. Besides, these trucks I’m pulling are bound for Wellsworth.”
“Really?” beamed Daisy, “Merci beaucoup!”
“If you really want me to help, please say words I understand.” frowned James.
“Sorry.”
With that, James buffered up behind Daisy and pushed her down the line to Crosby. Yes, he thought, Finally, everyone will see that I’m just as enterprising as Henry.
Once they arrived, James proudly peeped his own whistle, “Daisy broke down and I helped her get here!”
The passengers cheered for James, who ate up the praise like children eating biscuits. Even Elizabeth, who was nearby, was impressed.
“Not bad.” she commented.
That, from Sir Topham Hatt’s old steam lorry, was the highest praise ever given to an engine.
Next, James helped Daisy the rest of the way to Wellsworth, where Nia was waiting.
“Well done, James!” she praised.
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Nia.” stated a well-known voice. It was Sir Topham Hatt, “Even though you had your own job to do, James, you still set it aside to help a fellow engine. You truly are an enterprising engine!”
James smiled his grandest smile. Over the next few days, James wouldn’t stop boasting to the others. At one point, he even spoke directly to Henry.
“Diesels really are oddballs,” gossiped James, “It’s always up to us steamies to help them after they break down.”
Henry put up with this at first, but he lost patience after quite some time, “James, what do you have against diesels?!”
“Why, Henry, you seem to have forgotten Diesel’s first few visits to Sodor.”
“That was just Diesel!”
“What about the Bowler, Diesel 10, ‘Arry, Bert?–not to mention Spamcan!”
“They have had bad reputations, certainly, but that’s just them. You can’t let them blind your view of all diesels.”
“It’s not just that. Diesels don’t use coal and water. How can you trust an engine who isn’t normal in their habits?”
“The world is changing, James. People are finding new ways to power machines.”
“So you’re saying we’ll have to take on that icky diesel fuel someday?!”
“I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is that diesels just have different means of power than us.”
“Yeah, unnatural power for unnatural engines.”
“They’re all right, just mixed-traffic engines like you and me.”
“Mixed-up, you mean. With windows at each end, how do they know if they’re coming or going?”
“Toby has two cabs and he gets on all right.”
“Toby’s only a little engine. If an important engine like me didn’t know which way to turn, what would the railway come to?”
With that, James left the yard. Henry was glad to be rid of him. Duck, Donald, and Douglas were all nearby, so Henry puffed over to them.
“Making out he’s royalty or something,” he grumbled to the other engines, “It’s disgusting.”
“I knew an engine called King James,” remarked Duck, “In the old days at Paddington. King James I he was, but he didn’t swank about like that.”
“Och, dinna be telling James that!” pleaded Donald, “It’s even more of a misery he’ll be making both of our lives!”
~~~
That night, James coughed as Bear rolled into Tidmouth Sheds.
“I think your diesel fuel is making me sick.” he wheezed.
“That’s funny. I feel fine.” said Gordon.
“So do I.” added Henry.
“Aye, us, too.” Donald and Douglas stated in unison.
Even Rebecca, who was usually a pacifist, was cross with James, “Why do you have to be so rude?”
“First Henry, now the rest of you?!” burst out James, “That dirty diesel fuel is making you all lose your memories!”
“Some diesels are bad, some are good.” Henry bluntly stated, “Even steamies can be just as bad as the bad diesels. Like Sonny before he redeemed himself.”
“Sonny’s just one steamie. What he was once like is nothing in comparison to the many diesels that have left bad marks on our railway.”
The engines could tell that James wouldn’t listen to reason, so they begrudgingly went to sleep.
~~~
It wasn’t long before even Sir Topham Hatt lost patience, “I think it would be best if I placed you on goods duty for a week.” he decided, “Perhaps that will trim your wheels.”
But it didn’t. James’s boasting was soon replaced with complaints, which made the other engines miss his bragging.
“This is what I get for being an enterprising engine?” he grumbled, “I helped a failed engine and what do I get? Smelly trucks! Oh the indignity!”
“That’s my line!” called Gordon in the distance.
It was then that Charlie and Stafford decided they couldn’t bear James’s complaints anymore. They spoke to Sir Topham Hatt.
“Sir, could we work on Edward’s Branch Line tomorrow?” asked Charlie.
“You could, but who will do the shunting?” replied the controller.
“Leave the others to do it, themselves,” suggested Stafford.
“Well, all right.”
~~~
The next morning, it was damp and misty. James fumed into the yards, “Where are Stafford and Charlie?” he grumbled.
“They’re on Edward’s Branch Line,” explained the signalman, “Looks like you’ll have to do your own shunting today.”
James groaned. Some nearby troublesome trucks giggled.
“We didn’t know shunting was an enterprising engine’s work.” one chuckled
“Not so enterprising now, are we?” giggled another.
“Why you…” James snarled.
“Not so fast, James. It’s so misty that we could cause an accident.” Just then, he had an idea. He walked up to the nearby signalbox and spoke to the signalman, “We’ll whistle when we’ve got everything and are clear of the points.”
“Right-o.” nodded the signalman.
James’s train consisted of low-loaders. Regardless of their purpose, they were just trucks to the red engine.
The misty morning made shunting a slow, careful process.
“Stupid mist, why do you have to slow me down?!” growled James.
After gathering all the low-loaders, James was just about ready to whistle when he heard another whistle from nearby. The signalman, thinking it was James’s whistle, quickly changed the points. Right when he did, James’s front low-loader was halfway across some points. Consequently, it was now travelling diagonally across both tracks.
“Stop!” whistled James. He tried to stop, but by the time he did, the low-loader knocked down a signal. Sir Topham Hatt came to see what was the matter.
“Sir, it wasn’t my fault!” pleaded James.
“I don’t want to hear it, James. Go to your shed while we get this mess sorted.”
James sadly puffed back to Tidmouth Sheds. Just then, the signalman emerged from the signalbox. He was about to speak, but then noticed the angry look on Sir Topham Hatt’s face.
“Is this a bad time, Sir?” he asked.
The railway controller sighed, “What do you want?”
“The low-loader travelling across both tracks was my fault. James’s driver told me he’d whistle when they were ready. I heard a whistle, but didn’t realise until too late that it wasn’t James.”
Sir Topham Hatt’s frown deepened, but this time in thought, “So it seems James wasn’t at fault after all.”
~~~
Soon, Sir Topham Hatt came to the sheds to speak to James.
“The signalman told me what had happened. The accident may not have been your fault, but that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from goods duty.” the controller stated.
James depressingly sighed.
~~~
That night, James was unusually quiet at Tidmouth Sheds.
“I suppose,” began Bear, “It must be difficult to know which way to go when you’ve got two cabs, but to go two ways at once with only one cab–that’s definitely something!”
James pretended he hadn’t heard.