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One day, Percy arrived at McColl’s farm to collect eggs and milk. The farmer was waiting for him on the loading ramp next to the track.
“Good morning, Farmer McColl,” said Percy. “You look tired.”
“I am tired,” the man replied as Percy's crew jumped out to help load the crates onto the train. “I’m facing increasing competition from other farms and finding it hard to meet demand.”
Percy’s driver was sympathetic. “Seems the mainland wants more and more from us each day,” he agreed.
“I’ve come up with a money making idea though,” McColl grunted, heaving another crate of eggs into the waiting vans. “Come and see what you think of this.” He waved his hand at Percy’s crew, gesturing for the two men to follow him.
“Wait there, Percy. We'll only be a moment,” they said as Percy chuffed impatiently. They followed McColl along a muddy path to a nearby barn and Percy watched them disappear inside.
“A fine time to be messing around,” the small engine grumbled. To pass the time, he began counting the leaves on a nearby tree until he heard the ring of a familiar bell. Toby came puffing up the other line, heading for the quarry.
“Hello, Percy,” the tram engine said with a friendly smile. “Where's your crew?”
“They're in that barn with Farmer McColl. He said he has a money making idea to meet demand.”
“Oo,” said Toby, eyebrows raised. “That sounds interesting. I know he's been struggling lately.”
“Well, I'm struggling to stay awake. I wish they'd hurry up.”
Toby chuckled. “Patience, Percy. I'm sure all will be revealed soon.” And with that, he trundled away with Henrietta and the quarry workers.
Percy sat by himself for a few more long minutes before his driver and fireman emerged from the dark depths of McColl’s barn. They were speaking in hushed tones, scratching their heads while they hurried along the muddy path. They loaded the remaining crates into the vans, closed and locked the doors, then scrambled quickly into Percy’s cab.
“So what's this great idea then?” Percy asked, but as he pulled away from the farm he found it hard to hear what the men were saying over the puff and hiss of his boiler and the clattering of wheels on branch line tracks. He only caught a few words, and even those were indistinct. Nevertheless he decided he had the gist of it, and refocused his attention on being a really useful engine.
Later that day he encountered Toby at Knapford Junction, waiting for a signal.
“Did you find out what Farmer McColl’s grand plan was?” the tram engine asked curiously.
“Yes,” said Percy, proudly. “He’s keeping hostages in his barn.”
Toby blinked. “Hostages?”
“That's what driver said. Hostages will bring in more money than Farmer McColl has made all year.”
Toby's eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that's what he said?”
“Perfectly sure,” replied Percy. “I heard everything.”
“Well.” Toby muttered. “That certainly is a novel idea.” He peered closely at Percy, whose expression remained unchanged. “Anyway Percy, I must be off. I er… have to see a driver about a train.”
Percy rolled his eyes as Toby rattled away. “He's a silly engine sometimes,” he muttered to himself.
Toby sped as fast as he could towards the station, pulling up at the platform with an uncharacteristic screech. “I need to see Sir Topham Hatt at once!” he shouted at a very puzzled station master.
Sir Topham emerged from his office wiping toast crumbs off his tie, and hurried to the platform’s edge.
“What on earth is the matter, Toby?”
Between gasps for breath, Toby informed the Fat Controller that Farmer McColl had taken hostages in an attempt to improve his financial situation.
“Good heavens!” the man exclaimed. “I know times are difficult in the farming industry but that really is a step too far.” He told the stationmaster to inform the police. The stationmaster ran into the office and snatched up the phone.
“Now, Toby, we must stay calm,” said Sir Topham, pacing up and down the platform. “Not a word to anyone. Do you understand?”
Right at that moment, Gordon arrived to collect the morning express coaches. “Not a word to anyone about what?” he demanded.
“About Farmer McColl’s hostages,” Toby blurted before clamping his mouth shut in surprise.
“TOBY!” cried Sir Topham Hatt.
“Whoops,” said Toby, sheepishly.
“Hostages?” Gordon shouted. The word rang through the station. People and engines alike stopped in their tracks, faces frozen in fear.
“The police are on their way,” the stationmaster called loudly from the office doorway.
Sir Topham groaned as people began to run around, chattering excitedly. “So much for keeping it on the down low,” he muttered, glaring at Toby, Gordon and the stationmaster.
Meanwhile, Percy was at the docks collecting empty coal trucks to take back to Ffarquar Quarry. He hummed a little tune while Salty bustled around, seagulls wheeled overhead and ships tooted out at sea. It was a peaceful morning, the sort of morning that was good for an engine's soul. The trucks were coupled up and Percy began his journey back to the branch line. But it wasn't long before the peace was shattered.
First it was Harold, flying low overhead. Then it was the distant blare of sirens, coming closer. Then Gordon flew past with the Express, faster than he'd ever gone, crying “what is the world coming to? I'm too old for this nonsense!’
Rocking in Gordon’s wake, Percy could only wonder. “He's not right in the smoke box,” he mused. “Always trying to break his own speed records.”
Upon entering the branch line, police car after police car filled the roads, sirens wailing. Harold was circling in the distance. Percy grew more and more curious. “Whatever's the matter?” he wondered.
“Let's find out,” said his driver, opening Percy’s regulator. The small engine picked up speed until the trucks giggled with glee. “On! On! Faster, faster!” they cried.
The closer they got to McColl’s farm, the larger the police presence became. Harold was now directly overhead, banking and turning, over and over. “Hello, Percy,” the helicopter shouted. “Isn't this exciting?”
Percy rolled to a stop next to the loading ramp where hours earlier he had collected the milk and eggs. It was a very different scene that met him now. Police cars were parked everywhere and the farm was crawling with constables all shouting orders to each other. He looked further ahead, along the rails, and saw Thomas with Annie and Clarabel. They had been forced to stop by a cordon of police officers blocking the line. Thomas looked as puzzled as Percy. He mouthed, “what's going on?” but Percy had no idea.
Percy’s crew jumped onto the loading ramp but were quickly waved back. “Stay put,” said an officer sternly. The men returned to Percy's cab but leaned out of the side as far as they could to watch the proceedings. Moments later, Toby arrived, with Sir Topham Hatt furiously wiping his brow inside his cab, muttering about confusion and delay.
“Farmer McColl!” shouted an officer with a megaphone. “Come out with your hands up!”
Everyone held their breath. Only the whirr and thunk of the overhead helicopter broke the tense silence. Finally, the farmhouse door opened slowly, and a very confused Farmer McColl stepped out, his hands in the air. “What's the meaning of this?” he demanded.
The officer continued to speak through the megaphone even though the farmer was now close enough to hear him properly.
“Over to the barn. Slowly, slowly, that's it. No false moves!”
Farmer McColl eyed the multitude of police officers trampling all over his fields. “You'd better pay for all this damage,” he said crossly, walking stiffly to the barn.
“Open the door!”
Farmer McColl lowered one arm.
“I said no false moves!”
“I need the bloody key,” the farmer grumbled. “I can't think the door open, can I?”
“None of your cheek,” the megaphone bellowed. “I want you to release the hostages. Now!”
Farmer McColl blinked. “The what?”
“The hostages! Release the hostages!” The megaphone blasted the words across the countryside. Sir Topham Hatt clasped his hands together in silent prayer while Percy's crew stared at each other, eyes wide.
Percy, however, was delighted. “We're going to see the hostages!” he peeped. “We're going to see the hostages!”
The barn door creaked open. Sunlight flooded in, pushing through the gloom to illuminate bales of hay and a myriad of tools hanging from wooden beams. The policemen crowded forward, eager to see what was going to happen next.
A small, beaked head attached to a very long neck peered around the door. Then another. Finally, three very large, very odd looking birds emerged, walking clumsily out of the barn and into the light of day. One began pecking at the ground, the others broke into a stumbling run, flapping huge wings. Several police officers screamed and sprinted away from the advancing animals. It was the fastest they had moved under their own traction all week.
Sir Topham Hatt’s mouth fell open. “TOBY!” he yelled. “Those aren't hostages. Those are ostriches!”
Percy's crew fell about laughing. “Oh, Percy!” They cried. “What have you gone and done this time?”
“Percy?” blustered Sir Topham, turning to stare at the small engine. “I might have known!”
Policemen scattered and ran across the fields as far as the eye could see. Some of them jumped into their cars and sped away. The officer with the megaphone threw it down and kicked it. “What a waste of our time,” he shouted, before an ostrich plucked the hat from his head and ambled away with it.
Further up the line, Thomas broke into giggles and then Toby started guffawing too. “Hostages,” the tram engine said, his whole frame shaking with laughter. “Oh, Percy!”
But Percy wasn't listening. He puffed and weeshed, enthralled by the enormous birds. “I've never seen anything like it,” he breathed, oblivious to the pandemonium he'd caused.
The crisis was over, but news travels fast on an island and the teasing continued well into the night. Gordon claimed he'd known all along that Percy had made a mistake, but James said that he'd heard from an engine at Crovan’s Gate that a diesel at Vicarstown had seen Gordon in such a state he'd almost careened into a siding, causing uproar among his passengers.
As for Sir Topham Hatt, the gift of an enormous ostrich egg with the assurance that it would last him and his family all week had somewhat placated him, though he made sure to tell Toby that he was supposed to be a wise engine, not one that spread unsubstantiated rumours without fact checking, especially if they came from Percy. Toby had simply smiled sweetly and mumbled about having a senior moment.
And Percy? Percy was far too excited about visiting the ostriches the next day to listen to the other engines’ babbling. He was sure that Farmer McColl’s new money making venture would bring him great prosperity, and he was very proud of the part he'd played in helping to boost the island’s economy, especially now that everyone on Sodor and half of the mainland were talking about it.
He really was a very useful engine!