“Good God! What has been done to recover the passengers and crew?” Elliott asked, shocked and appalled by the news. The farmhand, now identified as Thomas, was most pessimistic.
“Nothing so far sir; the driver’s dead for sure, the engine’s gone head first down the bank, straight into Sidley’s Creek, and she’s taken the first two coaches with her.”
Everyone gasped and for a full minute nobody said a word. As they stood aghast, a carriage was heard arriving and Charles Bingley raced indoors. Word had been received at Longbourn, from one of the tenants who had gone to meet his brother at the station. The news had only reached the station when some of the survivors, from the coaches that had slewed around and fallen over in a paddock beside the railway lines, had struggled along the line to raise the alarm. Among the walking wounded was his brother.
Charles, who having treated the maid with bronchitis, had been taking tea with Mrs Collins, had heard enough to alert him to the fact that they had a crisis on their hands. He had returned at once to get his things together and leave for the site of the accident. “I shall need some volunteers to help me with the wounded. We could set up a first aid post at the railway station. I have sent word to the police, and I gather they are already on their way. If only it was not such a wretched night!” he groaned.
Meanwhile, Jonathan Bingley, hearing the voices downstairs, had come to find out what was afoot. On learning of the accident, he gave orders for all assistance to be rendered and Mr Dobson was immediately assigned to travel with Charles to the site of the crash, where it was feared many people lay dead or wounded with nobody to attend upon them. Fortuitously, Dobson had served as a medical orderly at Scutari, working for Miss Nightingale in the Crimea, and was well experienced in tending the sick and wounded. Calm and sensible as well, clearly he would be an asset to Charles in dealing with the disaster that faced them.
As various people scurried to make preparations, Colin Elliott, anxious to assist, went upstairs to warn his wife, that he would not be back for dinner and quite possibly for several hours later. He found her still sound asleep. So tired had she been, so relieved to be home, that the multitude of voices downstairs had not disturbed her sleep. Gently, her husband awakened her and as she sat up, explained what had happened. In an instant, Anne-Marie was wide awake.
Seeing the look of horror on her face, Elliott tried to assuage her fears, “It may not be as bad as it seems, dearest, but I must go and do what I can. Charles is back and preparing to leave for the site of the accident with Mr Dobson.”
She interrupted him, “I must go, too. Charles will need help; if people are wounded, they will have to be attended to at once or they will die in this weather. I have to go.”
He tried to protest, to advise that she was too tired after her long journey, but she would not hear of it and as she sprang out of bed, said, “Colin, I am a trained nurse, I have cared for soldiers returned from the war with dreadful wounds. I know what has to be done. Dobson has been an orderly; he can certainly help, but I can work with Charles to save lives. I must go. Now, please find Jenny Dawkins; she knows where all my things are, from the hospital at Harwood.”
As she said the words, a thought occurred to her and she raced out calling to her father, “Papa, the hospital at Bell’s Field, may we not use it to shelter and treat the wounded?” she asked, and hearing her, Charles, who was in the hallway about to leave, turned at the door and came back in. “Anne-Marie, that is an excellent idea! It would give us exactly what we need—shelter from the cold and a clean, safe place to treat them within easy distance.”
“There aren’t any beds for adults, although there are pallets, pillows, and blankets. And it’s bound to be cold,” warned Anna, but neither Charles nor Anne-Marie were concerned.
“It cannot be colder than lying in Sidley’s creek or out in the paddock. I think, Father, it would help save lives if we could use the building and keep the injured from dying of pneumonia as much as from their wounds,” said Charles and Anne-Marie did not even have to add her plea to his.
Convinced they were right, Jonathan agreed immediately and gave Dobson the keys to the hospital, while others bustled around gathering together blankets, candles, and other similar necessities. The large carriage was brought round and presently, they set off, driving with some trepidation into the still falling sleet.
Poor Mrs Perrot had tears in her eyes as she saw them depart. Anna was unsure whether they were tears of sympathy for the victims or sorrow for the ruins of the celebratory dinner with which she had planned to welcome Mr and Mrs Elliott home.
On arriving at the bridge over Sidley’s Creek, they were met by a scene of absolute devastation and panic. The engine and two of the front coaches had plunged into the frozen creek where they lay, half-submerged, crumpled wrecks, wrapped in an ominous silence, which suggested that most of the unfortunates within had perished. It was possible that a few, those who were young and strong enough, had clambered out but for the most part, there was neither sound nor movement to signify any hope of life. It was a hideous thought and Anne-Marie, feeling a cold knot of fear inside her, reached for her husband’s reassuring hand, as they moved slowly down the embankment towards the wreck.
On the other side of the tracks, lying on its side, broken and buckled, was the rest of the train, twisted, pulled apart as if by a raging giant, its bits and pieces flung around the paddock like a child’s toys. While some of it had been reduced to matchwood, other parts of the train were intact, and out of them hung injured passengers, in a variety of grotesque postures, while some had escaped by climbing out of the shattered windows. Many lay on the ground, forlorn, calling for help; yet others lay still, dead or dying.
Colin Elliott, gazing upon the harrowing scene, could not help himself, “Good God!” he exclaimed, “This is Hell!”
His wife tightened her grip on his hand; clearly he was unfamiliar with the scale of destruction and suffering that confronted them. She knew she would have to help him cope, by concentrating upon the practical things that had to be done immediately and they were legion!
Charles Bingley and Mr Dobson had set to work at once, attending upon those who lay on the grass or fallen beside the tracks, having been flung or clambered out of the shattered coaches. Some men from the villages around Sidley’s Creek had heard of the accident and had come along to help; others had gathered out of idle curiosity.
Charles soon directed the local police onto them. “Tell them, officer, that they must either help us or go home to their families. Those who can help, I want strong men who can lift and carry to bring along flat boards to be used as litters; blankets and oil sheets to cover the wounded; and any form of transport, farm carts, anything that may be used to move these people to the hospital at Bell’s Field, else many of them will die of exposure,” he warned.
As the police moved in, there were a few predictable grumbles about town toffs ordering them about, but most of them realised the gravity of the situation and did as they were asked.
Some returned with carts and litters made from old doors, farm wagons, lanterns, and a load of firewood and kindling, with which they made a fire in the middle of the paddock, providing welcome warmth and light.
Charles Bingley moved quickly to assess the state of each of the survivors, while the police began their grim duty of trying to identify and remove the dead. Several of the victims were women and children, returning from an expedition to the city or from visiting relatives and, to her horror, Anne-Marie found that some had already succumbed to their injuries. Their wounds and the biting cold to which they had been exposed for more than an hour had taken their toll.
When Elliott had overcome the shock of seeing such mayhem, he went to assist Mr Dobson, who had a flask of brandy which he held to the lips of those who needed fortification, as they waited to be treated, many of whom grasped it gratefully. It was the only comfort available.
Anne-Marie, meanwhile, was working quickly to staunch the bleeding and bin
d up their injuries, while trying also to give hope to desperate mothers struggling to comfort their injured and terrified children. Paying scant attention to her own health, she moved from one to another, sometimes stopping to help and comfort, or calling urgently to her brother for attention to an injury that required his special skill.
Watching her work, Colin Elliott realised that, while he was well aware of her compassionate nature, he had known little of her skill and strength. With each passing moment, she grew in his esteem. In the intervening hours, Jonathan Bingley and his wife Anna had hastened first to Longbourn to acquaint Mrs Collins with the grave news and borrow the services of Mr Bowles and Harriet and thence to Haye Park to collect Dr Faulkner, Anna’s father. Together, they proceeded to the new but not as yet open hospital at Bell’s Field to prepare for the arrival of the wounded travellers.
Plans had been afoot to have Mrs Elliott, the wife of their newlywed local MP do the honours in the New Year, but Fate had forced an earlier opening. The emergency room and main ward were opened up; lamps lit; and pallets, pillows, and blankets laid out for the wounded, who were soon to arrive by a variety of means. Anna was glad her father had been able to attend. Dr Faulkner, though now advancing in years and not capable of rushing to an accident as he used to do when the railways first came to the area, was still a most reliable and experienced physician and, with so many injured, he would be of considerable help to Charles.
Back at Sidley’s Creek, there was weeping, as the bodies of some adults and several children were taken from the water and the ruins of the coaches. Others, who were past care, lay in the open, clearly near death and as Elliott watched, amazed, Anne-Marie and her brother made them comfortable with a blanket, a drink of water, and a kind word, knowing there was little more they could do, as life ebbed from their bodies. Mr Griffin wandered among them, dispensing consolation with prayers and Holy Water, while Mr Dobson provided more down-to-earth comfort from his hip flask. Both men were doing their best; they would probably never know who was more effective in ministering to the distressed and dying at Sidley’s Creek that night.
The wounded were being transported slowly; too slowly it seemed to Anne-Marie, who was eager to see them removed to a more sheltered place, from the wreck to the road above the creek and thence to the hospital at Bell’s Field. She had ensured that their wounds were at least cleansed of mud and dirt and bound up, the bleeding staunched and their bodies wrapped in blankets to keep out the cold. Mr Dobson had taken charge of moving the injured, giving instructions to those men and women who had stayed to help, on the need to move them swiftly yet with great care. His experience in the Crimea was proving invaluable.
It took several hours to move everyone from the site of the accident to Bell’s Field, even though the distance was not great and during all of this time, Anne-Marie and Charles never wavered or appeared to be tiring.
Working assiduously to get the injured ready for their difficult journey, warning them it may be painful as their bodies were jarred as the crude vehicles carried them along rutted roads, yet promising there would soon be shelter and relief, Anne-Marie had hardly ever looked up from her labours. Her husband, watched in astonishment and admiration as she completed her tasks, cleansed her hands and arms in ice-cold water and after the last of the injured had been moved, joined him and her brother in the carriage to travel to the hospital. There was still a great deal of work to be done.
Many of the injured travellers were in shock; some hardly knew what had happened to them or where they were. Most were not from the county, travelling through to the Midlands. So bruised and cut about were they, so shaken and terrified, they had forgotten everything but their present predicament.
At Bell’s Field, Charles, with his experience acquired at hospitals in the city, gave clear instructions and assigned tasks to all the volunteers.
With Anna and Jenny Dawkins to help, Mr Bowles was to organise the accommodation at the hospital and the efficient Harriet was assigned the important task of obtaining information from each patient and making notes of their injuries and treatment. Charles and Anne-Marie set to work to deal with the major injuries, while Dr Faulkner treated the rest.
Colin Elliott, who had volunteered to do anything that was asked of him, was ordered to fetch and carry like any of the others, and many from the village were amazed to see their distinguished MP labouring alongside of them, his boots covered in dirt, his clothes stained with mud and worse. When a cart arrived from Longbourn with bread and hot soup, it was he, who together with the cook, dished out the meal and took it to the workers and those among the injured who could eat, a task he performed as conscientiously as if he were a hospital orderly.
Mrs Collins, unable to assist in person, had donated the food to sustain them. More brandy and hot coffee arrived from Netherfield House and was welcomed by those working without any heating through the night. Colin Elliott marvelled at the generosity of the small community. For years he had heard his father receive news of similar incidents, farm accidents, floods, coach overturns and ask only that he be informed of the progress of the rescue. He had, as a boy, accompanied his mother to see the wounded or attend a funeral at the local church, but never had he or his family been involved as he was now in the actual work of rescuing and treating the victims It was, for him, a new and salutary experience.
When they had finished their tasks and the cook was cleaning up, he went outside into the cold night. The sleet had stopped falling and the sky had cleared. The fresh, cool air was balm to his head, aching from the smell of carbolic soap and iodine. He could scarcely believe his eyes, when he saw the pale light of a wintry dawn in the sky. They had worked all night. Returning indoors, he sought his wife and found her with Anna and Harriet, tearing up sheets and rolling them into bandages. They would be used to replace those, put on at the crash site, which were now caked with blood and dirt.
Elliott was astonished. It did not seem possible, but she was still at work, looking as though she intended to continue through the day that was just beginning.
Sitting down beside her, he asked softly, “Are you not weary, my love? It is almost dawn. Should you not rest a while, even an hour or two, perhaps?”
He was clearly anxious that she should not become overtired and fall ill herself. Anne-Marie smiled and touched his arm gently, acknowledging and appreciating his concern; but she shook her head, “How can I? I feel no weariness, while these unfortunate people and all these children lie here in pain and in great danger of infection. When we have cleansed and treated their wounds and found some way to alleviate their pain, then perhaps I can rest for an hour or two. Look at Charles; he has not stopped since we arrived at Sidley’s Creek, nor has Dobson, and he is much older than us. I must stay, as long as Charles needs my help,” she said simply and he had no heart to argue with her, even though he knew she must be close to exhaustion.
Colin Elliott had seen nothing like this; certainly not in England.
Once or twice in India, he had noted with admiration the dedication of missionaries and their native helpers, who worked round the clock without food or sleep to save lives during floods and other disasters, epidemics of typhoid or cholera that regularly ravaged the villages. But they, he had always told himself, were probably driven by religious zeal and the hope of obtaining conversions. Here he observed his wife, Dr Bingley, Anna, Harriet, and many others who seemed motivated only by compassion and a strong sense of service. It was as though they had grown up believing that it was their duty to help ease the suffering of others, even strangers, upon whom misfortune or catastrophe fell.
As he came to comprehend, it would prove to be an important stage in his own journey through life. Colin Elliott had grown up in a home in which success was measured by a yardstick that took no account of compassion and dedication to public service. Commercial achievement, successful business transactions, and promotion up the rungs of the political and social ladders had counted for more than philanthropic intentions.
Anne-Marie, sensitive and perspicacious, understood his predicament and sought to draw him in by asking for his help and advice. Encouraging him to participate in the work, she hoped he would understand what impelled her and the others in her family to act as they did. She knew, more than any of the others, that Colin Elliott needed to feel a part of the community they lived in, which he had been elected to represent and serve.
It was, however, the ever practical Mr Dobson, who found Mr Elliott the right task. Aware of the need for the hospital to maintain an accurate account of the supplies used that night to treat the victims of the accident, he suggested a useful exercise. “Mr Elliott, sir, if you could compile a comprehensive list of materials and medical supplies used from our stores tonight, it would help Mrs Elliott to ascertain what items need to be replenished before we open to the public,” he explained. “Mrs Bowles has been making notes, sir, which may be useful to you,” he prompted.
Colin Elliott, realising immediately, from his own experience in India, the value of accurate inventories, set to work with the help of Harriet’s methodical notes to compile one. He was particularly glad of having something useful to do, even as he saw the others working to alleviate the suffering of the victims. Later, when Anne-Marie, having finished her work, came in search of her husband, she found him sitting at the matron’s desk, working by lamplight, a ledger at his side, making an inventory of supplies. She felt no weariness, but it was clear to her that he was tired. It had been a very long day.
“Mr Bowles and Harriet will stay on to help Charles; I think we could go home now and get some rest,” she said and this time, to her surprise, it was he who asked for a few more minutes to complete the task.
The Ladies of Longbourn Page 34