Death, Dynamite and Disaster

by Rosa Matheson

  Brakes began to be fitted to some carriages, usually the first class because they tended to be the heavier. These were worked by a ‘brakes-man’ who was sat on the roof, leaping (at his peril) from wagon or carriage as and when braking was required. ‘In the 1850s the practice of fitting out a “brake-van” at the end of the train began’,30 but the matter of what brake, where and how, was unresolved. There had been deliberations, discussions and even trials (1875, 1876 and 187831) of a number of different types of brakes – chain, hydraulic, handbrake, vacuum, automatic compressed air – and numerous warnings and recommendations by the Board of Trade. They were only recommendations because, with existing companies, the Board of Trade was still totally impotent to enforce anything.32

  In Sir Edward Watkin, the MS&L Railway had a chairman who was mindful of the purse-strings under his control, and to whom his first loyalties lay – and they were not to the public or his employees, but rather to his company and shareholders. Under Watkins’ managerial hand, the MS&L had adopted Smith’s simple vacuum brake. It was a decision that was to cost the public and railway servants dearly. The simple vacuum brake, when not in use and with the power off, remained at atmospheric pressure through the train. To apply the brakes the driver had to put the brake handle into a position to create a vacuum, this required a steam jet in the ejector, evacuating the air from the brake pipe system of the entire train. All this obviously took time – vital time that meant the difference between crashing, death or damage, and stopping.

  The MS&L were no strangers to calamitous railway accidents. By the time of the Hexthorpe disaster they had, in their recent past, already experienced three dreadful incidents at or near Penistone, in 1884, 1885 and 1886. The latter was greatly exacerbated by the use of the simple vacuum brake, resulting in twenty-four dead and over sixty injured. At that time, Major Marindin yet again reported for the Board of Trade. One can imagine his exasperation when he said:

  The value of a brake having, above all, automatic action can hardly be contested and although the Board of Trade has, as yet, no power to insist upon the adoption of a continuous brake possessing these qualities; yet I would remind the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway that this is the second emphatic warning which has been given to them.33

  Ironically, the Midland had also used Smith’s simple vacuum brake and found it reliable, but, of course, it wasn’t automatic. It tried a number of systems but, after the Wennington accident of 1880, it made an effort to equip its passenger trains with the automatic vacuum brake and this was completed by 1883, though some engines continued to have the Westinghouse automatic brake until the mid-1890s.34

  In his summing up, Lord Chief Justice Coleridge, presiding, directed the jury that, before they convicted the prisoners of manslaughter, they would have to say whether they were guilty of culpable negligence because they misunderstood two contradictory orders. Wanton disregard of duty had to be proved before negligence could amount to criminality; however, if they were found culpable, the prisoners should not go unpunished. The jury deliberated for just half an hour. The foreman of the jury gave their verdict – ‘not guilty considering the contributory negligence of the guards, the absence of cord communication, and the conflicting nature of the signals.’35 The prisoners were discharged.

  Such was the elation amongst drivers and firemen nationwide, at this historic win, that 2,000 members of the society signed a letter of appreciation to the ‘legal and professional gentlemen engaged in the defence’.

  The cost of the trial and defence was over £295, but, as reported in their next annual report, ASLEF was more than satisfied, ‘We feel we have been amply repaid, for we secured the acquittal of our members, and a large influx of members has been our reward. The books show an increase of 474 members, in addition to seven new branches opened in the year.’ They were not the only ones overjoyed. The drivers and firemen of the MS&L also wrote an effusive letter to the solicitor:

  We no sooner saw them put in fetters than one and all we rushed to their relief, and at once sought your powerful aid to release them, and fortunate indeed were we to find that your able services were at our disposal. We are proud to congratulate you upon the valiant manner in which you conducted them through the ordeal through which they had to pass, and brought them out scatheless, and by so doing brought joy and happiness back again to those homes and families which to all outward appearance had been almost forlorn and destitute. Never, therefore, can we forget the great sympathy you evinced towards them, and the indefatigable zeal you displayed to bring about so glorious and successful an issue.

  Hexthorpe was to prove one disaster too many for the MS&L Railway in hanging onto their preferred brake system, especially after the Lord Chief Justice, in his summing up at the end of the trial, commented, ‘I cannot but think that the railway company was seriously to blame for having had in use a brake which not only was not the best in existence, but which was known to be insufficient and liable to breakdown.’ Such was the public indignation and hostility towards the company that, shortly after the close of the trial, the decision was taken to change to the automatic vacuum brake.

  Ironically for the more ‘caring’ Midland Railway Company, Hexthorpe was the worst disaster to befall a Midland train, and to make matters worse, it was through no fault of their own. Hexthorpe was tragic for many reasons, not least because the outcome of only a few seconds of human confusion was a tragedy of gothic proportions.

  Notes

  1 Tolson, J. and Vamplew, W., ‘Derailed: Railways and Horse-racing Revisited’, The Sports Historian, Vol.18 (2), November 1998, pp. 34–49

  2 As stated in Railway Inspector Major Marindin’s report to the Board of Trade.

  3 Jenkinson, David, ‘The end of an era, 1901–22’, British Railway Carriages of the 20th Century, Vol. 1, Guild Publishing, 1988, p. 10

  4 The Midland Railway was no stranger to ‘excursion ‘ accidents, having already experienced Long Eaton on 9 October 1869, and Kildwick on 27 August 1875

  5 Sunday 25 September 1887

  6 Hampshire Advertiser, Wednesday 21 September 1887

  7 Sheffield Daily Telegraph, Thursday 22 September 1887

  8 Leeds Mercury, Monday 19 September, 1887

  9 London Standard, Monday 19 September 1887

  10 Herbert Page, in Thorburn, ‘A Contribution to the Surgery of the Spinal Cord’, 1889, p. 69

  11 Hull Daily Mail, Monday 26 September 1887

  12 Ibid.

  13 Sheffield Independent, Friday 30 September

  14 Shields Daily Gazette, Wednesday 5 October 1887

  15 Hull Daily Mail, Wednesday 5 October 1887

  16 Sheffield Independent, Saturday 2 June 1888

  17 Ibid.

  18 The Times, 4 June 1888

  19 Sheffield Independent, Tuesday 20 December 1887

  20 The Standard, Friday 30 December 1887

  21 Ibid.

  22 The Standard

  23 Sunderland Daily Echo and Shipping Gazette, Wednesday 17 October 1888

  24 Sheffield Independent, Friday 7 June 1889

  25 Report to the Board of Trade

  26 Dundee Courier, Friday 23 September 1887

  27 The Locomotive Journal, Vol. 83, ASLEF

  28 Ibid.

  29 Nock, O.S., Historic Railway Disasters, Ian Allen Ltd, 1987, p. 11

  30 Kidner, A Short History of the Railway Carriage, The Oakwood Press

  31 See ‘The Newark Brake Trials and After’ (Part 1 & 2) by Jeffrey Wells, Backtrack, Vol.13, No. 2, February 1999, for an explanation

  32 It was not until after the appalling accident of Armagh in Ireland in 1889, when 80 died and some 262 were injured, that the 1889 Regulation of Railways Act made automatic continuous brakes on all passenger trains compulsory

  33 Nock, O.S., 1987, p. 49

  34 Peter Witt, R&CHS

  35 Manchester Times, Saturday 19 November 1887

  7

  THE TAY BRIDGE DISASTER

  Tay Brid
ge – famous, notorious, second only to London Bridge. Both calamitous, both known for falling down. In the ‘Tay Bridge Disaster’, as it is always called, it is the bridge that captures the attention and is the focus of discussion or examination. It has intrigued and exercised many great minds since that calamitous night in 1879. It has become the stuff of myth and legend, even whilst it is subjected to every new technological and scientific analysis that becomes available. Numerous articles, notable books, engineering papers and reproductions have been published yet, even today, there is dissent and controversy over the various theories that have been put forward as to why the bridge came down – and with it a train load of innocent people, who, until comparatively recently, were something of an afterthought in the grand debate.

  What makes this such a dark and devastating event, one that stands out amongst the many truly dreadful railway catastrophes, is that no one survived. Not one. It was a total violation, biblical in stature. Even the Board of Trade regarded it as, ‘removed out of the ordinary category of railway accidents.’1 It overwhelmed everyone. Not just locally or nationally but all around the world, people were aghast. It shook society, stunned railway people and startled engineers into examining their responsibility in such matters. Did they carry a collective responsibility here? ‘Its fall is beyond any question in some way a reproach to the engineering science of Great Britain,’ wrote The Engineer. Were they, as a profession, remiss in not having guidelines and suggestions for allowances to be made in differing circumstances, and for varying materials to resist wind pressure? Such questions were raised by the press, in engineering and architectural journals, and at the Court of Inquiry.

  Undoubtedly, the bridge deserves such attention. It was an iconic achievement in a brave new industrial age. It won its designer, Thomas Bouch, a knighthood bestowed by a Queen ‘graciously pleased’. At the time of its completion it was boasted to be the longest bridge in the world – some even claimed it to be the Eighth Wonder of the World, or at the very least, a wonder of its age. The British Architect journal wrote that it was, ‘regarded as one of the greatest engineering feats that the world has ever seen accomplished.’2 Whilst others, even at that early stage, doubted its integrity. It is said that Sir John Fowler, designer of the Forth Bridge, would not let any member of his family across the bridge, whilst many local businesses would send their mail and their coal, but not themselves, across it.

  Bridges are described and explained by: a) their design – it was a lattice girder design; b) their length – almost 2 miles (3.2km) long with eighty-five spans of varying widths; and c) their materials – combining cast and wrought iron. Nothing awesome in that, it may seem. Yet, awesome it was to prove, then and even now. It was awesome in its audacity, in its perspective and its construction.

  Resident civil engineer, and manager of the Tay Bridge contract, Albert Grothe, writing in the monthly periodical Good Words in 1878, tells how it was decided to:

  …dispense with the staging and scaffolding which are generally used in bridge building. The piers and girders were to be erected on shore, and floated out to their destination. The consistency with which this principle was carried out would distinguish this bridge from all other structures of the same kind, even if its size and importance were less remarkable. No matter of what material the parts were constructed, whether they were iron receptacles for concrete, huge lumps of brickwork weighing above two hundred tons, or iron girders of one hundred and ninety tons, they were all finished on shore and floated to their destination. 3

  However, it is not that straightforward, and this is not quite the actuality, as Allan Rodgers explains:

  This is an interesting quote for it gives the clear impression of a bridge largely built onshore, with its completed parts simply floated out and placed on site. The reality was markedly different, as a reading of Grothe’s full article would show. The bridge was a complex structure, whose design had to be radically altered after the initial construction of the first few brick piers on the south side showed, all too clearly, that the assumed solid bed of rock was just not there. The design of the piers and their foundations differed from place to place and the girder spans differed in width and length and each of these differences necessitated variations in the methods adopted to construct them on site.

  Undoubtedly pioneering and innovative construction methods were used for the building of the re-designed structure with its cast iron columns instead of brick piers. Parts of the structure, such as the large iron caissons for the concrete and brick pier foundations and the wrought iron bridge girders, were indeed built onshore and floated out to site. The iron bridge piers, however, were not. Although the individual column sections were cast in the foundry at Wormit, the completed piers, with their columns and cross-bracing, were built in-situ, out in the river, as was all of the brickwork above sea level.

  ‘Light, ‘graceful’, ‘airy’, and ‘narrow like a ribbon’ (it was only 14ft 10in wide),4 even ‘fragile’, are some of the descriptions that appeared in the press. Ulysses S. Grant (18th President of the USA), who stopped by for a visit on 1 September 1877 during his World Tour, is reported to have called it, ‘A big bridge for a small city’.

  It was a bridge that carried big ambitions for the North British Railway who, at the time of its building, was on a small, restricted budget. The budget agreed for the work, with the contractor Charles de Bergue & Co. (the second company to receive the contract for the work, after the first withdrew before work began because of the death of one of the partners), was just over £217,000 5 – an incredibly low figure for such a massive and sophisticated undertaking. De Bergue was a known ‘bridge man’, having built many around the world. It was, unfortunately, a bridge too far for this already ill man, who had agreed a sum vastly under a realistic budget. He died, and the contract passed to Hopkins, Gilkes & Co., whose budget alone amounted to more than the original estimate. Unsurprisingly, the costs ran over significantly, not least because of an ‘unfortunate accident’ or ‘storm’ purported to have happened on 19 January 1887, as written in a letter by Edgar Gilkes to John Stirling (I say ‘purported’ as William Dow’s research contradicts this date). This ‘brought down two spans of the girders and partially destroyed the piers’.6 What made this so catastrophic was, it is now believed, that the company were uninsured at the time 7 and the figures had to be renegotiated to cover some of the costs of replacements and the original bonus of £2,000, if a train was run over the bridge in September, was increased to £4,000. This was small fry when it came to the final sum. The minutes of the Tay Bridge Committee, on 28 June 1877, make reference to this:

  Costs:

  De Bergue & Co. – £ 93,069 2s 6d

  Hopkins, Gilkes – £229,605

  A total of £322,674 2s 6d

  Some £63,174 in excess of estimate.8

  What makes the £4,000 significant, is that it was not nearly the amount wanted, or needed, to cover the replacement work and, claims Dow, it is the action taken to cheaply rebuild that part of the bridge using the ‘straightened girder’, which (he believes) could have played a major part in the accident.

  The bridge had been a long-time dream for Fifeshire residents, local business people and the railways. It was the ‘blue-sky thinking’ required to overcome all the difficulties; necessary changes of transport and lengthy time of travel it took to cross the Firth of Tay (Scotland’s longest river (120 miles/192km)) and travel from the capital, Edinburgh, to Dundee. Thomas Bouch, an established railway engineer, was well-known for railway construction and for designing viaducts, especially the Belah Viaduct. He was also known for doing jobs ‘on the cheap’, had proffered the idea of the railway bridge way back in 18549 and had promoted it for many years. Eventually, it was decided that a railway connection across the Tay was not just needed but was now necessary in the new fast-paced world. It would also make the NBR the largest and most viable railway company in Scotland. The North British Railway (Tay Bridge) Act eventually received the Roya
l Assent on 15 July 1870, and the foundation stone was laid on 22 July 1871. Because of their financial constraints, the NBR made the fateful decision to have a single track rail bridge, linking Edinburgh in the south and Dundee in the north. This brought forth many protests, even from those in favour of the bridge. One of its most vocal advocates, the Dundee Advertiser was so disbelieving that its proprietor personally wrote against it:

  In advocating a bridge across the Tay, it never occurred to us that any engineer would think of running such a spider’s thread over the river as this is to be … what will be the use of attempting to carry the great East Coast route for more than two miles suspended between the sky and water on about the width of a respectable dining table? It assumes immense faith in railway passengers to imagine that they will trust themselves on this tight rope.10

  However, trust they did, and the line proved to be extremely commercially successful during the short time that it ran, in both passenger and freight carriage, whilst the trust proved to be extremely ill-founded.

  Those of a superstitious nature could point to the fact that there was a taste of things to come from the very beginning. Grothe, so intimately involved in the ongoing work, writes:

  The very first foundation, floated out on August 27th 1875, was severely tested by the weather. When it left the shore in tow of two steamers a gentle breeze was blowing, but by the time it reached the place where it had to form part of the bridge the breeze had increased to a strong gale, and the waves washed over the barges so that the hatchways had to be caulked to prevent filling and sinking. It was left in that position nearly three days till the gale moderated sufficiently to allow the operation to proceed.