Death, Dynamite and Disaster

by Rosa Matheson

  1. make a ‘careful’ inspection of the remaining structure

  2. record the current situation (this included the taking of photographs)

  3. take ‘specimens’ of the materials used (for testing in an ‘independent’ foundry)

  4. evaluate design and construction i.e. fit for purpose

  5. investigate the case of ‘wind-pressure’

  6. assess possible causes of accident and report back

  Photographs revolutionised the examination of evidence by allowing access to ‘first-hand’ viewing and, thus, overcoming the obvious physical difficulties in situ. Photography had made great strides from its birth in the early 1800s and, with Fox Talbot’s negative–positive process patented in 1841 it had gained momentum. The next big leap in development, that of the ‘dry plates’ had taken place just the year before the accident, in 1878, and it is probably this process that was used by the hired photographers, James Valentine & Sons. The fifty photographs were taken from four vantage points covering north, south, east and west.74 They did not make happy viewing, showing collapsed piers, broken lugs and damaged tie bars and struts. They were, however, an enlightening resource then, as now, for all the subsequent examination of the evidence.

  The Sessions

  An initial session examining local witnesses, such as those who had seen the event, was held at Dundee on Saturday 3 January 1880, and continued on the Monday and Tuesday, with Mr Trayner, chief counsel, appearing for the Board of Trade, and a Mr Balfour for the NBR. After this, it was adjourned to allow further investigation and gathering of evidence. Upon hearing that more local witnesses had been found, or come forward – those who were involved in the construction and maintenance of the bridge – sessions were resumed in Dundee between 26 February and 3 March. Then there was a waiting period. After receiving Mr Law’s report dated 9 April, and the material required from the NBR, the Court of Inquiry resumed at Westminster on Monday 19 April and concluded on Saturday 8 May. The speed of the whole affair was remarkable.

  When the Court of Inquiry sat to examine the evidence put before them, the questions they were seeking answers to were these:

  Did the bridge fall, causing the train to fall too? If so, why?

  Did the train derail, and take the bridge down? If so, how?

  Did the wind blow the bridge down? If so, what was the force of the wind that could achieve this?

  Was the design of the bridge at fault, making the bridge vulnerable from the very beginning? If so, in what way?

  It is recorded that the Inquiry heard from 121 witnesses. In his book, The Bridge is Down, Andre Gren identifies 102, and why they were questioned. The breadth of witnesses is extensive – NBR officials and railwaymen (drivers, firemen, guards, station personnel, signalmen); previous passengers; contractors and construction workers; maintenance workers and painters; foremen and workers of the Wormit Foundry; inspectors; engineers; wind-pressure experts; eyewitnesses to the fall; admirals and seamen; divers and boatmen; even a lighthouse keeper. What they had to say exposed a catalogue of woe – cavalier indifference to responsibility by those in charge (such as Bouch, or his representatives, not checking the work of subordinates or the integrity of the building work); ineptitude of those in charge (NBR’s bridge inspector, Henry Noble, had no idea that his repairs to the tie-bars were inherently dangerous, masking a very serious situation); irresponsible and dangerous manufacturing practice (not testing the quality or reliability of the ironworks); wanton covering up of defective parts (such as the use of the ‘Beaumont Egg’(a composition of beeswax, rust and other things to hand) for plugging and filling ‘blow-holes’ before machining); negligent and cost-cutting building (reusing damaged girders, and repairing damaged lugs rather than the replacement of parts); disregard of safety directives (driving the train at speeds in excess of the 25mph recommended). The damning information went on and on.

  To examine all the evidence, engineering and otherwise, would need a book in itself. This is not the place for it. Others have done such examination in detail – David Swinfen, in The Fall of the Tay Bridge, provides substantial historical context and background information, and Peter Lewis, in his book, Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay, brings technical application and engineering know-how to interrogate the theories and probabilities. Others at the time, such as Henry Law, also applied engineering thinking to analyse the evidence as it was known to them. His report was restricted to the part of the bridge that had fallen, that part known as ‘the High Girders’ which towered 27ft high:

  The length of the portion of the bridge that has fallen is 3,149 feet consisting of three separate girders, the southernmost one being 1,225 feet in length, divided into five equal spans, each of 245 feet, the middle girder being 944 feet in length, divided into four spans of which the two outer ones are each 227 feet and the two inner ones each 245 feet, and the northernmost girder which is divided into for equal spans, each 245 feet. It will thus be seen that the fallen portion of the bridge consisted of eleven spans, each of 245 feet, and two spans each of 227 feet.

  The badly damaged bridge as seen from the south bank is a sorry sight.

  The ‘high girders’ brought low – the girders could be seen exposed at low tide. This view, looking south, shows a bridge now going nowhere.

  Overall, Law succinctly concluded, ‘the base of the pier was too narrow’ and ‘the yielding of struts and ties was the immediate cause of the disaster’, this situation meant that the bridge was vulnerable to being overthrown by lateral pressure from the wind, but that ‘the other circumstances stated contributed to it’.

  The Conclusion

  A report, dated 30 June 1880, was submitted to ‘THE RIGHT HONORABLE PRESIDENT OF THE BOARD OF TRADE’. Whilst it is agreed by those who have extensively examined the transcripts of the Inquiry that every possible aspect was covered, it is also agreed that the interrogation of the witnesses and the material was not what it should have been, and opportunities for really understanding what had happened were missed. Contradictory evidence (such as the northern part of the bridge went first/the southern part of the bridge fell first) was allowed to pass without further probing; whilst officials were allowed ‘wriggle-room’ to evade uncomfortable questions; and controversial statements such as, ‘he was mental’, went without comment or challenge. At the end, the Court of Inquiry issued not one but two reports: ‘REPORT OF THE COURT OF INQUIRY’ and ‘REPORT OF MR ROTHERY’. This is because Mr Rothery felt compelled to state and investigate certain matters more deeply and strongly than his two colleagues. The points they all generally agreed upon were:

  There is no evidence to show that there has been any movement or settlement in the foundations of the piers

  The wrought iron was of fair quality

  The cast iron was also fairly good, though sluggish on melting

  The girders were fairly proportioned for the work they had to do

  The iron columns, though sufficient to support the vertical weight of the girders and trains, were owing to the weakness of the cross-bracing and its fastenings, unfit to resist the lateral pressure of the wind

  The imperfections in the work turned out at the Wormit foundry were due in great part to want of proper supervision

  The supervision of the bridge after its completion was unsatisfactory

  If by loosening of the tie bars the columns got out of shape, the mere introduction of packing pieces between the gibs and the cotters would not bring them back to their positions

  Trains were frequently run through the high girder at much higher speeds than at the rate of 25 mph

  The fall of the bridge was probably due to the giving way of the cross-bracing and its fastenings

  The imperfections in the columns might also have contributed to the same result75

  After all the hard work the report was, at best, wishy-washy with many qualifying statements using descriptions such as ‘fairly good’, ‘probably due’, ‘might have’, and at worst it is what we w
ould now call a ‘whitewash’. Rothery went on to address more specifically the problems raised and the theories suggested, including defects in design, making comparisons with other bridges, and asking – and answering – who was responsible? Who was to blame? Something that his counterparts were loath to do, surprisingly in Yolland’s case with his reported zeal for improving railway safety. Rothery did not pull his punches, he stated:

  This bridge was badly designed, badly constructed, and badly maintained … its downfall was due to inherent defects in the structure, which must sooner or later have brought it down.

  For these defects both in the design, the construction, and the maintenance, Sir Thomas Bouch is in our opinion [i.e. Rothery’s opinion] mainly to blame. For the faults of design he is entirely responsible. For those of construction he is principally to blame in not having exercised that supervision over the work … for the faults of maintenance he is also principally, if not entirely to blame in having neglected to maintain such an inspection over the structure, as its character imperatively demanded.

  Sir Thomas Bouch, railway and bridge designer, was knighted by Queen Victoria for his work on the magnificent Tay Bridge. Whilst his name is forever linked with the bridge’s disaster, he had achieved many other real engineering successes prior to that. Bouch unfairly bore the blame for what happened, which ruined his name and reputation. His memorial is a somewhat modest affair which obviously reflects his family’s wish not to court attention at the time of his death, in the light of the recent happenings. It merely says ‘Sir Thomas Bouch Civil Engineer, Born 29 Feb. 1822, Died 30 Oct. 1880’. Bouch’s death certificate states his cause of death as, ‘Disease of Heart 4 years. Chronic Pleurisy 5 months. Kidney Disease 6 months. Dropsy 21 days’, but many would argue that he died of the shame and a broken spirit. (Murray and Clare Nicoll)

  It was the end of Sir Thomas Bouch, his reputation and career. Now, not only would he not be permitted to continue to build the bridge across the Forth, he would not build anything again. Such a damming indictment may have hastened the man’s death, just ten months and two days later, from existing illness. It was grossly unfair that this one man should bear the burden of guilt and shame that others definitely shared. In contrast, the North British Railway Company, the contractors, the Wormit Foundry, the Inspectors, even the Board of Trade’s Inspector, Major General Hutchinson, all slithered across the pages with but mild admonishments.

  On 1 July 1880, just six months after the accident, the Star reported that, ‘the inquest on the Tay Bridge disaster terminated in a verdict exonerating the railway authorities from all blame’. The verdict caused almost as much shock as the accident had. The Scotsman was outraged, and voiced what many believed and felt:

  There was evidently a degree of carelessness in the matter of supervising the bridge which was culpable even scandalous. Sir Thomas Bouch may be to blame for not having looked after Henry Nobel; but ought not someone to have seen that Sir Thomas Bouch attended his duty? Can the railway company be freed from blame? It is very difficult to do so … it is clearly the company and the company alone that must be held answerable to the public for whatever carelessness there was in the supervision and maintenance of the bridge. 76

  The matter regarding a Public Prosecution had been raised by the Hon. Mr Anderson MP in the House of Commons, but it had been deferred to the Lord Advocate77 and that was it.

  John R. Raynes, in his comprehensive work, Engines and Men: the History of the Associated Society of Locomotive Engineers and Firemen, later asked, ‘… was the trenchant exposure of jerry-building and bad designs of the Tay Bridge followed by prosecution, even though four-score lives were lost? Not at all – there were words – just words – and the matter was allowed to die out … but poor McCulloch whose mistake cost no life was sent to gaol.’(William McCulloch was a driver for twenty-six years on the Caledonian Railway, all without any mishap until the day his train collided with another when his Clarke & Webb’s patent chain brake failed to operate. He was prosecuted for ‘an error of judgement’ and sentenced to four months imprisonment.)

  The Inquiry did, however, find that there was no requirement issued by the Board of Trade in respect of wind pressure, and, just as significantly, that there did not appear to be any understood rule or model in the engineering profession regarding wind pressure upon railway structures. It recommended that the Board of Trade should take steps for the establishment of rules for that purpose. The Board of Trade accordingly instigated a commission to carry out the first systematic investigation of this problem, and in May 1881 the ‘Wind Structure’ (Railway Structures) Commission reported their conclusions.

  The NBR were hit hard financially by the event. It is reported in the Dundee Courier, on Thursday 29 January, that a circular had been sent to the heads of department in the company, with the suggestion that ‘officials and others in the employment of the Company should subscribe to the best of their ability to a fund which it is intended to aid the directors in the repairing of the … bridge.’ Such was the company’s financial difficulty that, once the settlements from the Relief Fund had been made (set up with donations, to help the families of the victims who were in dire need and with, because of parsimony by its administrators, a hefty balance left over), the NBR asked for their donation of £500 to be returned. In respect of the claims for compensation, the NBR were Scrooge-like in holding their purse strings tightly closed. Donald Cattanach writes, in his study of G.B. Wieland, the Secretary of the NBR:

  At the Board meeting on 17th March, 1881, Wieland had reported the settlement of the whole of the personal compensation claims for just £21,632.23. Most of the sums were for a few hundred pounds, and several were settled for just double figures. Only a few exceeded £1,000. The largest settlement – for £5,436.14 – was awarded to the family of ex-Councillor David Jobson. Not a single case resulted in court proceedings although at least one summons was served on the North British Railway: the widow and family of David Johnston, a NBR guard who had been travelling as a passenger on the ill-fated train, prior to working back the following morning, were claiming £1,500. Like the few other claims which he brought to the Board’s attention, it was remitted back to Wieland to deal with; they received £200.78 The ‘Widow Mitchell’ – Mrs Janet Mitchell, wife of the driver of the ill-fated train, David Mitchell – received £150 for herself and her three children. Wieland took legal advice from the Solicitor General about the claim on behalf of the mother of another NBR employee, train guard David McBeth, aged 38 and unmarried. Owing to the ‘adverse nature’ of the Opinion, Wieland was authorised to settle the claim ‘on the best terms possible.’ It was settled for £250.79

  In respect of the bridge and its future, it had not taken long for voices to be raised asking for a new bridge, such had been its success and convenience. As early as 5 January a ‘Special Meeting of the Guildry Incorporation of Dundee’ was held in the Guild Hall, to discuss the ‘petitioning of Parliament … for the reconstruction of the Tay Bridge’80 and the papers were asking how quickly it could be started. It was finally opened on 20 June 1887. It stood and still stands within sight of the ruins of the first Tay Bridge, whose broken stumps are a constant reminder of the human tragedy.

  On 29 December 1879, the day after the accident, The Annual Register commented, ‘No conclusive evidence could be produced to show whether the train was blown off the rails and so dragged the girders down, or whether the bridge was blown away and the train ran into the chasm thus made.’

  So, do we know now what they didn’t know then? The answer is – not for sure. The same questions are still being asked and the answers are still as probable as they ever were. One only has to read the chapter ‘Hindsight’ in Peter Lewis’ book to see that this is the case, despite the fact that ‘engineering skills and methods have changed almost beyond recognition’. So, presumably, has the knowledge. We do know that Victorian engineers and bridge builders learnt enough from the mistakes to change things. As Lewis also says, ‘
There is no doubt that the disaster marked a turning point in the way bridges were designed, built and managed’, and we do know that recommendations were carried out and new standards set. We also know that, whilst these passengers (whatever the number might be) died ‘unnecessarily’81 because of the abject failure of others, their deaths resulted in a better level of safety for future railway travellers. Knowing that, however, will never be enough.

  Notes

  1 Pall Mall Gazette, 3 August 1880

  2 The British Architect, 2 January 1880, p. 9

  3 Grothe, A., ‘The Tay Bridge’, Good Words magazine, 1878, p. 103

  4 Over the ‘high girder’ section, the girders were 14ft 10in apart (centre to centre), immediately adjacent to the high girder section the remaining girders, where the track was laid on top of the girder, were of the same width, but they narrowed nearer the shore, to as little as 9ft apart. Allan Rodgers, North British Railway Study Group

  5 Swinfen,David, The Fall of the Tay Bridge, Mercat Press, Edinburgh, 1994

  6 Dow, ‘The Tay Bridge Letters’ (unpublished) research based on the original letters held at the Scottish Record Office, Edinburgh

  7 Dow, ‘The Tay Bridge Letters’ (unpublished)

  8 North British Railway Study Group

  9 Lewis, 2005