Fire! Fire!
So, where are we? We have a fire in a mill… and then what? Well, not so much ‘then what?’ as ‘why?’ and ‘how?’ before ‘then what?’ In each of the newspapers, the fire is described as ‘most serious’, and that it destroyed, or caused the destruction, of the mill. The fire is graphically described in each newspaper, although some peripheral facts differ. The Chronicle says that flames were seen ‘bursting forth in the direction of Reading’, the Mercury has it ‘on fire’, whilst the Observer simply has ‘smoke and flames issuing from’ a window in an upper floor. However dramatically stated, there was clearly a fire, and it had taken hold. So, when was it first seen? Well, the time of its first sighting varies, the Mercury and Chronicle have it at 12.45am, the Observer at ‘between 11 and 12pm’. That’s quite a difference. The hold that a fire can take, the heat it can generate and the damage it can cause in 45 minutes is astonishing, in fact, it can reasonably be said, that 45 minutes early on in a blaze can decide whether or not a fire can be fought, extinguished, or simply allowed to burn itself out, especially given the fire- fighting techniques and facilities available at the time.
Now to the fire itself. It is graphically described in each newspaper, although some peripheral facts differ. At, or around 11.00pm in the evening of Thursday 3rd July 1884, according to the Chronicle and Mercury, a patrolling policeman, PC Mason according to the Chronicle, saw flames ‘bursting forth’ from the mill, and summoned the brigade. At the same time, the Observer has PC Goddard, on duty in Broad Street, seeing ‘the reflection of a fire’ and notifying the Brigade. This appears to be the first notification of the fire to the Fire Brigade. One account of either PC Mason or PC Goddard is incorrect. Mason cannot have been close enough to the fire to see ‘flames bursting forth’ and then immediately tell the Brigade. To see actual flames, he would have to be on the brow of the hill near St Paul’s church, almost ¾ mile from the Brigade. PC Goddard’s account has more of the ring of truth. From Broad Street, it would be possible to see a reflective glow on a warm summer’s evening. He would also have been able to let the Brigade know quickly.
However, the Observer introduces another name, Mr Challis, the Nightwatchman at the mill. Nightwatchmen were commonplace in industrial premises at this time, indeed, insurers recognised this to the effect that reductions in premiums were available should premises have a nightwatchman. We do not know, of course, whether the insurer had taken this factor in account. According to the Observer, the premises had been locked up at 9.00pm, and between 11.00pm and midnight, whilst doing his rounds, Mr Challis saw ‘smoke and flames’ coming from an upper floor window. We do not know where Challis was when he first saw the flames, but, given the relatively small area (in today’s terms) of the site, and the fact of visibility of the ‘upper window’, it is reasonable to assume that Challis was outside the mill buildings themselves when he saw the flames. There does not seem to have been any sort of audible warning bell or hooter in the mill, as Challis’ first action is to wake Mr Westcott, who was asleep, and received the news ‘partially dressed’. Challis was dispatched first to wake the workforce – we do not know where they lived or slept, and from maps of Emmbrook in the 1880’s, whilst the ‘Rifle Volunteer’ and ‘Dog and Duck’ can be seen, there are few houses in the vicinity, certainly not enough to house a workforce of around 50, but from this statement, it must be assumed that they were able to be contacted in a reasonably short time – and then Challis was instructed to ‘proceed (!) to the Fire Station’, a mere mile away over a couple of hills. If the newspaper accounts are to be believed, – and both the Mercury and Chronicle make note of the fact – Challis must have taken a minimum of 15 minutes before leaving to alert the Brigade. Whether he was provided with a horse, we do not know, probably unlikely as any nearby horses would have been unsaddled and out in pasture, but he did not arrive at the Fire Station before PC Goddard had first raised the alarm at some time between 11.00 and 12.00pm.
At this point, an element of farce enters the proceedings. The ‘Chronicle’ says the Brigade attended ‘with admirable promptitude’, whilst the Observer says it was ‘delayed by some 20 minutes’ and the ‘Mercury’ reports a ‘considerable delay’ . The ‘Mercury’ adds further to the confusion by saying that the Brigade ‘preceded their engine to the mills’. Which was it? The Wokingham Brigade were what was known by insurers as a ‘retained’ Brigade, that is to say, there were no full time 24 hour personnel. When an alarm was sounded, the (volunteer) members would – much as lifeboatmen do today – get to the station as quickly as possible. If we believe the ‘Observer’, generally being the more objective of the accounts of the fire, in this case, they assembled within a wholly admirable 4 minutes, which reflects great credit on the Brigade, its Captain and their training.
Sadly, at this point, things deteriorate. There are no horses and it is a further 20 minutes before the horses can be found and harnessed to the fire engine, which is why, perhaps, the men themselves are referred to as having arrived at the fire before their engine. But why? Where? How? The whole point of a ‘retained’ Brigade, was that they could attend a fire as soon as their members were present. Horses were supposed to be immediately accessible, but even if stabled in the centre of the town, the time taken to assemble, harness and attach the fire tender, is considerable. To assemble the Brigade in 4 minutes is excellent, but to have to wait a further 20 minutes for horses (according to the Observer) is tantamount to negligence.
So, as the brigade is preparing itself, what is happening at the mill itself? Several policemen were making their way from Wokingham town centre to the fire as quickly as they could, and it was, and still is, customary for employees to have a modicum of training in fire-fighting, – for example, how to use hand appliances and hose reels and such like, so it is reasonable to assume that, once raised and dressed, employees and, indeed family and friends, would rush to the blaze. But even so, a minimum of 15 minutes must have passed before any form of co-ordinated attack on the blaze was commenced, and then only with whatever first-aid fire-fighting equipment was to hand. Early fire extinguishers were known, and water from the brook was plentiful, but it is doubtful whether any form of pumping machinery was available until the brigade arrived, so buckets were the most likely form of fire-fighting, and these will not suppress a fire already established for 20-25 minutes and with combustible materials, – paper and rags – in plentiful supply. So, when the brigade do arrive, it was soon realised that ‘all efforts to subdue the fierce conflagration already raging…….would be futile’ (Chronicle), and efforts were concentrated on saving the engine house (described as containing an engine ‘of great value’ – Observer) and the engineer’s workshop (‘filled with costly machinery’ – Observer). The ‘Chronicle’ and ‘Mercury’ both make a point of noting that the brigade spared no efforts in seeking to prevent the fire spreading to the owner’s house, – this point is not made by the ‘Observer’.
Let us think about the ‘engine house’. In its very detailed summary of the dimensions and contents of the mill, the ‘Observer’ refers to (inter alia) a ‘rag house’, a beating room’, a ‘machinery house’ and ‘engineer’s workshop’ and a ‘boiler house’. Then, when describing the fire-fighting, an ’engine house’. It would seem, therefore, that a distinction is drawn between the ‘engine’ and the ‘machinery’. It is probable that the ‘rag house’ was the warehouse for rags, and the ‘beating room’ contained the rag grinding machine for use on those rags, so we can dismiss those descriptions as relating to the ‘engine room’. The ‘machinery room’ was the largest in ground floor area in the mill, and when detailing it, the ‘Observer’ describes it immediately after the store house (warehouse), rag house and beating room, before finishing with the ‘engineer’s workshop’, ‘boiler house’ and ‘work room’, – all significantly smaller in ground floor area than the ‘machinery room’. The ‘Chronicle’ also makes great play about the attempts to defend the engine house, as it contained and engine ‘valued at £1,200’ (£140,000 in 2017). The engineer’s workshop is another thing again. It was common practice in most mills in whatever industry, to have their own engineer’s maintenance department, and in this department, replacement parts would be machined, altered, improved when something went wrong. The machinery itself would be of high quality, and capable of detailed work, so, whilst not essential for the production of paper, they were an essential part of keeping the mill working, and saving these machines would be very worthwhile. The value would certainly exceed that of the ‘valuable engine’. But could the ‘engine house’ refer to the boiler? Unlikely. Victorian terminology was perfectly capable of describing a ‘boiler’ as a ‘boiler’, so if it were this building threatened, it would have been identified as such. Steam turbines were invented only in 1884, so it is highly unlikely that one was installed here, but steam engines were well known and in regular use. The horizontal steam engine had been invented in the 1850’s, and was more efficient for industrial processes. So, given that the safety of the ‘engine house’ is given such a high profile in each of the newspapers, it is probable that it held a new steam engine for working the machinery, presumably at those times when the water levels in the Emm Brook were too low to generate enough power.
Let’s have a look at our imagined the site again, this time with an elevation, looking from the East side of the mill.
So, the ‘machine room’ is the room containing the new ‘costly machinery’, shown here with a ‘North Light’ roof (the ‘zigzag shape), these were in common use at this time for machine rooms, whatever the trade. The machine, being heavy and involving a water process, would, in all probability, be sited on the ground floor, but the flames were seen ‘from an upper window’, making it more likely to be the 3-storey warehouse, than the larger in floor area 2-storey machine room. Probable, but not certain. What combustible material could there be above the machine that could burn? In a paper mill, the answer is ‘almost everything’, but Foudrinier machines (if it was such) create a lateral process. Raw materials, – rags, paper, wood pulp, go in at one end, and are then gradually subjected to repeated water pulping, squeezing and rolling until a recognizable roll of paper comes off at the other end. The machine is approximately 40-50 feet in length (the machine room is stated as being 79 feet long) It requires a lot of feeding, and, therefore, it is quite possible that the machine was gravity-fed via a trap in the floor above. This would enable the machine floor to be kept more clear of materials, and at the same time, concentrate the raw materials in a machine-free area. Being freer from combustible materials would also help in the forthcoming fire-fighting.
Let’s now consider the warehouse. We know this was a 3-storey building, probably with open-joisted wood upper floors, and an open raftered slated or tiled roof. The warehouse overlooked the single storey machine room, facilitating the passage of raw materials to the machine room itself. We do not know what was in it, but it is more than likely that raw materials for the paper making machine were stored there. These would be primarily rags, waste paper and wood chips or pulp. All bulky, but not compacted, and relatively light in themselves. There may even have been waste from the machine for re-cycling. Whatever it was, it would certainly be combustible.
However, fire spreads upwards. All witnesses agree that the flames were first seen coming from an upper floor, so the ground floor of the machine room can be ruled out as the seat of the fire. But, and here we have to believe the testimony of the nightwatchman, the fire did not have a full hold when first seen. This is relevant, as the warehouse overlooked the machine room, and if the fire had spread from a seat of fire in upper floor of the machine room to the warehouse, it would have been burning for some time and would already have been out of control.
The probability is, that the three storey warehouse had, at least in the lower floors, the finished, rolled paper, – this would be logical, as rolled paper is heavier, and harder to move, than the raw materials. The rag warehouse would communicate on each floor with the two-storey rag beating house, and on the ground floor with the expensive paper making machine room. If this is assumed to be correct, then, at second storey level, it is likely that the raw materials were taken in to a hopper feed, above the rag beater, and fed, via trap doors, from there to the machine on the ground floor (the first storey). The beaten rags and pulp would then be fed into the paper-making machine. The reason for this assumption, is that from the end of the new machine, the finished paper would then be rolled, and could then be stored in the ground floor of the warehouse. Why is this an assumption that may be true? Because, as stated, rolled paper weighs much, much more than the raw materials, and to hoist it back to the upper floors of the warehouse before lowering it again on to wagons, before sending it on to customers, simply would not make business sense.
Back to the fire. Once it had started therefore, it is quite probable that the flames will have been seen emanating from an upper floor, exactly as described by Mr Challis. Let us believe him, it has the ring of truth. It is now that time becomes the issue. The wooden floors of the warehouse probably contained trap doors for the easy movement of stock and materials between floors, and once ablaze, the fire would, via sparks and falling embers soon spread to the floor below. From this floor – the middle floor of three – lateral fire spread to the second floor of the machine house is inevitable without a fire break. Iron fireproof doors were known and installed at mills in the 1880’s but not, it would seem, here, which would not be unusual for a mill of this size. With the upper floors of the warehouse, and the second floor of the machine house on fire, the sole objective subsequently, would be to try to save the papermaking machine on the ground floor of the machine room. Had the brigade attended as soon as they were alerted and assembled, it is possible, – just possible – that they may have brought the fire under control before the mill itself was destroyed, but with an additional delay of 20-30 minutes, the mill was doomed before they even got there.
So, to recap. A fire has started in the upper floor of a timber-floored warehouse filled with combustible materials, there has been no immediate attempt at fire-fighting, and by the time the brigade arrive, the fire has a good hold. Fires don’t become immediate conflagrations, – there is a gestation period, there is a source, a smoulder, a fire and then a blaze, – probably 15-30 minutes, depending on what combustible materials are nearby. Fires are noisy. Blazing combustible stock will be heard, windows may have been broken with the heat, burning wooden beams creak. The word ‘inferno’ does not just mean heat, it means sight and noise as well. The owner’s house is nearby, the Chronicle has it 15 yards away, but that is surely too close for reality, such proximity would surely have led to earlier realisation and, more pertinently, to a greater likelihood of the house being caught up in the blaze, the Observer says 30yards, and even that is less than one and a half cricket pitches distant. The owner is in bed, or at least in his nightclothes (‘Observer’ again), it is a hot summer’s night, probably reasonably quiet, – if the ‘Rifle Volunteer’ clientele had left the pub early, they could have seen the fire as they left, so it is likely that either they were still in the pub, or had already gone home. There were no licensing laws at this time (other than in Wales) that set defined opening and closing hours, so the landlord could open and close his pub as and when he liked, and presumably he would do this to best suit his likely customers. But times were different in the 1880’s, people went to bed earlier, and rose earlier, than today, so the likelihood is, that the pub was closed for the day. But what about Mr Westcott? Even allowing for his early bedtime, the noise of a fire would easily carry 30 yards, and the glow seen even more readily. Did he actually want the fire to take hold?
And where was Challis? The map of Emmbrook 1880 shows no other industrial sites nearby, so we must presume that this mill was his only duty. Whilst one would not expect him to prowl constantly around the property, one round per hour would seem reasonable, and he would have an ‘office’ (more of a bolthole) somewhere in the mill. So with the mill closed and locked at 9.00pm, he should have carried out at least one round before the blaze is seen at 11.00pm, and, again, noise becomes a query. So we have heat, noise, and glow, – but no one raises the alarm until the fire has taken hold. How thorough was Challis?
Time for a metaphorical breath. How can the fire have started? For now, let us rule out arson. Electricity was not used for lighting at this time, and any spark from a machine would have caused the fire to be seen or heard as coming from a lower floor than the ‘upper floor’ consistently described by witnesses. So what were the likely hazards in the 1880’s. Smoking was prevalent, and did not have the health embargos placed on it that exist today, so employees may well have smoked whilst they worked. It was common practice in industrial premises to allow this. A discarded cigarette, or one inadequately stubbed out, is a very probably cause. But there were other possibilities. Lighting in the mill, such as there was, would have been by gaslight, but it was July, shortly after the longest day of the year, and at the time of the end of the working day, 9.00pm, there would be still plenty of daylight, even on a gloomy day. It is also more likely that fixed gas jets would have been installed in the offices, rather than throughout the mill. Oil lamps were in regular use, and one would have been provided to the nightwatchman for his rounds, perhaps with one or two lamps left burning on each floor to assist him. Perhaps there was some spillage of oil from refilling, this was a frequent occurrence. We must also consider spontaneous combustion. Oily rags, loose waste paper packed together, both are known to combust. If the warehouse was piled high with these materials, this could happen, and would explain why the fire seemed to have appeared from nowhere. The plain fact is, that we don’t know the cause of the fire, none of the records indicate a known or suspected cause. However, on balance, because of the length of time between the closing of the mill and the discovery of the fire, already burning, it is more probable that a carelessly discarded cigarette, possibly close to a spillage of oil, or simply on oil soaked wood flooring, was the cause of the blaze.
The fire burned inexorably and predictably despite the very best efforts of brigade, police and employees. The ‘Observer’ notes bluntly that the ‘roof of the main building fell in at 12.30 and in a short time nothing (was) left standing’. A pause for reflection here. The fire was only first seen at ‘between 11.00pm and 12.00am’ (‘Observer’), so by any standards, to have gutted the main buildings (INSERT PLAN AGAIN) and caused the roof of, presumably, the warehouse to collapse within 1½ hours at most, means that not only was the fire generating intense heat, but also that it was well established when first noticed. But let’s look again at the other newspapers, whilst the ‘Observer’ seems to have the most balanced and objective reporting, both the ‘Mercury’ and the ‘Chronicle’ have the fire not being seen until 12.45am, so fire-fighting could not have started until 1.15am at the earliest, the ‘Mercury’ has it seen by a policeman in Wokingham, and the ‘Chronicle’ by Challis the nightwatchman. If 12.45am was indeed the first sighting, then that would better explain the actions of Challis and the owner. These two newspapers both then concur that the conflagration was too intense to be fought effectively. Each newspaper agrees that through the strenuous efforts of the brigade, the fire was prevented from spreading across the brook to the offices, engine room, boiler house and the owner’s house. Whatever the time of first sighting, in reality, even today’s highly trained and efficient firefighters would struggle to contain a fire of this intensity. The ‘Mercury’ refers to the ‘mass of inflammable material’, the ‘Chronicle’ to ‘masses of paper’, whilst the ‘Observer’ interests itself more in the plant and machinery, although it makes much of it being ‘several days before the burnt paper was removed’. Combustible materials, inter-communicating buildings, wooden floors (possibly oil-soaked, and almost certainly pierced by trapdoors), rags and a still airless night, when all this is combined with the fire having at least 30 minutes head start on the fire- fighting, the result is inevitable.
Whether starting at 12.45, or 11.00 or any point in between, all agree that by 4.00am, the fire was under control, and the brigade continued to damp down for the remainder of the next day (‘until 6-7pm’ according to the ‘Observer’), and, again according to the ’Observer’, remain on the scene for a further three days, extinguishing occasional outbreaks of smouldering material. The ‘Observer’ also meticulously itemises the damage as ‘machinery…£14,000, stock of paper…150 tons….buildings……most part wrecked….work room destroyed…..store room extensively damaged by fire and water…roof of engine house burnt…..store house, rag house, beating room totally destroyed….one storey of machine house burnt out…..engineer’s shop & boiler house partly destroyed. About 50 people temporarily thrown out of employment.’
Fortunately, there were no serious injuries, which is a credit to the management skills of the Chief Fire Officer of the day, Capt. Ifould, although one fireman was felled unconscious by a falling brick, and several received minor burns to the hands and feet.
So, that’s it, the fire’s over, jobs are lost (for now, one assumes), it’s just a question of the insurers paying out. The newspapers make much play of the property being ‘insured in Liverpool & London & Globe’ (‘Chronicle’), and ‘fully insured’ (Mercury’). Once the fire is extinguished, the ‘Observer’ seems to lose interest, except to note that the ’salvage man’ arrives on the scene sometime before 12th July. What is a ‘salvage man’?
Salvage Corps were trained full-time bodies of men, exclusively paid for by the insurance companies themselves, whose job it was to enter premises damaged by fire, sometimes even whilst the fire was burning, and to reclaim, as salvage, any plant, stock, property that they could. The premises would have been identified by a ‘Fire Mark’, a crest or shield displaying the name of the insurance company who insured the property. The goods salvaged then became the property of the insurance company who had settled the claim for the loss, and would be sold to mitigate the insurer’s outlay. A similar system exists in Marine insurance to this day. Salvage Corps existed in London, Liverpool and Glasgow and were only finally disbanded in 1984 (London – 1982). However, they operated only in the city where they were formed, so it is unlikely that the Globe would pay for their men to come out from London to what was, even in the 1880’s a no more than medium-sized claim. It is possible, however, that independent bodies of men existed to carry out these functions in the provinces, especially as fires in paper mills were not uncommon, and expertise could be learned. It is more likely, however, that the L&L&G brought out, or hired, a team from the London Salvage Corps, possibly to supervise the work of others.
The ‘Mercury’ notes that the premises were ‘in the hands of the salvage corps’ (note ‘corps’ not ‘man’ as before) a full week after the fire, clearing the debris. It would seem that little of value was recovered, although it must have been worthwhile to the insurers to keep the salvage corps there for such a time, as the ‘Mercury’ refers to parts of the machinery being ‘melted into a shapeless mass’.
A week later, the owners write to the ‘Observer’ thanking the brigade, the police, employees and friends for all their efforts. A decent and honourable gesture.
