There's a story somewhere of Vincent Raven (I think) of the NER narrowly surviving an accident while in the cabin of a snowplough. One of the other occupants was killed.
That would be Annitsford.
SnowbOUND
Being a Report on the Accident that Befell a Snow-Clearing Expedition
near Annitsford on Thursday, 15th March 1888
John G. Teasdale
Late Winter weather was particularly severe in the north-east of England in the years 1886, 1887 and 1888. To cope with the deep snow that resulted, the North Eastern Railway Company deployed its small fleet of independent snowploughs. By Friday, 9 March 1888 however, it seemed that Winter had done its worst, and that the snowploughs could be greased, stabled, and left undisturbed for the rest of the year. During that Friday, and during the Saturday that followed, the weather was beautiful - warm and sunny, a harbinger of Spring. Unfortunately, the fine weather did not last. On Sunday morning, an easterly gale began to lash the north-east. Heavy snow began to fall, and continued to fall intermittently over the following three days. By Thursday morning, it seemed as though a thaw was about to set in, as the weather moderated and began to improve. Such improvement as there was did not last beyond mid-morning however, as the weather then turned bitterly cold and a strong south-easterly gale began to deposit an extraordinary quantity of snow.
The North Eastern’s lines in the Consett area were soon blocked by deep drifts, and Gateshead’s independent snowplough was deployed to tackle them. This snowplough, the North Eastern’s Snow Plough No 1, was built upon the wheels and frame of an obsolete six‑wheeled locomotive. The plough itself comprised a full-width blade, angled at about thirty degrees to the horizontal; on the blade was mounted a prow, very much like the bow of a ship, intended to part the mass of snow scooped up by the blade, and to throw it to right and to left. Behind blade and prow was a cabin, furnished with stove and benches for the comfort of those manning the snowplough. Tool cupboards were built into the front part of the cabin, making use of the hollow space beneath the blade. Access to the cabin was via a door in each side. Windows in the sides lit the cabin by day; oil lamps provided illumination at night. In order to keep the snowplough on the rails when clearing deep snow, it was ballasted to give a total weight of about twenty-six tons. To prevent snow from being forced between the wheels of the snowplough, the sides of the frame were boxed-in. (Small hatches gave access to the axleboxes.) Despite these precautions however, when the snowplough struck a twelve-feet deep drift at Delver Lane crossing it came off the rails. Attended by no little difficulty, it was re-railed, and the tracks in the Consett area were eventually ploughed clear of drifted snow.
Main Line
Meanwhile, Godfrey Smith, the North Eastern’s Passenger Superintendent at Newcastle, was worried about the state of the main line. In an attempt to keep it clear of snow he despatched locomotives at regular intervals to run up and down the line. By mid‑afternoon however, these efforts were overwhelmed as snow accumulated in huge drifts. At Smeafield, two miles north of Belford, the southbound 1.20 P.M. passenger train from Berwick was caught in such a drift, and was brought to an ignominious halt. Northbound, a goods train from Newcastle stuck fast in a drift a mile and a half north of Longhirst. Both tracks of the main line were now blocked by stopped trains, though this information was passed to Newcastle but slowly as telegraph lines north of Morpeth had parted under the weight of accumulated snow. The
Flying Scotsman, the 10.00 A.M. London King’s Cross - Edinburgh express passenger train, was therefore despatched from Newcastle, on time, at 4.12 P.M. Also despatched on time from Newcastle, at 5.21, was the 10.35 A.M. London King’s Cross - Edinburgh express. Both of these trains were brought to a stop short of the stalled goods train: the
Flying Scotsman at Longhirst, the 10.35 express at Morpeth. Instructions were eventually passed to station officials and signalmen that both of the passenger trains were to be sent back to Newcastle, in order to be despatched to Edinburgh via Carlisle and the Waverley route.
The two locomotives at the head of the 10.35 express were therefore uncoupled, turned, and re-coupled to the rear of the train. At seven o’clock, in the darkness of a snow-swept night, the train began its journey back to Newcastle. However, it traveled a few miles only before being stopped by a deep drift across the tracks near Netherton. The signalman there informed officials at Morpeth, who despatched a locomotive and labourers to assist. The men managed to dig out the train, which then recommenced it southwards journey. During that journey, the miseries of the enginemen were acute. They were almost completely exposed to the wind and snow, as their half-cabs provided but little shelter from the weather. They also had to cope with locomotives that were not steaming well, due to compacted snow blocking off the air vents in their locomotives’ ashpans. Near Annitsford their miseries were worsened considerably when the train became stuck fast in drifted snow. The concerns of the passengers were no less acute by this time - their carriages were unheated, and hypothermia was now a distinct possibility. The
Flying Scotsman, meanwhile, eventually made it as far south as Morpeth, where it was stopped. Some of the train’s passengers managed to find hotel accommodation in the town, others were provided with straw by the station staff, and endeavoured to make themselves comfortable in their carriages. (The Duke of Argyll had left the train at Longhirst, having been offered accommodation in Longhirst Hall by the owner, James Joicey.)
Clear the Line
By mid-afternoon, once it had become obvious that the main line was becoming blocked by snow, Thomas Elliot Harrison, the North Eastern’s Engineer-in-Chief, had organised the despatch of some two hundred of the company’s Gateshead and Newcastle employees north up the line with shovels to begin the task of clearing it by hand. Later in the evening, about the same number of unemployed labourers, hired at the rate of sixpence per hour, had been despatched north likewise. When Gateshead’s snowplough returned from its duties in the Consett area, it was also made ready for despatch northwards. For that task, the snowplough was manned by Wilson Worsdell, the Assistant Locomotive Superintendent, plus three other officials: Messrs. Raven, Purvis and Howard. Also on board was a friend of Worsdell’s, Frederic George Hulburd. A few minutes before ten o’clock at night, as the snowplough was about to depart, a newspaperman of
The Newcastle Daily Chronicle climbed up the side of the snowplough, knocked on the door, and asked for permission to accompany the expedition. Worsdell granted that permission.
https://www.railforums.co.uk/file:/...North Eastern Railway Snowploughs-1.doc#_edn1
The snowplough was propelled by a total of four locomotives; a stores van was coupled behind. Given the prodigious power provided by that number of locomotives, it might have been supposed that the train would make good progress. It did; the snowplough cut through drifts up to seven feet deep at Benton Quarry with consummate ease. At Killingworth, Worsdell had the train stopped however, as he was not sure whereabouts the 10.35 express was stuck. He had been informed that it was somewhere between Annitsford and Killingworth, southbound on the Up line. A conference with local officials told him no more, so he decided that the snowplough would carry on cautiously northwards on the Down line until the express was found. He also instructed Raven and Howard to leave the snowplough and go back to the first two engines in order to supervise the drivers there. This supervision was necessary as there was no forward view from the cabin, other than that obtained by leaning out of a window. When the two officials were on their engines, the snowplough set off northwards once again. The express was found, just south of Annitsford, at half past ten o’clock. Unfortunately, the snowplough was not stopped short of the train, and a large quantity of snow was thrown by the snowplough off the Down line onto the express stuck on the Up. This snow would have to be removed by hand before the train could re‑commence its journey. Before that re‑commencement could begin though, the Up line would have to be cleared. Worsdell therefore gave instructions that the snowplough should re-trace its journey back to Killingworth, there to cross over to the Up line. The final approach on that line to the express was fraught with hazard however, as the view ahead from the snowplough’s locomotives would be obscured by darkness and by sprays of up-cast snow. The position of the express was therefore noted with reference to a nearby bridge and instructions given that the locomotives’ brakes be applied when that bridge was seen, rather than waiting for sight of the lamps on the front of the express.
Propelled northwards from Killingworth on the Up line, the snowplough once again cut through the deepest of drifts without faltering. Approaching Annitsford, the bridge was seen, a locomotive whistle sounded, and the brakes of the locomotives propelling the snowplough were applied.[ii] Worsdell, in the cabin of the snowplough, wound on its handbrake. Despite the precautions taken to stop the snowplough short of the express however, the brake force applied to it was insufficient; still rolling forwards at two to three miles per hour, the blade of the snowplough was driven under the wheels of the front locomotive of the express. That locomotive was forced up the blade, through the prow and cabin, and onto the smokebox of the lead locomotive of the snowplough train.
When the up-cast clouds of snow had settled, officials, enginemen and passengers ran to the snowplough to see what had befallen it. Even in the dark depths of the night it was apparent that it had been utterly wrecked. The natural assumption was that the men within were dead, but when this was voiced, cries for help informed them otherwise. Men immediately set to pulling away the shattered timbers to rescue those trapped inside what remained of the cabin. As these timbers piled up, somebody had the idea that they should be burned to give light to the rescuers. Accordingly, they were used to fuel a large bonfire. By its light, first Purvis and then the newspaperman were soon pulled free. Both men had suffered cuts, bruises, and torn clothing, but were otherwise unharmed. It took altogether an hour and a half to free Hulburd; he had been pinned to the floor of the cabin by the hot stove, and had been severely burnt. He was carefully carried to the stores van at the rear of the snowplough train. There he was joined half an hour later by Worsdell, who had been trapped beneath tools that had burst from a cupboard at the moment of impact. Worsdell did not seem badly injured, though he had been severely cut about his face and head. These injuries were treated by a doctor, summoned from his bed in Annitsford. There was nothing the doctor could do for Hulburd, other than deaden his agonies with laudanum.
Return to Newcastle
The following morning, at about a quarter to seven, two locomotives ran northwards past the scene of the accident. These had been sent from Newcastle to clear the line. They were followed an hour later by a short train of carriages, sent to collect the passengers from the stalled express. Worsdell and Hulburd were put on this train too. The train then began its return to Newcastle, but only got as far as Killingworth before it was stopped. There was only one track clear between that place and Newcastle, and it was now blocked by a breakdown train, stuck in a drift at Benton Quarry. It took approximately four hours to get the breakdown train through, and the train bearing the two injured men did not reach Newcastle until about one in the afternoon.
Worsdell, discovered to have a broken bone in his right leg, took many months to recover from his injuries. His friend Hulburd never did recover; he died, aged but twenty-eight, on 4 April.[iii]
Acknowledgement:
My thanks to Mr. J.M. Richardson, Editor of the North Eastern Railway Association’s The North Eastern Express, for his provision of information used in this report.
Principal References:
Acworth, W.M. The Railways of England. 1889.
Dean, J.C. Further Snow Problems in Northumberland. The North Eastern Express, November 1971.
Hoole, K. and Mallon, J. North Eastern Railway Diagrams of Snow Ploughs. 1969.
MacLean, J.S. The Great Snowstorm of 1888. The North Eastern Express, May 1967.
The Newcastle Daily Chronicle, editions of 16, 17 and 19 March 1888.
[1] It is not clear from contemporary sources whether Worsdell was also in charge of the snowplough when it was deployed in the Consett area, but it is likely that he was. In 1890, Worsdell would be promoted to the post of Locomotive Superintendent (a post re-titled Chief Mechanical Engineer in 1902). Those same contemporary sources do not give the Christian names of the three officials who accompanied Worsdell on the snowplough, but it seems likely that the man named Raven was Vincent Litchfield Raven, who would serve as Chief Mechanical Engineer from 1910 to the Grouping of 1923. The newspaperman who provided many of the details used in this report was, as was customary at the time, not honoured with a by-line, and I have not been able to identify him.
[1] Contemporary sources do not make clear whether this whistle was sounded as a warning by the express, or was sounded by the lead locomotive of the snowplough train as a signal that the brakes should now be applied on all four of the locomotives.
[1] The spelling of the young man’s name used in contemporary newspaper reports of the accident was Hulbert. However, his death notice as published in The Times on 7 April, presumably at the behest of his family, used the spelling Hulburd. The difference may well be accounted for by the Germanic practice of pronouncing the final d of a word as t
The photo below is from the Ken Hoole centre collection.
Train engine numbers are 852 and 1505 but plough numbers are still to be determined.
Possible candidates are 1, 2, 3, or 6, all being built in 1887 / 8.
Numbers 7 and 8 although built in 1888 went to the Rosedale railway.
Numbers 1 and 3 are however unlikely due to them having open rear sections.
Whereas the one in the photo above is obviously an enclosed version.
Numbers 4 and 5 are unlikely due to there having single side windows.
However as a personal opinion I consider number 2 as being the most likely due to the variation from design as evident in the photo of 2 and 6 together shown later, despite being to the same general design. Cab windows and Door are in different positions, these may have been changed on rebuilding. This being possible, as the next ploughs were in build around this time but the design was for open rear sections.
This is one of the few railway accidents for which no Board of Trade report survives.