Devil Worship, Dope, and a West End Flat - A Weekly Dispatch Report from 1939.

The author John Worby on his wedding day.

This is the second installment of John Worby's "British Gangsters" article in The Weekly Dispatch published in 1939.

West End.

In Frith Street, Soho, I met Gladys, a girl I had known in Manchester. "Hullo Bert," she said, using the name she had known me by, "Since I last saw you I've learned a lot, and I've not forgotten what you said that night in Corporation Street, remember?"

"No," I replied "I meet so many people in my travels, I can't remember what I said to all of them."

"Well," she said, "I remember all too well. And if you hadn't stopped me I'd still be on the streets, Anyway, you don't look so bad."

I thought she might be in on something so I said "I've got about two shillings to see me through into another racket."

"Alright, but I'm not on my own, but if you want I can give you a good tip, be here at six o'clock tonight." With that she gave me a slip of paper with an address on it. I had a lot of time to kill so I walked around town wondering what sort of racket she was into. At six o'clock I was outside the address Gladys had given me, a nice little place in Shaftesbury Avenue.

I knocked and a head popped out of a window and a key was thrown down. I opened the door and there was a girl I'd never seen before asking me in.

Luxury Flat.

As the door closed behind me Gladys came in and greeted me. Talking to her friend - her name was Dippy, and she came from Newcastle - she said "This is the bloke I was telling you about, he once did me a good turn." She sat down in a nice easy chair, taking a cigarette she offered one, before I had lighted it, Dippy said "I'm off now, Glad, see you in the morning."

Gladys went to get a drink ready, and I took a look round. I saw real luxury for the first time in quite a while. "Swell joint you got here, Glad." "You ain't seen nothing yet." she said, "Here, have a drink, and I'll show you round."

Holding up my glass of whisky I said "Well, here's health girl." I drained my glass in two gulps, I shuddered, pulled a face, and felt the tingling warmth.

"What's up, Bert, don't you like whisky?" "Yes, but not as strong as that. I drink for effect, not for the taste."

"You'll get some effect all right, but only if you stop here long."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Sure," she said, "What do you think I've asked you here for?" First we went to her bedroom. It was beautifully furnished with two walnut twin beds. The wardrobe and the dressing table were also of walnut. The carpet was a thick pile. There was a telephone between the beds. The whole colour scheme was of ivory and gold.

We then went into the bathroom, where everything was also ivory and gold, with the walls of green tiles and mirrors hanging on them. The dining room was laid out in the same lavish fashion. The walls in every room were panelled with mirrors, so that the light was reflected from every corner. I learnt later that the whole place had cost Gladys £800 to do up this way.

My Advice.

"You've got me beat," I said.

"You'll soon see that you were the first to put this idea into my head."

We sat down in the room I had first come into, and Gladys told me how she had got on since that night in Manchester. When I had seen her then she had run away from home owing to some trouble, and was down and out. She tapped me for a cigarette. I could tell from her manner that she was fresh from home.

I only had a few bob on me, but I gave her what I could. And I advised her to "cheat" any men who were ready to take advantage of her lack of money. On coming to London she had met Dippy in Hyde Park, and after a few days they had decided to work together.

"Perhaps you think I've got this on tick, Bert, or I'm an old man's darling. If you do you'll soon see. You can stop here for as long as you like, but don't get me wrong."

"Glad, thanks for the break. I won't let you down."

That night Gladys and I drank a good deal of whisky and talked of her exploits, although well lit, she still looked composed and confident. As I looked across the room I saw a slight slim girl of about 23, with blond hair and blue eyes in a pale oval face. He eyes were sparkling with the effects of the drink, and she showed perfect white teeth between very red lips. I valued the jewellery she was wearing at about £300.

Boy Friend.

Just then the telephone bell rang. After answering it, Gladys came back and said, "It was only a friend who wanted me to go out with him tonight. He's got plenty of dough, but I keep him hoping; it does him good."

By this time it was getting late, so I took the opportunity of having a bath, and then went to bed. I lay down on a bed fit for a king, and wondered to myself how everything would turn out. I still intended to get a job, but first of all I wanted to see a bit of this racket.

While I was lying there thinking, Gladys came into the room, pulled a screen round her bed and went behind it. In a few minutes she pushed it back and stood there in a pair of silk pyjamas. She pattered about the room for a bit and then got into her bed.

When I awoke it was just getting daylight. I lay wondering what to do next, Gladys woke up at about ten o'clock. After breakfast she gave me ten bob to buy food for the day. With that I left, telling her I'd be back at the flat at six o'clock.

"Snide" Work.

I knew a spiv in Compton Street, and I made my first call there. We talked for some time, and then he asked me if I wanted to make a bit of easy dough. "Sure, I'm game for anything," I replied. 

A Spiv in action.

"Well, if you can change these before one o'clock, I'll see what can be done about it." As he spoke he gave me four snides (counterfeit half crowns). I left George and went on to a cafe. Here I met another fellow. "How's this?" I said, and I passed him a snide.

"My God, that's a good take! I'll give you a chip (shilling) for it and any more you can get hold of." At one o'clock I went to the address George had given me. He asked me in.

"Well, the baby's all right with me," I said. "A chip a time and as many as you can get hold of." He opened an oven and took out a tray of snide. He took off the lid of the press, and very carefully prised open the plaster. I saw two dozen snide of the best make. The dies were perfect, and the coins rang fairly true after they had been cooled and hardened in a mixture of George's own manufacture.

"Ok," I said, "I'll start graft with you in the morning."

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When I got back to the flat Gladys said, "Listen, Bonzo, I've got a job for you tonight. Meet me outside Boots Piccadilly, at eight." At eight I was on the spot at Boots. I hadn't been there many minutes when a taxi pulled up and Gladys got out.

As she brushed past me I felt a little jolt in my jacket pocket. I watched her go into the chemist's and then I went back to the flat. There I looked in my pocket, and found a wallet. In it were photographs, theatre tickets, stamps and also £28 10s.

I waited on pins and needles for Gladys to get back. The temptation to quit with the money got stronger every minute, but I made myself wait. At last I heard a taxi stop. An elderly man was just coming in at the door, I went quickly into the bathroom and shut the door. I heard them come in.

"What a nice place this is, Toots," the man said.

"Not bad is it? Sit down while I get you a drink."

In a few minutes Gladys came to the bathroom and whispered to me to creep outside and telephone her. I went out quietly to a call box and phoned Gladys. She told me to call in and see her. When I arrived back at the flat Gladys introduced me as a private detective. I then heard the story.

It appeared that Gladys had met Mr X when he was with another girl she had never seen before, Gladys was annoyed and had some words with the girl. During the struggle Mr X tried to separate them. The other girl then ran away and left Gladys with Mr X. Gladys was exhausted after the fight, and so they got into a taxi and went to Boots, where Gladys had a tonic.

From there they went to a cafe, and then Mr X found his wallet gone. He knew that Toots wouldn't do such a thing, and knew it must have been the other girl. He described her to me, and I knew at once it had to be Dippy.

Acting The Part.

I smiled to myself at the clever way these girls were working. Gladys gave me a few more details, from which I took my cue. I told Mr X that I would certainly find the girl, but pointed out there would be little chance of getting the money back without prosecution.

Mr X seemed reluctant to do this, but Gladys said it was the only way to stop honest men from being robbed by such trash as these. I left them then, having made arrangements to report to Gladys. I hung around for an hour or so and then rang up Gladys, who said it was ok. So I made my way up back to the flat.

Gladys told me Mr X had decided that he would rather let the matter drop than face any unpleasant publicity. She had lent the old boy a fiver and was going to get it back tomorrow. I was given £8 as my share.

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Next day when I went round George gave me 50 half crowns, and I realised that he wasn't the only one in the game, and that the mint I had seen was only a blind for suckers like me. After haggling, he agreed to pay me £1 a day if I got rid of the 50s worth a day. After seeing Rickets, who gave me the price of them, I went back to the flat.

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Gladys had just come in. She had a nice diamond ring on her finger. "Done it again?" I said. "Yeah. Mr X gave it to me, and sent you £5 for your trouble." While I was sitting down having a drink, Gladys said to me "Bonzo, I'm afraid the game is up."

I was surprised, and asked her why. "Dippy's going home, she's packed the job in. The silly girl wasn't satisfied with getting rocks (diamonds) and bracelets and things every day, and plenty of dough. I can't work at this game on my own, she was always the mug finder and I was the one who got the spoils."

I gave Gladys a double Scotch. One drink led to another, and by six o'clock she was talking some. "Listen, Bonzo," she said. "Lets you and me work together and make this dive a club."

"Sure, I'm game, but where's the dough?"

"Oh, I've got that," and she showed me a bank pass book with a sum in four figures. "And that ain't all. If I get rid of these rocks that'll be enough won't it?" As she spoke she unlocked a little desk and brought out a small box full of diamonds and precious stones of all sizes.

Year's Spoils.

Then she got another box containing rings, brooches, tie pins, watches, cigarette cases, and lighters - in fact, every kind of jewellery. "How the devil did you get all that?" I asked. "That's a year's work," she said. She told me more of her exploits, which were so amazing I could write a book about her alone.

While she never sold herself, the men she met were always her payroll. The rings and presents she got from them she saved, and what Dippy stole from them they shared. We talked for hours about the club plan, and before I knew what was happening I found myself kissing her and telling her that if she wanted me for a partner I was hers.

That night we had the time of our lives. We went to several clubs, and at last to one known as "The Devil Worshippers," an astonishing place. It was a large house in ------. When Gladys had given the password to the man on the door in curses, he in his turn cursed us into the house.

We went into one large room, where there were ten or twelve well dressed men and women. Across the back of the room I saw a large black velvet curtain, and painted on it in red and white was the most horrible picture of the devil. In the centre of the room was an alter with a cross.

We had not been in the room more than a few minutes when all the people there started to make queer animal noises in their throats. Then two or three men dressed as priests and clergy entered the room, followed by about six quite young girls dressed purely in white.

The procession solemnly filed along the centre of the room. I looked round and there was not a smile on any face. Then they all started to chant. It was so strange a sound it made my flesh creep. The people stood staring at the procession and as it drew level with them they fell with their faces to the floor, still making the same noises.

When the procession reached the altar in the middle of the room the priests and the six girls bowed to the cross. As they approached the black curtain at the end of the room it was drawn open. There stood a magnificent altar, draped in silks and velvets. On it were crosses, Bibles, chalices, and flowers in profusion. As the procession knelt in front of it I could hear a harmonium softly playing.

As the priest rose the lights changed to red, swathing the whole room in a red glow. At this signal the Lord's Prayer was said backwards, with curses, and a scene of sudden confusion followed. The cross in the centre of the room fell over and broke. The priests blasphemed, and seizing the Bibles, tore them to bits; the crosses were broken, and the trappings pulled from the altar.

By this time the people were worked into a frenzy. The priests threw off their robes, the girls had their white robes torn off them, and such a bestial orgy followed that I could not possibly describe here.

Screeching Mob.

While I watched this happening the smell of burning incense began to stupify my brain, and I felt that I should faint. I fought against this, but Gladys saw my distress and took me into a smaller room, where the air was purer. Here was a table loaded with food, but there was no cutlery on the table, nor plates of any sort.

In a few minutes a yelling screeching mob of men and women in a wild state of disorder surged into the room. They grabbed at the food, pulling and tearing at it in their fingers, and making noises like animals.

At last we got away from this place. I had seen everything and far more than I wanted to. My head was in a whirl. I wondered how on earth people came to do these things. "If you get bread and butter from such places it doesn't do to have qualms," said Gladys. Then she pulled out a jewelled clasp. She had found it on the floor during the orgy.

"That's worth a visit, ain't it bert?"

Few people taught me more about the West End underworld than Gladys. One of her favorite tricks was to get a man drunk and then take his wallet, cufflinks, watch, rings, and cigarette case. Many times she came very near to being arrested. She would have been if it hadn't been that I answered the door and swore that it must have been a mistake, as I was the only person living there.

By this time she was well known in almost every night club in the West End; and the most select ones barred her.

Jimmy The Rat.

Occasionally the influence of a well heeled toff would get her into one, and then she nearly always managed to bring home the bacon. Soon Gladys sold all her possessions and started a night club of her own in Soho, the premises consisted of five rooms and a basement.

In a few weeks we were quite popular, and all would have gone well had Gladys stopped letting off rooms to girls, dancing and drink. But, she became very friendly with Jimmy the Rat. There was no crime which he hadn't committed and would commit again.

He was five feet eight inches high, with slim hips, but his shoulders were so square it looked as though the coat hanger had been left in the jacket. He had a broad flat nose on a thin pinched face, and when he spoke to you his beady eyes would roam around everywhere but at your face. Although his black hair was greased flat to his skull, the grease could not hide the kink which showed the Jamaican in him.

One night when Jimmy the Rat was talking to her, Gladys asked me to go along with him and fetch back a parcel. This I did, giving it to Gladys when I got back to the club. When she opened it she said, "Well, Bonzo, there's big dough in this. Take a sniff?" and she offered me a box of white powder. We both took a sniff; but I swore I'd never take another, and I never have.

"Easy dough, eh?"

"Yeah," I replied. "And plenty of time staring at us in the face too!"

Soon after this I noticed that the girls were hiring the rooms to dope the mugs they caught - and Gladys was selling them the dope for the trick. They always gave Gladys a pound or two when they led their dazed men out into the street. Sometimes it was my job to go and help with a fellow who'd had too much of it.

When this happened a special taxi was called, and the driver well paid to dump his fare in the Mall or some quiet side street. The profits grew so large that Gladys fired the band and turned the place into a plain dope den and place where the girls could bring their men victims. The large basement room was divided into cubicles, and there the dope addicts soaked themselves.

At last Gladys got into the white slave racket. She made a contract with a South American for a constant supply of white girls. She would send out a woman to accost girls in lodgings and hostels. These were engaged as maids in Gladys's flat.

Police Raid.

After a week or two Gladys would tell the girl she knew a wealthy couple, old and sometimes crippled, very fond of travelling, who wanted a girl like her. An appointment would be made, and the girl would be engaged by the couple.  She was told to meet them in South America, and all her expenses were paid.

At last I found I couldn't stand this racket no longer, and pretending I was jealous of Jimmy the Rat, I cleared out. I left this racket just in time, as the place was raided soon after. Gladys had been tipped off, and was therefore prepared, so she and Jimmy the Rat got away in time.

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Later I found myself once more, broke. One morning in Trafalgar Square I got talking to a waiter. He told me he knew of a hotel where they wanted stewards. "You'll get a pound a week, and a few tips," he said, "and they'll give you your board, but you've got to find your own clobber."

I went to see the manager, got the job, and was told to start the next day. But I was faced with the problem of finding the necessary clothes. I left the place and walked down the road thinking out my problem. As luck would have it, I came across a little old man pushing a barrow laden with all sorts of rubbish. Among it was an old dress suit. It was soon in my posession.

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Next morning at five I walked into the bunkhouse, where five stewards were still sleeping. I sat on the edge of the empty bunk. It was not long before a chef came in and started to shout. Four of the stewards woke up immediately and sat up stretching. One did not and the chef seized hold of his bed and tipped him out onto the floor. The chef then spotted me.

"I'm the new steward," I said.

"You're number three floor," he said. "You've eighteen trays to set up for early morning tea. Look alive now, because it'll soon be ready

"Righto chef," I said sarcastically, thinking my job wouldn't last a week under a boss like that. As the chef left the bunkhouse the other stewards were clambering into their clothes. "You've got a good floor," said one, "I wish I had it."

Black Sheep.

This young steward, whose name was Gibb, as I soon learned, took an immediate fancy to me. He was very tall and about twenty four years old. He was apparently the black sheep of the lot, for while the others rushed and hurried to get ready he merely sat up on the floor where he had been tipped by the chef and carried on his conversation.

"What do I have to do?" I asked, "I got the job yesterday, but I didn't have any clobber. I tapped this suit of a tatter last night."

"Don't worry. You won't have to use that until tonight. Here, put this on," and he chucked me a white coat and black bow tie. We walked to the kitchen together. I was careful to do exactly as he did. When he put up his hand for a tray I put mine up too. When he covered his tray with a serviette I covered mine with a serviette; when he got his teapot I got mine, and filled it from the same tap.

When I got my tray set I wondered who on my floor wanted early morning tea. I asked Gibby and he said, "No one on your floor takes early morning tea. That's why yours is such a good floor. You can sleep in another half hour. You can help with mine this morning. It'll help to break you in."

And so for the next hour I busied myself on Gibby's floor, right on top of the building. "Take the tray you've got there into No. 22, Miss So and so. Here y'are, here's the pass key. She'll probably be lying on the bed with half the clothes off."

True to Gibby's expectations, when I opened the door and approached the bed, there lying on the divan bed, her head nicely cushioned on a pillow, with her arms flung sideways, and the bedclothes flung back, was the young lady. I placed the tray on the stool at her side and said, "Your tea, miss."

She must have been awake for some time, as she opened her eyes without hesitation or the least sign of drowsiness, and smiled, saying, "Oh, thanks so much steward. You'll find 6d on the dressing table for you."

Five Predecessors.

"Thanks madam," I said. As I moved over to the dressing table she got out of bed to show me where it was. Then she suddenly remembered that she hadn't left it there at all, and padded across the room to take it out of her purse, standing in front of the door as she gave it to me. I thanked her and bowed my way out.

I met Gibby on the landing and gave him his 6d, which he refused, saying, "You keep it, kid." After our own breakfast I climbed the stairs to my own floor with my first tray, opened a door, and entered. I saw lying in the bed an elderly man, who said, "Good morning. What, another new steward? That's five on this floor since I've been here."

The next breakfast was for Miss Blonde, who, lying in bed awake with just a sheet over her, showed a slim figure about six feet long. Again I got the greeting, "What, another steward!" It took me a good hour to finish my floor. In this time I had taken twelve trays.

That night the time came when I was to expose my shortage of clothes, and although Gibby had expected almost anything of my dressing, he never expected the sight I presented when I tried on my suit. It fitted me perfectly where it touched, but it touched in very few places. It must have been made for a fat man at least six foot tall.

With the help of a pair of manicure scissors I gaily snipped away at the bottoms of the trouser legs until I had reduced them to a suitable length. Here Gibby came to my assistance, and grabbing the trousers at the waist, he gave them a tug until they looked like a fit. Then he pinned the spare cloth at the back of the trousers over in a six inch pleat, fastened it with three safety pins.

The matter of the shirt was much more difficult, as Gibby had sent his shirts to the laundry with the exception of the one he had to wear. Then he had a brainwave. Racing upstairs to the dining room, he came down with a handful of menu cards. Two he fitted with studs and tied round my chest to represent a shirt front, and a third at the back on which to fix the collar.

Cuts And Pins.

Cuffs he made by creasing a menu card and bending it round my wrist, securing it to my shirt sleeve with pins. He cut a collar out of another menu card and this, with the black bow tie he had lent me, looked quite effective.

I cleaned my shoes, and then came the job of making the waistcoat and coat fit me. The waistcoat wasn't so bad, as Gibby had treated it in the same manner as he had the trousers. The coat fitted me at the shoulders, but the tips of my fingers could only just be seen below the sleeves. However, with the help of the faithful scissors and a few more pins, we soon overcame this difficulty.

With all these gadgets of string and pins I was afraid to bend. Even the sergeant major in my army days could not have made me walk more erect than I did when carrying in my first plate of soup, with a towel gingerly tucked over my arm to cover up my cuff.

As I walked down the dining room between four long rows of dining tables, each one for the guests of a floor. I felt very self conscious, I swerved five without mishap. It was when I was taking out a pile of plates that I overreached myself, and a safety pin unsprung with a snap at the back of my trousers. I felt a sharp stab in my rear. It soon straightened me out, and I walked majestically out of the room, keeping my back as far away as I could from the pin.

With each step I could feel a nasty prick, and I nearly strained by belly with my efforts. I had almost reached the door of the dining room when I tripped in this acrobatic act, and the plates went crashing to the floor. Instinctively I bent down to repair the damage, and again I suddenly straightened up as the pin jabbed in.

Trimmings Burst.

Suddenly the menu cards burst from their moorings. I could have cried with fury. Gibby, however, came to my assistance, and he cleared up the mess while I dashed out into the bunkhouse. I thought my job was lost, and anyway I was too ashamed to go back, thinking that everyone in the room had seen my discomfiture.

I was waiting for the chef to come in and fire me on the spot, when Gibby came in and said, "Don't worry about it, nobody noticed. Why don't you take a risk and borrow a shirt from Mr X's room on your floor? He won't miss it."

It struck me as a good idea, and I dashed upstairs and borrowed the required shirt and collar, taking a pair of shoes at the same time. The shoes, however, didn't fit, so I returned them later. The shirt, when I tried it on, was half a size too small, but I managed to make it fit, despite the danger of strangulation. As I looked at myself in the mirror I was getting redder and redder, and streams of perspiration ran down my face.

It was a great relief when, after dinner was over, I took it off. I dreaded dinner time the next day when I would again have to go through the same procedure.

"Borrowed" Suit.

However, the following day I was very lucky, as a man on Gibby's floor was going away for a few days and had left his dress suit behind. It was almost a perfect fit and after going through the wardrobes of several gentlemen guests whose clothes fitted me, I borrowed shirts, collars, and shoes. The only twinge of conscience I had was when I served a man wearing his own shirt.

Perhaps I should have taken a lesson from this, as two days later the man who's suit I had borrowed showed up for dinner. I was unnerved when I saw him and Gibby talking hotly. I guessed that he was asking Gibby where his suit had gone.

But Gibby was never at a loss for an excuse, and explained that he had sent it to the cleaners as he had discovered a stain on the lapel. I was never so amused in my life as when Gibby, later in the evening, told me that the man had dropped him a crown for being so thoughtful.

Anyway, in three or four days I had collected enough in tips to pay for alterations to my dress suit, and it was quite a relief to get back into my own clothes again. 

We brushed and ironed the borrowed suit and Gibby found a cleaner's box in which we returned it. Before taking it back, he marked on the box in blue pencil, "Paid 4s 6d." Out of this, which he collected later, he paid me half a crown.

The Murder of Harriet Lane, the Wainwright Case of 1874.

The Arrest, Trial And Execution Of Henry Wainwright, from Chronicles Of Crime And Criminals by Anonymous.

In the East End of London, in a busy and populous region, the subject of our sketch had done a large business as a brushmaker at No. 215 Whitechapel Road. Up to the time of his arrest nothing was known against his character and he was looked upon as an honest, upright and industrious citizen.

The deed, for which he was tried, and afterwards executed, was very deliberately planned, and diabolically carried out, but the precautions taken to insure concealment, although elaborate, were unsuccessful, partly through his own carelessness, partly through ill luck that will often mar the best combinations.

There was no sort of suspicion against Wainwright.

Although a woman with whom he was on intimate terms had been missing for a year, her disappearance had been explained without the slightest suspicion that a dastardly murder had been done.

Just at this time, September 1874, Wainwright had taken new premises across the river at Southwark, he having met with reverses in business, and bankruptcy, and it was when he sought the assistance of a fellow workman, once in his own employ, to help him in a small job at his old premises, that the fact of foul play was first brought to light.

This man, Stokes by name, accompanied Wainwright to 215 Whitechapel Road and entered the workshop on the ground floor. The job for Stokes was to help carry out a couple of heavy parcels that lay on the floor, wrapped up in black American cloth and covered with strong rope.

"Pick 'em up will you?" said Wainwright. "Only just wait while I see if the land is clear. There's that nagging old Johnston in the court. I don't want to see him!"

Stokes tried the parcels, but protested they were too heavy. Wainwright lent him a hand, and the pair carried them down Vine Court and into the street, as far as the church in the Whitechapel Road.

"Stop! You hold on here while I hail a cab," said Wainwright, and left Stokes alone with the parcels. Long afterwards, just before Wainwright's execution, Stokes wrote him a curious letter, detailing his sensations while waiting by the church. Something within him, he declared, some mysterious voice, some hidden but imperious impulse urged him to examine the parcels.

He was not satisfied about them!

Wainwright had said they contained hair bristles for brush making; had cautioned him not to drop them lest they should break. How could bristles break? They gave off a strong smell. A peculiar, offensive odour. Wainwright had said this was due to there having been so long under the straw. But bristles could never smell this way.

Again, another suspicious circumstance occurred to him, before leaving the workshop in Whitechapel Road Wainwright had given him a spade, a hammer and chopper, and told him to sell them for what they would fetch. There was suspicious stuff on the chopper. A sticky sort of dirt which smelt badly.

A shudder went through him. Was it blood!!

As he stood there irresolute and unhappy the voice kept constantly saying: 

"Open the parcel! Open it, open it, open it!"

He yielded, he could not help himself. He pulled all the wrappers aside and saw - A HUMAN HEAD!

First the crop of light hair, then the entire head. "It must be murder! Nothing less than cruel, bloody, murder!"

This was Stokes' immediate conclusion, and he was so terrified by his shocking discovery that , so he said: "His hair stood on end and his hat fell off."

After the first glimpse he could not resist making a closer scrutiny of the contents. He saw the head again, and more plainly. A severed head. The short hair was much matted and encrusted with earth and dirt.

Nor was the head the only horror within the parcel. Looking a little further he came upon - a human hand and then a human arm. Then Wainwright returned, bringing a cab. Quietly without suspicion, he told Stokes to put the parcels into the cab, saying sharply to the driver: "Now, cabby, to the Commercial Road. And you, Stokes, I'll come round to your place tonight." Stokes had missed his chance!

He should have called the police, and at once given Wainwright into custody. When afterwards asked by the coroner why he did not do so, he confessed he was afraid of Wainwright, who he knew to be a dangerous man. Now Stokes, still urged by the "small, still voice within," decided to pursue the cab.

He ran after it at full speed, and once gained a little as it stopped at Greenfield Street to pick up a woman who was waiting there. This woman, Alice Day, was afterwards arrested as an accomplice, but soon discharged, there being nothing to connect her with the crime.

Again the cab drove on, Stokes growing more and more breathless behind. Down Aldgate High Street, then towards Fenchurch Street, on to Leadenhall Street, and there it branched off to London Bridge and crossed the river.

Stokes was taken as a lunatic as he raced along. Two policemen whom he met only laughed at him derisively as he pointed to the cab ahead and gasped: "That cab - there, ahead. Stop it - murder - parcels - two parcels -!"

He was now all but distanced. But, once more the cab stopped. At the Hop Exchange, in the Borough. Stokes got within ten yards of it. Here there were two policemen, and their sense of duty was stronger than that of their colleagues aforementioned. When Stokes appealed to them they listened and were prepared to act.

"See that man?" said Stokes. He pointed to Wainwright, who had alighted from the cab, and with one parcel had walked on some thirty or forty yards, in the direction of a shop still known as the Hen and Chickens. "See him? Hurry after him. Stop him, he's a murderer, see what he does with it!"

Stokes had done his part; it was now for the police to act. One constable followed promptly; the other took post and watched the cab. When Wainwright entered the Hen and Chickens the first constable came back and rejoined the second at the cab.

Presently Wainwright returned smoking a cigar. He did not appear to notice the policemen, but, lifting out the second parcel walked off again to the Hen and Chickens. The constables were now at his heels, and one asked: " Do you live in here?"

"No"

"Have you possession of the premises?"

"I have, and you haven't," answered Wainwright with much effrontery.

"What is in the parcel? What have you done with the other? You go into the house mate, and see if it's there while I look at this," went on the policeman.

"Don't touch it!" cried Wainwright. "Ask no questions. Let me alone. Let me go. I'll give £50 - £100 - £200, anything, and plank down the money at once - only let me go!"

To offer a policeman a bribe is perhaps the safest way to encourage his suspicion - yes, the murderer's time had come. Within a few seconds the parcel was torn open, and the ghastly contents exposed. Wainwright's arrest followed then and there, and the parcels were taken to the police station.

On examination one was found to contain the trunk of a human body, and the other the remaining parts, the whole forming a ghastly spectacle and gruesome evidence of a dastardly murder.

The remains were those of a female. Two bullet holes were found in the brain, and a third in the back of the head. The throat had also been cut. It was a severe wound, inflicted with great violence. Meanwhile the search of Wainwright's Whitechapel premises had been prosecuted. With one of the keys taken from his pocket the back door was opened and the theatre of this crime entered.

At about twenty feet from the door it was at once seen that a part of the flooring had been taken up and recently, roughly and hastily replaced. The boards were speedily again removed. An open grave, but lately used, yawned beneath. The earth was largely mixed with chlorine of lime.

Illustrated Police News, Saturday 25th December 1875

The murderer had made a fatal mistake. He expected chlorine of lime to have eaten up the evidence of his revolting crime, but it had just the contrary effect. The dismembered parts were effectually preserved. The murderer, by his stupidity and want of knowledge, had forged the chains of guilt around him, and had compassed his own destruction.

Various murderous implements were found on the spot. A new spade, recently used, an open pocket knife, a chopper, or cleaver, on which was much sticky fleshy matter - undoubtedly congealed blood. In the corner just behind the back door, on removing the rubbish, many splotches of blood were found, and every evidence went to prove the certainty and enormity of a great crime.

But who was the woman?

Who was the victim of this foul fiend?

A man named Taylor gave the first clue to the mystery. He thought the remains might be those of his sister in law, Harriet Lane.

Penny Illustrated Paper, Saturday 25th September 1875

She had been missing for about twelve months. She had been intimate with Wainwright. His description of her was minute and particular. The police without hesitation allowed him to view the remains. He at once identified them as those of Harriet Lane.

He also identified various articles of dress found in the grave and in the house. Harriet Lane had worn earrings, and two of these ornaments were picked out of the grate in the fireplace. She wore a ring and keeper. Both these were found in the grave.

A number of Harriet Lane's relatives soon gave corroborative testimony. Now to prove the connection between the murderer and the victim! The chain of identity was complete. It was beyond doubt that Wainwright had been intimate with her for a long time, and that she left her last lodgings in Sydney Square, Mile End, with the avowed intention of going to live with "Wainwright at 215 Whitechapel Road."

This was on the 11th September 1874.

She was never seen alive after that day. Nothing had been heard of her since. Although on good terms with her relatives, she had entirely disappeared.

After a time Mrs Taylor went to Wainwright and asked after her sister. He said he had given her money to go to the seaside for a holiday. Two months later she went again. Wainwright said Harriet had gone off with a gentleman who had come into a fortune.

Old Mr Lane, her father, had also been to Wainwright, demanding his daughter, dead or alive. Wainwright put him off with another story. He produced telegrams to prove his story. But he read them out himself. All these were lies - in plain English, most damnable lies.

The poor victim had long lain in her grave. The telegrams mentioned were proved to have been written by Wainwright's brother, Thomas, who was afterwards tried and sent to penal servitude as an accomplice of this cruel murder. The web was tightening. Long before the trial it had been woven round Henry Wainwright.

Justice was about to be done, and that right speedily. There was proof that he bought a quantity of chloride of lime on the 10th September, the night previous to the cime; also an axe and spade!

A man working in a shed next to 215 Whitechapel Road could swear to hearing reports of pistol shots on the evening of the 11th September. Two shots were fired in rapid succession. The few hairs found on the spade were found to correspond with those of the poor victim' s head, and the sticky matter found on the chopper or cleaver was blood, yes, human blood.

A strange story came out in the course of the investigation which also told against Wainwright, and is another evidence of the keen instinct, or great sagacity of a dog.

In October 1874, while Wainwright still occupied 215 Whitechapel Road for business purposes, his manager owned a dog who was in a state of continued restlessness while in the workshop. He was forever scratching at the boards of the flooring just above the place where the grave had been made. It was supposed the dog was after rats. 

At last the dog disappeared. The manager and his wife went out one evening, leaving the dog with Wainwright, who, without doubt, did away with it, it was never seen again.

There were no signs of apprehension about him; his features showed only a half awakened attention; he occasionally bit his lips, and unconsciously rubbed one hand over the other. At his final arraignment his appearance had totally changed. He had grown haggard and careworn, and was unmistakably anxious for the result.

His trial commenced at the Old Bailey on the 22nd of November, and was finished on December 1st, 1875. His guilt was proven to the satisfaction of the court, and the jury had no hesitation to their verdict.

They unanimously found him guilty, and Lord Chief Justice Cockburn sentenced him to be hanged on 22nd December, on which date this miscreant met the fate he so richly deserved.

Wainwright solemnly declared that he was innocent. He used strong and remarkable language. "I will only say, standing as I do upon the brink of eternity, that I swear I am not the murderer of the remains found in my possession. I swear I have never fired a pistol shot in my life. I swear also that I did not bury the mutilated remains, nor did I exhume them."

Illustrated Police News, Saturday 23rd October 1875

He persisted in this denial almost to the last. Just before going to the scaffold he confessed he deserved his fate, but still he would not admit that he was to the fullest extent guilty of murder.

It was supposed at the time, and the impression has survived, that the crime was not his handiwork alone; and his brother Thomas, who stood with him in the dock, and who was sentenced as an accessory to seven years penal servitude, had take an active part in the murder - had perhaps been the principal in committing the deed.

One curious feature in the Wainwright case was the outward respectability of the accused. He was shown in the course of the trial to be a man of notorious immoral life, yet for years he had posed as a prominent Christian, and member of many religious societies in the East End of London, and was popular in that district for his recitations and amateur performances, on their behalf, in the interest of religion.

Thus perished one of the greatest scoundrels that ever existed and one who had long lived the life of a profound hypocrite. In this case we see, the murder was brought to light almost by chance and the guilty scoundrel punished; but many crimes are committed in the great cities of the world for which no one is ever brought to account, and they pass on as mysteries in the great field of crime.

Other horrible and gruesome crimes.

Many cases have happened where criminals have sought concealment of their victims remains by burial or other modes of disposal, and wonderful cases of the defeat of such attempts have transpired. Just here, perhaps, it will be interesting to note one or two most remarkable cases, not only in London, but in Paris and elsewhere.

Many years ago in London, two boys rowing a boat up the river Thames came upon a carpet bag lying caught upon one of the buttresses of Waterloo Bridge. The carpet bag was hanging just above the water. It had been placed there overnight, or someone from above had thrown the bag down and it had lodged on the buttress of the bridge.

The boys got possession of it, thinking they had got a prize. It was locked and corded, the rope having been trailing in the water when first seen. The cord was cut, the lock forced and the contents of the bag laid bare.

These were the mutilated fragments of a human body. They were chopped up into a number of pieces. The police were called, who took the find to the police station. On examination by a medical man it was found that the parts belonged, all of them, to the same body. There were twenty three pieces in all.

Mostly bones with flesh adhering to them. They had been sawn or chopped into small pieces. Without doubt the mutilation was done to destroy identification. The hands, head, and feet were missing.

There was nothing left that could well assist identification - no marks or peculiarities - nothing beyond the fact that the deceased was a dark hairy man. There was, however, plainly visible a knife stab between the fourth and fifth ribs. Undoubtedly the cause of death, its direction plainly showing that it must have entered the heart.

It was further proved that the remains had been partially boiled, and subsequently salted or placed in brine. The clothes were that of a foreigner. They were much cut and torn, and were all more or less bloodstained. Most of the bloodstains were inside. The knife had penetrated clean straight through the clothes while on the body and into the heart. 

A reward of £300 was offered for the discovery of the murderer, but it was quite without effect. The crime was never brought home to anyone.

The police had reason to believe that the man murdered was a sailor belonging to some ship then lying in the Thames. Nothing that could lead to identification was forthcoming, and, failing this, the mystery was never solved.

Another case in london known as the "Battersea Mystery" happened just prior to the Wainwright murder. A package containing human remains was found upon the mud banks of the Thames near Battersea Waterworks. 

It was pronounced by the doctors to be the mutilated trunk of a female, and to have been barely twelve hours in the water. More discoveries rapidly followed. The lungs were found, one under Battersea Bridge, the other near the Battersea Railway Pier. These all corresponded, and were easily pieced together as part of the same body.

The head had been severed. A sharp knife and saw had been used. The face half of the head had floated down below Limehouse and was there picked up. It was mutilated beyond all recognition.

Other fragments, limbs, and parts of limbs, were found further down river near the Albert Embankment, Rotherhithe, Greenwich, and near Woolwich. The body was put together by a Dr Haydon and pronounced that of a female.

The face, although much battered, bore the trace of a wound on the right temple. It had crushed in the skull and must have caused instantaneous death. The body had evidently been cut up and, piece by piece, thrown into the river.

From that day to this, no one has ever been suspected, much less arrested, for this most undoubted crime, and it adds one more to the long list of Murder Mysteries.

In April 1878, human remains were found in a bedroom of the Hotel Jeanson, Paris, in the Rue Poliveau. Two legs and arms, a woman's, wrapped in black, glazed paper. Other articles were with them, a black petticoat and three shirts in red and blue stripes. The parcel was tied up with thread and old binding.

These remains had been hidden in a cupboard, and lay there just a fortnight.

The fragments and articles were taken to the morgue, and viewed day after day by the public. They were never identified, and the episode has long been forgotten.

One evening in September Madame Thierry, a respectable housewife in the Rue De La Chapelle, Paris, was seated at her doorway enjoying the cool evening when she observed a man on the other side of the street very oddly engaged. He was strewing the roadway with scraps of meat!

At the opening of a sewer he threw down a larger piece, which looked like a whole joint. Her suspicions were aroused, and seeking an acquaintance, they went together to report the circumstances to the Commissary of Police.

A search was at once instituted. The result was the discovery of many fragments, all undoubtedly human remains. Enough nearly to form the body, the head alone being still wanting.

Now Madame Thierry came forward with a strange statement. She had dreamt of nothing but the strange incident and had been haunted perpetually with the shadowy resemblance of the man with someone she knew. It was a police officer, a former neighbour of hers in the Rue Des Rosiers.

"He lived next door," she said. "A tall, stout man, a police sergeant, who, when in plain clothes, was uncommonly like the man I saw the other night."

Now, it was remembered that a stout police officer named Prevost was attached to the division which included Rue Des Rosiers. Prevost was summoned from the police at the very moment he was discussing the recent discovery and was saying, "I would never allow myself to be caught, if I did it. If I killed a man I would disfigure him so that no one would identify him, I'd cut him up and get rid of him in such a way that no one would find the pieces."

He said, "to cover up a crime is very easy," and truly, "that many murders were never discovered." He was confronted with Madame Thierry, who at once identified him!

Further enquiry brought to light the fact that Prevost was absent from duty the night Mrs Thierry had seen the man distributing the scraps of meat. All his assurances left him then and he confessed the crime.

His victim was a jeweller's traveller named Lenoble; and he killed him for a watch and chain and some glittering baubles which Lenoble offered for sale. The head was the sole portion of the murdered man's remains that was still undiscovered.

Prevost was pressed to say what he had done with it. After a pause he pointed silently to the fireplace. The head had been stuffed up the chimney. When it was dragged down it is said to have looked exactly like a barber's block. The face was handsome, the features were perfectly regular, and the complexion was as clear as wax.

To complete the resemblance the dark mustaches were carefully trimmed, and the deep toned chestnut hair was curled closely round the head. Prevost confessed he had intended to boil the head so as to render it quite unrecognisable, but his prompt arrest prevented this.

Extreme surprise was expressed by the police authorities at Prevost's confession. Till now he had borne an exemplary character. But now other suspicions were aroused. It was remembered that a woman whom Prevost was intimate had disappeared soon after paying him a visit. By his confession it was proved Prevost murdered her.

Victor Prevost

The details of dismemberment were much the same as in Lenoble's case. The fragments were distributed in the same way. The head, when severed from the body, was buried in the glacis of the old fortifications. Prevost obliterated the blood stains made in the process of cutting up by pouring ink on them.

There is no doubt that Prevost would have enjoyed absolute immunity over his first crime had he not been so easily led into a second. No doubt, but for the chance recognition of Madame Thierry, he would again have escaped scot free.

By an inscrutable providence, however, he was detected and paid the penalty of his crime under the guillotine.

The Execution of Prevost

In Norwich, England, many years ago a murder was committed which would have remained a mystery forever unsolved but for the voluntary confession of the criminal.

In the year 1851 a tailor resided in Norwich, a man named Sheward, married to a woman older than himself, and they were somewhat strained in their relationship. In the month of June Mrs Sheward disappeared. Sheward gave out that she had left him of her own accord - eloped to London.

This was not accepted as a final explanation by her relatives, yet no steps were taken against Sheward for the reasons to be now set forth.

Very soon after Mrs Shewards disappearance a quantity of human remains were found in a road leading to Lakenham, now a suburb of Norwich. First a hand, and then a foot were found. And on several succeeding days bones and fragments of flesh were picked up in the city, and near Norwich. A number of portions were found and it was presently possible to reconstitute the body for medical examination.

The doctors gave their verdict without hesitation. It was the body of a young woman about 26 years of age. The grounds on which this decision was made were published long afterwards.

A surgeon deposed that the "well filled under structures of the skin, its delicacy, the neatness of the foot, that of a person not accustomed to toil or to wear coarse, heavy shoes, the clean, well trimmed nails of both hands and feet," led him to fix her age between sixteen and twenty six.

Yet this same surgeon admitted at the assizes eighteen years later that these appearances were not inconsistent with much greater age, fifty four even, the age of Mrs Sheward, in fact, at the time she was first missed. Had the medical evidence been more accurate at that early date the man Sheward would hardly escaped stronger suspicion.

It seems a little strange that a closer investigation was not used, seeing that the disappearance of Mrs Sheward and the discovery of the remains were so nearly coincident in time.

But Sheward was esteemed as a mild, inoffensive creature, and his explanation of his wife's departure looked natural and plausible enough. So the murderer was left with his guilt unharrassed and unmolested, but no doubt continually tormented by his own conscience and reminded of his crime.

Only a couple of years after the deed his wife came into some money and he was called upon to produce her. It was easy to realise his terror lest the old lame excuse of her elopement should not be accepted by the relatives and co-beneficiaries. Still he held his ground.

By and bye he married again, and still pursued his old trade. But it was observed he grew more and more depressed, that he took to drinking, that he talked of leaving Norwich for good, and at the last he went to London, and was led, by imperious impulse, to the very spot in Walworth where he had first made the acquaintance of his murdered wife.

Then his crime was so forcibly brought home to him that he resolved to take his own life. "But the Almighty would not let me do it," so he told the authorities, for now he went and gave himself up to the police. Just eighteen years had elapsed since the crime.

At the time of his surrender he had a razor in his pocket, but had not dared to commit suicide. His confession was not at first credited. He was thought deranged, but he persisted in his statements, indicted on his own confession, which he afterwards withdrew. But he was found guilty and in due course executed.

When in his condemned cell he made a clean breast of his crime and described exactly what had occurred. There had been an altercation about money matters. Sheward had grown wild with passion, and attacked her with a razor, which he ran into her throat.

"She never spoke again," he said. "I then threw an apron over her head and went out." That night he slept in the house. Next morning he commenced his horrible task. For several days he worked hard at the gruesome task of preparing for the disposal of the body.

His proceedings were akin to those other murderers of his class, and he tried various processes detailed in other cases. On the fifth day he had completed the dismemberment, and had almost entirely disposed of the remains by throwing them down sewers, or burying them in the suburbs.

He burnt all the clothes and bed linen, last of all "the long hair" - it was light auburn and plentiful. "I cut it up with a pair of scissors into small pieces, and they blew away as I walked along." The mutilations had been so complete that even the ring finger had been cut off.

In this case we see another instance - of many - where medical evidence has been completely astray, yet the incontestable fact remains, that "murder will out," and the cases are comparatively few where the murderer escaped detection and his just reward.

The Distant Roar Of A Long Tom.

 

Aiming the Long Tom at Mafeking.

Our Forts Need Guns!

The Long Tom was a siege gun of French manufacture, made at the Schneider & Cie works in Le Creusot , Bourgogne-Franche-Comte region of eastern France. The gun was a 155mm (6") monster that could hurl a 43kg (94lb) shell some 9.88km (6.1 miles).

The propellant cartridge was a canvas bag of black powder and it shot one of three types of shell. The explosive shell containing MC30 explosives, a shrapnel shell with a percussion cap or a time fuse, during the early days of the war this timer did not work very well causing all sorts of problems, and finally when things got really sticky, case shot, this turns the artillery piece into a giant shotgun!

After the abortive raid into the Transvaal by Dr Leander Starr Jameson and his men in 1896, the Transvaal government, under the leadership of Paul Kruger, had built four forts around Pretoria. These forts were called Klapperkop, Schanskop, Daspoortrand and the superbly named Wonderboompoort. Four Creusot 155mm Long Toms were purchased to be housed in the forts along with 4,000 explosive, 4,000 shrapnel and 800 case shot shells.

Two years later these defensive guns were to have their offensive baptism of fire when the second Anglo-Boer War broke out on the 11th October 1899.

To The Front!

On the 12th October the Boers invaded Natal and Cape Colony, in Natal the natural reaction was to drive straight for Durban and capture that very important port, but the Boer high command had other ideas. With the scattered British forces on the back foot the Boers soon surrounded the towns of Ladysmith (Natal), Kimberley and Mafeking (Cape Colony).

With these towns now totally cut off from outside British help the Boers needed some devastating firepower, and so the four Long Toms headed south and west to the war. One went to harass Mafeking, while the other three made their way to Ladysmith, Kimberley, for the moment, would be spared the ominous sound of an incoming 94lb shell. 

A Long Tom attracts crowds at Pretoria station.

Keeping up with the movements and the actions of the Long Tom is made rather difficult due to the British habit of calling the 75mm Krupp field gun which fired a 18kg (40lb) shell a Long Tom. When the first shells started to fall on Ladysmith from Lombard's Kop they were fired from these guns, in a newspaper report they were referred  to as "Klapperkop Toms" some would be destroyed by counter battery fire from the British positions within Ladysmith.

Ladysmith.

By the 3rd November a Creusot 155mm Long Top was positioned on Pepworth Hill (Rietfontein Hill), during heavy fighting around Lombard's Kop several British regiments were compelled to retreat under fire, even with the British guns putting down a barrage under which the troops could withdraw, the Long Tom on Pepworth Hill caused severe casualties amongst the exposed British.

Within the week a second Long Tom nicknamed "Puffing Billy" had been positioned on Bulwana Hill, this gun soon began dropping shells into the besieged town, without, apparently, doing much damage. Meanwhile the British guns had severely damaged a 40lb gun on Hepworth Hill.

Luckily for the British garrison the Long Toms were not smokeless, a cloud of white smoke heralded an incoming shell, several buildings were damaged by their attentions, and there are many stories in contemporary news reports of the narrow escapes experienced by the defenders.

On the 27th November a third Long Tom was positioned on Middle Hill.

Even with three Long Toms, and many artillery pieces of various calibres dotted around the hillsides, well dug in troops and a stranglehold on the town, Ladysmith still proved a tough nut to crack. On the defenders side they had around 12,500 men, the Boers nearly 21,000. The British had been bolstered by many units coming in from those early battles in Natal, which included a 4.7" Naval gun and some 12 pounders.

The British relief force under General Buller was being held back on the River Tugela, several attempts would be made to breach the Tugela line but they all ended in defeat, the humiliation of "black week" would be hard to bear, but I'm jumping ahead. The occupants of Ladysmith could communicate with Buller through searchlights and heliographs, but for all intents and purposes, they were on their own.

When a burst of a Long Tom was seen, the 12 pounders would open up on that area of hill with shrapnel rounds, hoping to dissuade the crew from returning to the gun, or better still, make the Boers train new crews. It was reported on the 8th December that the crew of the Pepworth Hill Long Tom had indeed been killed, but like many of these reports, it was hard to verify, and probably referred to a Krupp gun or just wishful thinking.

White puffs of smoke from the Long Tom on Pepworth Hill.

But the shelling continued anyway, although in a haphazard way, the time between shells was quite varied, although relatively ineffective some hit home, one shell destroyed an ambulance killing a member of the Naval Brigade, a mule was decapitated and another poor animal eviscerated, also many buildings were damaged.

The Boers then decided to move the Long Tom from its position on Pepworth Hill to another location on Gun Hill, next to Lombard's Kop north east of Ladysmith. From this new position the gun was able to "pepper" the area held by the Manchester Regiment wounding many and even breaching a sanger. A Gordon Highlander was also wounded before a torrential rainstorm hit curtailing Long Toms fun.

A report in the Daily Telegraph & Courier on the 11th December brought a bit of hope to the British reading public, it told of a daring raid on Gun Hill. 

"The most brilliant piece of work that has been done during the siege was accomplished at an early hour this morning. A column, composed of Light Horse and Natal Volunteers, and supported by British Regular Cavalry, went out last night under the command of General Sir Archibald Hunter.

R Danes, Cassel's History of the Boer War

Before dawn broke they attacked Gun Hill near Lombard's Kop, carried the position, and blew up three guns, including a 6" Creusot piece and a howitzer, and captured a Maxim-Nordenfelt quick firer (pom-pom). Our gallant little force left the town before ten o'clock last night, and took up position near the foot of Lombard's Kop.

About two o'clock this morning the advance began. The troops got past the Boer picket in the darkness, and were charging several hundred yards up the hill when the pickets awoke. A sentry hailed 'Wie gaat daar?' (Who goes there?), and getting no reply, he fired his rifle and then ran off shouting, ' Willem, Hans, Marteens, fly! The rooineks are upon you!'.

Penny Illustrated Paper - Saturday 23rd December 1899

The Boers around the guns fired several volleys at the advancing troops and then fled, dismayed, down the opposite side of the hill. Our men seized the guns without opposition.

Our engineers and men of No.10 Mountain Battery blew up the heavy guns with guncotton, and carried off the Maxim-Nordenfelt. The Boers had built a splendid emplacement on the top of the hill, but they bolted before our men like rabbits, leaving everything, even their private letters, behind them.

One of these epistles said they had bombarded Ladysmith for a month and nine days, but the rooineks were going about unconcernedly, and if the town was to be taken the Boers must do it at a terrible loss of life.

R Danes, Cassel's History of the Boer War

Our troops brought the breach block of Long Tom, together with the rammer, sponges, sights, friction tubes, and other fittings of the weapon. All the guns on the hill were quite destroyed, and are now utterly useless for offensive or defensive purposes.

The whole operation, counting from the moment the order to charge was given, was carried out in three quarters of an hour, with the loss on our side of seven men wounded. This magnificent piece of work has evidently filled the Boers with dismay, as their guns on Mount Bulwana have practically been silent all the day, and the success of the attack cannot fail to have an immense effect upon the morale of the Boers.

At daybreak a smart skirmish took place between the 18th Hussars, the 5th Lancers and the enemy to the north west of Ladysmith, near Pepworth Hill. Our cavalry had been covering the attack on the guns that night. The Boers thought that all our troops were engaged at Lombard's Kop, and tried to get near the town, but the movement was checked in capital style by the cavalry and our infantry on Long Hill.

The fighting was over at about six o'clock.

Our total loss for the whole morning's work was four killed and seventeen wounded, which may be regarded as trivial in view of the brilliance and importance of the feat performed by our troops, which has inflicted severe loss upon the enemy and has given the garrison increased confidence".

One Long Tom down, three to go, or so they thought!

For the other two Creusots it was business as usual, reported on the 30th December was the news that Long Tom shells had killed five Natal Carbineers, one Royal Engineer, wounded three men, killed several horses and smashed the turret on the Town Hall. To add to this misery an intercepted Boer telegram stated that the Long Tom blown up on Gun Hill had been sent back to Pretoria, it was now back in service and heading for the front.

A Long Tom Position at Ladysmith.

The siege dragged on with still no hope of relief, the relief force under General Buller had suffered three devastating defeats while trying to cross the Tugela, this was Black Week, the names Colenso, Stormberg and Magersfontein would haunt the British army.  At Ladysmith there were more unconfirmed reports of Boer gunners being killed but the guns still fired, rumours were everywhere, apparently six more Creusot 155mm Long Toms were landed from France and despatched to Pretoria, despite the blockade, tall stories indeed but it did not help morale.

Published in Pick Me Up on the 6th January was this little ditty;

"Long Tom was very generous,

He'd shell out by the hour;

He gave a lot to Ladysmith

As long as he'd the power;

But now he cannot pay his shot,

His aim is now not trusted,

The British paid him back a lot,

But poor Long Tom is busted."

One of the Empire's famous sons was also holed up in Ladysmith, on the 29th January Dr Leander Starr Jameson was reported wounded by a splinter from a Long Tom shell and found himself in hospital. The shelling seemed to be getting worse and more bad news from Buller, a big defeat at Spion Kop, the Tugela was still not breached, Sir Redvers Buller was beginning to be known as Sir Reverse Buller!

News from Ladysmith was much the same as usual, buildings damaged more men killed and now Dr Jameson has a fever. On the relief front another attack, this time at Vaal Krans.

Trouble On The Tugela.

The battle of Vaal Krans was another attempt at creating a bridgehead on the north bank of the Tugela just a few miles east from the last effort on Spion Kop. Having taken a Long Tom from Ladysmith and dug in, the Boers were ready.

Boers Heave A Long Tom Up Spion Kop.

According to the Daily Mail; 

"The kopje on Vaal Krantz, taken on Monday, is of a large range, and is important as being the last of the hills on the road to Ladysmith, with the exception of those encircling the town. The Boers who occupied Spion Kop and Doorn Kloof on either side possessed excellent artillery positions.

Early on Tuesday morning our artillery recommenced firing, and the Boer ordinance promptly replied with an enfilading fire from a Long Tom on Spion Kop, and from a smaller gun and a Maxim-Nordenfeldt on Doorn Kloof.

Our engineers had placed three pontoon bridges across the Tugela, and the Boer artillery tried to smash these. Though active for a time, the Boer fire was eventually silenced, but desultory rifle fire continued all day, our infantry steadily advancing."

This all sounds like it's going to plan, the infantry pressed forward up the hills, the Boers replied with shrapnel rounds, pom-pom and rifle fire, it was hard going. A Long Tom shell exploded near General Bullers position but caused no casualties, the Boers changed position of their artillery often to confound the British gunners.

The road to Ladysmith was covered by Boer artillery and there was no shifting them from their positions. The exposed infantry and cavalry would be at the mercy of Long Tom and his friends, to carry on would be madness and very costly in lives, and so it was decided to withdraw yet again.

The door to Ladysmith was closed, the siege continued.

London Daily Chronicle, Monday 5th February 1900;

"What To Do Under Fire.

Trooper F. Whitby, 10th Hussars, writes to his brother at Edmonton describing how hardened one gets to the flying bullets. He says: 'Myself and other remount take it in turn to go out with the boss. He is a very daring fellow, and takes you out in some very dangerous places. He does not stop for shot or shell.

Nobody can describe the feeling when the bullets are coming all around you like hailstones, with an occasional shell from a Long Tom. You look round after the dust has passed, and find three or four of your comrades and horses have gone down. You think to yourself, 'I wonder who's next?' But you take no notice, simply press your spurs into your poor horse, grind your teeth, grip like iron, hold up your sword, and go on like mad.'"

A week after the reverse at Vaal Krans Buller was again looking at Colenso, beaten there before, he did recognise that this was the most important crossing of the Tugela, this was the rail crossing. With this vital crossing in British hands the relief of Ladysmith would be a forgone conclusion.

The key to unlock the Boer line of defense was a hill called Hlangwane, during the earlier battle for Colenso being unable to take Hlangwane was a disaster for the British and caused the British into a humiliating withdrawal.

This time would be different, first the hills to the south were taken, feigning attacks kept the Boers busy while other hills soon fell into British hands, these hills were now full of artillery with a commanding range across the Tugela. A Long Tom began shelling positions on Hussar Hill, but the British 12 pounders silenced it. The position on Hlangwane became untenable for the Boers and they withdrew. As soon as Hlangwane was captured it was fortified with artillery and a pontoon was thrown across the Tugela, the Boer line had, at last, been breached.

The situation was still very dangerous, the Boers occupied all of the high ground on the way to Ladysmith, and the British would have to cross them to reach their goal. Numbers wise, to attack defensive positions in this way the attacking army should have at least a 5:1 ratio in men, Buller had at his disposal a ratio of 4:1, the British had to be careful.

Unfortunately the British rushed onward and at Hart's Hill, Wynne's Hill and Horseshoe Hill they ran into well defended Boer positions and paid a very dear price. Buller could not afford another disaster, but as luck would have it a gorge just north of the present pontoon bridge location would enable soldiers to cross and get into an attacking position without the Boers seeing them. The artillery was also brought up without any mishap.

On the left flank Sir Charles Warren (of the Whitechapel Murders fame) and his 5th Division attacked Pieter's Hill, Railway Hill then Hart's Hill, meanwhile Lyttelton's 4th Division hit the Boer centre and right flank under the protection of a creeping barrage, one of the earliest instances of this tactic.

Botha did not see this coming, but his men put up a deadly defence. The attack on the centre and right stalled, it was reinforced but still it got no further. Up in the hills the attack was moving slowly, Pieter's Hill was first to fall and after a magnificent bayonet charge and a very accurate artillery bombardment Hart's Hill fell. Botha had had enough, even from Ladysmith they could see Boer waggons heading north.

The Boers were gone and the Long Toms had gone with them, Ladysmith was relieved on the 28th February 1900. 

The Relief of Ladysmith

Mafeking.

Meanwhile over in Mafeking the Long Tom there was nicknamed by the British "Big Ben", the attack on Mafeking began on the 13th October 1899 and soon descended into the monotony of a prolonged siege.

General Cronje with the Mafeking Long Tom

According to the Black & White, Saturday 16th June 1900;

"There was very little alarm in the town, although the quiet of the early days was invaded by the rumbling of wagons as they were drawn to their appointed stations, and by the noise of the erection of barricades and the fortification of buildings. In addition to these works upon the eastern facings of the town, forts were constructed at convenient points along the entire perimeter of the defences.

As a consequence, we anticipated the arrival of the siege gun with a greater feeling of curiosity than of anxiety, and after experiencing its fire for six months it is quite evident that the most extraordinary feature of the siege is the absence of any very excessive damage from the projectiles of this one gun. 

The shell of this Creusot gun is some eighteen inches in length, and it's weight when fully charged is a trifle below 100 pounds. The gun has a range of just short of 9,000 yards - a somewhat high velocity, and a wide area of destructive capability. It has flung almost 1,500 pounds of metal into the town; and although it has wrecked numerous houses, killed many unfortunate people, it has not enabled the Boers to capture Mafeking.

Indeed, the presence of the Creusot gun in the Boer lines has been the direct cause of a somewhat heavy fatality among them, since so soon as their fire became too injurious, we bombarded its emplacement, or sniped its gunners. There have been many funerals in the Boer camp from this cause; and since it still hurls into the town its daily compliment of ammunition, it may be that we shall be organising once more sniping forays against Big Ben.

Long Tom "Big Ben" At Mafeking.

The effects of the first bombardment in which this gun participated were not very terrible; and although it destroyed several buildings with its huge projectiles, it did not succeed, fortunately, in killing anyone. 

The casualties from Big Ben have not been many, and it has secured more victims in the native stadt than amongst the white population. At times, however, the town would be alarmed and agitated by a rapid sequence of fatalities, brought about by the indifference of people to the consequence of shell fire".

As the relief force was drawing near the Boers decided to give the taking of Mafeking one last try with 240 men under the command of Field Cornet Eloff. He attacked through the native stadt under the guidance of a British deserter, they soon broke through and took over the police barracks on the edge of town. Some native huts had been torched by the Boers to alert their comrades above where they were, but the garrison had also seen the flames and were also alerted.

The native police belonging to the Barlong tribe cut off the Boer line of retreat. The Boers were now in three groups, Godley's B and D Squadrons of the Protectorate Regiment attacked the Boers in the stadt and they surrendered after a sharp engagement, they then drove off the second group of Boers, who mostly managed to escape. Eloff and the Boers in the police barracks surrendered later that night as their position was hopeless.

This last fling had cost the Mafeking garrison 12 dead 8 wounded, the Boers suffered 60 dead and wounded, and 108 captured. Finally a flying column of British and Canadians from Lord Roberts column reached Mafeking on the 17th May 1900 and the 217 day siege was over.

The Relief of Mafeking sparked celebrations all over Great Britain.

Again, just like the three Long Toms at Ladysmith, the fourth gun had disappeared with the Boers, their ability to move these steel monsters was astonishing. One British soldier remarked in the Star;

"Their odyssey over the steepest mountains looks so improbable.....with twenty pairs of oxen, or even the arms of the Boers alone, they have spent many a night in hoisting 'Long Tom' up the most precipitous heights. In the laagers a power all but supernatural is attributed to him."

Kimberley.

Kimberley was the second biggest town in Cape Colony, on the 14th October 1899 the Boers laid siege to it. Holed up in Kimberley was the larger than life Cecil Rhodes who barracked the press and politicians to hurry up with the relief and get this over with. The garrison commander Colonel Robert Kekewich was less hot headed and got on with making sure the position was viable.

The garrison only had six 2.5" mountain guns and a battery of 7 pounders, so with the lack of heavy artillery in his mind Kekewich had the engineers at De Beers design a gun to hurl a large shell into the Boer positions, something the existing arsenal could not achieve.

The result was Long Cecil, this gun had a bore of 100mm (3.9"), and could hurl a 13kg (29lb) shell 6km (3.7 miles). On the 21st January 1900 Cecil was fired for the first time on Boer positions, which had been thus far, untouchable.

Long Cecil, built at the De Beers workshops by George Labram

The Boer response was to bring up the newly repaired Long Tom from Pretoria, This was the Creusot that had been attacked at Ladysmith, the end of the barrel had to be shortened due to explosives damage, this shorter Long Tom was nicknamed "The Jew".

This newcomer to the siege caused consternation amongst the inhabitants, used to small calibre artillery that just meant a quick dive for cover, this monster made any cover above ground useless. Cometh the hour, cometh the man as the saying goes, Cecil Rhodes had a plan, Kimberley was a mining town, so let's use the mine as a shelter, genius!

Cecil Rhodes Sign For Using The Mine Shafts.

Where old Tom was positioned it took 17 seconds for the shell to travel into Kimberley, not a lot of time to sprint down a mine shaft, but at least there was some warning.

The Chief Mechanical Engineer at De Beers in Kimberley was George Labram, Labram was an American from Detroit, during the siege he was indispensable, he designed and, with his team, built two armoured trains, Long Cecil (the aforementioned artillery piece) and made ammunition in the workshops. He also assisted in bolstering the defences at Kimberley, created the emergency water supply and even refrigeration for storing food.

Unfortunately for Labram just as the British relief force was nearing on the 9th February, a Long Tom shell hit the Grand Hotel where he was staying, and killed him. Even at his funeral, which for safety reasons was held at night, the Boers tried to shell the procession. Labram's family were well compensated for his loss, which shows his importance to the defence of Kimberley.

Relief came by the way of the biggest cavalry division ever assembled in British military history, approved by Field Marshall Roberts (Bobs) and commanded by Major General John French. On hearing that the Boers were using a Long Tom at Kimberley Roberts ordered French to relieve Kimberley at all costs.

The plan was to feign an attack on the left, which encouraged the Boers to sent troops there while the center force would head towards Graspan with the cavalry guarding the right. The cavalry soon ran into Boer opposition at the Modder River and engaged, but at the last moment they wheeled left and charged to Klip Drift taking the Boers completely by surprise and routing them. Pausing a while to allow the horses to recover and the infantry to catch up, they then set off at a murderous pace towards Kimberley.

The main force under Roberts pushed on towards Bloemfontein, for French the road to Kimberley was dead ahead, the Boers held the high ground and poured rifle and artillery fire down onto the horsemen below, but the speed those cavalrymen were going nothing could stop them. The cavalry had crossed 120 miles (193km) in four days under fire and they reached Kimberley on the 15th February, ending the siege. Kimberley was the first of the besieged towns to be liberated, Rhodes could finally stop shouting.

But where was Long Tom?

The Shortened Long Tom, Nicknamed "The Jew".

French's cavalry didn't tarry long, they were soon ordered to cut off the Boer retreat and capture Long Tom. French and Roberts harassed the massive Boer waggon column, finally they gave battle at Paardeberg, the resulting fight cost both sides dearly, but Cronje's Commando was decisively beaten and over 4,000 prisoners were taken, but alas, no Long Tom.

Chasing Tom.

With the three sieges over the Boers still had all four Creusot 155mm Long Toms at their disposal, despite all the attentions the British could muster. On Buller's front the Boers under the command of Louis Botha had dug themselves in at Laing's Nek, just as they had in the first Boer War in 1880.

Laing's Nek was on Buller's march to Volksrust, from there the plan was to swing up to Pretoria and meet up with Roberts. The Boers held the high ground, they had dragged a Long Tom onto Pogwane Hill, and also blown up the railway tunnel.

Laing's Nek Railway Tunnel

As the British advanced a Long Tom shell burst nearby causing a little panic but no casualties. The next day Buller offered the Boers a chance to surrender, it was refused.

According to the St. James's Budget, Friday 15th June 1900;

"This morning the Middlesex Regiment, and the South African Light Horse moved to occupy Yellow Boom and Van Wyk, heights to our left rear commanding the pass. The movement resulted in a brilliant success.

The enemy on the heights were completely surprised. Riding rapidly along the old road, the scouts of the South African Light Horse gained Yellow Boom, to find 30 Boers lining the walls. One squadron raced up the left spur, and another followed the road. They were at once hotly engaged, but were soon reinforced by the rest of the regiment, and seized Yellow Boom and a part of Van Wyk.

By this time 600 to 1,000 Boers were in the fighting line, while the Long Tom enfiladed us, and made good practice. Thanks, however, to the South African Light Horse, who were excellent at taking cover, our men were able to hold their own until the Middlesex Regiment came up.

The remainder of Van Wyk was then taken at a rush. The enemy made a desperate attempt at recapturing the heights at sundown, under cover of burning grass, which was blowing in the faces of our men. The Boers moved close up to us and fired through the smoke, but again retreated as further reinforcements came up, the heights were then secured."

The Four Toms.

Two months later Buller had orders from Roberts to march towards Belfast, from Middleburg French and his cavalry had travelled towards Belfast stopping at Wonderfontein, this was where Bullers force would be supplied from.

Waiting for Buller, up in the hills around Belfast, sat the Boers. On the 18th August it was reported that;

"There are indications that the Boers have quit Belfast, and retired upon Dalmanutha, and thence to Machadodorp. A messenger from Machadodorp reports that the Boers are strongly fortified at that place with many guns. They have mounted a Long Tom upon a railway truck, which is disguised to represent lumber."

According to the Globe, Monday 27th August 1900;

"The chief position of the Boers is a strong semi circle of mountains passing around Belfast. The ridges are guarded by spurs, only approachable through morasses. The position has a frontage of 25 miles. The enemy, who are well entrenched, are firing occasionally, and all day their Long Tom is shelling".

What the British failed to realise was that there were seven commandos and the ZARPS (South African Republic Police) dug in all across that semi circle, with three Long Toms and the forth now in a railway truck. That was approximately 7,000 men and 20 guns. It would be a mammoth task to dislodge them.

British Troops Advance Under Long Tom Shell Fire

On the first day of the battle (21st August) Bullers right flank came under heavy fire which cause significant casualties for the British, falling back they tried again the next day. During the night the Boers had been reinforced, again the fight lasted all day with no ground being taken.

Coming up on the left flank from Middleburg infantry and cavalry pushed up onto Geluk Plateau and faced two commandos, the British were raked with artillery fire including two Long Toms, despite this they managed to win and hold the position. During that night four Naval guns were brought up onto the plateau, the next day they exchanged fire with the two Long Toms, one Long Tom shell landed among the Natal Field Force causing six casualties.

On the 26th the heavy guns were still duelling, one shot from a Naval gun managed to kill or wound a Long Tom crew, therefore silencing it. On the left cavalry under French surprised the Boers causing panic, many left, dragging a Long Tom with them, by the end of the day most of the high ground was in British hands.

The last effort in the battle of Bergendal was played out on the 27th, a salient was formed with ZARPs dug in, after a deluge of shells from the British guns the position was stormed and taken. Once again, as if by magic, the four Long Tom guns were gone.

Long Tom Pass.

The boers were in a fighting retreat towards Lydenburg, the British advance soon reached the town, but as soon as they did so two Long Toms positioned on the high ground near Spitzkop opened up on the town.

Buller wasted no time and immediately ascended the pass to silence the Creusots for good. The Boers repositioned the guns to a pass known as the Devil's Knuckles (now called Long Tom Pass), according to the Star, Monday 17th September 1900;

"The troops bivouacked last night under Mauchberg, the highest peak in these mountains, east of Lydenburg. The mounted infantry discovered twenty tons of foodstuffs hidden in a kloof.

Today the Gordon Highlanders advanced down the precipitous steeps of the Mauchberg. The enemy fired Long Tom from a height 7,000 yards away, in a direct line. When the Boers saw our infantry advancing they retreated. Strathcona's Horse thereupon galloped forward over the hill upon which Long Tom had been posted."

Goodbye Tom.

Boer commandos were eventually forced back to the Portuguese East Africa border (now Mozambique) at Komatipoort. From there rumours were heard about the demise of a Long Tom.

The Army and Navy Gazette posed an interesting question on the 22nd September 1900;

"Where are the Long Toms? The Long Toms that played such an important part during the earlier stages of this campaign? Utterly demoralised as he now is, the burgher is as clever at carrying off his heavy artillery as he was six months ago. 

That they are buried, with stores of ammunition and rifles, is more than likely, and while there whereabouts remains a mystery there can be no real peace in the Transvaal. One of the conditions of the return of the 15,000 Boers in our hands should be the production of the buried artillery."

On the 25th September proof of the destruction of one Long Tom was reported in the Globe;

"General Pole-Carew reports that they have found at Komatipoort one Long Tom 98 pound gun destroyed; and it is believed that another gun has also been destroyed there. Three hundred rifles were also found, as well as 30 boxes of small arms ammunition; 40 Long Tom shells, and 130 boxes of other shells."

A second Long Tom was destroyed lest the British take, it at the Letaba River on the 18th October. But this still left two in action.

Globe, Wednesday 13th February 1901;

"Boers attacked the British garrison at Lydenburg last week, sending a few shells from a Long Tom gun placed on a neighbouring height, accompanied by long range rifle fire. The attack was, however, not serious.

The enemy still have plenty of Long Tom ammunition. The British 4.7 gun, which they captured some time ago, is reported to be in a laager near Dullstroom, but they have no ammunition for it."

This Long Tom was "The Jew", the British finally caught up with it near Rietfontein, on the 16th April it fired a few rounds at the British positions, then the Boers blew it up, so it wouldn't fall into British hands.

British Soldiers with the Remains of The Jew.

The final Long Tom headed over to Pietersberg, when the British took the town on the 8th February 1901, the gun was taken to Feeskoppie and placed on a hillside. The British were never far behind and when Colonel Grenfell's men approached the crew of the Long Tom fired of a few rounds, then blew it up, the last roar of Long Tom was heard on the 29th April 1901.

Long Tom Pass.