By this time Alexander was 13
years old and it is likely that he went straight into the Army as a “boy”. Indeed by 1851 he could be found serving as a
Private with the 7th. (Queen’s Own) Regiment of Light Dragoons in
Ballincollig, Ireland.
Ballincollig was home to the
Ballincollig Royal Gunpowder Mills and was used as a base for Royal Artillery
batteries and other military units.
The 7th. Hussars were to ship out to
Calcutta on the fast sailing clipper ship “Lightning” belonging to the Black
Ball Line of Australian packets. The day
before embarkation the owners arranged a grand lunch on board for a large and
distinguished party of guests which included HRH the Duke of Cambridge.
Thursday 27
th. August
1857 was day of departure for the 7
th. Hussars.
How excited and somewhat nervous they must
have been.
The following extracts from
the press of the day give an indication of the days events.
The men seemed, one and all, in
splendid condition and high spirits, and were bid adieu to with the usual
accompaniments of cheers and tears, all more or less hearty. Every preparation had been made for their
reception on board the Lightning but in spite of all the proverbial hurry,
worry and confusion of a troopship were presented in their most prominent
form. The men were collected on deck for
a long time, while the muster roll was called. What with armourers’ boxes, carbine
racks, men’s tins, kits and general equipments, ship’s stores and crowds of
men, the Babel seemed hopeless to the last degree. Only the hearty good humour and “with a will”
disposition which pervaded all on board, both troops and crew, could ever
contend with such a military chaos as yesterday existed on board the Lightning. Nor was it a whit better in the gorgeous
saloons allotted to the officers. There
it seemed an interminable succession of lunches and heavy packages, with a
supplementary melange of telegraph boys with last messages, army tailors
fighting for realisable propositions, visitors, garrison officials, officers
and their relatives and friends. The
amount of equipment in the way of furniture which officers brought on board,
and which, as a matter of course, they found totally useless, and only lumber
in their cabin – was something astounding.
Is there no retired Indian
officer of experience who will publish a little book pointing out what officers
really do require when going to India?
He would be a benefactor to the army.
As it was uncertain what time the vessel would really start, of course
the applications from ardent subs for 24 hours leave were rather numerouos, but
they were finally put to an end by instructions that the Lightning should get
under way by seven o’clock in the evening.
This she accordingly did, and was towed down the river by the Resolute,
one of the two tugs recently built at Liverpool, and the largest and most
powerful ever yet constructed. The
troops are most comfortable on board and if we may judge from the following
dietary, ought to arrive at their destination in good condition:
Scale of Victualling for troops
to India for a Mess of six men
For two days – beef 12lb; flour
5lb; suet 1lb
For one day – preserved meat 4lbs
8oz; rice 3lb
For three days – pork 18lb, peas
6pints; preserved potatoes 2lb 4oz
For one day – flour 5lb, suet
12oz; plums 1lb 11oz
For seven days – ground pepper
1oz; mustard 4oz; biscuit unlimited in quantity; salt butter 1lb 8oz; tea 1lb;
sugar 9lb; vinegar 3 pints; porter 42 pints; pickles 2.5 pints; line juice
21oz.
And so they set off on an
adventure of a lifetime – many of them never to see England again.
Months later letters began
arriving to family back home. One
private in the 7th. wrote:
We had a splendid passage out on
board the Lightning. She ran to Calcutta
in 87 days. it was more like a pleasure
trip than anything else, except going round the Cape of Good Hope, and then we
caught it rather unpleasantly, which made some of us look round the corners,
when she was running sixteen knots an hour, with only one sail up out of
fifty. One poor sailor was blown overboard
from the fore top yard arm and never seen any more. We remained in Calcutta a fortnight and then
marched up country 700 miles, the first 300 by bullock carts, nine men in each
cart, going day and night, riding four hours and walking two, all the way. Most of the men had sore feet. We count not go an hour together without some
of them breaking down. There were only
two bullocks in each cart and we never undressed the whole way, having three
meals all at once, or going without – whichever we chose. When we arrived at Allahabad we got our
horses, and very glad we were to receive them.
We don’t like foot soldiering at all.
At Runeegunge we caught about a dozen black devils selling milk which
was poisoned. Some of the men who
purchased it were soon dead – and so were the vendors of the milk shortly
afterwards for we hanged them on the first tree we came to. From Runeegunge we went to Benares. There we saw the largest Bengal tiger ever
seen. At last we arrived at
Cawnpore. The graveyards are full of
tombstones where so many of our women and children are buried. To read the inscriptions on them is enough to
make one’s heart melt again, and to see the towns and buildings destroyed is an
awful sight. I saw the well where our
people were thrown and where General Wheeler’s daughter jumped in after killing
five Sepoys with her own hand.
Digital image courtesy of Getty's Open Content Programme
Another Private from the 7th.
had a similar story to tell but with descriptions too horrific to relate here,
although he does give an idea of his feelings:
The enemy are in sight now. There are three troops of ours going up the
country today – we are going tomorrow. I
am now sitting on the ground writing this letter to you. I wish I was out of this. Be it far from my being afraid to face the
enemy. It is a hot country and the nasty way they put us up. I send this in case I may not have another
chance of sending by this mail as I know you are anxiously waiting for it. I shall send you as often as I can. I expect we are going to Allahabad. It is a strong fort. There is a lot of sepoys just come in sight –
they are mounted – they have a great many elephants with them. They are about a mile from us (within
sight). I believe they are going to give
up their arms; they won’t fight and they won’t join the English. They appear to be about two hundred
strong. I expect we shall have to watch
very closely tonight in case they might come down upon us. There is only a
small pond between the enemy and us.
I am writing this on my knee –
there is no such thing as a table here.
I must now get ready for marching up country tomorrow.
And so the 7th. Hussars
made their way to Lucknow where in March 1858 they took part in final
operations which saw the eventual surrender of the Residency.
Digital image courtesy of Getty's Open Content Programme
The Indian Mutiny Medal Roll
shows that Alexander BARNES, Private with the 7
th. Hussars, was
awarded the Indian Mutiny Medal along with the Lucknow clasp.
At the time the medal roll was drawn up – probably sometime in 1859 –
Alexander was shown as being “
on passage home”.
Although he was only 30 years of age Alexander already had a lifetime’s experience under his belt – an ideal
candidate for the Metropolitan Police.
This was a time of expansion and The Met were looking for good men to
join their ranks with recruitment ages ranging from 18 to 35.
Alexander joined up on 19
November 1860 and was issued with warrant number 39846. He was well acquainted
with wearing a uniform and would not have felt at all out of place by having to
wear the Peeler’s top hat.
On 15 January 1861 Alexander
BARNES married Emma Sarah TURNER in Kennington.
Alexander gave his address as White Hart Square whilst Emma gave hers as
White Hart Street. Alexander’s younger
sister, Mary Ann Barnes, was one of the witnesses to the marriage.
The census taken on 7 April 1861
shows the couple living at 1 Chapel Street, Croydon (these days at the end of
Wandle Road) – a 15-20 minute walk away from the Police Station in the centre
of town.
Day to day duties were pretty
routine but occasionally an event of such magnitude occurred that constables
had to be drawn into central London
from all over the Metropolitan Police District. Two such events in the 1860s
were the International Exhibition at South Kensington in 1862
and the wedding of HRH the Prince of Wales to Princess Alexandra of Denmark
in 1863.
The opening ceremony of the
International Exhibition took place on 1
May 1862 and over 2000 constables were called in from outlying
divisions. Alexander was serving on P
Division which supplied 80 of the constables.
The exhibition itself meant that thousands of constables had to be
recruited on a temporary basis. Figures
from the Candidates Branch show that over 3000 applications were received. Each individual application required a new
docket and all testimonials had to be checked. When the exhibition closed in November those
constables who were considered suitable for permanent employment were required
to resign and were then re-appointed with new warrant numbers. One can only imagine how much paper was
generated as a result of these temporary appointments. Perhaps this is the reason why candidates
papers for the 1860s have not survived.
With regard to the Royal Wedding
in 1863 the ceremony was to be held in Windsor,
however, the Princess was due to pass through London
on her journey from Gravesend. Princess Alexandra arrived in England
on 7 March 1863 having
sailed from Denmark
aboard the Royal Yacht. She was greeted
in Gravesend by her future husband and the couple then travelled by Royal Train
to London Bridge. Next came the
procession through the illuminated streets of London
to Paddington Station. The press reported
that the decorations were are on scale never before witnessed – flags and
streamers in every direction. The streets were packed with people.
P Division supplied 25 Constables
on the night of the illuminations and all were posted to Vine
Street in Mayfair. The men had to be at their assigned posts at 7pm dressed in great coats, belts and capes.
The
military provided the first line of defence along the route – all standing to
attention facing the procession. Police
formed the second line of defence - always facing the crowd making sure that
there were no assassins waiting to pounce.
Now that was a day to be remembered.
Constable BARNES transferred from
Croydon to Hampstead in S Division in 1862/63.
The next event of note for
Alexander would have been the change in Metropolitan Police uniform which came
about in 1863/1864. Tail coat and white
trousers were exchanged for blue serge tunic and trousers. Top hat was exchanged for a helmet.
The 1871 census shows Alexander
and his family living at 4 South End Cottages, Hampstead and by 1873 he and
Emma had four surviving children:
Emma
had been born c. 1862 in Croydon; Caroline Ellen in 1863; James Alexander in
1867/68; and Margaret Harriett in 1872/73.
Little Ellen Margaret had died when still a baby.
Interestingly, at Caroline’s baptism on 1
July 1863 at Hampstead St. John, Alexander recorded his own christian names as
Alexander Henry – the first time that “Henry” had made an appearance since his
own baptism back in the 1830s, albeit this time as a second rather than first
name.
And so we come to Saturday 9 May
1874. It was 8.15pm and Alexander was
busying himself in the station stables.
The light was fading and the gas lamp above the station door needed to
be lit. Normally this would have been
done by using a torch attached to a long rod but on this occasion the rod was
broken and awaiting repair. A young
constable stepped forward with a ladder ready to climb up but this was
Alexander’s duty so he took the ladder from him.
Up he went, but it appears that the ladder
had not been placed correctly because suddenly it tilted to one side and
Alexander fell 23 ft. to the ground. The
local press now takes up the story:
Sergeant Bonny 10S who had charge
of the station at the time sent immediately for Dr. H. Cooper Rose, divisional
surgeon, who attended and found the poor fellow had sustained a fracture to the
base of the skull which the doctor anticipated would end fatally. On hearing of the accident Inspector Woodland
at once came down from his apartments and superintended the removal of the
injured man, who was in a state of insensibility, to his home close by – Mrs.
Barnes having previously been communicated with. Here he continued to receive medical
attention but died soon after midnight on Tuesday. During Sunday and Monday it was found
necessary to have two of his comrades with him to keep him in bed as he
struggled so wildly, but on Tuesday he appeared exhausted and gradually sank
without having recovered consciousness from the time of the fall.
The deceased who was about forty
four years of age had been in the police force thirteen years and a half. Prior to that he had been all through the
Indian Mutiny as a sergeant in a cavalry regiment. He was at one time on regular duty as a
mounted patrol here, and twice during that time met with accidents which might
have been attended with serious results.
He was much liked by his comrades, being of a kind and obliging
disposition, and always ready to lend a helping hand in any difficulty. He leaves a widow and four or five young
children.
An inquest was held on the Friday with the jury
returning a verdict of “Accidental death”.
Hooks had now been attached to the ladder so that it could be secured
more safely in future.
The funeral of Constable BARNES took place at 5pm on
Saturday 16 May, his remains being interred in the grounds of the Parish
Church.
The funeral cortege started from the residence of the
deceased in a lane near the station. In
addition to relatives were some 200 constables, seventeen sergeants, seven
inspectors, Superintendent O’Loghlen and a number of staff sergeants of the 1st.
Royal East Middlesex Militia from the barracks in Wellwalk. The band of the S Division under the
conductorship of Mr Keightly headed the procession and on the way to the burial
ground and on the way back played the “Dead March” in Saul. The burial service was read by the Rev
S.B.Burnaby MA vicar of Hampstead. At
its conclusion the band played “The mariners’ hymn” and on the way back to the
station “Little Nell”. In the station
yard Chief Inspector McHugo, S Division thanked the militia sergeants for the
great respect they had shown to the memory of deceased (formerly it will be
remembered a cavalry sergeant) by their attendance that day. There was a large number of spectators of the
funeral ceremony.
Photo by Chris Gunns, CC BY-SA 2.0,
A few weeks after Alexander’s
death Emma was granted a pension of £15 per annum. In addition, each of the 4 children were
awarded a compassionate allowance of £2 10s per annum to be paid until they
reached the age of 15 years.
In July 1874 Caroline aged 10 and
James aged 6 were placed in the Police Orphanage. After a couple of years Caroline was old
enough to be found “a position”. In
1881, at the age of 13, James was shown as being 7th in order of
merit in the Boy’s School with conduct rated as “very good” and industry shown
as “good”.
Girls and Boys of the Police Orphanage
But I have jumped ahead of myself
because their mother, Emma Sarah, had died during the afternoon of 20 December
1878 at her home in Ivy Cottage, Shepherds Walk, Hampstead. The inquest recorded a verdict of “Death from
natural causes”.
There was no large funeral
service for Emma. She was buried on 27
December in a public grave with ten other souls.
If this story should ever reach the
eyes of descendants of Alexander and Emma please contact me as I would love to
hear from you.
