Ince-in-Makerfield was the place of the Moss colliery disaster of 1871. It stands astride the A577, about a mile from Wigan. The pit was a relatively new one, having only been opened a few years previously and was worked by Messrs. Pearson and Knowles. The shafts here were sunk to a depth of some 580 yards where they intercepted the Cannel Seam. Work was going on in the upcast shaft by way of further sinking to reach the Arley Seam lower down. Although most of the mining took place in the Cannel Mine, some 12 months previously, development was started in the Wigan Nine Feet. This seam of coal lay at 480 yards down the shafts, and the workings at the time of the disaster only extended some 270 yards from the shaft. Near the mouthing of the Four Foot Seam, a short distance above the Wigan Nine Foot Seam, was placed a ventilation furnace, this being the upcast shaft where further sinking was going on some 100 yards below.
The pit was considered to be adequately ventilated. Indeed, one of the underlookers a man named Prescott, stated that when he left the Nine Feet to go up to the ventilation furnace just five minutes before it fired that “A man might have gone through with a lighted torch without danger”. The day was Wednesday, the 6th of September 1871. Down the pit were 68 men and boys at work in the nine-foot seam and nearly the same number in the Cannel Mine. In addition, there were six shaft sinkers at work in the upcast shaft. Just before eleven o’clock, three miners stepped into the cage at the upcast shaft to descend the mine. They were about halfway down the pit when the mine fired. From the upcast shaft, a thick plume of dense smoke rose into the air.
Shawled women with anxious faces waited for news of their loved ones, children stared wide-eyed, clutching their mothers’ dresses, all waiting. The Government Inspector of Mines was in Wigan at the time, and he too was soon at the scene. So too was Mr. Pickard the miner’s agent; he lived at Ince and was one of the first to arrive. The shafts were inspected and found to be badly damaged; the cage at the downcast had been thrown from its position. Nearby was found a cloth cap; it was presumed, to belong to one of the miners who was descending the pit when the explosion occurred. As can be imagined, great anxiety was now being expressed for those below. After one and a half hours, a repair was made to the winding engine at the downcast shaft, and a hoppet was placed on the end of the rope. This was lowered into the mine. Several minutes later, it was raised…empty. Again, the hoppet was lowered in the hope that anyone still living might be able to ascend; again, it came up empty.
As is common in these cases, there is never any lack of volunteers; three men were lowered in the hoppet cautiously down as far as the Cannel mine. They returned to the joy of the crowds, with five colliers who announced that all the men in that seam were safe. The hoppet was lowered and raised in quick succession in order to get these men out before the onset of the afterdamp, and within a few hours, all were out. An exploration party consisting of Mr. J. Bryham, Mr. Pickard, the miners’ agent, Mr. Carter, the underground manager and Mr. W. Hampson descended the upcast shaft. They stopped first at the Four Foot Seam, where the ventilation furnace was placed to check on the condition of the workings there. No one it was surmised, was working there, yet at the mouthing were three men: Henry Prescott, the underlooker, the furnace man and a brick setter, all alive. They were quickly conveyed up the shaft, and a further attempt was made for the descent to the Nine Feet Seam. On arrival, the men in the hoppet were met by a group of colliers dreadfully injured and crying out for water and medical attention; some were beyond help.
The scene presented one of dereliction and destruction. Timbers and roof supports were scattered about, coal tubs were bent and broken, and the air was thick with a sulphurous smog. As many of the men that could be found alive were quickly sent up the shaft, tea and other refreshments were sent down on the return journey for the sufferers. Mr. Pickard was exploring the further workings and ascended up the shaft about two o’clock. He reported that the sides of the pit were on fire, and preparations for a number of handheld extinguishers were arranged to be sent for. A party led by J. Bryham descended again into the pit in an attempt to quell the underground fires. Around twenty past three, the column of smoke from the upcast shaft ceased for a few seconds, followed by a low booming noise. Another explosion had occurred, not as great as the first, but still caused great concern for the safety of the exploring parties still below ground. The hoppet was swiftly raised and out stepped Mr. Bryham and a number of rescuers, the others quickly followed. None were injured, though some had been thrown about by the draught from the explosion, which took place in some other workings.
A consultation followed between the officials, who concluded that further explorations would be useless; there could be little doubt now as to the fate of the men still in the mine. To add further risk to the men attempting a rescue did not warrant further consideration; it was decided to seal the pits and block of the air to the fires underground. Twenty-five colliers, thirty-three drawers, six shaft sinkers, one fireman, two hookers-on, one winder-up, one of the men brought out of the Nine Feet workings had since died from his injuries, and the banksman. Seventy all told, and the wrath of the Moss Colliery disaster was not finished, as we shall see. The road to Moss Colliery and the pit bank itself were covered in a mass of bereaved and distressed relatives and friends, the feeling of utter despair that only mining communities can share. Women whose husbands worked in the neighbouring collieries came to give their support for they knew in their hearts that colliery explosions have no friends. Tomorrow it may be they who are mourning. By Thursday night, both shafts at the colliery were covered over with brickwork and puddled with clay to deprive the underground fires of oxygen.
It was not until Wednesday, 20th of September, two weeks after the initial explosion, that the decision was taken to remove the seals on top of the shafts. The puddling clay was slowly removed first from the upcast shaft, followed by about half the planking. Vast amounts of highly explosive gases immediately issued forth, so combustible were these gases that they “fired” the Davy lamps up to a distance of ten yards from the shaft. After a while, these gases weakened, and work began on the downcast shaft. With the removal of the clay, the first board was taken up and an immense “suck” was observed, an indication that the ventilation was taking its proper course. All seemed well, and it appeared that an exploration party could be arranged to descend the pit within a few hours. About three o’clock, Jacob Higson was looking over the rim of the upcast shaft and remarked to Thomas Knowles one of the colliery proprietors, “That all seemed quiet below, and that within a few hours they should be able to descend”. He had scarcely finished the sentence when he heard a great rush of wind from below. This was followed by a long blast of fire.
The men and officials around the top of the upcast shaft were blown tens of yards onto the nearby railway. Those who could looked up in shock and horror, and they saw a dark and dense cloud of smoke rise from the other shaft. A split second later, vivid red flames filled the shaft and shot thirty yards and more above the headgear. At this shaft, nearly everyone in the vicinity was severely injured, and for at least two of them, their injuries didn’t matter for they were killed outright. John Knowles, son of one of the owners of the pit, had a broken leg and other injuries. Mr. Pickard, the miner’s agent, was so badly injured that he had to be helped to his home as he could hardly walk. The foreman joiner, Farrimond and a man named Peak were injured so severely that they died the same day. Two bodies were recovered from the scaffolding just below the rim of the downcast shaft and were identified as men named Ashurst and Walsh. They were described as being terribly mangled, having taken the full force of the blast. The reports of the day go into horrific details, and tell that “Some time after the explosion, a limb was found a considerable distance from the shaft which was thought to have belonged to Ashurt”.
A good while after, it was realised another man named Shuttleworth was missing. He, too, was working on the scaffolding, and it was assumed he was caught by the force of the blast and precipitated to the bottom of the shaft. The force of the explosion showed in the headgear, built from large timbers, which were smashed like matchwood. The hoppet that had been hanging over the shaft was thrown up and tangled with the remains of the headgear. So loud was the report of the blast that it was heard several miles away, and the flames were seen by many in the borough. Messengers sent out for doctors to attend to the injured were stopped by people standing at their doorways, who begged for information, fearing that another pit had fired. Again, crowds assembled on the Moss pit bank, whose numbers swelled and had to be controlled by police and mine officials in case of another blast. The only option open to them now appeared to be that of flooding the mine. The work went on into the early hours, the men knocking off about three o’clock. Three constables were left on duty overnight, and shortly before four o’clock noticed that the smoke from the shafts was increasing in quantity and approached for a better vantage point.
They got within thirty yards when an immense sheet of flames shot from the bowels of the mine high into the air. This was followed by a loud blast. The policemen ran for their lives through the fields as debris showered down on them from all directions. The shaking of the ground was felt in villages four and five miles away. A further repetition took place around six o’clock, although not on the same scale, it did set fire to the headgear and the winding house. The Borough fire engine was called in, but its hoses were far too short to reach and at half past eight, the headgear collapsed, the huge cast iron wheels breaking and landing on top of the shaft, but failed to fall down it. A number of minor bursts continued throughout the day, though none were as large as the one in the early morning. Work continued in flooding the pit; the reports from down below diminished to “growls” till these too whimpered out. Moss pit wasn’t giving up its victims easily. Soon there were five pumps filling the mine with an estimated 50,000 gallons of water per hour. Over the next few weeks, this process continued until all the mine workings were filled with water.
Coroners’ Inquiries were called week after week at the Railway Tavern at Ince, where the colliery proprietors gave a progress report on how the bodies were going to be recovered. This was no easy job. Firstly, the pit had to be de-watered, which took many months. In addition, there was severe damage to the shaft’s linings, huge voids caused by the blast, and water had to be filled in and made safe. It was to be over twelve months before the remains of the victims started to be recovered, and that’s all they were…remains. The intense heat of the fires and explosions reduced the bodies of the victims to mere charred bones. Many of these were found at the foot of the upcast shaft, washed out of the Nine Feet Mine by the water, it was presumed. Identification of these was considered impossible; some were able to be identified. Not in the normal sense, though, for they were too mutilated even for that. One was identified by his clogs by a witness, for the clogs formerly belonged to him.
Elizabeth Shuttleworth had the harrowing experience of identifying her husband, who was killed in the second explosion by a shoe and a piece of shirt. It was getting on for two years after the disaster before it was considered that all the remains were recovered. The shafts were then sealed, and it is credit to the colliery owners that no expense was spared in recovering the bodies and doing the decent thing. All mining disasters are horrific, and the Wigan area at that time was no stranger to them. But surely the Moss Pit disaster must rank among the most disastrous, whilst not in numbers killed but in the events that occurred afterwards. In Ince cemetery, a simple memorial records that disastrous day in September 1871, placed there by Thomas Knowles, M.P. A New shaft sinking was made at Moss Colliery, and eventually another four shafts were working. By the late 1940s, the colliery was employing nearly 750 men and was worked by the Wigan Coal Corporation. After Nationalisation, the Coal Board continued the mining until November 1962, when Moss Colliery was eventually abandoned. The events of that fateful September day of 1871 faded away into coal mining history books.
Information supplied by Jack Nadin.
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