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Hellfire Jack! ¹
(The story of a British railway hero)

If you look in a quiet corner of Castle Church’s sleepy churchyard in Stafford, to the East of the Church (the altar end) you will find a modest but fine gravestone inscribed to the memory of Francis Lees⁷, who was a local hero known as Hellfire Jack. He was born in Stafford and was christened at the Collegiate Church of St Mary on 26 March 1828. His somewhat cryptic gravestone inscription hints at something of his story:

 “ON THE FIRST, AND LAST ENGINE THAT PASSED OVER BASWICH BRIDGE”

About 150 years ago travel by rail was a brand new technology; a sort of space-age technology of the 1800s. Railway jobs were eagerly sought, and engine drivers highly esteemed, as airline pilots are today. Cautiously at first, then in massive numbers, ordinary people used railways where no travel was previously possible. A whole new industry built up around rail travel: visits to distant relatives and friends; trips to the seaside; soldiers transported to war; businessmen travelling between cities; Sunday school parties to picnics; and of course a growing trade in goods, livestock, and commodities such as coal and timber. The Queen (Victoria) bravely used the new-fangled system to travel to some of her Royal Visits. You name it; rail travel was starting to become big business!

 Imagine the scene. One day a crowded train was speeding towards Stafford, along the LNWR² line from London to Glasgow. On the footplate were Jock a highly respected and experienced driver, Skipper his dog, and a young trainee fireman Francis Lees of Stafford, who was gradually damping down the boiler as they coasted steadily towards the town. Francis checked the coal-tender and water-tank levels. They would need to take on both coal and water in Stafford. He had grown up near the Station, and, as a boy, he had watched the workmen draining land nearby and laying the new ‘iron-road’ to London. His mother tragically died of consumption³ when he was fourteen. 

Francis would have barely remembered George Stephenson’s first little engine ‘Locomotion’. This was built at his Newcastle factory, and opened the first passenger railway line (constructed by his ‘navvies’ ⁴) when Francis was only three years old. A man on horseback, carrying a red flag, led ‘Locomotion’ when it hauled a long train of carriages filled with colourfully dressed people. The first railway journey in the world had begun. He would certainly remember the exhilaration when, four years later, Stephenson’s ‘Rocket’ pulled a train of excited passengers (who had been warned they wouldn’t be able to breathe at the anticipated speed) in a competition from Liverpool to Manchester. This won the race at the then unbelievable speed of 29 miles per hour, and a prize of £500!

Francis reflected that their engine, ’Hercules’, could travel at over 50 mph, amazing progress. Meanwhile Jock eased the train resolutely along the track, clickety-clack, clickety-clack; next stop Stafford. At the rear, in the guard’s van was Taffy the guard. He was making last minute adjustments to his parcels and Post Office mail sacks, and trying to calm some baskets of normally docile homing pigeons being transported to Crewe (Taffy’s new home town) where they were due to start a race. For some unaccountable reason they had suddenly decided to become fractious. At the back of the van was a crate of chickens destined for Stafford market. Three churns of milk for a Stafford dairy stood on the floor, carefully draped in clean sacking, which he occasionally sprinkled with water to cool the contents. And finally he checked his special deliveries basket. It contained one neatly wrapped and sealed parcel of books, addressed in copperplate handwriting from a London publisher to the newly opened Martin Street free lending library and reading room in the Mechanics’ Institute.

Taffy let his imagination wander for a moment to wonder what thrilling adventures would be portrayed in these! He glanced at his pocket watch and consulted his Bradshaw⁵. “Jock’s making good time again on this run,” he noted. He’d heard they were going to standardise station clocks so that they all recorded the same time. “About time too!” he approved. Even more ambitious, there was talk of building a Master clock at Greenwich Observatory, so that ALL clocks would tell the same time. “We’ll believe that when it happens!” he mused. “Drat those pigeons, what’s the matter with them?”

The crew were nearing the end of a long day, and looking forward to the change of shift at Stafford in order to go home for a well-earned rest. Jock was fondly touching up his highly polished brass controls, and planning to have a sandwich and a cuppa in Mrs Beech’s modern gas-lit station buffet, before buying a paper from the new station kiosk⁶. He could then install Skipper in his favourite corner of the guard’s van and relax as a passenger to Glasgow, and home where his family would be waiting. Skipper was no doubt dreaming about the enjoyable prospect of chasing Sooty the station cat over the Stafford stationmaster’s well-kept flower-beds, through the coal-yard, and into the swamp outside the station. It will be a decade or so before a road is built over the river, to the station front; and a half-century before the swamps are drained to become a public pleasure ground!  Meanwhile Sooty was generally capable of putting up a spirited defence.

For a moment Francis thought he had a brief view to the northwest of the impressive castle turrets on a hill overlooking the town. “Is it really as old as it looks?” he pondered. The train then slid into a cutting approaching the wooden bridge high above the river valley at Baswich, through which gently meandered the Staffordshire and Worcestershire canal and the concourse of the rivers Penk and Sow. As it drew near the bend, Skipper sniffed and gave a low whimper. Just then Francis spotted smoke rising above the track ahead. He quickly alerted the driver, who immediately started to brake the speeding train. Taffy had also spotted the rising smoke and blew his whistle as he frantically waved his red flag through the window in a vain attempt to attract Jock’s attention. As they rounded the bend they saw to their horror that the bridge was enveloped in flames.

It was instantly apparent that there was not enough time to stop the train as it inexorably thundered towards the burning bridge. What about all those passengers, innocent men, women, children and animals travelling in their care? What if the bridge collapsed when the weight of the train impacted on it? What if . . . All this flashed through their minds in a split second.

At this moment the traumatized driver collapsed. Skipper bounded over to lick his face. Young Francis rapidly marshalled his thoughts and went for it!  It was better, he resolved, to make a dash for it and try to cross the bridge at speed rather than reducing it. Off came the brakes, on went full steam, more coal on the fire, flues and vents were flung wide open to propel essential air to the firebox. ‘Hercules’ snorted and hissed, the wheels screeched as they skidded and laboured to grip the rails, the steam-whistle shrieked, and forward surged the train . . .

As it rushed relentlessly towards the blazing bridge, smoke billowing all round him, flames licking the sides of his engine, Francis frantically shovelled more coal into the roaring boiler and forced the steam valves wider open to achieve maximum speed. “Come on ‘Herc’ you can do it!” he screamed. By now the passengers had begun to realise the terrible danger they were in, but were powerless to do anything about the situation. Hearts in mouths, they watched helplessly as the train ripped through the inferno, over the yawning watery chasm, and out the other side. No sooner had they reached safety than the devastated bridge collapsed in a heap of charred rubble behind them, rumbling and tumbling into the waters far below.

Francis brought the train to a juddering halt. Only at this point did he realise what he had done. Single-handed, he had brought a train full of passengers through a situation highly charged with danger and despair. His shocked but relieved passengers disembarked and praised his bravery generously. Jock, after a final lick from the faithful Skipper, recovered, and after receiving a brief explanation thanked and congratulated his fireman. Taffy ran breathlessly up the track, learned about Jock’s blackout, and heartily congratulated Francis. He told them he had sent word to the authorities and would now get the passengers back into their carriages. Jock then asked Francis to take the train into Stafford. The eventual ecstatic reception he received as he drove his train into Stafford station was little short of regal. He was honoured for his bravery and promoted to driver, and from that moment was known as Hellfire Jack!

Later he was again honoured by being invited to drive the first train to cross the newly built metal bridge. He continued to live in Stafford with his wife Elizabeth, in a house in Earl Street, opposite the newly built Science and Art College (another symbol of the burgeoning technological age), at the edge of St Mary’s Churchyard. They raised their family in Stafford, and some of his descendants (and no doubt descendants of his rescued passengers) still live in the area. He died, aged nearly 69, on 24 January 1897.

© Dr J Eric Ashton. All rights reserved. 08 August 2008 .

Footnote 1.  The author of this article is married to one of Hellfire Jack’s great-grand-daughters. Some years ago he visited the churchyard with his wife and daughter and his wife’s mother (Francis Lees’ grand-daughter, who told him the fundamental story) to locate the grave. The basic story is historically factually correct and any embellishments (secure in the knowledge that such an event could not be over-dramatised) are the responsibility of the author. The names of the train, the driver, his dog, the guard, and the buffet cook are fictitious. The station cat? Hmm! What do you think?  Well, it’s not likely that any witnesses are alive to dispute the narrative, but comments that could throw further light on the incident would be very welcome from interested parties. It is also hoped that the story will inspire others to create further images of this or similar scenes. Readers are also encouraged to consider whether Skipper merited a reward – an extra special bone perhaps? Return to story.

Footnote 2.  LNWR – London & North-Western Railway. Later merged with others to become the LMS - London, Midland and Scottish Railway Company. Return to story.

Footnote 3.  Consumption – The disease we now call tuberculosis, the equivalent to the Victorians of  the cancer of today. Return to story.

Footnote 4.  Navvies – Workmen originally employed excavating the canals (the navigations), and re-trained by Stephenson to lay railways. Return to story.

Footnote 5.  Bradshaw - A noted railway-guide (1839-1961). First issued by George Bradshaw. Return to story.

Footnote 6.  Kiosk - A bookstall – From such small beginnings Wyman’s bookstalls became famous on nearly every major station platform. Return to story.

Footnote 7. In February 2008 some more information was discovered by Trevor Ashton whilst engaged on some research in Stafford's Castle Church archives:

In the Staffordshire Advertiser of 30 January 1897 (William Salt 
Library) there are two references to his death (Francis Lees), one in 
the deaths column and amore detailed one under 'Stafford' as follows:

"The death occurred on Sunday at Stafford of Francis Lees, aged 68, 
who was for 27 years in the employ of the London and North Western 
Railway Company. Lees drove the first train load of ballast over the 
old Baswich Bridge, which was burnt down on September 21 1858 and he 
was fireman on the last train that crossed the bridge. The latter was 
a goods train, driven by A Thompson. It crossed the bridge shortly 
after one o'clock in the morning and brought the news to Stafford that 
the structure was on fire"

The Staffordshire Advertiser of 25 September 1858 includes along 
account of the fire on 'Wednesday last' (which would have been the 
22nd) on the railway viaduct at Baswich which prevented all trains 
from running between Stafford and Colwich. The bridge was 150 yards 
long and spanned both the river Penk and a branch of the Staffordshire 
and Worcester canal (Other sources state that this was the main canal).
 The date of construction is not given but between 30,000 and 40,000 
feet of timber had been used and it cost upward of £7000. 
It was hoped that the rebuilding would be complete in a month. 
A later progress report said that thousands of people had been to 
watch the rebuilding of the viaduct. Return to story.

The background music to this page is called 'High Road'. © Composed and arranged by Dr J Eric Ashton.

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