On the 16th of January 1862, the whole country was thrown into a state of great excitement and suspense by the news of a serious accident at the New Hartley Colliery, near Seaton Delaval, which subsequently developed into feelings of the most profound horror and grief as the full extent of the calamity became known.

Never before in the annals of mining had there been a disaster of such magnitude, and although greater have, unhappily, since occurred, none made so profound a sensation or laid to hold upon the public sympathy.

The accident was caused by the breaking of the great pumping beam, part of which weighing 20 tons, fell down the shaft — the sole avenue of ingress and egress to the mine — carrying everything before it, and destroying the lives of 204 men and boys.

Of those who escaped the pit before the accident only two are living today, Mr. John Chapman, a retired under-manager of Messrs Bell Bros:, Lumpsey Mine, living in Railway Terrace, Brotton, and Mr. John Hunter, of the Aged Miners Homes, built on the site of the ill fated Colliery.

With Mr. Chapman, a hale and stalwart octogenarian, and may interest readers, I am intimately aquatinted, and during the days following the 50th anniversary of the disaster, I had a good deal of conversation with him concerning the event, and I thought his reminiscences might prove interesting.

His account of the accident and its detail is very vivid, and his manner of relating events, in the expressive dialect of the North, is very interesting. I regret that I am unable to write down his story with all its accompanying idioms of speech pertaining to the district, as the account loses much of its vigour through their absence.

The New Hartley pit, says Mr. Chapman, was a large colliery with three seams working, these were the High Main at 38 fathoms from surface, the Yard seam at 65 fathoms, and the Low Main at 95 fathoms.

The mine was worked by a single shaft 12 feet in diameter, divided into upcast and downcast compartments by a wood brattice, or partition. The two cages, double decked, and carrying a single tub on each deck, worked in the downcast, and the spears and stocks of lifting set were in the upcast, which was also used for ventilating the mine.

From the "horse hole" the shaft was bricked for a short distance, and lined with wooden cribs and backing deals the remainder of its depth, the ventilation was promoted through the medium of a furnace built in the Yard seam, and the furnace drift came into the shaft at a slight inclination a few feet above the seam.

There was a small shaft or "staple" from the surface to the High Main seam, and another "staple" from the Yard seam into an inclined drift which ran into the Low Main seam, but between the Yard seam and the High Main seam there was no "staple": the only communication between these seams and with the surface was by means of the shaft.

The colliery was situated in faulted ground, and the Low Main seam was very wet, it was Chapman's interesting experience to be one of four in the New Hartley Pit when there came an influx of water that laid the place idle for twelve years. Chapman, then a strong, handy lad of 15 years, had gone in along with three men one holiday, to inspect and work at the "grips" or water channels, and ascertain whether there was any increase in depth, as the workings were in the vicinity of an 8 fathom fault, from which a quantity of water was expected though nothing like the overwhelming stream that was tapped. The method of gauging the rise and fall of water in the mine was very simple, consisting merely of placing two bricks in the grip, and adducing the height of the water by the depth of the covering.

On noting the abnormal increase of water they reported at once to the manager, a Mr. Swan, who immediately ordered the withdrawal of the horses and trams, all the former were safely got out, but the rails and many of the trams had to be left, no provision had been made for coping with a large quantity of water, and consequently the mine quickly flooded, and remained so for twelve years, when a pumping engine of 300 h.p. was erected at the surface.

It was a beam engine i.e. work was done through the medium of a great cast iron beam, one end of which was attached to the spears in the shaft, and the other end to the piston rod of the engine.

The beam weighed 43 tons, and had a breaking strain of 175 tons, and was made by Messrs. Losh, Wilson, and Bell, of Walker. Four years later, the bearings having become worn, it was decided to put in new brass bearings, the work was done one Sunday — a week before the disaster, and during the operation of lacing the ponderous beam again on its gudgeons, it slipped from the lifting jacks by which it was being raised, and fell with great force into its bearings.

Chapman is of the opinion that the fatal fracture was then begun. The water was pumped in three lifts, from the Low Main to the Yard seam a 28 inch sett lifted the water to a cistern in the latter seam: from this cistern a 30 inch sett pumped the water to a cistern in the High Main seam, from this point the water was lifted by the beam engine through 32 inch pipes to the surface.

Reverting from this description of the pit to the incidents of that eventful morning, my old friend relates he was then employed as a deputy at the New Hartley Pit.

During the latter part of his shift he was engaged in putting up a "set of gears" to wit, a bar and two props, in a double place, and was chaffing two hewers about some local matters, when glancing at his watch, he saw that it was near "lowsing time" so he hastily finished his work and hurried out-bye. His mates of the back shift had already reached the "kist" as the deputy's tool chest is called in North country parlance, and they asked him why he was so late.

Saying he had no time to explain, Chapman quickly made his way to the pit bottom, giving as a reason for his hurry the knowledge that he would most certainly have been ducked in one of the deep grips by the sides of the galleries, if the two recipients of his chaff, mischievous fellows, had caught up with him. On reaching the shaft he found that the onsetter was sending up the men as fast as he got to the cage-load, a breakdown having occurred on the main incline, which had stopped the supply of coal to the shaft. Had there been coal the miners would have to wait, and thus the death-roll would of been greater.

Chapman rode up in the last cage but one to come safely to bank, and in company with a hewer named James Mallet was crossing the Blythe and Tyne railroad between the colliery and his home, In Avenue Row, Seaton Delaval, when they heard a terrific crash. "Gude Hivens," ejaculated Mallet, whativvor in the warl's that.! Nay replied Chapman, "Ah canna tell. Ah divvent think it's a boiler explosion; bud Ah'll gan back and see".

Retracing his steps he met his brother in law, George Branch the banksman, running from the pit head on his way to inform the manager of the disaster.

Branch explained what had happened and hurried off, while Chapman ran up the steps to the pit heap, here was a scene of wreckage that baffles description, surface timbers, keeps, and rails hung over the pit mouth, a torn and shattered mass mingled with the broken remains of the guides, buntons, and bratticing in the shaft.

Seeing the need for immediate action, Chapman had himself lowered into the shaft by means of a rope round his waist, and thus suspended, commence with axe and saw to clear away the hanging mass, He was so engaged when the manager Mr. Joseph Humble, arrived, observing that Chapman had not been home since working his shift below, Mr. Humble told him to go home and get some rest while there was time, for he said "I shall want you again soon". To Chapman, therefore, belongs the distinction of being the first man in the shaft after the disaster.

Chapman went home, but not to sleep, and after a short rest arose, dressed himself, and went back to the pit.

The timbers displaced by the falling beam had met the ascending cage, containing eighth occupants, four of whom were thrown out and hurled, mortally injured, on the debris below, while the other four were imprisoned, more or less injured, in the cage, which remained wedged in the shaft, the cries of these men could be heard, and attempts to rescue them were being made, when Chapman returned to the scene.

By this time news of the disaster had spread, and people from all the surrounding villages, and workmen and officials from the adjoining mines, were flocking around the pit head.

The work of clearing the shaft was being carried on under the direction of the manager, Mr. Carr, owner, Mr. G. B. Hunter, of Cowpen and North Seaton, Mr. Hugh Taylor, Backworth and Mr. Matthew Dunn, H. .M. Inspector of Mines.

It was almost midnight before the wrecked cage was reached, and then Geo. Sharp, Senior, who had a broken leg and other injuries, was placed in a loop at the end of a rope by his less injured mates and drawn towards the bank, but, coming in contact with some of the hanging timbers, he was dragged from the rope, and falling down the shaft was instantly killed.

After this deplorable occurrence, the rescuers, among whom was Chapman, made their way down the staple to the High Main seam, and attempted to reach the occupants of the cage from this point: but so fast was the water pouring down the shaft that it was impossible to keep their lamps and candles alight. Locomotive lamps from the surface were requisitioned, and even these were being continually extinguished, so that the work had to be done practically in the dark.

To reach the men a looped rope was swung to and fro in the shaft, and when one of the occupants grasped it and fastened himself in, he was drawn by hand to the entrance of the High Main , and from thence passed up the staple to the surface. Owing to the many obstacles in the shaft, this was a very hazardous and arduous task, Chapman says that although all the volunteers could get hold of the rope, only one could lift at a time (a straight pull was impossible), and the length of his lift was gathered in by those behind.

The men thus rescued were William Sharp and Ralph Robinson, the fourth occupant, Thomas Watson, having earlier in the day gone down the signal wires in an attempt to reach the Yard seam, but found the shaft blocked 8 or 10 fathoms below with rock and timber, among which lay dying the four men previously thrown out of the cage.

Unable to return, Watson, who was a local preacher, remained to pray with and alleviate as far as he was able the suffering of the unfortunate men, until death kindly released them from their agonies.

When Watson was being drawn up he had a narrow escape of being killed, some of the timber fell down the shaft and the rope suddenly slackening, there was a great cry of "He's gone" ! But presently the rope tightened, and his relieved rescuers heard him shout from the depths, "Haul up"! The falling timbers had, luckily, struck the rope a little above him, and thus swung him into the side of the shaft clear of danger.

The attempt to reach the 199 men and boys entombed below was now prosecuted with the utmost vigour and dispatched, the men, it was surmised would be gathered together in the Yard seam, to which they would be driven by the stoppage of the pumps allowing the Low Main seam to fill with water. So far as could be seen, the wreckage consisted chiefly of timber, and some impatient spirit advocated, as the quickest way to clear the shaft, by dropping the other part of the beam down.