16. ST MARY’S INSTITUTE OF HISTORICAL RESEARCH INCIDENT REPORT

Competition entry by Debs Pick

St Mary’s Incident Report

Name: Debbie Stolton

Department & rank: Historian (Junior)

Incident date: 18/06/1875

Jump location: Dublin Ireland

Jump ref and Pod number: GB239087 Pod 5

Pod damaged Y/N - details on separate form: N (not that much anyway)

Mission briefing - To report on the whiskey fire in the Liberties, Dublin.

Report:

Ireland 1875 still part of the United Kingdom at this time. A political and religious thorn in the side of the British Establishment since the 1500s. Much like the History department’s relationship with the Director of St Mary’s, according to said Director. Our Head of Department always says a healthy resistance to authority is the sign of a strong society, but I’ve noticed she tends to say it quietly and out of his earshot.

Anyway, the mission! A fire started in the Liberties in a whiskey storehouse and then rapidly spread through the neighbourhood, causing damage and casualties. Our aim was to record the start of the fire, confirm the extent of the affected areas, and document any casualties.

Background:

The Liberties takes its name from the abbey of St Thomas which owned the land and had the freedom to do whatever it felt like it commercially, much like St Paul’s in London did. Fat Henry did his dissolution in Ireland just as on the mainland, and it was gifted to his mates, the Earls of Meath. Jump forward 250 years, and the area is mainly breweries and poor people. Apart from that famous stout, there was a lot of whisky being brewed. Highly flammable whiskey.

Start of incident: 18.00 Malones Malt House Chamber St.

We knew the alarm was raised at 20.00, so we wanted to see if the cause was visible to an innocent bystander. It was.

It was also caused by an innocent bystander. I’d just like to point out this was not my fault! The fact that history didn’t kill me or any of the squad proves that I was meant to be there and was part of the BIGGER PICTURE. It was destiny. Honest.

The pathfinders had researched the area and found an alley behind the warehouse with a good view of the windows into the main distillery and the gates. We got into position by 18.30, pod discreetly parked round the corner in a different alley, and waited. And waited. And waited.

By 19.30 nothing had happened, so I decided to take a closer look. Against security’s advice ( yes I know better now but…) I sidled up to the nearest window and took a peek through the window. I could just make out a desk covered in documents, and a man sat reading. The desk was surrounded by barrels in racks on each wall. Although it was still daylight outside, he had a candlestick on his desk, the windows were filthy, and it was hard to see through them. I was about to try to wipe away some of the accumulated filth when security crackled in my earpiece: ‘Do NOT touch anything. Observe and then run away, remember?’

I ducked down below the sill as the man stood up and walked out of the room. ‘I’m trying to see where the fire comes from, but there’s nothing obvious? It should be any minute now; it’s meant to be visible in 20 minutes. I can’t see anything, I’m going to open the window a crack.’

Bad idea. The window scraped up an inch, and it all went historian-shaped. The breeze blew the candle over onto the paperwork, and it smouldered into flame. The top page on the desk went up, then the next, then the next, and you get the picture. Paperwork flambe. I realised belatedly that it’s probably why the window was closed. Next thing, the desk was on fire, and I decided that standing next to what was likely to be several thousand gallons of boiling spirits wasn’t a good place to be. The man suddenly walked back into the room, saw the desk and shouted something,then turned and ran out the door.

19.50 ‘Fire! Fire! ‘ Our alarm was raised at last.Big hurray! Although slightly smaller, hurray because it was me that caused it.

Initial explosion and effects:

We strategically withdrew around the corner to the pod and watched and listened as the alarm went up. It was your typical poor area, overcrowded tenements side by side with tanneries and breweries, so fire was something to be feared. There was a smell of smoke, and you could hear the crackle. The police and soldiers were moving through the streets raising the alarms and ensuring everyone was safely away. Any minute now, I thought, and then Boom! There was a roar, and a huge cloud of smoke shot into the air. Not just smoke, I was nearly brained by an unexpected chamberpot that was amongst the office furniture falling from the sky.

The spirit was highly flammable, and clearly the explosion had broken some of the barrels. A trickle of spirit was running down the gutter past us, and as we watched, it got wider and stronger. There was a muffled boom behind us and the dribble was suddenly more like a hoseful, and then a small stream that was spreading out from the gutter. ‘That’s flammable’ muttered security and as if the universe was listening there was a whoosh and the road was on fire. And the stream grew deeper. It was now 2 foot wide and running the length of the road, a river of liquid fire down Mill St, lapping at doors and stables and hedges. And the people, well once they knew what it was they took advantage, on fire or not. Streams of whisky indeed, Mr McGowan. They were scooping it up in jugs and cups and hats and their bare hands. But this was the raw spirit before it was diluted for sale, much stronger than normal and a man fell over drinking as we watched. His friends carried him away.

Something about a figure watching caught my eye. Tall, better dressed than the majority of the locals, he stood out in the crowd. Of course, Trinity College Dublin’s most famous son: Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde. Wilde? He was absolutely livid. Someone had jostled him in their urgency to get at the free booze and had liberally splashed his trousers. He looked even further down his regal nose and strode away, cane swinging. Next stop Oxford and social scandal.

Aftermath

The whiskey burned itself out after a few hours.

Despite the fire destroying neighbouring buildings on 4 streets, the 13 reported deaths were all from alcohol poisoning. This low death toll was attributed to the police evacuation.

Of 5,000 barrels, only 61 were recovered undamaged. Not all were burnt; some were rolled away and hidden for future consumption.

Unfortunately, on returning to our pod, it had a scorch mark 6 inches high on all sides, having been quietly sat in a puddle of burning whiskey like the world’s biggest Christmas pudding. I have apologised to the Technical team.

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