On 7th February 1906, an apparently quiet prisoner lay lifeless by the tracks, then rose from the dead and was calmly returned to custody.
The story began not on the railway, but in the wards of the Royal National Hospital for Consumption at Ventnor.
2 patients, Herbert Beard and Herbert Bull, were cutting bread when, without warning, Beard produced a knife and maliciously wounded Bull. Another patient helped restrain him and the weapon was taken away. Beard’s only explanation was that Bull had “annoyed” him.
Placed in the charge of Police Sergeant W. Cass, Beard was taken to Ventnor Town Station for the train to Newport. In the carriage he appeared subdued and compliant, giving no hint that anything out of the ordinary was about to occur.
As the train entered the St Lawrence tunnel, the world outside was swallowed by complete darkness. In that moment, unseen and unheard, Beard acted. It was later said he slid open the window, seized the outside handle, turned it, and dropped from the moving train into the blackness beyond. There was no cry, no struggle, no sound to betray him.
The first Sergeant Cass knew of the escape was the click of the door. In the pitch dark he reached across and found only empty space. Looking from the window, he could see nothing. Once the train emerged, he brought it to a halt and, with a couple of passengers, walked back into the tunnel.
Daylight reached some distance from the entrance. There they found Beard lying motionless beside the track, apparently dead. When they turned him over, blood was flowing from a wound to the scalp. He was carried on a stretcher to Whitwell Station.
Yet the sergeant and his helpers were not convinced. Suspecting the prisoner was shamming, they left him in the waiting room and pretended to walk away, watching to see whether he would continue to play dead. When they returned, the lifeless body had risen. Beard was sitting up.
As the next train arrived, he stood, walked to the carriage, and prepared to continue the journey as though nothing extraordinary had occurred. This time, no chances were taken. The doors were firmly locked.
At Shide, an ambulance and further officers were waiting. Beard was found to have no more than a superficial scalp wound, though his torn coat showed how narrowly he had avoided being crushed beneath the trucks during his leap.
For a few extraordinary hours on an otherwise ordinary February day, the Island witnessed a moment where danger, darkness and an almost absurd defiance of expectation met on a stretch of railway line, before order was quietly, and firmly, restored.
Great story, keep them coming.