The Baker Boys

Copyright 2014 Clinton mhic Aonghais.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

isbn: 978-1-4907-3909-0 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4907-3911-3 (hc)

isbn: 978-1-4907-3910-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014910720

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This account is dedicated to my cobber Russell Baker who suggested it was about time this story was written …; to his daughters Flight Sergeant Samantha Baker and Amanda Baker, to the wider Baker family; and to all those who take the time to read and consider its content. It is also written as a remembrance to all those who have served their country, families, or compatriots in times of conflict; more particularly those who never got to return home.

Malcolm & Victor Baker

Special limited issue collector series stamps

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Acknowledgements

This account has been compiled and written with material from many sources to numerous to mention. I acknowledge all sources and persons who have assisted in the supply of information and historical records, including access to the diary and photographs of Victor Henry Baker (deceased).

Personal acknowledgement is made to Russell Baker of Te Anau, New Zealand in having the dream of wanting to see his grandfather’s, and in part, family story recorded; along with the Baker families of Christchurch, New Zealand, and Woolpit, Suffolk, England;

and the Davidson family of Oamaru, New Zealand.

Additionally I thank my wife, Jane, and my family for allowing me the space and time to write this account, along with the support of two friends, Al Lester and Dave Findlay, for their ongoing interest and support.

To Sherayl McNabb – Historian - NZANS-RNZNC, and Julie Shaw, Australia, for their invaluable assistance.

To Steve MacLauchlan of Christchurch for his assistance with the supply of photographic images, along with those from:

V H Baker Collection

Baker Family Collections

Fort Augustus Collections

D & S McInnes Collections

WW1 Disk Collection

Don Braben – Artist

Roger Rothery

Public Domain Images, and

The Chatham Islands Postal Service

Index

Author’s Note

Introduction

Part I: The Warrior Hulk

Part II: Emigration

Part III: A Great War Begins

Part IV: NZHS No.1 Maheno – 1st Charter

Part V: Gallipoli

Part VI: All In A Day’s Work

Part VII: Home Leave

Part VIII: In Flanders’ Fields

Part IX: All Quiet On The Western Front

Part X: A Day Etched in Infamy

Part XI: Las Boiselle to High Wood

Part XII: High Wood Hell

Part XIII: Death and Destruction

Part XIV: NZHS No.2 Marama – 2nd Charter – Part I

Part XV: NZHS No.2 Marama – 2nd Charter –Part II

Part XVI: The Return

Part XVII: NZMR 33rd Reinforcements

Part XVIII: The Palestinian Affair

Part XIX: The Mounted Field Ambulance

Part XX: The Birthplace of Christendom

Part XXI: The Amman Stunt

Part XXII: Ain es Sir Treachery

Part XXIII: The Bluff that was Mediggo

Part XXIV: The Final Push

Part XXV: The Surafend Incident

Part XXVI: Insurrection

Epilogue

British WW1 Medals

Author’s Note

Standing resplendent in his kilt, and proud of a Scottish heritage bequeathed to him from his mother’s side of his family, Russell Baker related to me the exploits of his grandfather, Victor Henry Baker, who had served during the First World War (WW1). Victor’s war service and exploits started on New Zealand’s first two hospital ships No.1 NZHS Maheno, and No.2 NZHS Marama, to be followed by service with the New Zealand Mounted Rifles Brigade in Palestine. Russell and I had met again at a mutual friends’ wedding, and as the telling of his grandfather’s story progressed he ventured to suggest that it needed recording in a book as a complete account, supported from Victor’s diary notes along with photographs he held, or could obtain.

Researching my own ancestry I had come to understand that any account of those involved in conflict throughout history, like Russell’s grandfather, was very special to those who were close or related to that individual.

Every story also has personal tales to tell that are of interest to all of us; none more so it than those of individuals from small communities whose sacrifices for their families, country, or humanity in general have predominantly gone unrecorded.

During WW1 these men and women were the backbone of a British and Commonwealth system that levied a heavy toll on its civilian populations by sending its youth to the slaughter like sheep to the works. Included with these sacrificial lambs were those who attempted tirelessly to assist the injured, along with family members back home who suffered in silence when news of the death of a loved one reached their door.

For many young boys as they grew up in my day, snippets from stories of their ancestors tended on occasion, with the blurring of historical events, to be embellished mentally in young minds to create the arch-typical hero that every boy can look up to. Without proper research verbal accounts can sometimes portray an imaginative depiction of ancestors that was never quite that in reality. Understandably stories told over time can also tangle fact with fiction to misinterpret statements, events, and personalities, while leaving out the hardship, the pain, and the suffering; as our forebears often did.

Many families over the centuries have been affected by hardship, poverty, injustice, or famines. For other generations many who served during times of war simply did not return to enjoy grandfather or grandmother status, and left distraught young widows along with grieving families. For the majority of those who survived the vagaries of war to continue their lineage, they would carry the scars and memories of their experiences to their graves; in many cases not mentioning their anguish, or their exploits, to another living soul.

Someone once said with regard to war in particular, that it is never pretty, and for many it was just bloody hard work, where stupidity touched shoulders with excitement, monotony, hardship, fear, and pain. The road back home to a life of peace and marital bliss for the survivors was also certainly not easy. This was particularly true following the 1914-1918 Great War, but the sparkling eyes of a child, or grandchild down the track, living in a country where freedom is cherished, generally made the struggle all worthwhile.

The cycle of life continued with the wish that no child or grandchild should have to suffer or face the reality of war or injustice.

A month or so after meeting up with Russell I read with interest extracts from his grandfather Victor’s WW1 diary that he had sent me. I was to discover that Victor had an older brother Malcolm in the service at the time also, and that the Baker family story went much deeper than originally anticipated.

This is the story therefore of the origins and lives of several of that family, leading to the account of two of its sons and brothers from a small Suffolk village; more particularly they are Russell’s grandfather, Victor Henry Baker, and his brother Malcolm Robert Baker.

Malcolm would offer himself up as a front line soldier, while Victor, who had migrated to New Zealand, as a medical orderly who would then eventually experience the heat of battle first hand also. For Victor’s immediate family this is a story of those held dear to them, and for us the account of two average blokes from down the street. Lives and little known associated historic events that invariably go unnoticed, unmentioned, and forgotten - unless of course the story is shared and passed on.

From family accounts and diary of Victor Henry Baker

The story begins with an earlier ancestral account as this, to some degree, places Victor and Malcolm’s lives in perspective when considering the sacrifice and hardships the family had faced since the mid 1800’s.

For me personally the researching, compiling, and writing of this account reconfirms that freedom does not exist without hard work or sacrifice; more importantly perhaps that we should always remember and recognise the efforts and suffering endured by our predecessors on our behalf wherever it has occurred. This additionally includes the suffering of all worldwide who are inflicted by any form of injustice, or involved on either side in any conflict in what could be construed as the day to day affairs of mans’ inhumanity to man.

Clinton Mhic Aonghais

(Clinton McInnes)

Introduction

When war was declared in August 1914, many places up and down Great Britain and throughout Europe held street celebrations. The majority believed that the war would be over by Christmas 1914 and many men rushed to answer the call to arms with the exuberance of youth, as did many too old to serve but wanting to show their patriotism. For the Bakers of Woolpit they had a semblance of rural commonsense with their feet firmly planted in middle Suffolk clay lands.

They had found it hard enough over the ensuing century just surviving, to want to see their sons gallivanting off on some patriotic crusade.

Meanwhile the public was quickly deluged with numerous propaganda posters to encourage everyone in their nation’s time of need, and the government asked for 100,000 volunteers, getting 750,000 in just one month. Many believed that victory against Germany would be quick and a certainty, with the vast bulk of the nation supportive not only of the declaration of war, but also of any man who wanted to join up.

Predominantly in the larger cities, those who were fit enough and of eligible age that did not want to join the military were now considered fair game to be targeted as cowards. Many were handed white feathers, while others were refused service by shops and pubs. This enthusiasm and associated scare mongering thankfully did not last, for after the Battle of the Marne, it became obvious that there would be not quick victory as trench warfare took its hold, and the true reality of a modern war became obvious to all. War-weariness began to set in and the government could not hide the fact that many thousands of men had been killed or severely wounded. The return of wounded soldiers to London rail stations late at night did nothing to detract from the knowledge that casualties were becoming horrendous.

Writing in 1966, G. S. Duncan, Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig’s personal Chaplain during WW1 summed up the nation’s mood in 1914, thus,

We had imagined ourselves then to be living in an age of enlightenment; and that a civilized nation like Germany should wantonly provoke a war with her European neighbours came as a shock both to the intelligence and to the conscience. The nation sprang at once to arms; so too did the peoples of the British Empire. There is no adequate parallel in history, before or since, to the upsurge of stern resolution that the need aroused. The response came from every section of the community. And it was for long an entirely voluntary response: despite the desperate character of the struggle, conscription was not introduced till two years later. Above all there was an idealistic ardour, a sense of unity, and a comradeship which a later generation has found it hard to understand.

Then in January 1915, Russia appealed to Britain and France to provide support in its resistance of Turkish and German attacks in the Caucasus. This it was determined, could be achieved if the Dardanelles, the narrow strait separating the Mediterranean with the Sea of Marmara, could be secured to allow free passage of Allied shipping. Having failed with initial naval attempts to eliminate the Turkish defences that caused serious loss of ships and lives in the French and British Fleet, a land campaign had been gallantly planned involving the capture the Gallipoli Peninsular, from where an advance to Constantinople could be made.

With its large, deep water harbour in Mudros Bay, 60 miles and four hours sailing time from Gallipoli, the island of Lemnos in the Aegean Sea, had been selected as a base and Headquarters of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force for the operation. For this purpose it had been occupied by Royal Marines in February 1915. With little infrastructure and a very inadequate water supply it was to serve as transit area for British, ANZAC, and French forces awaiting the start of the campaign.

On 25th April, 1915, the first landings were made at Cape Helles by the British 29th Division and on west coast by the ANZAC Division. Relentless fire from well prepared Turkish positions, inadequate landing facilities, and inhospitable terrain resulted in very heavy casualties, and after several months of fighting, not even the first-day objectives were reached.

Much has been written about the disastrous Gallipoli campaign, particularly that of the Australians and New Zealanders, with this account being in part an extension of that. Dealing with the large numbers sick and wounded was difficult and all, other than the less severe cases who could be treated on the Peninsular, had to be taken away by hospital ships and carriers. Initially many went to Alexandria but hospital accommodation there became quickly limited. Others would go to Malta and Britain.

Manned by personnel from the respective countries Medical Corps., Field Ambulance, Nursing Services, ASC personnel, Red Cross, and others numerous men and women would work tirelessly - on the field of battle as stretcher bearers and at clearing stations; in hastily constructed tent operating theatres; on hospital ships, carriers, and lighters; in ambulances and hospitals; and in convalescent homes and facilities, to administer to the increasing number of war wounded and ill.

They were men and women from families that through the vagaries, or luck, of history were fortunate themselves to be still be on this earth; and that also had family members laying their lives on the line for their King and Country.

As for the Gallipoli Campaign, eventually, Australian, Canadian, British, and French hospitals were set up on the island of Lemnos, mainly in the Mudros area, where all were in tents except for the French which was hutted. Working conditions, especially for the nurses and other staff, were arduous and demanded improvisation. Surgical operations on battle wounds and other conditions, including frost bite, were carried out in tented operating theatres, where a lack of adequate water made the treatment of serious illness, such as dysentery, a severe problem.

It has been written with regard to medical personnel and nursing at Gallipoli, on the Western Front, in Palestine, or other WW1 theatres of operation, that the spotlight does not often shine on the practicalities of the care of the wounded. This is particularly true of those that were afflicted once they had left places like the Dardanelles, or after the battles of the Western Front, and on the role played by medical units and personnel which are not widely known. Still less reported has been the extraordinary experiences of nurses themselves even though many kept diaries, these documents are mainly silent on the physical hardships they, along with other medical personnel also endured.

Neither do they speak of the often harsh treatment of the nurses by orderlies, officers and commanding officers in the units in which they served in a male orientated field of war. This was particularly true of the Australian Medical Corp but it also pervaded those of New Zealand in the initial stages.

It has also been said that the dominance of the Anzac mythology, with the privileging of the voices of combatants, has perpetuated this silence.

WW1 Nursing memorabilia

For medical attendant and orderly Victor Henry Baker, however, he had no such problem in seeing his female counterparts either in charge, or working alongside him. He recognised and appreciated their experience, in what he could learn from them and as a consequence, he would befriend many.

It is unknown whether Victor was the exception to the rule, however, it is considered that perhaps the New Zealand Medical command, especially on the New Zealand Hospital Ships Maheno and Marama, had a more accepting and concerned approach to the fairer sex, and that ultimately it was one of protection rather than male arrogance that supported their valid and heroic roles.

For those involved medical service life was made doubly hard if they had loved ones also involved more actively as front line troops in the conflict, as the human carnage and effects of man’s humanity to man was being brought home to them daily in their duties.

For those at home the lack of news, and dwelling on the unknown with the telegraph office and postman viewed in a whole new light, was no less traumatic for families on both sides of the conflict.

Back in Britain for the first time civilians themselves were targeted with bombing raids by Zeppelins and coastal raids by the German Navy. War had also come to unsuspecting and innocent small rural communities. It had started on 16th December, 1914, when the east coast towns of Scarborough, Whitby and Hartlepool were attacked from sea by the German Navy killing 119 people including children.

Attacks from the air would follow with the first Zeppelin raid on London occurring at midnight on 31st May, 1915, when Hauptmann Linnarz bombed the capital killing seven people and causing £18,000 worth of damage. In the months that followed 50 further Zeppelin raids took place and a blackout was imposed on the city. By October 1915, these raids effectively ended when pilots from the Royal Naval Air Service flew night patrols to protect the city, but it would not be so for the rural southeast.

The war would also lead to inflation with many poorer families finding it hard, not being able to afford the increase in food prices, impacted further by a German U-boat campaign from 1915 that would also lead to food shortages. A shortage of food combined with inflated prices was a situation their ancestors had experienced and suffered over many generations along with the associated pain of loss. By February 1918 it was to really hit home when rationing would be introduced by the British Government. At this point nearly everything would be directed towards the war effort, including fuel that would also be in short supply requiring rationing.

The demand for war munitions would mean that factories were required to work all but round the clock to ensure that soldiers were well supplied with ammunition. This would invariably lead to accidents as safety got relegated secondary to producing munitions. The worst factory accident would occur at Silverton in the East End of London on 19th January, 1917, when an exploding munitions factory would kill 69 people, injure over 400, and cause extensive damage to the area around the factory.

While the populace were affected at home, thousands of parents and loved ones around the world would pray, as their sons and daughters trod foreign fields. Even for those living in small rural communities with access to home grown produce things would become tighter; with many experiencing the true agony of what was hopefully the ‘war to end all wars’.

WW1 British munitions factory

For the Bakers from the small rural enclave of Heath Woolpit, lying as it still does eight miles southeast of the larger village of Bury St Edmunds in the hundreds of High Suffolk, England, they were fortunate to be treading the clay soil in the first place. Whilst they were not alone in experiencing hardships in life, they did have sons who would fulfil the dying wish of one of their distant ancestors, to allow this story to be told.

St. Mary’s Church, Woolpit

Part I

The Warrior Hulk

On Tuesday, 25th April 1933, following tests around the western world, the inoculation in the fight against diphtheria was being started with pre-school children, and those of school age, throughout the British’ Commonwealth. It was another step along the road of medical advancement in combating the disease. Even though he had once had the illness, for Victor Henry Baker as he stood at that morning’s damp ANZAC Day service, it was the last thing on his mind.

The words of the speaker carried to him across the gathered crowd …

It is very fitting that on one day in the year that the memory of those who fell should be kept in solemn commemoration.

Throughout New Zealand and the Commonwealth of Australia, citizens, and returned soldiers and sailors, will meet to keep in remembrance the sacrifices that were made at Gallipoli, as well as the fields of France, and elsewhere on foreign soil. Those who fell and those who survived, have, by their magnificent courage in the face of terrible odds, bequeathed to our nations not only a soul and a grand tradition, but an absolutely imperishable position among all the dominions that form the great Commonwealth of our Empire.

There are many hearts in our midst to-day that must be seared and scarred by the losses they have sustained and we join in expressing profound sympathy with those who mourn their valiant dead.

That tense and solemn note, Never shall their memory fade, struck at the first Anzac commemoration, acquired deepening significance as the honour roll of our brave dead grew longer; and now in an annual-memorial service and in other suitable ways we give expression to the sacred duty of inspiring and grateful remembrance.

The previous day, as was the case every Monday, come rain or shine, Victor had tendered to the needs of the 200 chooks he ran on NZ Railways’ leased land that overlooked the Oamaru Gardens. He had then returned to lovingly nurture the expansive, and now lush, vegetable plot he had established on the family’s quarter acre section at 24 Stour Street, Oamaru. Always early to market he attempted to capture a good price for his produce. He had become quite astute in that regard, however, for all his commercial sense he still liked to help his Otago WW1 veteran mates and other friends with his last delivery of fresh eggs and vegetables having only been made the previous week.

Looking down at the garden he cared for he had pondered on how much more he could cultivate to keep the ‘wolf from the door’ for his family, and others, during this damnable economic depression. His green beans had just about run their course along with the lettuces and last crop of silver beet and carrots, however, his crop of winter leeks were coming on, as were the summer cabbages that he had battled to keep the damn white butterflies off over the warm summer months. It had been a challenge along with keeping the snails out of the garden, but it was one that came with the territory, and one that he enjoyed.

As he stood reverently at the service his mind drifted back to those years when he had experienced the sacrifice and suffering of many. He reflected on the fallen he had known, including his brother Malcolm, and then his family from the little village that he loved back in England. As he did so a tear came to his eye and he clenched his song sheet a little tighter.

What a waste … What a bloody waste….

From somewhere on a foreign field,

We bore our pain and did not yield,

Pawns in the greatest game of strife,

By offering up our humble life;

The years slip by and I say naught;

For death and pain I had not sought

Even with time’s progressive pace;

I’ll still remember every face

And tears of love I will let fall;

As now and then I do recall.

By 1841 Queen Victoria had been on the throne for three years; the Whig, Lord Melbourne, was Prime Minister, and there would be 3,550 convicts on board various rat infested, dank, prison hulks in England, including the Thames River at Woolwich. One would house 638 souls, 400 would be in hospital, and 38 deaths would occur.

As a country of fifteen and a half million people, England was economically and politically powerful, presiding as it did over the Empire, but without much of a social conscience. The Industrial Revolution that had commenced in the previous century, prior to its spread to Europe and the United States, had brought with it significant affluence. Despite this, social conditions were terrible for the working person, and as publicised in the words of writers such as Charles Dickens. Published those few years earlier in 1838, his book `Oliver Twist’ graphically portrays the poverty in the cities.

The Industrial Revolution, however, had its greatest impact on rural society which was breaking down as the cities grew. It had a severe effect upon traditional agricultural workers and others. The life of the average English rural worker with a wife and young family was extremely harsh with little income, a poor quality of housing, no access to education, and no prospects of improvement.

Also impacting on families was ‘The 1834 Poor Law Ammendment Act’ that had come into force on 21st August 1834, specifically and explicitly aimed at discouraging people from applying for relief.

It had been designed to deliver immediate and visible economies, and understandably led to a rapid fall in the cost of relief in most areas because conditions were deliberately made harsh.

Like many laws, it treated the symptoms, not the causes of poverty and heralded a new administrative structure that effectively added to families woes by harming the defenceless, rather than the idle able-bodied. With some of the ‘evils’ it was designed to destroy, having been exaggerated, it did however limit the power of the local rural tyrant, although it was less flexible than the law it had replaced.

The idea of ‘less eligibility’ that influenced Victorian social policy also cultivated the idea that self-help and independence were valued as virtues. Even the ‘labour aristocracy’ still looked down on labourers. Until private social investigation stirred the national social conscience, evangelicalism and concern for social stability that led to private charity, was the only alternative. The typical attitude to poverty was unconcern, complacency, or moralising.

Working class petition

As one put it, I am at this moment within twelve month of 60 years of age. I shall myself become a pauper…. I view the present Poor Law Amendment Act as a system of coercion upon the poor man, and that very shortly I shall be under its dreadful operation. I have not merited these things. I am a loyal man, strongly attached to the institutions of my country, and a lover of my country.

19th-century society was poor compared to modern standards. Most members of the working classes were likely to be in poverty at some point in their lives due to economic downturn, bad agricultural seasons, unemployment, sickness, old age, or other impacting factors. With nowhere to turn those affected had to rely on their children, friends, or credit for support in times of hardship. The contemporary, magnanimous, attitude was that this was right and proper, because it encouraged the poor to work. Poverty and destitution was not seen as a social problem, but rather as a result of character weakness.

This attitude had to some degree led to the Act being amended in the first place, as it was believed that those in dire need would accept the Work House. The alleged demoralising effects of the old Poor Law however were not as bad as they were made out to be. In true political style and embellishment this new law was seen as the final solution to the problem of pauperism which, according to those with silver tea services, would work wonders for the moral character of the working man. Like many such schemes or laws, however, it did not provide any such solution; improving neither the material nor moral condition of the working class. It was, however, to be ruthlessly and efficiently enforced in rural southern England as soon as it was passed, and was naturally exceedingly unpopular. For the industrial worker, who also feared the Work House, they openly referred to the new Act as ‘The Poor Law Bastilles’.

At the gates of the Poor House

Many small rural families would be caught in a spiral of destitution that ended with the Work House, or in having their family member resort to crime with the ever present threat of death or transportation. In 1839, Thomas Carlyle wrote, The New Poor Law is an announcement ... that whosoever will not work ought not to live. Can the poor man that is willing to work always find work and live by his work? A man willing but unable to find work is ... the saddest thing under the sun.

Those sent to Work Houses usually were unable to look after themselves, being in the main the old, the ill, or the young. One large Work House was favoured because it was cheaper, but this naturally led to abuses. Conditions varied from house to house.

With great administrative fervour parishes were then linked into Unions; each controlling relief in its area, hopefully with one large Work House. Boards of Guardians were elected by ratepayers. They supervised daily matters of relief and were helped by paid experts. By 1838, the Assistant Commissioners had incorporated 13,427 of a total of 15,000 parishes into 573 Unions. By 1868 the whole country would be finally unionised.

Up until the 1830’s emigration had been actively discouraged by the government as it was also considered that any loss of manpower would drastically weaken the English economy. Several factors in the 1830’s, however, changed this negative attitude towards mass emigration. The population of England was growing so steadily that the eminent economist, Malthus, suggested that it would actually be in the interest of the country to encourage emigration.

About the same time Wakefield commenced a public movement to establish free, civilised, colonies in Australia. This was associated with a growing public disquiet about the transportation of convicts that was starting to be likened to the slave trade; only recently abolished in 1833. It was hoped that free emigration would end the leper-like ghastliness and deformity of convict society and human barbarism in the Australian bush.

Additionally, many began to consider emigration to be a preferable alternative to the growing number of the poor being committed to the infamous `Work Houses’.

Emigration

It was coincidental that these movements arrived at a time when there was a drastic need in the colony of New South Wales for workers and, in particular, mechanics, craftsmen, and agricultural labourers.

The Australian colony was developing rapidly, but progress had been slowed excessively by the shortage of such workers. Developers were required to supply an abundance of cheap, honest and industrious labour. As a consequence, the first formal assisted emigration schemes to the colony had been established in the mid 1830’s. For a brief period, two emigration systems, the ‘Government’ and ‘Bounty’ Schemes, operated concurrently. The ‘Government’ Scheme running from 1837 to 1840 had been the larger of the two, and had been directed and financed by the British Government. The ‘Bounty’ Scheme operated from 1835-1841 having been organised by the colonial government of N.S.W. on behalf of settlers who were dissatisfied with British government programmes. Prospective settlers had been offered bounties as an incentive to emigrate. With the financial assistance provided similar under each scheme, as the cost of the passage was prohibitive for the majority of intending settlers, both had provided significant encouragement to emigrate.

The late 1830’s had, therefore, seen the first period of large-scale free emigration to New South Wales. In 1838, over 6,100 assisted emigrants had made the journey. Despite the large scale of these schemes they were smaller than future influxes in the 1850’s Gold Rush era, when the population of the colonies would increase dramatically.

In 1847 a Suffolk labourer would comment on rural poverty, in England.

These mushroom great people have all grown up since I remember, and if I speak to them of the hard times, they tell me to look at the great improvements, the new docks, the cheap postage, the fine railways; really, say they, this is a grand and glorious country; Sir Robert hath repealed the Corn Laws and Lord John will drain our streets and erect baths. Oh! What a blessed land this is. Well, say I, very good, but what benefit has it conferred on me? Here I am working harder than ever, poorer than ever, with no remedy for want and no hope but death.

The railway whizzes past my door, but I never had my foot in a railway carriage. I have no correspondence but with my neighbours ... my brown bread is dearer, my wages are no higher.

The great docks with their many ships, the great railways and fast-running mail carts, have added not a stone to my cottage, nor a crumb to my table.

Eventually in 1849 urban poverty would be investigated and the results establish that destitution was primarily caused because of inadequate wages. By this time the middle class would also become more conscious of the poverty around them. Reformers would emerge in the mid-19th century with information collected by them and by Poor Law medical officers. The outcome would help to improve standards in the Work Houses and lead to the 1848 ‘Public Health Act’.

Many elements of the old system, however, would remain although the Government by this time would dislike this. The new system would be adapted to local circumstances although the Poor Law Commission still preferred indoor relief, or the Work House, to outdoor relief, because it was cheaper and parishes wanted to reduce the poor rates.

The parish would remain the centre for the collection of poor rates until 1865, and as can be imagined any outdoor relief would again be inadequate. Prevailing behind the scenes, however, would still be an attitude of denial and ignorance. As one would eloquently extol in 1859, whilst stuffing another piece of cream topped scone with jam into his corpulent frame,

The greatest results in life are usually attained by simple means ... The common life of every day… provides the workers with scope for effort and self improvement. It is not eminent talent that is required to ensure success in any pursuit so much as purpose - not merely the power to achieve, but the ‘Will to labour ... perserveringly’.

Even if a man fails in his efforts it will be a great satisfaction to him to enjoy the consciousness of having done his best. In humble life nothing can be more cheering than to see a man combating suffering by patience ... and who when his feet are bleeding and his limbs failing him, still walks upon his courage.

A steam engine of the type on the London to Birmingham railway

Suffolk, England countryside

Like so many other East Anglian villages Great Finborough can trace its history back through the centuries. With a name thought to have derived either from the term ‘Magna Fynbarow’ - being a barrow or burial mound in the fens, or derived from the word ‘finebg’ or ‘fineborga’, originally from the Saxon of ‘fenn’ for a marsh, and ‘burgh,’ or ‘borg,’ meaning a small town; it may be considered to have been simply known as ‘The town of the Fen", or Fentown. For the early pilgrim it would have seemed surprisingly hilly after the flatlands of Essex. Over the White Bridge at Manningtree and up through East Bergholt, Hadleigh; then the steady climb at Bildeston which gradually levels out past Hitcham towards Great Finborough.

Situated on a hill overlooking a marsh may have had some relevance in its location developing over the centuries into the attractive village it is today. In early times a large tract of shallow water must have filled all the lower parts of the valley through which the stream from Rattlesden, with its marshy bottom, now runs. Then during Roman occupation a road had been formed through Finborough on its way from Stowmarket to Bildeston. Eight centuries later, in 1066, it was still a small community with a combined population in Great and Little Finboroughs of only 91 persons. The Domesday Book of 1086 mentions its church and manor, along with Little and Great Finborough as one parish.

Like most others those in the area with the name of Baker were simple rural people having lived off the land since time immemorial. Perhaps one had originally been the ‘baker’ for the local community, and this is how the name had originated; perhaps as ‘William the Baker’.

It was a name that was to spread across High Suffolk, elsewhere in England, and around the world, over the ensuing centuries. Whatever their heritage or connections, by the 19th century some of the Suffolk Bakers were more well off than others.

Stowmarket in the early 1900’s

The majority, however, were still poor farm labourers who suffered the vagaries of the seasons, the weather and illness, in bringing up their families as best they could. The mortality rate for infants was high, families usually large, with many hands required to make light work.

Built in 1795 when their family had rebuilt a former Jacobean mansion destroyed by fire, for the Pettiwards living in Finborough Hall, the birth of William Thomas Baker in Great Finborough in circa 1806 was of no consequence. He was simply another mouth to feed in the local community and not of their making or responsibility.

By the time William Baker was nine years of age, and in spite of the victory at the Battle of Waterloo, the Napoleonic Wars had left Britain deeply in debt and in a serious economic depression that impacted on William’s family. For the Government new wealth was badly needed and Britain looked to its growing Empire which was becoming the most important source of British income. But this expanding Empire did little to mollify the working class at home whose social, economic, and political discontent was no doubt aggravated by the social upheaval brought about by the Industrial Revolution. By 1821 economic conditions had improved somewhat. By the mid 1820s, even though England was supposedly experiencing an economic boom, popular discontent remained a serious factor in domestic politics and there were frequent calls for social reform.

Like his father’s, father before him, for William Baker growing up in the small village and parish that was Great Finborough, just outside Stowmarket in rural mid-Suffolk, he was bound to rely on the community’s retained ancient agricultural holdings. Though it was not subsistence farming, like the village had depended on back in the 11th century, it was labour in the fields from dawn to dusk for little income.

For William life was simple and he found satisfaction in his toil; that was until he met Sarah Mary Welham from Buxhall, Suffolk. Mary was seven years William’s junior and he had fallen in love with her with all his heart. This changed his perspective on life considerably and he strove to improve his lot in life. He was to be a fortunate suitor for they were to marry in circa 1832. At the time of their nuptials William was 27 years of age, with Sarah 20. Then to consummate their feelings for one another their first child, also William, was born at Great Finborough in 1832; followed on the 28th December, 1834 by James, and five years later by Robert in circa 1838.

By 1837, however, the wheel of destiny had spun to worsen the Bakers’ plight with the introduction of what would be referred to as the ‘Hungry 40s.’ Beginning with poor harvests nationwide that year the country had experienced a sharp economic downturn and trade depression. Due to lack of work William had been forced to travel further afield to find what he could in the way of labouring work at Kettleburgh, the small Suffolk coastal village near the small towns of Wickham Market and Framlingham.

Then in late 1838, with James not yet five years of age, Sarah Mary Baker died, (possibly in childbirth having Robert). William was devastated. With subsistence conditions and little to live on, or to sustain his children, William took the only course he saw open to him.

In his grief he stole from a local Finborough farmer, and to add to his torment, he was caught.

Half an hour’s journey along the North Kent Railway, past the rising meadows near Blackheath, and the bright toy villas planted, in the centre of the greenest conceivable lawns, which made up the neighbourhood of Charlton; then through a long dark tunnel and William Baker, along with seven other shackled prisoners, were deposited within a five minute walk of the dockyard gates of Woolwich late on a fine summer morning in 1841. Stepping from the train close to the station William looked up at the gaudy front with its sign of a public-house that read, ‘The Warrior.’ It suggested immediately the proximity of the prison hulks and of things to come.

Lazy men, in cotton-velvet-fronted waistcoats, leaned against door-posts amongst strong numbers of very dingy children; remarkably low shops exhibiting all kinds of goods at wonderfully cheap prices; and street after street of little houses where the wives of the regularly employed dock labourers advertised the nature of their industry in their parlour windows; indicated a neighbourhood of some industrial enterprise. Opposite the entrance to the dockyard was another flourishing public-house, this time rejoicing in the suggestive sign of ‘The Old Sheer Hulk,’ which probably reminded some of its customers of peculiarly good old times.

Keeping the high, dark walls of the yard on the left, the way for the manacled band now led past little shops and beer establishments on the right, towards the Woolwich Arsenal. From an elevated churchyard, crowded with graves whose sharp outlines were obscured by the waving of uncut grass, the first view of the river could be seen with the flat Essex marshes beyond.

Here, immediately opposite the yard, rose the bulky form of the great Warrior hulk that authorities had declared could hardly hold together.

Painted black and white, with her naked and puny-looking spars degraded to the rank of clothes-props for the convicts, she stood in curious contrast to the light steamers that danced by her; and to the little sloops laden with war stores bound for Sheerness or Portsmouth, that glided like summer flies upon the surface of the stream almost under her stern

The Warrior hulk

Veering to the right from the churchyard along the busy little High Street William’s party, with its escorting guards, passed a long line of shop windows displaying capacious tea-pots flanked by wondrously variegated tea-cups, offering tempting advantages to the lovers of a comfortable tea.

A dead wall still further suggested the neighbourhood of the hulks; for here the posting-bill of the Woolwich theatre offered to the aspiring youth of the locality the lessons of ‘The Chain of Crime’; or, ‘The Inn on Hounslow Heath’. Then before the arsenal gates, which were protected by three or four stern policemen, a broad avenue was seen at noon, marked by a double row of women standing with their arms a-kimbo, and with baskets of the freshest and reddest-looking radishes upon the ground before them, waiting for the coming of the labourers who were about to leave the arsenal for dinner.

As the convict band moved through the arsenal gate William noticed a long gun pointed right through the portal. The escort was asked where they were going, to which the simple uncomplicated reply was, To the ‘Warrior’ Hulk.

Immediately they were ushered in single file outside one of the lodges at the side of the gate, where each name, address, and profession were inscribed in a Police book.

The escorting officer then instructed them to pass on to the water’s edge where they would find a policeman who would hail the hulk. Through groves of tumbled wheels and masses of timber, on past great square buildings, from the roofs of which white feathers of steam rose gracefully into the clear air, and through the doors of which the glow of fires and the dusky figures of men could be seen. From here their ragged file approached the flag-staff near the water’s edge close to a bright little arsenal pier with its red lamps, and long iron tube under it through which the shells were sent to the sloops moored alongside.

William took in his surroundings wondering whether he would ever set foot on land again. Through the smell of industry he made out an unfamiliar sweet odour that pervaded his nostrils. There was something not right about it, mixed as it was with a more familiar pungent smell of decaying carcasses that he remembered from his rural upbringing. On the opposite bank of the river a slight mist was rising from the marshes, and directly in front he took in the sombre looking hulks Defence and Unite that were moored head to head on their side of the river. With their bulky hammock-houses reared upon their decks and their port-holes barred, they displayed rows of their resident convicts’ linen swinging from between the stunted poles which once served as masts.

From this point William could see the heavy form of the Warrior moored close to the dockyard, with the ugly, little, washing-ship Sulphur. While he took in the scene a policemen in a prominent position on the pier hailed the officer in the gangway of the Warrior. A few minutes later a long gig, in some form of disrepair and pulled by four convicts in their brown dresses and glazed hats, left the side of the hulk with the stiff, dark form of an officer in her stern, and steered directly for the landing place close by the pier.

The instant the boat touched the shore William and the other convicts were herded aboard. With wonderful precision the boatmen, obeying the orders of the officer, pointed the boat’s bows back again to the gangway of the Warrior.

In a few minutes he was aboard, and as he passed up the gangway steps he took in his surroundings, more particularly the convicts washing, the hammock houses and deck galley. The only thing he heard spoken was one officer repeat to the other… For the lower deck.

Moored in the Thames between Galleons Reach and Barking Reach, 50 year old William Cork from Uffculme, who had been sentenced to 10 years transportation for stealing a duck, watched from the decaying deck of 260 ton Justitia, as the gig transporting William Baker and the other unfortunates had headed for the Warrior hulk in the distance.

Poor buggers, I wonder what petty crimes they have committed?

He too was waiting to be transferred to another vessel for transportation to the colonies but it did not seem likely that it was ever going to occur.

Woolwich Arsenal

Thames River hovels

Appearing in the Ipswich Journal of 2nd January, 1841, an article confirmed that William Baker had been committed to the Suffolk county jail, or workhouse of correction in that town by the local presiding justice the Reverend Copinger Hill. Indicted with stealing a quantity of wheat bran, and on a separate occasion three pecks of barley and a file, he had not had long to wait for his trial. The stolen items it had been determined, were the property of a farmer by the name of John Roper, who had no doubt lodged the complaint.

In those years Suffolk assizes were held at Bury and Ipswich alternately, and quarter sessions held for each division at Bury, Ipswich, Beccles, and Woodbridge. At the two former towns were the county gaols; at the two latter, houses of correction. There were also borough prisons at Ipswich, Bury, Sudbury, Eye, Southwold, Aldborough, and Orford; but most of these had little use, although with the times that was changing.

William’s case had been heard on the 9th January, 1841, in the local petty sessions at Ipswich, in front of an exceedingly unsympathetic judge who worked on the government inspired premise that getting rid of offenders saved on having to feed them and pay for their up keep in England. He had adjudicated that on the charge of unlawfully taking the wheat bran that William was guilty and had consequently been condemned to seven years transportation. On the separate charge of stealing the three pecks of barley and the file he had also been found guilty, and to add salt into the wound of injustice, he had been awarded a further term of seven years with transportation; both sentences were to run consecutively. This transportation ordinarily would have been to the penal colony of Australia where the judge had no doubt heard that the sun shone long and the wheat grew tall.

Torn from his family and caste in irons, the Ipswich Journal again reported on the 23rd January of the removal of the convicts William Baker and another, Robert Pearce … having been removed from the County goal in this town by Mr Johnson, (16th/17th January), to be put aboard the Warrior hulk at the dockyard, Woolich; William Baker for 14 years and Robert Pearce for 7 years.

Penalties had become much tougher with families naturally trying to survive. In that regard William’s sentence bore no resemblance to his distant farm labouring ancestor and namesake, William Baker, who had been caught in 1748 poaching in the woods of Woolpit. He has simply been fined with half that fine adjudicated by the local magistrate as requiring to be given to the poor in the community. It was an outcome that would have held a lot more appeal, however larceny, or the crime involving the wrongful acquisition of the personal property of another person, was being cracked down due to the economic conditions and consequent rise in the crime rate.

By the time of his transfer to the prison hulk in the Thames off Woolwich on the 18th January, 1841, William had developed a bronchial infection. It had manifested itself into chronic obstructive pulmonary disease characterized by the presence of a productive wheezing cough and shortness of breath brought on by any exertion. For his jailers they had considered him an invalid and, telling him he was due for transportation, they had arranged to be rid of him to the hulk Warrior. Many prisoners were to serve their entire sentence on the hulks. Most, like William, were supposedly consigned there until a space could be found on a transport ship to Australia; or that is what he had been told.

Parliament had initially intended to use the hulks as a temporary measure for prisoners, and so the first authorization for their use in 1776 had only been for two years. Although a number of members of Parliament deplored the hulks the 1776 Act, however, would last for a further 80 years. The ships had only retained their ability to float as convenient temporary holding quarters for convicts awaiting transportation to Australia, and other penal colonies within the British Empire. Converting them for prison use involved removal of the rigging, masts, rudders, and various other features required for sailing. A number retained some of these features, but all were rendered inoperable or unseaworthy in some way. The internal structure had been reconfigured with various features, including jail cells in order to accommodate convicted criminals, or occasionally prisoners of war.

They were rotten and leaky, overrun with rats, cockroaches, and other vermin. Additionally cholera and other diseases took such a toll of the unhappy incarcerated inmates that many never left