THE BOMB IN THE CRYPT

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 283, 22 April 1911, Page 10

THE BOMB IN THE CRYPT

A POLICEMAN'S BEAVE DEED. Well-dressed crowds thronged the Pulnce of Westminster on the afternoon of January' 24, 14J85, for it was Saturday, the one day in the week when sightseers are freely admitted to the two Houses of Parliament and to the many "side shows" that are to lie found within these at other times jealously-guarded precincts. i

Westminster J lull was especially full.Country cousins were being conducted round by Cockney friends and relatives. Before each one of the many beautiful marble statues of our kings and queens that adorn the noble apartment was gatnercd little groups of chattering spectators. Others stood stock still in the middle of the lioor. and with necks craned back gazed upwards admiringly at the ancient oaken ceiling with its wonderful mediaeval carvings. Suddenly there was a strange commotion.

What was it? Xone quite knew. A while-faced youth rushed frantically up from the crypt in the far corner, and tied panting down the centre of the hall towards die main exit, shouting incoherent words as he ran. A terrifTed girl followed hard on his heels, hatle.ss, dishevelled, screaming hysterically. For a few seconds the mob of sightseers remained passive, following wondcriiiglv with their eyes the two fleeing figures. Then came a command, shouted hoarsely by someone from somewhere: "Fly. fly for your lives!" And the crowd, without in the least knowing why, obeyed. Tn less time than it takes to tell it the great hall was empty of sightseers, and only the bine-coated policemen on duty were left. These ran mostly towards the crypt whence at this moment another policeman was seen emerging. He carried something in his hands—a big, round object that sizzled and hissed, and left behind it a trail of pungent, evilsmelling blue vapor, as he ran with it down the centre of the floor. "Back, back!" he cried to his comrades, who came running to aid him, "Don't come near me. It's dynamite. A bomb!"

Hardly were the words out. of his mouth when: Bang! Tt was as if a volcano had opened suddenlv from beneath the marble pavement of that noble hall. Indeed, there was an actual crater, deep and wide and round, where the deadly explosive had spent part of its force in a downward direction. And huddled in a heap at the bottom of the awful pit was a blackened, bleeding figure of a man—Police-Constable Cole, who was holding the bomb when it. exploded. Quickly his comrades climbed down to his aid.'tenderly he was lifted out »f the reeking chasm, and laid on an improvised couch of great ooats and policemen's capes. He still breathed, marvellous to relate, but it did not need the trained eve of a doctor to see at once that his injuries were of the gravest possible character. His chest was smashed in; he, was scorched from head to foot by' the terrible blast, and there wer< ; many minor wounds in various parts ol his body.

To add to the confusion, just at this moment there was a second terrific explosion the result of another bomb having been deposited in the House of Commons near by. But this one did no dam-a-re to life or limb, for all the visitors had lied panic-stricken from the chamber when the report of the first one had echoed through the building. Police reinforcements were soon hurried to the spot from all over London, a cordon was drawn round the neighborhood, and it then became possible to ascertain exactly what had happened. Irish-American Fenians, it was found, had deposited two powerful dynamite infernal machines inside the building, the one in the House of Commons behind the Speaker's chair, the other in the crypt under Westminster Hall. Both were timed to explode at the same instant, and doubtless would have done had they been left alone, when the resultant loss of life would certainly have been very great. Tuckily a youth and his sweetheart, venturing down into the crypt at the crucial moment, saw the bomb with its smoking fuse, and rushed up the steps into the hall in wild alarm. T.C. tote happened to be near the top of the -tens; and. catching the word "Dynamite, gasped by the lad as he ran by, realised at once what was the matter. Like, a flash came to his mind the awful results that must ensue if the explosion were allowed to take place m the confined, underground crypt, beneath the hall "It will wreck the entire bin fling," he muttered; and ne ran swiftly down the steps, and seized the deadly thing. It was a supremely gallant action. Many a soldier and sailor has earned his VC 'for less-much less, for to pick up a live shell, and throw it overboard from the deck of a ship, or outs.de the entrenchments of a fort, is obviously a far less risky proceeding than that earned out bv P.C. Cole, who had to venture down'into a dimly-lit stone vault, lift the bomb in his arms, and then carry it up and out into the open air. His intention was to run with it into Palace Yard, where it would have done comparatively little harm: hut, as we have seen, it exploded before he had time to carry out his design in full. That' the brave officer escaped with his life is little short of a miracle. P.C Cole woke to consciousness next morning to find that all England was ringing with praise of him. The Home Secretary was waiting by his bedside with a special message of sympathy from Queen Victoria. r The Chief Commissioner of Police was there with the warrant for his promotion to sergeant ready made out and

signed. The fitting finale came two months later, on March 20. Westminster Hall was decked with crimson and gold as for some great festival, and on a dais j beneath a canopy, erected on the very spot where the explosion had taken place, was P.C. Cole, wan of face and .shrunken of figure, but radiantly happy notwithstanding. The gallant, policeman had been called up to receive his reward for what the Home Secretary, in the speech which he made upon the occasion, very properly described as "a deed as brave as any ever performed by mortal man." And the reward was worthy of the deed. First the Albert Medal was pinned to the breast of his brand-new tunic, decornted for the first time with his sergeant's stripes. Then the Prime Minister handed him a magnificent gold watch and chain and a purse containing over one hundred sovereigns, the gift of the members of the House of Commons. A present of £SO from Queen Victoria was next announced, then £3O from Sir James Ingham, the famous Bow-street magistrate: £2O from Lord Lansdowns, Governor-General of Canada: and, lastly, to crown all. the Prime Minister announced that her Majesty's Government had decided "to grant Sergeant Cole an immediate gratuity of £l2O from the public funds, together with a life pension of £79 a year." Was ever humble hero so substantially honoured before!