In variance with most of the inclusions in the Leaders feature pages, the protagonist of this page has not been included for a single or handful of remarkable occurrences. Henry is included for living a life in the extraordinary. He was as reckless and irreverent as he was heroic and compassionate. I can imagine that in his lifetime there would have been some that found him incorrigible, but having discovered him by research it is through the medium of recorded exploits he emerged as my all-time favourite Isle of Wight firefighting character.

Ladies and gentlemen, I take great pride in presenting to you, the life and service of Captain Henry Buckett.

Henry Buckett was born in Brixton (Brighstone) in 1840.

Henry was the third child of a total of six that appeared in the Census of 1851, living at an address recorded as Townsend Cottage which appears to have a postal address of No.13 Rectory Lane.

His father, James Buckett is recorded as a fisherman. As a young man of the seas, James was notorious for shoreline skullduggery before serving as the first coxswain of the lifeboat when the RNLI established the Brighstone Grange lifeboat station in 1860. The vessel, aptly named The Rescue, was donated to the Institution by the Royal Victoria Yacht Club. Coxswain Buckett his crew and The Rescue was credited with saving 138 lives before it was replaced by a vessel of the same name in 1866. The second version of The Rescue is credited with saving a further 49 lives until both it, and James Buckett, were retired from service in August 1880.

The RNLI of today is an organisation of which I am in awe and am proud to support as an official Shoreline member. As a firefighter I am well aware that we are not placing ourselves at undue risk at the majority of our callouts, but to my mind putting to sea in all weather places the coxswains and volunteer rescuers of the Institution in far more hazardous situations. Today they have superior equipment with which to do so, in the late nineteenth century the undertaking must have been even more dangerous.

James Buckett on the far left, in his retirement when he remained as a member of the 'Ceremonial Crew'.

Clearly a spirit of adventure was anchored in the genetic make-up of the Buckett family. In the above photo two other members of the Ceremonial Crew go by the same family name. Henry had turned 20 by the time his father became coxswain, suggesting it incorrect that he grew up in the rescue environment, but his father was clearly a man, a rogue turned hero, that would have influenced an impressionable son.

In the year following James’s appointment to the Institution, Henry was identified in the 1861 Census as a bricklayer residing in St John’s Road, Ryde, then within the parish of Newchurch, with his 22-year-old wife Ellen.

No doubt bricklaying was well within the capability of the sturdy barrel-chested young man, but his drive to do more was evident later the same year when he applied for the role of Town Crier. A contemporary report noted that the position was filled by the judging of a shout-off at the top of Union Street. The five participants were formed up and each asked to holler a prescribed notification. According to the Press of the day, Henry Buckett’s vocal boom was of such outstanding volume that it rattled shop windows all the way down to the long since demolished Pier Street.

Such was his prowess that in the following October, the IW Observer reported – On Tuesday evening last Mrs Young of Appley Towers, lost a valuable bracelet in or near Union Street. Our friend Buckett’s services were called into requisition, and on Wednesday morning he cried so energetically that in two hours the bracelet was produced, proving that he is a most valuable functionary. The report closed with a remark that the event inspired Henry to consider establishing a lost and found office at the Town Hall which he achieved, confirmed by way of brief editorial in the late November edition of the same publication.

The specific nature of Stannard’s dissatisfaction is not known. I suspect that the point the Chairman made has turned the matter on its head. Stating that Stannard had no responsibility for the ladder in such a way suggested that he had been expected to do something he didn’t wish to, but I estimate the reverse – that he wanted control of the ladder and to integrate it fully into his command of the brigade but was not permitted to do so.

I base this theory on the history of the issue of escape ladders by the RSPLF.

Most commonly the highest floors of the capitals most eminent residences were the modest accommodation afforded to servants – those most at risk of entrapment by fire and smoke. The Society was a philanthropic non-judgemental movement, untouched by insurance policy or financial inducement, and as such the exponents of its devices were distinct from the brigades. There are many examples where operators of a district escape ladder arrived at fires and rescued persons from upper floors prior to the arrival of the fire brigade.

Ryde’s Commissioners elected to spend 53 guineas on an escape ladder. When it arrived, they followed the example emanating across the country from London to operate it as a distinct element from firefighting. Although the matter was discussed in the context of emergency planning, the fact that in January 1864 the IW Observer reported that – the town crier has been appointed conductor of the fire escape – reinforces the theory of non-integration, as exampled in the extract from an index of local services below - at least initially.

In the 1860’s Lind Street was a wide thoroughfare bearing a modest volume of horse drawn and hand wheeled traffic. Given that the fire station was at the rear of the Town Hall, off Market Street, and the escape ladder that was too large for the station was stowed under canvas in the passage between the Hall and St James’s Church, Lind Street was the convenient and obvious solution for training. Its intermittent use as the town’s first drill yard inevitably attracted a host of onlookers to witness their brigade in action.

Henry was emerging as an uncompromising man, evidenced in his escape ladder activities. Pitching the ladder to the roof of the front of the Town Hall, he set the example he expected of his men by climbing the ladder first. Aloft the roof he would hail the next largest man in the crew to the head of the ladder, to dismount, and then be carried by Henry back down to street level.

Not satisfied that his leadership style had been suitably emphasised, he then instructed his crew to deploy the jumping sheet. With white knuckles gripping the handles of the reinforced canvas, the men would position themselves close to the front face of the Hall. Meanwhile Henry would skip back to the top of the ladder, barely using his hands, and fling himself down into the sheet. Photography of the man suggests he was not light, yet contemporary references suggest an agility improbable for his frame. The same was then expected by each man, one after the other. For many years this stood as a simple pass or fail selection test for those aspiring to join Henry’s crew.

On Boxing Day 1864 a chimney fire occurred at the property of Mr Edgar James in the High Street. When the common method of attacking the fire from the grate failed to overcome the heat in the flu, Supt. Langdon called for Henry Buckett to pitch his ladder to the roof. The combined efforts of the escape crew and firemen enabled a stream of water to be deployed from hose attached to the ladder, and be poured down into the burning mass, with positive, if not messy, results.

Notwithstanding the working relationship with the firemen, Henry was keen to conduct some practices with the ladder and crew alone. This enabled him to identify, by practice, how, and from what pitch, the ladder could best reach the highest parts of the largest buildings in the town. An appreciation of the scale of the escape ladder can be made in the knowledge that his men were able to reach beyond the clock face of Holy Trinity Church. Fortuitously as it turned out, Henry also learned that he could easily get men onto the roof of the Congregational Church in George Street, and that of the buildings that flanked it.

By the late 1860’s deteriorating health compelled John Langdon to regretfully rescind his role as brigade superintendent. In March 1869 one J.H. Burt was appointed to replace him. In the following month both he, and Henry Buckett, attended a serious fire in the roof of the Pier Hotel, which was successfully extinguished. From then on Supt. Burt disappears from the records without explanation. The next time Ryde Fire Brigade attended a serious blaze Henry Buckett was in charge and the firemen and ladder crew were formally one Brigade.

A fire that erupted inside the George Street Congregational Church in the small hours of Friday 29 April 1870, had fully developed before smoke roused the interest of Police Sergeant Breary, who slid the escutcheon to one side and peeked through the keyhole. The glare that met his gaze from within astounded the sergeant who made all haste to Henry Buckett’s abode.

In 1870 Henry and Ellen, with four children aged under-10 plus Ellen’s 23-year-old brother John Eldridge, resided at the Town Hall Cottage. The ‘cottage’ wasn’t as might be suggested by the title – it was actually a modest home located in the extreme north-west corner of the Hall where Market Street meets the lane between the Hall and St James’s Church. The reason for the family moving there from St John’s Road was in connection with a new responsibility Henry had acquired – as Town Hall caretaker. By this stage his various responsibilities to the town were many – Town Hall caretaker, Lost and Found office manager, Town Crier, Town Sergeant, and of course superintendent of the Fire Brigade.

At the request of the Borough Commissioners, Henry completed and submitted what stands as the Isle of Wight's earliest known Chief Officer's fire report – Fire at Congregational Chapel, George Street. Called this morning at 12.30 to attend the above fire; turned on water and proceeded to the spot; found the whole of the roof and interior of the building in flames; directed our attention to the adjoining property, and succeeded in saving the vestry and school room, also the adjoining house. The organ (value 300 guineas) and the whole contents of the chapel completely destroyed; nothing but the four walls remain; cause of fire unknown; estimated damage, £1,500; insured for £1,000.

As surprising as it may seem, it was perfectly acceptable during the Victorian era, to submit a letter for publication in a local newspaper and request that it be published under a pseudonym. Provided the editor knew who the writer was, this was standard practice. In effect this produced several examples of the manner of textual sparring commonly seen today in social media – the only notable difference being the length of time from one submission to the next.

On 8 March 1874 a fire broke out at the residence of Mr Mills, stationer, and bookseller of Union Street. A blaze emerged in his wife’s bedroom. She, being unwell, was attended by a nurse, both of whom must have been asleep when a candle flame contacted the bed in which she lay. The women, clutching a baby, managed to escape as the fire took hold. Mr Mills, who had been asleep in the room above, was woken by the commotion. By the time he descended the staircase the room was fully involved. The IW Observer included in its report – An alarm was made, but no assistance, other than that which was in the house was forthcoming – before turning its wrath on the Town Council for turning off the water supply at night and melodramatically suggesting that not only could Mr Mills’ property have been destroyed, but that the entire block of Union Street buildings, or even the whole town may have burned to a cinder.

This compelled an unknown writer, using the alias Oginus, to submit a lengthy response for publication in the following edition of the same publication. Oginus embarked on the Observer’s sensational claim, adding - the absurdity of waiting for a better supply of water until the beautiful town of Ryde is reduced to a ruinous heap…

In response to the Observer’s claim that Mr Mills had despatched his maidservant to seek assistance, and received none, Oginus posed the questions – Where were the police? Where were the firemen? Neither could be found, and neither can be found when wanted.

By the mid 1870’s Henry, akin to all Isle of Wight heads of fire brigades, began to use the rank of captain. There is no evidence to suggest a formal adoption of the title by local authority decision, it just seemed to evolve. Nationally, this began when former military officer Captain Eyre Massey Shaw, was appointed as superintendent of the London Fire Engine Establishment in 1861. Shaw’s appointment, and insistence that his military rank was recognised, was followed by the creation of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, combining the LFEE and the ladder parties established by the Society for the Protection of Life from Fire. These two factors, the rank, and the integration of brigades with escape ladder crews, took some time to filter down to the Isle of Wight, but once in place became the norm.

So it was that in July 1874 the IW Observer reported on the attendance of Captain Buckett – in glistening armour – and a contingent of his men, at a Grand Ball at the Royal Victoria Yacht Club, to provide fire protection assurance to patrons.

In January 1878 the Town Council met. Agenda items included the matter of raising Henry Buckett’s pay for his role as keeper of the Hall, from 26s to 30s per week. Under scrutiny those present, some in support of Buckett, and others not so, estimated that Henry was receiving a little under £6 per week for his many responsibilities to the town. The pay arrangements were a complex affair as certain expenses incurred as factors of his various employments were to come from his own wages. Additionally, uniform the Town Council insisted he wear, was at his own cost. Nevertheless, some of the great and the good were shocked that a man of his background should be earning so much, regardless of his costs. Even when Alderman Dashwood, in Buckett’s defence, claimed that Henry worked nine days a week, others refuted that he never worked after four o’clock in the afternoon. Ultimately the inexplicable resentment proved greater than the support and the pay award was denied.

This did little to discourage Henry’s energies. On 23 December 1878 a young girl was shocked but incredibly unhurt when lighting a lamp in the presence of vapours that were later assumed to have leaked from a tin of benzoline in the Weeks district of the town. As she fled the general store, flaming benzoline spread in all directions, assisted by the misguided and ineffective discharge of buckets of water upon the blaze. Thankfully the firemen who attended were directed by Henry who had the presence of mind to fill buckets with earth and the fire was suppressed soon after.

Quarr Wood mansion suffered a major blaze on 25 November 1879. Men offshore aboard a Quarantine ship spotted smoke and flames at 23:30, but didn’t put a craft ashore and report it, assuming a fire of such size would have attracted attention on land. Approximately thirty minutes later two men, Ratcliffe and Halsted, on traversing up Union Street, identified a glare in the sky.

Henry was advised and he set off, alone, to investigate if there was any water available before having his firemen woken. On arrival he found Ratcliffe, Halsted and Constable Flaherty at the scene of what was by then a major fire. After sending a messenger to rouse the firemen, Henry and those gathered began entering the structure to salvage possessions, the Observer reported – Mr Buckett, with his usual fearlessness, exposed himself in a manner that drew forth cautions from the spectators, and it is doubtless owing to his energy and courage that so much was saved. Attempting to draw water from a 30’ deep well, Buckett and his men struggled to combat the blaze, knocking down the final flame at 07:00 the next morning.

In the aftermath it became apparent that E.S. Ratcliffe had previously served for four years under Captain Shaw in the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, 48-months which qualified him to submit his thoughts in a letter to the IW Observer that appeared in the edition of 1 December, including the following – Without in any way wishing to detract from the credit due to Supt. Buckett, to whose courage and energy I can testify… I think he is decidedly wanting in judgment, as I saw him expose himself to danger most unnecessarily on two or three occasions during the night, which could only have been justified in an attempt to save life. Ratcliffe continued with aspersions concerning the efficiency of the brigade and in particular their manual fire engine.

The incident, and Ratcliffe’s letter, was raised in Council the on 9 December where the Mayor raised the question of Captain Buckett’s judgement, adding – I believe the majority of the Council and the public generally would support the Fire Brigade and their captain in the onerous duty they had to perform. At conclusion the Mayor, seconded by Alderman Dashwood, requested that it be formally recorded in the minutes that – The Fire Brigade attended the fire in Quarr Wood, on Tuesday morning, November 25^th 1879, and that the Council fully recognise the activity of the brigade upon all occasions when their services are required, and desire to especially commend the skill and judgment displayed on many occasions by the captain of the Brigade, Buckett, in whom the Council place the greatest confidence. The amount of property saved at Quarr testifies to the Captain’s activity and promptitude of action, which has been commended by the officer of the insurance companies who have since visited the locality.

Clearly Henry had an ally in Alderman Dashwood, who, in Council on 13 April 1880, spoke in favour of improving the accommodation provided to the Buckett family as an element of proposed modifications to the Town Hall. Alterations to the Justices Room allowed for extension of the expanding Buckett family’s accommodation by the addition of two rooms – it is cruelty to keep a man with such a family as Buckett has, in such narrow quarters as those they at present occupy. At the time the family comprised at least four daughters, and two sons, and were shortly after to be joined by a grandson. The motion was unanimously agreed.

The original Ryde Fire Station, photographed in 2017. The station doorways, long since bricked up, still bear the hinges in silent testament to the doors that once hung upon them. Further to the left, the single width door between the barred windows provided access to the Buckett family accommodation.

Henry’s uncompromising boldness was best evidenced in a satirical poem of June 1882, attached to a report of an unsavoury occurrence in the council chamber of which the IW Observer stated – had such conduct taken place in a public house the proprietor would have run the risk of losing his licence.

It was not Henry’s conduct that triggered the incident, but that of a number of councillors. The poem, titled The Blue-Ribbon Fight by a writer who addressed himself only as A Member, was presumably a member of the council, and from the perspective his stanza poses, witnessed the events that he wittily recounted. Opening with an allegation that some nefarious devils laced the councillor’s pre-meeting tea with a liberal dose of an undisclosed spirit, A Member continued – We swilled it with delight as they poured it from the pot but noticed that we very soon intoxicated got!

We cleared away the tea things, and then to business turned,

When we found what horrid passions in every bosom burned.

I am ready to confess that the same got over me,

And stirred me up in dreadful style, it must have been the tea!

The poem continues with a colourful explanation of how the meeting descended into chaos, until the point at which the Chairman attempted to intervene.

And when the Chairman ‘Order’ cried, and tried to still the rout,

Some put their thumbs up to the nose and spread their fingers out.

What was it all about? Well now, I cannot recollect,

But I think it was the members of committee we elect.

Though ‘tis truly my impression that the cause of all the fight,

Was the tea which we had drank with such gusto and delight.

But when the fight was thickest, and I for my whiskers feared,

Some tall and stalwart figures at either door appeared.

‘Twas Captain Buckett’s fire brigade, who had the reel and hose,

And very soon a jet of cool refreshing water rose!

It fell upon the noisy crew who were the room within;

And very soon there was an end to all the fight and din.

We left the room much cooler, and they all agree with me,

Some traitor must have come and put gunpowder in the tea!

The back story was that a disagreement between councillors boiled over into fisticuffs which was disingenuously blamed on their alleged involuntary consumption of alcohol. Meanwhile in Lind Street Henry and his firemen were conducting hose drills and it was to them the stricken Clerk appealed after bursting from the Town Hall doors to the street. The mode Henry selected to quell the disturbance says a lot about the man himself. It also says something of his dominant spirit that in the aftermath he was not called to account for his extreme solution.

This being agreed allowed Dashwood to emphasise the problem and offer solutions. He alleged that four members were between the ages of 60 and 70, suggesting to the mirth of others present that those gentlemen were often arriving at the scene of the fire as the younger men were packing up. Those younger men included several in their fifties. He expressed concern that of the valued members, one had moved to Haylands and the other to Springvale, so as to be of no use for speed of action. Dashwood and the Committee wasted no time and those identified as no longer required were given notice of termination effective 1 February.

On the same evening the old guard were forcibly exiled, Captain Buckett paraded his men in Lind Street for drill, most of the faces before him being new. Being selected by the Public Works Committee their service was fait accompli, not that this prevented their Captain subjecting them to his terrifying series of ladder carries, jumps, and chutes. It is a remarkable testament to Henry’s exacting standards that when a serious fire broke out at Stonepitts in Binstead just nine days later, the whole brigade was in attendance within 12 minutes, the manual engine being horse drawn, and by stripping the roof saved the greater part of the structure from what first appeared to onlookers as a total loss.

Just over a month later, June 1888, Henry was up to his usual death-defying tricks with the escape ladder in Lind Street.

But over the course of the six-months leading up to Christmas, Henry, large, powerful and of an indomitable spirit, was struck down by unspecified illness. His symptoms were reported only as painful, his health deteriorated rapidly. His reluctant but absolutely necessary resignation as Captain of Ryde Fire Brigade was followed by the same in respect of his many other roles at the Town Hall.

Compelled to vacate the Town Hall rooms they had made their home for many decades, the Buckett’s relocated to 32 Surrey Street. The family remained as one - Henry and Ellen, four daughters, two sons, and a grandson. In all, Ellen and Henry had brought nine children into the world, seven daughters and two sons, not all of whom made it to adulthood.

Henry suffered almost seven further years of discomfort, deterioration, and inactivity – an almost unthinkable and horribly protracted ending for a man of such proven capability. He finally passed away at home, tended to by his beloved wife on 3 June 1896.

Henry Buckett's lasting resting place, where he was joined by Ellen in 1915, can be visited at the south-east corner of grid RSHG 020, the 'old cemetery' of Ryde Parish Cemetery, within square 3D (maps credited to Ryde Social Heritage Group with appreciation).