Sixth Sense - Part 2 by Judy Mitchell

Thursday 28 December 1854

Near Scarr Wood, Slaithwaite

It was a sombre Christmas at Marsden. Each day, Samuel Whitehead faced the sympathetic, enquiring gaze of villagers, looking to him for news of Sarah Lumb. His reply was always a slow, silent shake of his weary head. For Hannah Haigh, days and nights were filled with sorrow and self-blame. She should not have allowed her friend to walk part way with her that night. Why was it Sarah who had disappeared – why not her? Grief and guilt filled her head and her heart. Silent tears wracked her thin frame. 

The dress skirt was found in the river below an aqueduct on the Thursday after Christmas, held fast by brambles that trailed their long, spiny fingers into the gushing waters of the Colne. Nearby, the bare, twisted branches of the trees in Scarr Wood seemed to shrug their black limbs in despair at the sight of the dwindling number of men searching the river, their steps heavy and slow as the distance from home increased each day.

Quietly, an unusual proposition was being shaped by friends of the Lumb family in the last days of 1854 which was voiced tentatively to James and Mary Lumb, the girl’s parents, by Joshua Farrar, a friend and mill owner. Would they consider using the services of someone in possession of different powers to find the body of their daughter?

‘What have we to lose?’ He suggested softly, looking directly into the eyes of Sarah’s mother.      

Wednesday 3 January 1855

Holmfirth

Captain Henry Hudson had taken lodgings in Holmfirth at the start of December. He had visited the town before and was due to return there to the newly built Druids Hall in the new year. When a cab drew up outside his house on the morning of 3 January, he watched two men climb down and waited for his wife to open the door and usher them into the parlour. He sat at his desk, his many dogs gathered around him until the sound of the visitors sent them, barking, into the hallway. It was Farrar who introduced himself and Whitehead to the Captain and explained the nature of their visit.    

                ‘We have searched for three weeks without success except for finding her clothing.’

Whitehead pointed to the sack he held containing Sarah’s skirt, shawl, petticoat and dress skirt.

 ‘I am the girl’s uncle; my sister Mary is her mother. Every day we have searched. I have men who work for me who have drawn off every dam from Marsden to Colnebridge since she went missing and we have not found her. As a last resort we have come here, to you, Sir. Can you help?’

Hudson looked at the two men and sensed their desperation. He shook his head slowly.

                ‘My deepest condolences, of course. I had heard of the drowning although I am unlikely to be able to help. However ...’ He paused and looked away from the two men, as if mulling over some idea that had started to take shape in his mind.

                ‘I have an associate, a young woman from Moldgreen. A dressmaker but she works with me from time to time. She is young, only eighteen years but she has powers that are possessed by few. I recommend you approach her. Her name is Mary Ann Challand.’

                ‘How will we contact her?’

                ‘Take a cab and bring her back here. Tell her I sent you but don’t tell her the reason for your interest.’

Whitehead and Farrar delivered the girl to Hudson and sat, silently watching the girl as she perched on the edge of a chair, her eyes downcast, her hands clasped calmly in her lap.

‘Do you know why these men are here, Mary?’ Hudson asked.

‘They’ve come about the girl from Marsden who drowned.’

A sudden, cold sensation slipped down Whitehead’s spine. He found his mouth had gone dry and swallowed hard, trying to keep his fear of the unknown in check. Hudson motioned to the uncle to open the sack containing the clothes. He took out the shawl and passed it to the Mesmerist.

                ‘Do you know the shawl, Mary?’ he asked her.

                ‘Yes, it is the shawl she had on her head when she was drowned.’

He passed her the skirt and she confirmed that too had belonged to the girl.

                ‘Why is it torn?’ the Mesmerist asked.

                ‘If you knew what brambles and trees stand either side of that river you would not ask that question.’ She replied rather sarcastically.

The two men sat together in the heavy silence of the darkened room watching the Mesmerist’s eyes project his will on to hers. His long fingers passed across her face as he placed her into a hypnotic trance. Her eyes closed and after what seemed some time, they heard her voice, breathless, gasping as she described the girl’s journey, her own body swaying and weaving on an imaginary current, carrying her down twists of the river, under bridges, by dark mill buildings with chimneys and boilers and the constant noise of water thundering by weirs and sluices. She covered her ears as if being deafened by the throb of the huge machines on the banks and then pushed from her sides, some imaginary flotsam which crossed her watery course. When her voice fell silent, she relapsed into what seemed to be a state of sleep for almost five minutes. The men continued to stare at the Clairvoyante’s face until Hudson asked her if she could say where the body was. Her steady and confident words tumbled into the dark, silent room from a world they did not understand. A world between that of the living and the realm of the spirits.

                ‘She is about a hundred yards from the second bridge at Mirfield. The one where the horses cross. Mud is covering her.’ There was a slight pause before she added ‘Except for her feet, that is. They are not covered.’

Thursday 4 January 1855

Banks of the River Calder, Mirfield

Whitehead left Marsden early the following morning to drag the Calder where Mary Challand had said the body would be found. He took with him two of his best labourers, Samuel Smith and Charles Tunnicliffe of Battye Fold. The Colne and the Calder had become one at Cooper Bridge, the union of the two becoming a powerful force of nature, harnessed to drive the many water wheels which powered the textile industry on its banks as it rushed eastwards to join the river Aire at Castleford.  

At the Ledgard Bridge at Hopton, they threw the grapnels three or four times but with no success. A passerby stopped to ask if they were looking for the girl from Marsden. They repeated the advice of the Clairvoyante to the local man who listened to their story without interruption.

                ‘Tha’s int’ wrong place. Tha wants to be at Shepley Bridge o’er yonder.’

He pointed his misshapen forefinger upstream and walked away.

They found her body twenty yards from Shepley Bridge which carried the carts and horses over the Calder. She was dressed only in her stays which were torn and filthy with the mud which encased her limbs except for both her feet which were bare and clean with one still inside her clog. The two rivers had borne her on their foul, stinking, shoulders more than fourteen miles from all she loved – her family, her home, her friends.

Friday 5 January 1855

The Coroner’s Inquest, The Ship Inn, Hopton, Mirfield

The coroner, Thomas Taylor, listened to the evidence of the young Marsden woollen warper, Hannah Haigh and to Sarah’s uncle. The jury and the public leaned forward and craned their necks to ensure they could hear every word of Whitehead’s account of the role of the Mesmerist and the Clairvoyante. They shifted their eyes from the uncle to the coroner to see if any facial expression would give a clue to the coroner’s thoughts on those with that sixth sense but his features remained devoid of any expression. There was no sensationalism, no outburst of feelings. Without comment he called the labourer who had thrown the grapnels. He was patient as the man struggled nervously with his words, his cap clutched in his gnarled fists. Then it was the turn of the girl’s father who told the court what had happened on the night she disappeared. When the doctor stood to confirm that even though the body had received a severe blow to the head, he considered the cause of death was drowning, Taylor nodded briefly signalling that he had heard enough. A verdict of ‘Found Drowned’ was returned.

Reporters twitched and hovered, anxious for a story. Newspapers across England carried headlines of ‘Extraordinary ways to find a body.’ Some reporters were at pains to avoid expressing opinions on mesmerism but suggested that whether the claims were true or not, the facts as presented could not be disputed.     

Saturday 6 January 1855

St Bartholomew’s Chapel, Dean Head, Scammonden

Sarah Lumb’s last earthly journey was to the chapel at Dean Head, just a valley away from her home in Marsden. It was where many of her forbears had been laid to rest. Groups of mourners slowly climbed the hillside behind the small coffin to a resting place away from the tumbling waters in the valleys below. There were many who wanted to reflect quietly on the events of the previous weeks and pray for the soul of the girl whose life had been so tragically swept away. But for some, a more enticing opportunity presented itself.     

Friday 12 January 1855

The Old Ram Inn, Towngate

By seven o’ clock that evening, large crowds had gathered on Towngate. People from Marsden and the surrounding villages jostled for seats in the large room at The Old Ram Inn. Their curiosity had been piqued by the extraordinary way in which the body of the girl had been discovered and were eager to see for themselves the mesmeric demonstrations by the celebrated Captain Henry Hudson. They also hoped to witness the powers of the Clairvoyante, Miss Challand, whose fame had spread rapidly but although she was present during the demonstrations, she remained seated and silent. Some returned on the following evening in the hope they would see something otherworldly or supernatural from Mary but were again disappointed. So great were the numbers who wanted to see the power of the Mesmerist, that a further performance followed on Monday. Those who had read the newspaper accounts of the search and the discovery of the body and of the subsequent inquest could only agree with the many headlines. It had indeed been a most extraordinary way of finding a missing body.