Newly colourised images of the Tay Bridge Disaster bring fresh light to Dundee’s darkest day.
They capture a time that has only previously been seen in black and white.
The photographs have been enhanced and coloured using advanced AI technology.
This might be the closest we will get to see the aftermath of the tragedy as it would have been viewed by our ancestors.
The first bridge cost £300,000 to build
The first railway bridge was designed by Thomas Bouch.
The design included 13 high girders across the main navigational channel.
The bridge was built by Middlesbrough firm Hopkin Gilkes and Company which used a foundry at Wormit to produce the cast-iron components.
It took 600 workers six years to build and all at a cost of 20 lives.
The first crossing of the bridge was September 26 1877 when the locomotive Lochee pulled a saloon coach, a first class coach and two brake-vans across.
The regular passenger train service began on Saturday June 1 1878 from 6.25am.
The £300,000 bridge was hailed as the technological wonder of the age.
Bouch was the happy recipient of much congratulatory backslapping.
He was knighted by Queen Victoria after she crossed the bridge in June 1879.
What happened next is well documented.
On Sunday December 28 1879 a heavy gale swept over Dundee.
The wind was doing terrible damage and people out in the streets were being caught in the hail of shattered windows and flying chimney pots.
Engine 224 pulled train on December 28
That afternoon a train left Burntisland Station in Fife at 5.20pm.
Engine 224 with its glittering brass and glowing firebox was hauling five carriages and a brake van from Edinburgh to Tay Bridge Station in Dundee.
At 7pm the train pulled in to the small station at St Fort which was the final stop before Dundee and tickets were collected by station master Robert Morris.
The coaches were full with 70 passengers including children, and besides the driver, fireman, and guard, there were two other guards travelling to work.
For some, the hand of fate intervened.
Cupar man John Courts was an apprentice at a tobacconist shop in Castle Street.
John, aged 18, was requested by his employer to go to Dundee on the Sunday night.
When he arrived at Cupar Station the train for Dundee had just started moving away from the platform and despite a mad rush he was unable to get aboard.
This was the first time in his apprenticeship that he had missed the train.
John no doubt cursed his luck, but missing the train saved his life.
Sliding doors moment with sadder ending
It was a few pints too many that saved well-travelled sailor Peter Pollock.
Peter, a ship’s carpenter by trade, wanted to celebrate his forthcoming wedding but you couldn’t get a drink on a Sunday unless you were a “bona fide traveller”.
He took the ferry across to Newport, sought out a hotel and immediately started to say farewell to his bachelor days.
Needless to say he got somewhat inebriated in a very short space of time.
Later, he decided to make his merry way back to Dundee, but at Newport pier he found the rising storm had forced the ferry to stop operating.
He made his unsteady way to St Fort to grab the last train home.
Peter bought a ticket for the train and climbed aboard.
Just before it moved off, however, the station master spotted him weaving about.
For his own safety he was escorted off the train to sober up.
A disappointed Peter watched the train leave for Dundee carrying everyone, except John Courts and himself, towards the high girders.
The Tay Bridge swayed in teeth of the gale
The train crawled past the signal box at Wormit.
The Tay Bridge was taking a terrible battering from the wind.
Signalman John Watt, who had been watching the train’s rear lights fade away from Wormit cabin, said to his mate: “There is something wrong with the train.”
He had seen the wheels sparking furiously followed by three flashes of flame, then absolute, eerie darkness.
The other signalman, Thomas Barclay, tried to ring the box at the Dundee end of the bridge but the line had gone stone dead.
The two men raced down to the river’s edge.
The high girders had vanished but confusion reigned at both ends of the bridge.
The railway officials could not be sure that the train was lost.
They wondered if the driver pulled up when he spotted the gaping chasm.
Dundee Stationmaster James Smith and locomotive superintendent James Roberts risked their lives by crawling out over the rails to confirm their worst fears.
The Watson family were among the dead
The ghastly news spread like wildfire through the city and at first light there began the grim search with a reward of £5 offered for every body recovered.
All the passengers had connections with Dundee with the exception of William Henry Benyon who was the director of a fine art company from Cheltenham.
He had been sitting in another train at Edinburgh.
A porter’s shout made him realise that it was the wrong one.
He changed hastily on to the Dundee train.
Travelling with his children was Robert Watson from Laurence Street.
A train ride and crossing the bridge must have been a great adventure for his sons but just minutes later their lives ended with the river cruelly closing over them.
David was eight and young Robert was six.
One of the boys was washed ashore, the other was found by a whaler.
Robert Watson, the father, was found on a sandbank.
Four of his brothers went to identify his body in the waiting room at Tay Bridge Station.
One of the brothers – who was blind – touched his face and said: “This is Robert.”
Doomed engine driver’s eerie premonition
The engine driver was David Mitchell who lived in Peddie Street.
His body wasn’t found until nine weeks later.
David had been woken by a nightmare the night before the accident.
It was a nightmare in which his locomotive was falling.
David had also been in the habit of sounding the train’s whistle when passing a certain point as a signal to his wife.
As she heard no whistle that night, she went down to the stair entry, asked a man passing if he knew if the train was in, and was told: “The brig’s doon lassie.”
David’s watch was recovered from his waistcoat pocket and given to his family.
It was still in perfect working order 100 years later.
A watch owned by the train’s guard, David McBeath, had, however, stopped at precisely 7.17pm, which timed the accident to the last moment.
As the hours and days passed, the bodies were brought ashore.
One poor victim was found as far away as Wick.
Thomas Bouch was another victim in 1880
The government set up a disaster inquiry, which reported that the bridge had been badly designed, built and maintained.
The blame was at that time laid squarely on Sir Thomas Bouch.
He died a broken man in October 1880.
Some say he was another victim of the Tay Bridge disaster.
The locomotive and carriages were recovered from the sea after months of hard work.
Robert Marshall was the first person to drive Engine 224 at Tayport when she travelled under her own wheels to Glasgow for repairs.
His brother John had been the fireman on the fateful night.
Rather darkly, engine drivers referred to the restored locomotive as The Diver.
The new Tay Bridge took five years to build.
It was opened in 1887 without the usual pomp and ceremony.
The Diver once again crossed the Tay.
It served the exact same route to mark the 29th anniversary where the driver gazed down at the stumps of the old bridge still protruding from the Tay.
He reflected on the unimaginable events of 1879.
It was a full circle moment.
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