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Click here to subscribeAn early 20th century Swiss walnut bedroom suite, comprising wardrobe enclosed mirror door, 44" wide, dressing chest with raised mirror back, fitted two short and two long drawers, 39" wide, two single panel end beds, 42" wide, and a marble top bedside cupboard, on block base, 15" wideCondition:Wardrobe: Fine, minor surface scratches, nibbles to corners, no major apparent damages
An oak dining room suite, comprising a refectory table and four dining chairs with button upholstered seats and associated sideboard, the table 78cm high, 182cm wide, 91cm deep, the sideboard with four drawer top and four cupboard door base, with brass handles, 86cm high, 181cm wide, 46cm deep.
J. Saltby of Grantham. A 19thC oak and mahogany longcase clock, with swan pediment hood with bulbous and eagle brass applicator, above two column supports on a single trunk door, on stepped feet, eight day movement with a painted cream dial depicting Oriental figures, with two eights and pendulum, 232cm high, 45cm wide, 23cm deep.
Society for the Protection of Life from Fire, 1st type, silver, the reverse engraved ‘To Hy. Geor. Greeves, who (aided by others at the risk of their own lives) rescued several individuals from Death by Fire, at Messrs. King & Witts’ Stores, Southampton, 7th November 1837.’, with swivel-ring suspension, edge bruising, otherwise good very fine £700-£900 --- Provenance: Dix Noonan Webb, June 2005. The Calamitous Fire at Southampton, 7 November 1837 ‘The premises where this catastrophe happened consist of a large brick store, about 60 feet square, comprising four floors besides the basement, and containing a very large stock of turpentine, oils, resin, wax and gunpowder, and other inflammable materials. Adjoining this large store, and connected with it by a kind of room over an iron shed, is a smaller store, under part of which is a stable. It was in this smaller store that the fire was first discovered issuing from the roof. At this time it might have been extinguished by a few buckets of water, but it could only be reached by the engines, and great delay was experienced in getting a supply of water, as is always the case in county towns, and too often, indeed, in London itself. One of the partners of the firm, who lives close by, was instantly aroused, and proceeding to the top floor of the large store, with the assistance of several persons removed all the gunpowder, consisting of about 190lb. This danger now being generally known to be averted, a large number of persons, principally tradesmen and respectable mechanics, volunteered their services to remove as much as possible of the turpentine, oil, &c, from the premises, jointly apprehending the consequences to the neighbourhood should such dangerous materials be offered for the extension of the flames. While engaged in this praiseworthy office, several carboys of turpentine were accidentally broken, spreading, as is its well known property, over the whole floor, and saturating the lower garments of many who were employed in its removal. At this time several engines were actively at work, but, alas! Too late, for the flames had already communicated to the upper floors of the large store. It does not distinctly appear whether the persons engaged below on the ground floor, as above related, were aware of the dangerous proximity of the fire; indeed, it is not to be wondered at, the catastrophe which followed seems to have erased the recollection of preceding circumstances from the minds of most of them. It appears, however, to be pretty distinctly ascertained that the second and third floors at least were in flames some time before the occurrence of the melancholy catastrophe. Suddenly some red-hot materials fell through the apertures in the floor through which goods were hoisted up; a fragment in flame followed, and the whole floor was instantly in a blaze, the flames ascending to the ceiling, and reverberating to the floor again. Several explosions followed, caused it is supposed by the bursting of the carboys of turpentine, and in a few seconds the whole front wall of the building fell into the street. Several persons were literally blown through the open door into the street, others were seen running wildly about with blazing garments, and were necessarily rolled in the kennel to extinguish the flames, and several it was evident were buried under the wall; while of the number whose fate was evidently sealed in the burning building, all shuddered to conjecture. As soon as the ruins could be approached, workmen were set on, and six bodies were dug from the mass of brickwork in front; a seventh, a young man named Sellwood, clerk at the Bank, whose cries for help were heard three hours before he could be released, survived a few days, to expire in horrible tortures. A day or two necessarily elapsed before workmen could be safely employed in the interior, when nine dead bodies in all were found, three of them being burnt to a cinder, so as to be utterly unrecognisable, and the two others being known only by the contents of their pockets and other extraneous indicia. Eight more sufferers have since died in agonies which would almost lead their friends to wish that they had met the quicker fate of those who were pent in the building. Some of these survived nearly a fortnight; and it is apprehended that the melancholy list is not yet complete, as four others still lie in a dangerous state. One person moreover died from the effects of fright, and one of the widows has been deprived of her reason. By this calamity, which casts into shade all previous catastrophes of the kind, at least 70 individuals, including survivors, widows, and children of deceased, and two or three utterly maimed for life, are left dependent on the benevolence of the inhabitants of Southampton, whose property they risked their lives to save...’ (The Times 4 December 1837 refers). ‘Henry George Greeves was awarded the Society for the Protection of Life from Fire’s Silver Medal for his gallantry during the above incident; silver medals were also awarded to Richard Young, William Jones, John Foote, George Carr, Walter Anderson, William York, John Foster, John White, William Whitcher, and police-sergeant Terry, ‘It was stated that on the above melancholy occasion 15 persons perished; eight had since died, and several remained maimed, whose final recovery was doubtful, whilst the lives of 12 individuals had been preserved through the exertions of the above’ (The Times 28 April 1838 refers). Sold with copied research.
A Falklands campaign group of five awarded to Warrant Officer Catering Accountant D. ‘Rowdy’ Yates, Royal Navy, whose vivid recollections of his service with H.M.S. Antrim during the conflict were published in his book Bomb Alley, Falkland Islands 1982 Aboard H.M.S. Antrim at War. He later went on to serve with H.M.S. Exeter during the Gulf War 1991 South Atlantic 1982, with rosette (APOCA D W Yates D159012R HMS Antrim); Gulf 1990-91, 1 clasp, 16 Jan to 28 Feb 1991 (CPOCA D W Yates D159012R RN); Royal Navy L.S. & G.C., E.II.R., 2nd issue (CPOCA D W Yates D159012R RN); Saudi Arabia, Liberation of Kuwait 1991; Kuwait, Liberation of Kuwait 1991, 4th Grade, first three mounted as originally worn, and last two mounted separately in reverse order to above as worn, light contact marks overall, therefore nearly very fine or better (5) £1,400-£1,800 --- David ‘Rowdy’ Yates was born in Taplow in September 1957. He joined the Royal Navy, aged 18, in 1976. Initially employed as a Stores Accountant, he was subsequently posted to H.M.S. Salisbury and served as a Catering Accountant. Yates advanced to Petty Officer Catering Accountant and was posted for service with H.M.S. Antrim in April 1981. H.M.S. Antrim, a County-class Destroyer launched in 1967, served during the Falklands War under the command of Captain B. G. Young, D.S.O. As part of the advance-guard sent South, she served as flag-ship and played a prominent role in Operation Paraquet, the recapture of South Georgia in April 1982, and assisted in the movement of S.A.S. troops. Between 20-21 May Antrim led the Naval Forces in the Falkland Sound during the amphibious landings. At this time she was hit by a 1,000lb bomb delivered by a Dagger fighter-bomber. The bomb struck the flight deck, gashed two missiles in the magazine and came to rest in the Seaman’s After Heads, without exploding. In further attacks by Daggers she was sprayed with 30mm. shells causing two serious casualties. After 10 fraught hours the unexploded bomb was dealt with by C.P.O. Michael Fellows of the Fleet Clearance Diving Team - an action that was to earn him the D.S.C. Yates’s book Bomb Alley, Falkland Islands 1982 Aboard HMS Antrim at War gives an extensive account of his service with Antrim during the conflict. In particular for the 20-21 May: ‘Being part of an attack in any ground, air or sea situation is not pleasant, but leading it offers a greater risk, or so it appeared in the minutes that ticked past after the alarms had sounded, as tension heightened even further. As well as all the usual user checks on guns, weapon systems, sonars, radars, damage-control apparatus and every other defence and attack mechanism, we were also paying very close attention to our own personal defence preparations. We user checked how we might react if a missile came through, what fire-fighting gear we could use, which way we could try to escape, and how we could increase our personal protection.... We were now doing everything possible to ensure our best chance of survival under any circumstances...’ On the 20th: ‘Already at full action stations, as we moved closer and closer to the Falklands we knew that the next warning of attack would be in the form of a ‘yellow’ or ‘red’. And sure enough at 1520, the ship’s broadcast beat out the message we had all been dreading, ‘Click -AIR RAID WARNING YELLOW - AIR RAID WARNING YELLOW - TASK FORCE COMING UNDER ATTACK FROM TWO MIRAGES AND TWO ENTENARDS.’ We blinked at those around us and our hearts beat faster and faster. Hairs stood like porcupine quills on the back of our necks, and some even felt physically sick. There really were forces out there which were coming straight for us to try and blast us out of the water and wipe us off the face of the earth.....’ (Ibid) On this occasion the attack was beaten off by Sea Harriers from the carrier air protection, and the Antrim was left to proceed towards the Falklands. The following day the Antrim entered the North Falkland Sound with H.M.S. Ardent, and after two hours of bombardment had decimated the Fanning Head anti-tank and mortar stronghold overlooking the landing sites. After the successful bombardment: Our priority was to prepare the ship even further for the air attack which we all knew must be inevitable... We knew the Argentineans would have a go later on, but at least we would have a lot of ships nearby to assist us, and the CAP flying overhead to fend off the counter-attacks. In fact most people had actually calmed down a lot from the previous night, and were now relatively confident of seeing the rest of the day out safely.’ The first of many constant air raid warnings was sounded at 1200hrs: ‘We felt like rats in a barrel running round and round in crazy spiral patterns to avoid the farmer’s stick. And this was only the start, for the raids kept on coming. At 1255, another ‘yellow’ was broadcast. At 1315 as the jets screamed ever closer, the alarm level was raised to ‘red’. Ten minutes later we fired “chaff” again, closely followed at 1326 by three Sea Cat missiles, more “chaff”, and then our 4.5. inch gun again. Argonaut had had her dose of rough medicine, now it was our turn. Antrim was their next target, and the next entry in the rough diary that I kept was 13.30 Fire Sea Slug. HIT. The attacking jet had hit us!.... we could clearly hear the loud ‘swoosh-swoosh’ as our two Sea Slug missiles were fired from the launcher. Then we felt something like a giant mule kick us up the stern of the ship, followed by some horrendous crashing and exploding sounds, only a few yards from where we sitting. Immediately, the operations room broadcast that we had received a direct hit aft, and that the aft damage control party should investigate at the rush.... One of the teams came charging through the adjacent door to let us know what was going on. In a panting voice, the initially unrecognisable anti-flash hooded man yelled, ‘Listen in lads. We’ve been hit by a large four foot six inch bomb back aft. Looks like it’s come in through the Sea Slug launcher doors and passed straight through the magazine. It did not go off, but it did cause a lot of damage and the unexploded bomb is still on board in the aft heads. Recce parties are still combing all the adjacent compartments to check for casualties and the full extent of the damage. So far, miraculously, we don’t appear to have lost anyone, or had any major fires break out.... We think we’ll probably have to evacuate the rear end of the ship and try and make the bomb safe... Less than 10 minutes after the strike, some joker made a ‘pipe’ to say, “The aft heads are now out of bounds” - no shit!’ (Ibid) The Antrim was attacked and hit again, and continued to run the gauntlet in ‘Bomb Alley’ until the Argentineans ceased the offensive at around 1800: ‘With the air attacks over for the day because of encroaching darkness, we now had to try and get rid of the bomb from our aft heads. Much of the ship aft of midships had already been placed out of bounds since the bomb had struck. Now, a specialist team was hurriedly convened to make the bomb safe and to cut it free from its web of tangled metal, deckhead panels, twisted pipes, shattered doors, urinals and toilet pans. While this dangerous work went on, another team started cutting a suitably sized hole above the bomb flight deck, ready to lift it out and drop it over the side.... The bomb-extraction process ran smoothly, and at almost 2230, with an A frame and lifting gear rigged above the hole on the flight deck, a ‘pipe&rsqu...
A Victorian walnut credenza, the raised back over a grey veined white marble top and central mirrored door flanked by two canted side mirrored doors raised on a plinth base 137 cm wide x 45 cm deep x 115 cm high CONDITION REPORTS Marble has a couple of chips to the edges, there has been a repair to the top moulding piece. Lock is off but present for the main door. Mirrors appear to be original. Wood is faded, areas of veneer missing, backboards have several holes probably where there were knots in the wood originally - see images for more details
A George III oak dresser, the boarded three tier plate rack with four central drawers flanked by two small cupboard doors over a break front base with four central drawers flanked by small drawers over cupboard doors to bracket feet 188 cm wide x 59 cm deep x 209.5 cm high CONDITION REPORTS Has damage and repairs variously throughout, splits to the top and both cupboard door fronts as well as various areas of beading/moulding missing. Replacement handles - see images for more details
An Edwardian mahogany display table with bevel edged glazed cabinet door on a plain stand with square legs united by a centre stretcher, 63 cm wide x 45 cm deep x 132 cm high, together with a Victorian walnut marble top bedside table with single drawer and cupboard door, 40 cm wide x 37 cm deep x 80 cm high and a Victorian grey veined white marble top duchess wash stand on turned and fluted front legs united by an undertier, 124 cm wide x 56 cm deep x 94 cm high
A mahogany bow fronted sideboard, the cross-banded top over a central drawer, two small drawers and cupboard door, on square tapered legs, 107 cm wide x 45 cm deep x 86.5 cm high, a modern painted bow fronted side cabinet, the single cupboard door on cabriole legs, 97 cm wide x 41 cm deep x 81 cm high, a pair of mahogany and satinwood strung bedroom chairs and a mahogany dining chair with harebell carved splat back over an upholstered seat, on square moulded legs
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