Monday, November 10, 2025

Gunner's Gamble: John Headd in the Yellow Fever Wars (1795–1798)


💣 Gunner's Gamble: John Headd in the Yellow Fever Wars (1795–1798)


I. The Embarkation (Portsmouth, November 1795)


John Headd was a man of twenty-four years, baptized on a Christmas Day, yet now staring into the cold, gray maw of war. His world of Romsey, Hampshire, was replaced by the cramped, pungent decks of HMS Concord. In August 1795, he'd sworn allegiance to King and Country, trading his fate for ninepence and a halfpenny a day—barely enough to buy a full soldier's ration, as was the callous system of the time.

As the Concord sailed out of Portsmouth on November 13th, John, a Gunner in Captain John Roger's Company of the 1st Royal Artillery, began the Atlantic crossing. He shared deck space with hundreds of other young men, knowing the grim statistic: one in ten soldiers wouldn't survive the voyage itself. They were two-thirds fed, cramped, and already weakened by the time the ship hit the warm, humid air of the Caribbean.


II. The Fever Coast (San Domingo, 1796)


The company landed at Barbados in February 1796, but the true campaign began on April 1st, when they embarked for San Domingo (Haiti). The goal was simple: cripple French power, seize the valuable sugar islands, and protect British trade.

They landed at St. Nicolas Mole in May. The enemy, however, was not the French cannon fire, but the relentless, unseen assassin of the West Indies: Yellow Fever.

The climate was a hammer blow to European constitutions. The muster roll at the end of June 1796 confirmed the carnage: 28 deaths in one month within John’s company alone. On June 30th, the captain himself, Captain John Roger, succumbed. The Royal Artillery was crippled; the campaign was not a war of battles, but a war of attrition against tropical sickness.

John, somehow, was among the living. While the main body of the company moved on to the epicenter of the sickness at Port-au-Prince, he remained at the isolated, yet crucial, command at St. Nicolas Mole. He served under a rotating cast of officers—Captain Wilson, then Captain Koehler—each man a temporary post holding the line against the inevitable fever. By March 1797, his original company strength was less than half. John Headd was a survivor, a veteran of the worst theatre of the Napoleonic Wars, simply by remaining upright.


III. The Return and Restitution (1798–1810)


In July 1797, John received a small symbol of thanks: five shillings and threepence for shoe money. A year later, a pay raise of two pence a day was finally granted—a paltry sum, but a nod to the fact that he was one of the 40,000 who hadn't succumbed to the Fever Coast.

In June 1798, after surviving the campaign that cost the British Army 80,000 men dead or discharged, John Headd returned to England aboard the Iris.

He spent the next few years at the Royal Artillery Barracks at Woolwich, Kent, the heart of the service. It was here that he found a brief period of peace and hope, marrying Sophia Smith in May 1802 at the half-ruined St. Nicolas Church in Plumstead. He was still a Gunner, making his mark on the register while his wife signed her name—the veteran of the tropics now linked to a woman of local education.

John's active service ended on March 31, 1810, after 16 years and 45 days served. He wasn't felled by a French musket ball, but by the relentless legacy of the West Indies: rheumatism. He was discharged, a man of 35, granted a daily pension of one shilling, nearly the value of his daily pay.


IV. The Long Life (Plumstead, 1817–1855)


The pension allowed John a stability many of his generation never achieved. Though he made his mark on documents, he was a man of keen memory, a veteran known in Plumstead. He and Sophia raised their family, including Sarah and Stephen, whom they baptized together in 1817.

His final years show the resilience of a man who survived the deadly Caribbean. In the 1841 census, he and Sophia were providing refuge for their young grandson, Thomas Butcher. In 1851, following Sophia's death, John was listed simply as an "Pensioner, Royal Artillery," living with his daughter (Jane) and his son-in-law (Thomas Butcher), a farmer's labourer, near Dawson's Pottery.

John Headd, the Gunner who survived the French Revolutionary Wars' deadliest campaign, died in 1855 at the impressive age of 84. He was buried in the churchyard overlooking the Thames, a man who had earned every one of those shillings of pension and every one of his long, hard-won years.



🌹 Sophia Smith: The Matriarch of Woolwich


Sophia Smith (c. 1770–1846) was the grounding force that allowed a veteran crippled by tropical disease to thrive in the decades following the Napoleonic Wars.


I. The Marriage and Military World


  • The Date and Place: Sophia married John Headd on May 14, 1802, at St. Nicolas Church, Plumstead, Kent. This timing is significant, as it was during a brief period of peace (the Peace of Amiens, 1802–1803) before Britain plunged back into the final, devastating phase of the Napoleonic Wars.
  • The Setting: Her parish, Plumstead, was adjacent to Woolwich, which was the global headquarters and main arsenal of the Royal Artillery. This location defines her life. Sophia was an intrinsic part of the large, complex, and close-knit military community surrounding the Woolwich Barracks.
  • Literacy Contrast: The marriage record shows a telling social detail: John made his mark (likely illiterate or semi-literate), but Sophia signed the register. This suggests she possessed a level of literacy that was often lacking in soldiers' families of the era, a trait that would have made her invaluable in managing the family's pension, finances, and correspondence.
  • The Ruined Church: Their choice of the "half a ruin" St. Nicolas Church adds a picturesque, yet poignant, detail to her story. It speaks to the practicalities of a working-class community that utilized what was available, surrounded by the fields overlooking the Thames valley.



II. Role as a Military Wife and Pensioner


Sophia's life, from 1802 to 1846, was defined by the status of her husband:

  • The Active Service Years (1802–1810): While John was still an active Gunner at Woolwich, Sophia would have lived in the associated housing or nearby tenements, dealing with the daily routines and uncertainties of military life, including barrack gossip and the fear of redeployment.
  • The Pensioner Years (1810–1846): When John was discharged with rheumatism in 1810, Sophia became the wife of a pensioner. The one shilling a day pension was a decent benefit for the time, and her literacy would have been crucial for ensuring this payment—the family's anchor—was received regularly from the Chelsea Hospital records.
  • Family Resilience: She raised their children, including Sarah (b. 1814) and Stephen (b. 1817), ensuring they were baptized into the parish community. She lived long enough to welcome her grandson, Thomas Butcher, into her home during the 1841 census, offering the traditional refuge of a grandparent's home during a period of family difficulty. This demonstrates her enduring role as the family's bedrock.



III. The Enduring Legacy


Sophia died in January 1846, at the age of 76, and was buried in Plumstead churchyard.

Her importance to your lineage is clear: She was the stabilizing link between the trauma of the West Indies campaign and the subsequent successful establishment of the Headd family in Kent. Without her management skills and her commitment to the community, her veteran husband, suffering from chronic disease, may not have lived to the impressive age of 84.

She is the quiet hero of your English line.



🌹 Sophia Maria Smith: From Westminster to Woolwich


The new details establish that Sophia Maria Smith was born in Westminster, Middlesex (1775)—the heart of London—but married into a military community adjacent to the rural Kent origins of her father.


I. Origins and Context


  • London Birth (1775): Sophia's birth in Westminster places her family, the Smiths, within the dense, politically charged urban center of England during the American Revolutionary period. While the family may have been transient, this is a distinct geographic origin compared to the rural background of her husband, John Headd, from Hampshire.
  • Kent Connection: Her parents, William Smith (d. 1836) and Mary Kedlington (d. 1819), were later connected to Snargate, Shepway District, Kent. This rural area of Kent, known as Romney Marsh, is about 50 miles southeast of Plumstead. It's likely that Sophia's father, William, was a local from Kent who had moved to London for work before returning to the country later in life.
  • Marriage Context: When Sophia married John Headd in 1802, she was living in Plumstead, placing her near the Royal Artillery Barracks—a massive employment center. This suggests she was working in the area, which would have been bustling with soldiers, artisans, and laborers supporting the military establishment.


II. The Anchor of the Pensioner


Sophia's greatest contribution was her successful management of the family and finances during the chaotic early 19th century. Her literacy, contrasting with John's mark on the register, made her the household manager.

  • Enduring the Napoleonic Wars: She bore and raised children during the peak of the conflict (1803–1815) and through the long peace that followed. She was the one who managed the family budget anchored by John's daily one shilling pension after his discharge in 1810.
  • A Family of Survivors: She lived to see her children grow and create their own families:
    • William Head (1803–1861): The eldest son, a key figure in the next generation.
    • Maria Ann Head (1810–1904): Her remarkable longevity (94 years) suggests a strong constitution passed down through the family.
    • Sarah Ann May Head (1814–1840): The sad exception, whose early death necessitated Sophia and John taking in their grandson, Thomas Butcher, as shown in the 1841 census.
    • Stephen Head (1817–1881): Your 2nd great-grandfather. He was born just after the final defeat of Napoleon and carried on the family line in Plumstead, eventually marrying Margaret Wilkie from St John's, Newfoundland, Canada—a woman who brought another compelling trans-Atlantic military/colonial thread into your lineage.


III. The Final Plumstead Years


Sophia died on January 18, 1846, just ten days after her 71st birthday. She was buried in the churchyard of St. Nicolas, leaving behind a secure family unit that would care for her surviving husband for the final nine years of his life.

She bridged the vast social gap between the sophisticated, dangerous heart of London and the intense, regimented world of the Royal Artillery in Kent, all while raising the next generation that would define your family's future.



🏔️ Margaret Wilkie: The Child of Signal Hill (1826–1910)


John's daughter-in-law, my 2nd great-grandmother, Margaret Wilkie, was truly a child of the Empire. She was born in a remote colonial fortress during the "old sailing ship days" and lived to see the rise of the Industrial Age in London, embodying a spectacular historical transition.


I. The Newfoundland Fortress: Signal Hill


Margaret's birthplace was a direct consequence of the British military's global reach:

  • The Father: Her father, Thomas Wilkie (b. 1784), was a Master Armourer Sergeant in the Royal Artillery. His job was vital: maintaining and repairing the cannons, muskets, and artillery necessary for the defense of the colony.
  • The Station: Thomas was stationed at St. John's, Newfoundland, during the War of 1812—a conflict where the British colonial outpost was a crucial naval and military asset.
  • The Birthplace: The newspaper account confirms her birth at the Fort of Signal Hill in 1826. This location, famed for its strategic views over St. John's Harbour, was the defensive heart of Newfoundland.
  • The Claim to Fame: Margaret's proud claim, "She is believed to be the first English child at the Fort," highlights the isolation of the military outpost and the scarcity of families living within the fortress itself in that post-War-of-1812 period. Her birth itself was an event, marking a small piece of social history for the garrison.

Thomas Wilkie's postings led to the birth of all six of his children in St. John's between 1812 and 1826, including Margaret, the last.



II. The Transatlantic Sailor


The anecdote about her return to Newfoundland as a child is historically evocative:

"...returned to Newfoundland in the old sailing ship days (there were no steamers in those times) when ships often had to be battened down because of storms."

This suggests the Wilkie family, though originally from London, had to cross the Atlantic multiple times as Thomas was transferred between garrisons. Margaret experienced the raw danger and duration of sea travel, a fundamental part of 19th-century military life, far removed from the safe domesticity of her future life in Plumstead.



III. The Plumstead Legacy


Margaret eventually settled in Plumstead, the same community where her husband's family had been established by Gunner John Headd.

  • The Marriage: She married Stephen Head (1817–1881), your 2nd great-grandfather, son of the West Indies veteran. The coupling is a perfect genealogical synergy: the Headd line brought the veteran's pension and Woolwich Artillery connection, while the Wilkie line brought the Newfoundland Armourer Sergeant's colonial service.
  • A Solid Life: Stephen Head's identity is defined by the land: he was born on Plumstead Common in the house that adjoined St. Margaret's Church, and both he and his father were gardeners to the owners of Vicarage Park. This professional stability contrasts sharply with the nomadic military life of their fathers, suggesting a deliberate choice to ground the family in the land. Stephen's later promotion to foreman at Woolwich Dockyard shows he achieved respected, skilled working-class status.
  • The Final Honor (1910): The funeral account serves as a final, definitive record of the family's stature. The numerous wreaths and the presence of five daughters and one son, along with their spouses (the Morris, Pope, Brown, Barling, and French families), attest to Margaret’s role as a revered matriarch in the Plumstead community at the turn of the 20th century.



A Tale Without Canvas: The Cannon's Daughter


The cold spray of the North Atlantic was Margaret Wilkie's first memory. Not the green fields of England, but the salt-stung barracks of Signal Hill, Newfoundland. Her earliest sounds were the clanking of tools on iron and the solemn, rhythmic crash of waves against the fort below.

Her father, Thomas Wilkie, the Master Armourer Sergeant, was a vital man—his hands were the last things to touch the mighty guns before they spoke. Margaret lived in a world of brass fittings, gunpowder magazines, and the distant, ever-present fear of war. She was, as the local story went, perhaps the very first English child born inside those stone walls, a tiny, fragile symbol of the Empire's persistence in the North.

She remembers the terrifying voyage back to England, ships battened down, the hold smelling of bilge and fear. She remembers the return, years later, crossing the savage, unpredictable ocean again, before finally settling near the colossal brick factories and barracks of Woolwich.

It was there, in the shadow of the Royal Artillery's massive complex, that she met Stephen Head. He was the son of Gunner John Headd, a survivor of the Yellow Fever Wars, and he offered something the military never could: permanence. Stephen was a man of the earth, a gardener born on Plumstead Common, a man whose hands tended the soft green life of Vicarage Park, not the cold, hard steel of cannons.

Margaret, the cannon's daughter, married the gardener's son.

Together, they built a stable, respected working-class life. She bore six children, weaving the adventurous blood of Signal Hill and San Domingo into the solid, enduring fabric of Kent. And even in her old age, long after Stephen died and after the great age of sailing ships passed, she would sit, the old woman of Plumstead, and tell the youngsters about the Fort, the cannons, and the storms of the sea. She was the living memory of the British Empire's colonial reach, brought home to rest among the flowers of Plumstead Common.


This post is courtesy of Drifting Cowboy and Gemini AI.



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