The Fireman's Story

Coal dust, einders, oil and smoke usually make firemen on duty rather grimy looking personages. Perhaps ew among the thousands of passengers who ride in the railroad cars bchind us would care for our acquaintance. But we are usefúl - very useful, erhaps, as any other elass of men; and certainly we have our f uil share of the hard, disagreeable things in life, ncluding frequeuf peril and much exposure to weatber. Working up from lirenian to engine driver, or "engineer." as we are usually called in this country- is often a slow process. There are men on our the Hudson Kiver Railroad - who have been iireing eleven years with no promotion yet, though they are no doubt tully competent torun au engine. For promotion dependa alruost wholly upon vacancios occurring, or some special intluence al headquaiters. A man ought to beoome thoroughly familiar with a locomutive in elven years. I thought thut 1 knew every surew in mine af ter, liriug two years. Yet it takes a good deal of time to learn to ure well, so as to get tbe most steam out of the least fuel, and to have the highest pressure at the grades where it is most needed. To do this a man should know the road, every vod of it, as well as the engine. ïhen comes the oiling. An engine requires a great deal of oil, as well as coal and water. The firenian has to keep in niind ail those scores of bearings where oil has to be applied. Between oiling, shoveling in coal, shaking and stiri-ing up his tire- to keep ie steady and hot- and looking to his stock of coal and water, ho is kept busy, and must needs watch sharply. But a man gets these duties well tixed in his head in time. It is whiie "firing" that the practical knowledge of running an eagine is gained. A flreman is the groom, so to speak, of ths "iron horse." He must, morning or evening, have the engine polished, "fired up," and ready for his superior, the engineer, to step into the cab and start ott". Usually the enginecr does not make his appearance till the moment of connecting with the train. Betvveen the engineer and his tireman there generally exists an easygoing and inanly sort of friendship, though 1 have known cases where the two men detested each other. When I began to tire under "Doe." Simmons, I scarcely knew enough to build a good tire in a cook-stove, and could not have found a quarter of the oil caps. I musí, have been a trial to him the tirst week or two. But he never gave ruó a sharp word, though he often had to teil me things over and over again. "Doe" - as the railwav me.n all called mm - was a superior engiueer. He knew every pound of metal in a 6 ;oni tive; just where it lay, and how much it was good for. He was one of those men who seem to feel just what there is in a locomotive the moment he takes hold oithe levers and starts up. He was a good-hearted fellow, and always had a Íileasant word, or a joke, all along the ine; and it is generally the case that such men do not fail tho company, or tho public, at a critical moment. I went home and cried like a baby the day "Doe" was killed. Jfilhad been my own father 1 could not have feit half as badly I actually wished that I had gone to the bottom of the river with him. It was the nighl of the 6th of February, and fearfully cold. We had "No. 117" then, and took out the Pacific Exnress. as it. was hüIIpíL fmm Nw Vnrlr City, up the liue tü Albany. It was a bitter night, and the line was frosty and slippery. The express was always a heavy train. That night we had three baggage and expresa cars and eight passenger coaches; and we were late out of New York to begin with - about fifteen minutes, 1 think. Such cold weather is always dernoralizjng to a railroad. lt is jiiuch barder to make time; aJl metal works bad; and tho jgb the fire appears to burn brighter, it takes more coal to make steam. The train seems to hang to the line. Then, too, the cutting wind is enousrh to freeee the tnarrow in a man's bones. It might have been rnostly fancy on my part, but I thought "Doe'' bad au odd look on his face that night as he got into the cab. He was more serious than usual, for we both knew that we had a hard run before us, and a cold ono. Both of us were muffled up in fur cap and overcoats. "Shove in the coal, Nick, and shake her down smart. We want uvurj ounce of steam to-night," says Doe. . "Fifteen minutes behind and eleven cars on! Those sleeping coaches are as heavy as a whole block, too. I'm glad this is a doublo track line and all olear anead." We pulled out, and trom the way Doe handled her I knew thathe meant to piek up that nfteen minutes, if it was in the old machine to do it. 1 suppose we made thirt} -live miles an hour, perhaps forty, on the level stre tenes. On we went, reeling off the dark, bleak miles, with the sharp wind cutting mto the cab, till near New Hamburg Station, where the line then erossed Wappinjrer Creek on a trestle bvidge which .ad a "draw" in it. It was a comfort to think that the draw would certainly not be open on such a night, for the creek was frozcu up, and there would be no delay there. Ah, if it were only pemitted to train men to know just what is ahead on the track on these black, bitter rights! But we can only see what the headlight shows us; and of ten the signal scems strangely obscure in fog, or in the driving rain and snow. One of those always possiole "breaks," which may not oceur for years, but are vet constantlv liable to happen had occurred that night. One of the south-bound night freight trains, running down to New York, broke an axle and got one of its middle cars off the rails beforo reaching the bridge. How f ar they dragged the car id that condition no one knows, for it was so cold that the conductor and all the brakemen were huddled in the caboose behind. But they found it out after a time, and slowed down just as the train got on to the bridge. As they carne to a stand-still two or three other cars jumped the track, and one of these, an oil-car, with a long tank oa it, broke its couplings and was shoved over on to the uplino of track - our line - where it stood sidewise .across the track. The accident made great confusión with the men on the freight; but thev claimed that they got out their signaílanterns as soonas they could, and that it was not a minute before we came mp. As we shot along past the dark station and out towards the bridge, I saw the white steam of the freight train. "We shall pass No. 19 right by the bridge," Doe. said. _ Both of us were looking, Doe. on his side and 1 on mine. Suddenly, right ahead, we saw a red lantern swinging on our traek, at the end of the bridge. "Godsave us, Doe!" I shouted, "the draw's open!" "Spring tho patent brake!" he said to me - that was what we called the air-brake, then - and in a moment we had shut off, reversed and whistled for the hand-brakes. But we were going at a great speed. In a moment more we had come alongside the freight-engine, and out on the bridge we saw the oil-car right across our rails! It had a look of death in it, I swung out on the step. "Shan'tyou jump, Doe?" I cried." He stood witü his back to me, looking ahead, but turned when 1 called out. I never shall forget that Jast look hf gave me He did not speak, but his look seemed to say, "Yes, you may as well jump, but I must stick tomy post." He barely looked round to me, but made no answer, iben looked ahead again. Thcn Ijumped - went hecls over head along the side of the enbankment leading to the bridge, rolled over and over, and landed down on the ice of the creek, near the abutment, which I had scarce touched when I heard the crash, as our engine struck the oil-car. With the collision carne a sudden, brilliant llash of light! Everything abovo me, the wholö bridge and the cars on it, seemed wrapped in a blasé of h'ro. At the same instant, loo, there is a dull, long, tearing crash! The trestle had given way beneath the strain. Down came our engine, the three baggage cars, a passenger car, and I don t know how many freight cars of the other train, on the ice. The whole wreek, as itfell down, seemed enveloped in ñames; for the oil had splashed over everything, and the blazing coals from the lire-box exploded it on the instant. When th eLgine struck the ice it broke through and with a hiss went to the bottom of the deep water there; and on the top of it came tumbhng down alljthe other cars. Jí'or a moment following the crash there was almost a complete silence; then agonizing screams and prayerful cries lor help from the imprisoned passengers. We who were not disabled did what we could. The seven rear cars did not run into the chasm, but two of them burnect on the tiack, along with anumber of freight cars. Twenty-one of the passengers were killed outright, and a still greater number were injured. As we worked there in the noise, heat and awful confusión of that night, I cast many an anxious glance round for Doe, hoping and half expecting that he had got clear and would be at work with us, trying to get out passengers. But L saw nothing of him, and by daybreak I feit sure thathe hadgone down with his engine. The locomotivo was not hauled up out of the water till the next week Then we found his bodv jammed down under the engine on the bed of the creek. His hands, face andclothes had been scorched; but whether ho was drowned, or burned to death, we could not teil He had met death at his post of duty ; gone out of the world with his hand on the lever; giving his own life that the lives of others might b8 saved - a man of whoin anv people may be proud.