THE BURNING FACTORY.
It was a cold day in December, with everything in business and
manufacturing circles of Cleverdale full of activity; the large mill of
the Cleverdale Woollen Company running on full time. Senator Hamblin was
at the bank conversing with the cashier upon business matters, when the
ominous clang of the fire-bell startled him. The conversation ceased,
and both men, quickly stepping to the window, looked into the street.
All was bustle and confusion, the noise of the steam-engines, as they
passed, adding to the excitement. Opening the door, Senator Hamblin
asked a fireman where the fire was.
"At the Cleverdale Woollen Mill," he replied, and hastily passed on.
"The Cleverdale Woollen Mill!" exclaimed the Senator, "and there is but
a small insurance on it, for most of the polices expired yesterday, and
have not been renewed. Ruin!"
Re-entering the bank, his blanched face and agitated manner attracted
the attention of cashier and teller.
"It's our mill!" he gasped. "If the flames cannot be stayed we shall
lose heavily." Then, putting on overcoat and hat, he said: "George, come
with me, and you, Sargent, remain in charge of the bank."
A moment later the two men stood before the burning factory, where
crowds of people had already gathered. Sheets of flame were pouring
from the windows of the first and second floor, which had been cleared
of operatives. The panic-stricken crowd, gazing at the windows upon
the third floor, beheld a sight that filled them with terror, for at
each window were faces pale with fright. The fire below cutting off the
egress, one hundred and fifty men, women, and children were prisoners.
The hot flames crackled and hissed; the heat became intense. Shrieks and
cries of distress filled the air. Wives, mothers, fathers, husbands,
sisters and brothers ran wildly about the burning building, praying God
and imploring man to save their dear ones, cut off from the outer world;
meanwhile, "For God's sake save us!" came from the windows above.
Senator Hamblin, realizing the fearful condition of affairs, seized a
factory boss by the arm and asked:
"Jones, is there no way of saving the lives of those poor creatures?"
"Yes, there is one way, and only one. The large iron door, opening from
the room where the people are imprisoned into the main hallway, is
locked, and here is the key. If that door could be opened and the door
connecting with the winding staircase on the outside of the building
unbolted, every person could escape, sir."
"Cannot some one open those doors? Why, man, what are you thinking
about?"
"But, sir, to get at the main door one must pass through the narrow
hall on the first and second floors, and the first hall is on fire for a
short distance."
"My God! what can be done?" exclaimed Senator Hamblin. "It is fearful to
see those people perish. Where is this hallway, Jones?"
"Step this way and I will show you."
The two men following, Jones approached the flames, the forked tongues
darting angrily toward them. Hotter and hotter became the fire, louder
and louder rose the cries of terror and agony from the imperilled
people; some had already thrown themselves from the windows, only to be
picked up dying or dead.
"Here," said Jones, "is the entrance. If some one could enter here, and
reach and unlock the iron door, he could liberate the hands."
"See here, Jones, I will give you five hundred dollars if you will save
them," said Senator Hamblin.
"I am too old and clumsy--it needs a younger man for such a job."
Alden heard the heart-rending cries of those above begging in most
piteous tones to be saved; he saw their peril, yet he hesitated a moment
before he said:
"Mr. Hamblin, I will try to save them. Heaven knows it is worth the
trial." The Senator looked at Alden, looked at the fire, and for a
moment was honest enough to wish his own soul in a hotter place.
"Jones," said George, "get several blankets from the store-room if you
can; be quick."
"Aye, aye, sir! and Lord bless you," Jones replied, and was off,
returning in a moment.
"Dip these blankets in water; there, now wind them about me. Here, give
me that lantern; break off the frame." Then turning to the president he
said, "Sir, if I never return from this building, please tell my sister
and--and--and--your daughter I died in trying to do what they would not
have me leave undone. God bless you, sir; God bless them."
As George entered the passage-way indicated by Jones the Senator was so
filled with admiration for the young man and contempt for himself that
for an instant he was in danger of becoming an honorable man again. But
experience in practical politics teaches wonderful self-control, for a
minute after the Senator said to himself:
"Brave fellow! a man couldn't be in better condition, morally, to die;
I hope he'll realize it himself. If he does he shall have a first-class
monument, and I'll pay the cost of engrossing in first-class style the
resolutions that his associates in the bank will 'resolve' to present to
his family. I hope he will not return. It will be best--it will be best."
While George Alden was preparing to enter the burning factory, a long
ladder was placed at one window, but the brave firemen mounting it were
driven back by the scorching flames.
The puffing and pumping of the steam-engines, with their shrill signal
whistle, accompanied by the moanings and lamentations of the imperilled,
made the scene one of horror, stout hearts quailing at the prospect of
so many persons being entombed in the burning factory.
The flames had already ignited the floor dividing the second and third
stories, and amid the cries from the burning building were mingled many
voices imploring God to save them.
The information reaching the excited people, of George Alden undertaking
the perilous trip to save the operatives, blessings were invoked upon
his head by the anxious throng. But where was the brave fellow?
Entering the building, he walked rapidly along the main hall, approached
the stairs leading to the second story, and turning to ascend,
encountered a flash of flame which he soon passed. Gaining the second
floor, he encountered a fiercer flame. As he felt its warm breath strike
the glass on his visor he realized the danger, and with a quick bound
cleared the monster. Clouds of smoke rose about him to stifle him, but
the wailing of female voices reached his ears, and stimulated him; and
being a pure man at heart, he was further strengthened by the feeling
that One who once walked with some other young fellows in a fiery
furnace was by his side. Suddenly finding a bank of burning coals in
his pathway, a feeling that he was lost overpowered him. Behind were
the flames and two blank, impenetrable walls; before him a mass of live
coals--cruel and hissing hot--ready to devour him. Looking again he
beheld a small door. He seized the latch, but to his horror the door was
locked.
Praying for assistance, and casting his eyes toward the floor, he spied
a large iron bar. Seizing it he began battering the door, which to his
great joy flew open, permitting him to enter the adjoining hallway,
where he stood an instant to regain his breath, for the stifling heat
had almost stopped respiration.
Having often been in the factory, he was familiar with all its
passage-ways, and knew that the hallway Jones described had been
reached. But could he gain the iron door, at least three hundred feet
onward, and up another flight of stairs? Going about two thirds the
distance, he ran up the stairway unmolested, when the glare of flames
indicated another approaching danger. His heart quailed, but he could
not turn back, his only hope being in pushing forward. He nearly reached
the huge iron door, the key of which he grasped tightly in his hand. He
made a dash at the fire which encircled him. He gasped for breath; the
hot, seething flames seized his hand and arm, causing him to cry with
pain. In an instant his feet cleared the flames, but just as he thought
himself safe a huge burning timber fell, struck his back, felled him and
held him fast.
He was only a few feet from the door leading into the hallway, where the
flames had not yet entered. Groaning with pain, by a spasmodic effort he
rolled the burning beam from his back, but on trying to rise he found to
his horror that he could not stand, for his back was injured.
Retaining full use of his hands, he quickly tore off his blankets, and
with an herculean effort dragged himself to the door. He seemed to have
superhuman strength, for with his hands he moved himself about with a
rapidity that surprised him. Out of reach of the flames, he dragged
himself to the outer door, removed two bars, and slipping the bolt, the
solid wrought-iron screen of the narrow exit was open.
Dragging himself along, he returned and reached the great iron door,
the effort causing intense pain. Unable to raise himself high enough to
reach the lock, after great effort he mounted a box behind the door,
slipped the key into the hole, and the bolt shot back. He then removed
the iron bar, and the door, pressed hard by the people inside, flew back
upon its hinges, striking Alden and throwing him bleeding to the floor.
Like wild animals, the freed men, women and children made a rush for
liberty. The hallway was filled with human beings, and as the crowd
emerged from the narrow doorway into the open air at the back, shouts of
joy greeted them from the masses outside.
The friends of the lately imprisoned operatives made a rush for the foot
of the narrow stairway, and as those given up for lost stepped into the
open air, loving arms caught them, and those lately shedding tears of
sorrow now laughed hysterically or made other demonstrations of joy.
The release of the one hundred and fifty had been accomplished none
too soon, for the flames spread with fearful rapidity. Great angry
forks leaped from window to window and then shot upward, enveloping the
wooden cornice in sheets of flame. The roof was sending forth clouds of
smoke, while little jets of flame ignited the dry wood of the huge tower
surmounting the structure.
Suddenly, a stout, brawny, bareheaded man rushed to the entrance from
which the liberated people had just emerged. It was Jones, the boss, who
had described the passage-way to George Alden. He was greatly excited,
and as the air filled with cheers for George Alden's brave act, he cried
out:
"Alden is in the burning building!"
Immediately the cheering ceased, and word was passed from lip to lip
that Cashier Alden, who had saved the people, was himself perishing.
Every face blanched with horror.
"Follow me, two of you!" cried Jones. Two stout operatives sprang
forward, and in an instant the three men were in the hallway leading to
the iron door, where they encountered clouds of smoke. To the cry, "Come
on, men!" the heavy tramping of three pairs of feet were heard on the
floor. Through the smoke rushed the brave fellows until Jones said:
"Here's the door;" then he cried out, "Mister Alden! Mister Alden! Are
you alive?"
No voice responding, he called again and again with the same result;
then Jones, with one tremendous push, sent the great iron door shut with
a loud clang, and turning to retreat, his foot struck something on the
floor. Stooping, he touched the form of George Alden, lying insensible
before him.
"Thank God, boys, it is the cashier. Quick! men, seize him."
The three then, grasping the lifeless man, turned and hastily ran toward
the door. As they emerged from the burning building, shouts of joy
rent the air, but when the deathlike face of George Alden was visible
everybody became mute.
"Is the brave fellow dead?" were the words uttered, but they were not
answered.
Carefully George Alden was laid upon a pile of blankets, when one of the
village doctors sprang forward, placed his head upon the breast of the
wounded man, and said:
"He lives."
Two women broke through the crowd, and Belle Hamblin and Fannie Alden
were beside the almost lifeless form.
"Is he dead?" they both cried in tones of anguish.
"He lives," replied the doctor, "but must be taken away from here at
once."
A litter was procured, the wounded man placed upon it, when eight stout
pairs of hands gently raised and bore it to Alden's little cottage,
only two blocks distant. As the silent form was laid on the bed, the
two ladies entered the apartment, and the men immediately withdrew.
The physician examined the wounds on the head and announced they were
not necessarily fatal, and gave the opinion that he had fainted from
exhaustion. His hands and arms were badly burned, and there was every
indication of a hard struggle. His clothing was burned and torn, and as
he lay upon the bed gasping for breath, the two trembling women mingled
tears of sympathy with prayers for their darling's recovery.