One afternoon Bruce Decker was seated in front of the quarters reading a
newspaper, and waiting for the men to return from a fire to which they
had been summoned half an hour before. So engrossed was he that he did
not hear the footsteps of three gentlemen who were crossing the street
directly in front of him, and he was startled to hear his name suddenly
pronounced in a quick, imperious way.
Leaping to his feet he found himself face to face with his kind old
friend, Mr. Dewsnap, known to all the members of the company as the
“fire crank.” Mr. Dewsnap’s companions were two gentlemen, both of them
well dressed and of prepossessing appearance, and both unquestionably
foreigners. One was a tall man, attired in a suit of very large checks,
and the other was short, rotund and long haired. The former was
evidently an Englishman, and the latter a German.
“Where’s the chief?” inquired Mr. Dewsnap.
“Out with the company,” replied the boy, taking off his cap, for Bruce
had sense enough to know that politeness to his elders was always a
strong point in favor of any boy.
“That’s too bad,” replied Mr. Dewsnap, taking out his watch, “because I
have brought down these two gentlemen to show them the way we have in
this country of putting out fires, and I wanted to have them make Chief
Trask’s acquaintance. However,” he continued, “I’ll just take them
inside here and explain what I can myself; then when the chief comes
back he can show them the rest.”
With these words the three visitors entered the building, and in a
moment Mr. Dewsnap was in the midst of a voluble description of the
workings of the service. Bruce noticed that both strangers seemed to
display a more than ordinary degree of interest, and they both of them
took notes of what they heard. Mr. Dewsnap, who knew as much of the
department as a good many firemen, talked to them energetically and kept
them interested until the company returned from the fire, and Chief
Trask, alighting from his wagon, came forward to welcome his visitors.
The two visitors were introduced respectively as Baron Bernstoff and the
Honorable Rupert Doubter.
“These gentlemen,” said Mr. Dewsnap, “have come to this country for the
purpose of studying its peculiar institutions, and they are particularly
desirous of learning all they can about the Fire Department of New York,
the fame of which has spread through every city in Europe. The fact is,
that although they are too polite to say so, I am afraid that they do
not believe what has been told them in regard to the rapidity with which
our companies get out to a fire when the alarm sounds. I’ve shown them
as much as I can about the building and explained to them the way the
alarms are sent out, but I just wish you would tell them what you know,
and give them a little illustration of how things are done.”
Chief Trask, like all efficient members of the service, took a just
pride in his work and was never so happy as when expatiating to
benighted foreigners on the wonderful efficiency of the fire brigade of
New York, as compared with those of the other leading capitals of the
world.
“Our motto, gentlemen,” said the chief, “is to be always ready for an
emergency, and when that emergency comes to meet it without an instant’s
loss of time. We have just come from a fire about six or eight blocks
from here, and now you will see that the men are getting ready for the
next alarm.”
As he spoke he directed his visitors’ attention to the truck, which by
this time had been backed carefully into the quarters to its resting
place in the centre of the building, while the men were leading the
horses slowly up and down the street, to the admiration of a group of
small boys who had been attracted to the scene by the return of the
apparatus, and were now gazing upon the firemen with that profound
respect which a New York boy always entertains for those superior and
uniformed beings. The horses were thoroughly rubbed down and then
returned to their stalls, and at the same time the men, aided by Bruce,
carefully inspected the hook and ladder truck to see that nothing had
been broken in their swift run, and then washed the mud from its wheels
and did not leave it until it was in perfect order and ready to go out
at once on parade should occasion require it.
Baron Bernstoff viewed all these details with interest and approval, for
the care with which everything was attended to and the industry with
which the men went about their duties appealed strongly to his German
mind, while his English friend, although he watched everything just as
attentively, did not seem nearly so much impressed with what he saw and
was evidently very skeptical in regard to the efficiency of the American
service. It was plain enough to Chief Trask, who was a keenly observant
man, that in his secret heart the Honorable Rupert Doubter was not quite
willing to trust the evidence of his own eyes and regarded all that he
saw as things done simply for show and not for use.
“That’s all very well,” he said at last, “and it seems to me that if you
could tell exactly when a fire was going to break out your service would
be perfect, but supposing the alarm comes in when some of the men are
playing checkers and others are up stairs taking a nap, and a few more
perhaps are up at the corner——”
But here the chief interrupted him rather sharply. “My men don’t spend
their time hanging round street corners, and they don’t take naps in the
afternoon like a lot of old maids. They play checkers sometimes, but I
can tell you that if that gong rings they stop just where they are and
don’t wait to finish the game. As I told you before our motto is to be
always ready and I’ve forgotten the Latin words for it, I am sorry to
say. The alarm may come in in the middle of the night when they’re all
in bed and asleep, and it may come in and find them all down stairs as
you see them now, but the result is the same. By the time the driver
gets into his seat the men are on the truck behind him, and off they go.
If you will come upstairs with me I’ll take pleasure in showing you
where we sleep and the way we have of getting out on time when we’re
sent for.”
Saying this, Chief Trask escorted his visitors up stairs to the
dormitory, where he explained the method of turning out at night and
sliding down the brass poles. To illustrate the last named feat, he
called Bruce upstairs and had him go through the act of jumping against
the pole and sliding down it to the floor below. The foreigners
witnessed the act in silent amazement, and then the Englishman turned to
Chief Trask and said, “Upon me soul, this is all very extraordinary,
don’t you know, but I would like to ask why they don’t go down the
staircase; it must be so much easier, and it is certainly not so wearing
on their clothes.”
“The staircase!” cried Chief Trask, in horror, “Why, that would take
them fully five seconds longer than it does this way.”
“But what does five seconds count in getting to a fire?” persisted Mr.
Doubter.
“I can tell you, sir,” replied the chief, “that we look upon five
seconds as a considerable period of time in the matter of getting out to
answer an alarm.”
The Englishman shrugged his shoulders and said nothing further, and a
moment or two later Mr. Dewsnap took the chief one side and whispered to
him that he was sure Mr. Doubter did not believe one word that was said
to him, and as for Baron Bernstoff, he was so accustomed to the old
fashioned, slow-but-sure methods in vogue in his native land, that it
was impossible to convince him that in a fire brigade, if nowhere else,
quickness was an indispensable quality.
“Why,” exclaimed the enthusiastic old gentleman, “I told these men again
and again about the time it takes to get out into the street and get a
stream on at a fire, but it’s impossible to convince them, and if you
were to hear them talk about the way they run these things on the other
side, you would know why it is that they can’t comprehend our methods.”
“And do you mean to tell me,” inquired the German baron, “that when an
alarm comes in, let us say at midnight, your men jump right out of their
beds, slide down those poles, and get away to the fire all in the space
of a few minutes and without leaving anyone behind?”
“In a few minutes!” cried the chief, contemptuously, “why how long do
you imagine that it takes us to get up and get dressed, hitch up the
horses and get started?”
The foreigners immediately began to calculate on their fingers. “To
begin with,” said Baron Bernstoff, “I suppose that the light sleepers
wake up of their own accord, and then go around and arouse such of their
comrades as have not heard the alarm. That must take a minute and a half
at the very least.”
The chief’s eyes twinkled with amusement, and one of the men, who had
been standing within earshot, walked hurriedly to the window for fear
that his desire to laugh would get the better of him. Bruce, though he
felt the same inclination, managed to control his features out of
respect to the chief and his visitors, but Mr. Dewsnap had no such
scruples, and he uttered a whoop of merriment which was contagious
enough to cause the chief, Bruce, and even the fireman at the window to
break out into sudden peals of mirth.
“Go on sir?” said the chief apologetically, “It only seemed funny to us
because such a thing as a man being a light sleeper is unheard of in the
department. There’s no time allowed for him to sit up in bed and stretch
himself and yawn and maybe ask somebody what time it is. He’s expected
to jump out of bed and land on his feet in his turnout at the very first
stroke of the gong, even if he happens to be dreaming that he is Chief
of the whole New York Fire Department. Well according to your
calculations we’ll make it a minute and a half to get waked up. Now go
on.”
“Then,” continued the Baron, “I don’t suppose that a man is expected to
make a very elaborate toilet even if he is going out into the streets,
but he must put on his clothes, wash his hands and face——”
“We’re apt to get all the drenching we want when we get to the fire,”
interjected Chief Trask, and the Baron continued without seeming to
comprehend his remarks, “Well, suppose we say three minutes for dressing
and another minute to get down stairs and hitch the horses—you don’t
stop to call the roll of the men, do you?”
“No,” rejoined the chief gravely “our only roll is the pay-roll and a
man drops off that pretty quick if he’s not at his place when the truck
goes out.”
“Let me see,” continued the visitor, “that makes five minutes and a half
so far. If you get out in six minutes, you ought to do well. But there’s
one thing I don’t understand and that is how you can be sure of arriving
at the fire with the full strength of your company if you don’t call the
roll or have some other means of assuring yourself that they’re all
there when you started. Now in my country the men all stand up in a row
and are inspected by their commanding officer before they leave their
quarters, and each one must have his boots blacked and his clothing all
properly arranged before he gets up on the engine.”
“If we were to stop here to inspect our men we’d never get to the fire
at all,” replied the Chief. “If a man doesn’t take interest enough in
his work to turn out the instant the alarm comes, why there’s no room
for him in the department. Why, the rivalry between the different
companies is so strong that every fireman feels that the reputation of
his own machine rests on his shoulders, and, as I told you before, when
that alarm comes in he gives a jump, no matter whether he is asleep or
in the middle of a game of checkers——”
“Would he jump if he were in the middle of a game of pinochle,”
interrupted the Baron with a look of inquiring gravity that almost upset
Mr. Dewsnap again.
“He’d jump no matter what he was doing,” the chief went on “and as for
six minutes—well come down stairs with me, and I’ll turn the men out for
your especial benefit, then you can take your watch out and time them so
as to see just how long it does take.”
Followed by the two foreigners and their American friend, Chief Trask
proceeded down the stairs while Bruce descended by the more convenient
and speedy pole. “You’d better come out here on the sidewalk where you
won’t be in the way of the horses,” he remarked, and then, just as Baron
Bernstoff had taken his watch from his pocket, the quick sharp notes of
the gong fell upon their ears. It was a real alarm that had come in this
time and the astounded foreigners saw the horses spring to their places
and the driver climb to the seat, while the chief bounded into his
wagon. Then the harness was fastened on both vehicles with a succession
of sharp clicks. Charley Weyman, whose practiced eye had already told
him that everything was securely fastened, detached the reins from the
ceiling with a sudden pull and the next moment the big truck with Brophy
at the wheel swept out of the quarters, just as the chief’s wagon dashed
through the other door, turned sharply to the right, knocking the
Honorable Rupert Doubter over on his back as it went by, and was nearly
at the corner of the street when the Englishman picked himself up from
the gutter and said to his friend.
“Did you get the beggars’ time?”
“I forgot all about it,” rejoined the other with a sheepish glance at
his watch, “but it’s just ten seconds now so they must have got off in
about six.”
“Ten seconds!” cried Mr. Doubter, true to his convictions to the very
last, “Why your watch must have stopped, man. I’ve been lying on my back
in the road there nearly five minutes I am sure. But what’s become of
our friend Dewsnap?”
“He’s gone to the fire,” replied the Baron. “I saw him waving his hand
to us as he went by.”
It was indeed true, Mr. Dewsnap, the most confirmed fire crank in New
York, had mounted the truck along with the men and dashed off to the
scene of action, leaving his two friends to shift for themselves.
[Illustration: “Did you get the beggars’ time?”—_Page 136_.]