Meanwhile our young hero—for hero he was truly showing himself to be—was
following the chief into the interior of the dark and burning hotel.
Groping their way along through the corridors, sometimes finding the
smoke so thick and black that they were obliged to crawl along on their
hands and knees, they made the best of their way to the place where the
fire was raging. As they crawled along, they encountered a number of
frightened guests, some of whom had come in from the fire-escape at the
chief’s command, while nearly all of them were too much terrified to
fairly understand what they were about. One lady, who had thrown a black
silk dress over her night-clothes, carried a barking poodle-dog under
her arm, while another clung tenaciously to a bird-cage, in which was a
green parrot, although, as it afterwards transpired, she had left her
gold watch and casket of jewels under the pillow of her bed. Some of
these people cried, while others were silent, and one man, on whom they
stumbled, was lying at full length in an open doorway, unconscious from
the effects of the smoke.
At the chief’s command two firemen carried him at once to the window,
where the fresh air soon revived him, and he was lowered by means of a
life-line, tied under his arms, to the ground below. By the same method
several other guests were saved, though others, including the two woman
already named, positively refused to go down in such an undignified
manner.
While this was going on, Bruce, carrying his hook, and still following
the members of his company, descended to the floor below, and then,
hearing voices below him, went down one more flight of stairs, and
encountered Captain Murphy’s men, who had made their way up from the
lower entrance. At the chief’s command, Bruce and two other men went
into one of the bedrooms, threw open a window, and, lowering a long
line, called upon the men below to attach their hose to it, so that they
might draw it up.
Chief Trask had often told Bruce that in the work of fighting a fire the
most important thing is to discover the location of the flames, and not
only subdue them but prevent them from spreading to other parts of the
building. In order to do this, it is necessary to cover all exposed
parts, and to saturate with water everything of an inflammable nature
that lies near the seat of the conflagration. In this particular case,
the snow which covered the roofs of the adjacent buildings prevented
anything like danger from flying sparks and cinders, but had the fire
taken place during dry, summer weather, one of the first duties of the
firemen would have been to throw water on every roof and wall that lay
within possible reach of the longest tongue of flame.
Working in the interior of the hotel, the firemen, under Chief Trask’s
direction, bent their energies toward arresting the possible spread of
the flames, which had already gained such headway by means of the
elevator shaft that it seemed to an inexperienced young fire-lad, like
Bruce, an almost hopeless task to attack them. But with the aid of the
hose which had been hauled up through the window, all the partitions,
floors and ceilings were speedily saturated with water, while the men
tore down with their hooks a number of frame partitions, in order to
prevent the spread of fire through the lath and plaster.
“Bruce!” cried Brophy, coming up suddenly to where the boy was standing,
“the chief says for you to go right down and tell Captain Murphy’s
engineer to give us more pressure.”
“All right,” replied the boy promptly, and pulling his helmet well down
and his coat collar up about his mouth, he started down the winding
marble staircase that led to the lower floor. It was a perilous journey,
for the smoke filled the air, and through the darkness he could see
shooting tongues of flame and showers of sparks, showing that the fire
was eating its way into the woodwork and consuming both walls and floors
with terrible persistence. But Bruce was not the boy to be daunted by
heavy smoke and crumbling floors, and besides, he felt that he was a
full-fledged fireman now, for had he not received his baptism of fire a
year ago? So he stumbled down the stairs, clinging to the balustrade,
and soon the atmosphere grew clearer and the light stronger, and then he
stepped on a marble floor covered with at least six inches of water, and
realized that he was standing in what had been but a few hours before
the gorgeous entrance to one of the most sumptuous hotels in New York.
Clerks and servants were running to and fro, carrying out different
articles of value, and Bruce noticed three or four red-helmeted
insurance patrolmen, who were going about placing covers over some of
the more costly fittings, in order to protect them from the deluge of
water from above.
Through the entrance the boy rushed out into the street, and looked
about him for Captain Murphy’s engine. The snow was still falling, but
it was so trampled under foot that the street looked like one huge
puddle of black, filthy water, filled with enormous twisting and
writhing serpents. These were the lengths of hose which were scattered
about in all directions.
The reporters had arrived by this time and passed the fire-lines, and he
could see them darting about, with their note-books in their hands,
jotting down bits of description and facts of interest regarding the
fire, while one or two of them were sending messengers down-town, in
order that their city editors might issue extra editions of the
newspapers if they deemed the fire of sufficient importance.
Bruce soon found the company he was in search of. The engineer, on
receipt of the chief’s orders, proceeded to lock his relief-valve, and
give his fire an extra shake with his “slice-bar,” as he called the long
iron poker used for stirring up the coal. Then he opened his throttle a
little wider, at the same time placing his foot upon the hose leading to
the roof, and giving it a sharp, vicious stamp, to find out if the
increased pressure had made it any harder.
Bruce stood beside him, an observant watcher of everything he did; and
then remarked, as he turned his eyes to the burning building, “It looks
as if it were getting away from them.”
“Well, it does look somewhat that way,” rejoined the engineer,
unconcernedly, as he threw more coal into his engine. He was an old
fireman, and had seen too many big blazes to be particularly stirred up
by such an one as this.
Bruce turned away, wishing that he could go to a fire in the same calm,
professional mood, and bent his steps toward the building adjoining the
hotel, through which Chief Trask’s company had first ascended to the
roof. He had found the passage by the hotel staircase too perilous and
difficult to be attempted again, particularly as the flames seemed to be
making such fearful headway, despite the utmost exertions of the men who
were fighting them. But as he was crossing the street he turned his eyes
upward, and caught a glimpse of Chief Trask climbing down the long
ladder that stood against the side of the hotel. Bruce knew at once what
it meant. His company had been ordered to abandon their position and
return to the street. And so he determined to wait until they came down.
He was standing on the corner, still undecided as to what course he
should pursue, when he heard a faint scream, and on looking up he saw in
one of the windows on the fifth floor, a slender, white-robed figure.
Some one, a young girl it seemed to him, was in imminent danger, and it
looked as if she were preparing to climb over the sill and throw herself
into the street.
“Don’t jump! stay where you are!” yelled the young fire-lad at the top
of his lungs.
The young girl in the window heard him, for she paused and shouted some
unintelligible answer, to which he replied—for a sudden idea had taken
possession of him—“Stay where you are! I’ll be with you in a minute!”
There was no time for hesitation or reflection now. Trained as he was to
the immense value which the smallest fraction of time possesses in the
eyes of a true fireman, he realized, for the first time in his life, how
precious even a single second may be. A hook and ladder truck stood
within ten feet of him, and it seemed to the boy that within one of
these precious seconds he had reached it, and seized one of the light
scaling ladders that hung at its side. With this in his hands he rushed
toward the hotel, attached the hooks at the ladder’s end to the sill of
a window directly under that in which the white-robed young girl was
standing, and had just placed his foot on the lower rung, when some one
seized him by the shoulder.
“Hold on there! You’ve forgotten something!”
It was one of the reporters, and as Bruce heard him he realized that he
had forgotten to put on a belt and provide himself with a life-line.
There was the belt with its big iron hook attached to the ladder, and
while he was fastening it about his waist, the reporter ran to the
truck, and came flying back with a life-line coiled about his arm.
“Up with you!” he cried, as he handed it to the boy, and added, as
Bruce, with his eyes fixed on the window above him, and the life-line
held firmly in his hand, began the ascent, “and may God bless you!”
Then the reporter jumped back to the other side of the street, and,
lifting his voice above the noises that filled the air, cried, “Stay
where you are! he’s coming right up to you!” But even as he spoke the
room in which the young girl stood was lit up with a flash of light, and
then the smoke came in through the blazing door, and began to pour out
of the window above her head in a dark, heavy stream.
On went Bruce to the top of his ladder. Then, throwing his leg over the
window-sill, he hastily pulled up his frail wooden stairway, and by the
exercise of all the coolness, skill and rapidity at his command,
fastened the hooks over the window-sill of the room to which he was
climbing. Then on and up again through the smoke, which was gaining
strength every moment, and was whirled into his face by the pitiless
storm of wind. The heat was terrible, and the side of the building so
hot that it blistered his hands to touch it. But he gave no thought to
smoke, flame or heat. His only hope was to reach that window above him
before it was too late. And to the young girl who stood there in peril
of her life, every second seemed a full hour, until at last the helmeted
head rose above the level of the sill.
Bruce had all his wits about him now, for he knew that he stood in need
of every particle of nerve and courage and decision that he possessed,
and that a single slip or false step on his part meant death, perhaps,
to them both—to him as well as to the white-robed, slender girl, who was
leaning, half fainting, against the window-frame, her fair hair falling
in a wild tangle down her shoulders, her hands clasped, and her lips
moving as if in prayer.
With a quick bound the young fireman scrambled over the window-sill and
into the room. Then taking his life-line, he began to uncoil it, and,
stretching out his arms to the young girl, said, in a calm, steady
voice: “Don’t be frightened!” It was then that their eyes met for the
first time, and Bruce Decker found himself standing face to face with
Laura Van Kuren, while the storm of wind and snow was raging outside and
the smoke and flame were creeping up behind him.
[Illustration: “A single slip or false step on his part meant
death.”—_Page 368._]
His clothing was torn and soiled, his face and hands grimy with sweat
and smoke. The snow and the ashes had fallen upon him unheeded, and the
flames had singed and burnt his clothing in a dozen places. But never
did the bravest, handsomest soldier on parade seem to any one as heroic
and courageous and manly as did Bruce to the young girl who almost fell
into his outstretched arms, while she murmured, “Oh! Bruce, it is you! I
thought you would never come.”
But the boy uttered never a word, and a sharp pang pierced Laura’s heart
as she remembered their last meeting in the street, when she had been
ashamed of him. She was not ashamed of him now, and as she rested in his
strong arms, with her cheek against his wet coat, she thanked Heaven
that it was he, and not the little French boy, Victor, who had come to
save her. And now Bruce had slipped the life-line around her, and tied
it firmly under her arms, and, having taken a turn or two of the slack
about his belt-hook, disengaged her clinging arms from about his neck,
and prepared to lower her to the sidewalk.
“Aren’t you coming too, Bruce?” she asked, faintly.
“Afterwards,” was all he said. And then she was swung off into mid-air,
and felt herself going down through the smoke and the flames and the
storm, and she knew no more until she found herself in the arms of a
brawny fireman on the pavement.
Her first thought was of the boy who had saved her. But when she looked
up at the window from which she had come she could see nothing, for the
flames had burst out from beneath it, cutting off every hope of escape.
“Has he come down? Is he safe?” she asked. But there was no reply, for
those that stood about her looked at one another with expressive glances
and shook their heads, and then turned their eyes toward the awful
flames which were sweeping with resistless force up the side of the
building.
Laura closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, and just then
a mighty shout rent the air. The boy had appeared at another window—he
had made his line fast to the sill and thrown the loose end down into
the street! And now he was climbing out of the window, and a great
silence fell upon the crowd as, with one look at what lay before him, he
deftly twisted the frail rope about his belt-hook, and, with a firm
grasp on the line below, plunged into the whirlwind of flame and smoke
beneath him.
“The boy’s all right, miss; he’s just come down from another window.
He’s standing there on the pavement,” were the words that fell upon the
young girl’s ear. She heard them, but made no response—her overtaxed
strength had given way.
And now it became apparent to others beside Captain Murphy’s engineer
that the great hotel was doomed. The chief of the department, who had
been a silent and apparently unmoved spectator of all that has just been
described, realized it, too, and uttered the simple command: “Back out!”
The order was given none too soon, and as the long lines of hose were
withdrawn, the firemen broke them up into convenient lengths and
attached them to the four-inch stand-pipe on the deck of the
water-tower, while others made preparations to take positions on the
adjacent buildings, in order to operate the siamese streams. Then the
men swarmed up and through the houses nearby bearing hose-hoists and
roof-ropes, and in a few minutes they were hauling long lines of pipe up
over the eaves of the houses, and fastening them securely, by means of
the roof-ropes, to chimney and scuttle. Two, three, and four way siamese
connections were quickly placed in position, and connected with the huge
brass stand-pipe with incredible rapidity, and from these great volumes
of water were poured against and into the doomed building and upon the
roofs of the houses next to it.
And now an awful crash, and a huge pyramid of smoke, sparks and flames
told the watchers that the roof had fallen in. Soon afterwards the front
wall fell, and then the two side walls went down, leaving a huge mass of
cinders, bricks and ashes, where the great hotel had stood when the sun
went down.
The new day was just beginning to dawn, when the welcome order came from
Chief Trask to the various companies which had been operating under him,
“Report to the Chief,” and each captain went at once to where the
officer stood, surveying the scene of desolation, and repeating the
chief’s order.
“Take up,” was the silent man’s rejoinder, and the wearied men gathered
up their hose, placed it in well-ordered layers in the hose wagon,
unblanketed the horses, and, carefully picking their way among the
lengths of hose which were still lying on the ground, returned to their
quarters.
Meantime, under orders of the chief of the department, three or four
spare battalion engines moved into advantageous positions, and to these
were attached the lines of the companies at work. A detail of engineers
and men was quickly made, and then the brief order to “take up” sent the
others away from the scene of the fire. As the day broke, men and women
going to their daily toil stopped to look at the smoking heap, on which
two or three streams were falling from the spare engines. By noon the
snow had fallen upon the ruins, and but a single hydrant line remained
in operation.