One morning Bruce Decker stood leaning on the chain stretched across the entrance to the quarters, wondering how soon he would be allowed to go to fires with the men. Ever since his arrival in New York it had been his highest ambition to climb up on the truck when the alarm sounded, and be off to the scene of action. But much as he desired to bear his share in the work of the company, he had never dared broach the subject to his superiors. To begin with, the rigid discipline of the department and the unhesitating, unquestioning way in which the men obeyed the orders of their superiors, had made a deep impression on the young country boy, and besides, he was eager to have them all believe that he was a sober, cool-headed, trustworthy person rather than a flighty boy, carried away with the idea of an exciting and adventurous fireman’s life.
The company went out on an average about twice a day, and while the men were away Bruce remained in the quarters, sometimes engaged in some light work about the place, 36and sometimes reading or studying. He was always on hand to help bed down the horses on their return, and to find out from the men where the fire had been. Sometimes the company returned in less than an hour, sometimes they were gone more than two hours, and once they had remained out all night, while Bruce sat by the open door wondering fearfully what had become of them.
To-day, as he stood leaning on the iron chain, he determined to ask from the chief permission to go out at the next alarm, and he had just reached this conclusion when his thoughts were interrupted by the familiar voice of his superior.
“Bruce,” said the chief, “I want you to take this letter up to Mr. Dewsnap on Madison avenue, and get an answer to it. Be sure you see him, and if he is not at home, wait till he does come in.”
Glad of an excuse to get out into the streets, for it was a pleasant warm day, Bruce bent his steps towards the address indicated on the envelope which he carried in his hand. A man servant answered his ring and ushered him into the large and rather gloomy library, in which sat Mr. Peter Dewsnap, one of the eccentric characters of New York, and a particular friend of Chief Trask’s. Mr. Dewsnap was a short 37and rather stout gentleman, with bright, clear eyes, snow-white whiskers and a decidedly jovial aspect. He smiled pleasantly as he took the letter, and then asked the boy to sit down, remarking at the same time, “You’re not one of the chief’s sons are you?”
“No, sir,” replied Bruce, rather proudly, “I’m a member of his company.”
“A member of the fire company!” exclaimed Mr. Dewsnap, “Well, you must have joined very lately, and in fact I didn’t know that there were any lads as young as you in the whole department.”
“I’ve only been there a very short time, sir,” replied the boy, respectfully, “but my father was a member of this company until his death, about four months ago.”
“You don’t mean to say that you are a son of Frank Decker, who was killed at that big apartment house fire?” cried Mr. Dewsnap, and then added, as he scanned the boy’s face more carefully, “yes, the same eyes and the same square look in them. I knew your father very well, young man, and I’m glad to see you. Did you never hear your father speak of me?”
And just then a sudden remembrance of what his father had told him lit up the boy’s mind, and he exclaimed hastily, and without 38thinking of what he was saying: “Why, you’re not the gentleman they used to call the old fire crank, are you?”
He stopped suddenly, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, realizing that he had addressed the old gentleman in a too familiar way. But the latter did not seem to be offended. On the contrary, he threw himself back in his chair, uttering roars of laughter and slapping his knees with his hand: “That’s what I am, and that’s just what your father used to call me,” he cried, “I’m an old fire crank, and have been ever since I was your age, and that’s fifty years ago. There was no paid department then, with all its new fangled inventions for getting out in less than no time, but we had a volunteer department, and I belonged to it. You boys of the present generation can’t form any idea of what New York was like when I was your age. You’ve not been in the city long, have you?”
“No, sir,” replied Bruce simply, “I was brought up in the country, and never saw New York until a fortnight ago.”
“I thought I saw some of the country tan on your face,” rejoined the old gentleman. “Well, you see how thick the houses are around here on Madison avenue near Fortieth street, this is 39about where I used to pick blackberries when I was a lad. The city was a good ways off then, and they used to ring a big bell when there was a fire. Some of the best men in the town were firemen, and some of the toughest citizens as well. They had nothing but hand engines then, but there was just as sharp a race to get to the fire and get a stream on in those days as there is to-day. And many’s the fight I’ve seen between the rival companies. They used to call us toughs and rowdies, but there wasn’t so much of that after the Fire Zouaves were recruited and sent to the front in the early days of the war. They showed then, that their experience in fighting had taught them something that was of some use to their country, and there were no such soldiers, either on our side or with the Confederates, as the boys in the red trousers and gaiters that went South with Ellsworth and Duryea. However, I can talk all night when I get started on that subject. Some afternoon I’ll have Chief Trask bring you up here and I’ll show you some old souvenirs of the volunteer department that I’ve got, and tell you some stories of Big Six and the Black Joke, and half a dozen more of the famous old-time organizations. Since I retired from business ten years ago, I’ve become more of a fire 40crank, as they call it, than I was before the war. By the way, if the chief is down at the quarters now, I’ll step down and see him.”
“He was there when I left,” said Bruce, “and told me to bring him an answer to his letter.”
“Very well, you can bring me down there as an answer,” said the jolly old gentleman, as he put on his hat, took his gold-headed cane from behind the door and ushered his young guest into the hall with punctilious, old-fashioned courtesy. They walked together down the broad avenue, Mr. Dewsnap pausing occasionally to point out to his young companion some building of historic interest, or the scene of some great conflagration. They had just reached the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and Mr. Dewsnap was telling Bruce about the circus which used to occupy the present site of the house, when a sharp clang of a gong fell upon their ears, and they saw Captain Murphy’s steam engine thundering along Twenty-third street, while Chief Trask in his wagon came up Broadway at full gallop, closely followed by the hook and ladder truck, with Charlie Weyman in the driver’s seat, Brophy at the tiller, and the men, some of whom were still struggling with their coats, clinging to the truck as best they could.
41In an instant the old gentleman’s face changed, and his eyes seemed to blaze with excitement.
“Come with me!” he exclaimed, as he darted after the flying vehicles. Up Broadway he went, with Bruce in swift pursuit, then turning into Twenty-fifth street, he followed on to Sixth avenue, arriving just as Captain Murphy had his hose attached to the hydrant and was ready to throw a stream wherever it might be needed. A crowd had collected in front of a building from whose upper window a volume of smoke issued. Chief Trask was standing on the sidewalk giving order to his men, and just as they appeared on the scene, one of the men from the engine company entered the hallway with a nozzle of the hose in his hand and disappeared upstairs, while a ladder from the truck was placed against the side of the building, and a fireman ran hastily up to see that there were no people imprisoned in the upper story.
But the fire proved a very slight one, and within a very few minutes the smoke had ceased to issue from the upper window, the hose had been replaced in the tender and the long ladder on the truck. And it was just at this moment that Chief Trask recognized Mr. Dewsnap and came forward, holding out his hand and saying: “I just sent a note up to 42your house, and you’ll probably find it there when you get back. If I’d known we were to get a call from this box, I wouldn’t have sent it, but would have taken my chances of seeing you here. You very seldom miss a fire that’s anywhere within your radius.”
“I got your note, and was just going down with that boy of yours to see you, when we met you coming up,” rejoined the old gentleman, “and so we concluded we’d follow you along and take in the fire, too. I’m very much obliged to you for your kind offer, and you may expect to see me with those gentlemen within a few days. I’ve told them both about the way we do things in the New York department, but I don’t think they believe it. Now I want to prove it to them because I am getting rather tired of the way some of these foreigners pretend to look down on us Americans.”
“Very well,” rejoined Chief Trask, “bring them down any time you feel like it, and you’ll find us ready. You needn’t take the trouble to notify me when you’re coming, except that I’d like to be there myself. If my men don’t get the truck out into the street in ten seconds, I want to know the reason why every time.”
“I want you to come up and call on me some afternoon,” said Mr. Dewsnap to Bruce, 43as the boy turned to go back with the men on the truck. “I’ve got a number of books relating to the fire department and some curiosities that ought to interest a boy of your age and inclinations. You’ll find me at home any afternoon between two and four, and I’m sure Chief Trask will give you permission to come.”
Then, with a pleasant smile and nod, the old gentleman climbed into the chief’s wagon, while Bruce scrambled up over the wheel of the big truck and rolled slowly back to quarters.