FOOTNOTES:
[P] March 8th, 1877.
[Q] It had a three story granite front on Prince William Street 250 feet long, by 92 feet deep towards Water Street, which face was built of brick four stories high. It cost Mr. Walker $120,000.
CHAPTER XI.
The Old House on the Hill—A Wily Commissary—The Bags of Gold—What was done at Midnight—The Dead of Night Deposit—The Old Vault—A Timid Money-Lender—Mr. Peter Johnson—The Board of Commissioners—The Old Gentleman's Little Joke—The Inspection—How it was Discovered—The Fight with the Flames—"How much will I Get?"—What he Got—The Oil Barrels—Dashing the Water on the Kerosene—A Lively time on Reed's Point Wharf—The Bridge of Fire—On the Ferry-Boat—The Western Union Telegraph Office—The First Dispatch.
The fire in that portion of Princess Street, from Prince William street to Charlotte Street, was a great leveller, and destroyed a number of useful buildings as well as a few very excellent ones. The Wiggin's building on Rocky Hill, north side, which was erected about twenty years ago found a fate which was common enough that day. The destruction of Ritchie's building, though not expected by some, followed soon after. It was admirably built, and the large number of division walls which it had, rendered it almost invincible against any element however strong. Look at it to-day after the fire has done its worst, and there is much of it standing that can be utilized again. Its splendid supports are ready for duty, and though the structure was on fire for seven hours and subjected to great heat, the walls show that they could stand a good deal of such endurance yet, and not crumble. The site on which this edifice was erected, has in common with some others which have been mentioned in the course of our
story, a history of its own. A frame building many years ago, before Rocky Hill was cut down, was built here by Dr. Thomas Paddock, who afterwards disposed of it to Price, the Commissary, who subsequently sold it to the Government. The house was used as the Commissariat for a number of years. About 1823 or 1824 a good deal of excitement was created by the arrest of Mr. Price who was charged with defalcation in his accounts. He was closely guarded, and after a court of enquiry was held, he was confined for a time and finally allowed to depart. The story goes, and there are many who remember it perfectly, that a wealthy gentleman knowing that Price lived too fast, and had become involved, had offered to lend him the bags of money which would make good his position when the commissioners came to examine his accounts. It was proposed that they be sent over and deposited in the house, and after the examiners were satisfied and had left the city, the bags of coin would be conveyed back again to the owner. This was satisfactory, and Price thanked his good friend. In those days commissioners did not move as rapidly as they do now, and the board did not arrive for a few days. In the meantime, the money was in Price's possession, and he slept at night the peaceful sleep of the innocent and just. But delays are ever dangerous, and Mr. Price's friend was the timidest of the most timid men. He had no sooner sent his bags of gold out, when he began to ruminate. What if the commissioners decided to take the money with them and deposit it somewhere else? What if the thing leaked out and his friend Price got
dismissed, and he lost his money? It worried him, and though Price slept, the money-lender did not. He began to grow more and more anxious. Every day he grew worse, until at last just as the commissioners had arrived and Mr. Price was getting ready to show them around in the morning, and give them his papers to examine, and show them the money, the friend acted on the thought which was burning his heart out, and he sent for Peter Johnson. Now Mr. Johnson, who figures in our narrative, for the first time was a negro, and he it was, who, in the dead of night when all was still, wheeled the mysterious bags of bullion to and from the old vaults in the Commissariat. The money-lender sent for Peter Johnson and told him that he had altered his mind, and that the bags and their contents must be home again that very night. Peter proceeded at once, and stealthily approaching the vaults, opened the heavy doors with his key, got out the money, and wheeled it home again, and Mr. Commissary Price slept on in babe-like innocence. And so did his friend. And so did Mr. Peter Johnson. And so did the Board of Commissioners. In the morning, Mr. Price rubbed his hands and dressed himself with scrupulous propriety, that he might meet his masters in a becoming manner. And the Board of Commissioners got ready too, and they drove round to Mr. Price's in a body, and before entering on their duties there was much merriment among them, and one facetious old gentleman who was always joking and saying good things, you know, remarked to the others in his delicious way, that almost every man had a price, but
none had a Price like their's, and then he chuckled and slapped Price on the back, and Price chuckled, and the Board chuckled, and I have no doubt whatever but that Mr. Peter Johnson and his master would have chuckled too had they heard it. And then the party went down to the office and began to overhaul things, and everything was all right, and the books were found correct. And then a stupid old member of the Board asked to have the money brought in to be counted, just to comply with the regulation, not that they doubted friend Price.
"O, no, but an absurd form demanded it," &c., &c. And Mr. Price was affable and kindly, and said, "O yes, gentlemen, I shall be quite happy to show you the funds which are all safe in the vault, I assure you. Saw them myself no later than the other day,"
&c., &c. And everyone said that was all right, and the iron doors were unlocked and swung back! But where was the money? Mr. Price was as pale as death, and turned to the astonished commission, when he said, "Come, gentlemen, now a joke is a joke, what have you done with the money?" But Mr. Price discovered before long that the world was not quite a smile, and he was marched off to prison, and the facetious old gentleman said to the gentleman who only wanted the money produced to gratify an absurd whim of the Government, "Who would have believed it?" And so the Inspectors walked out, behind Mr. Price, who was placed in durance vile and suffered as we have seen.
In 1843 Mr. Oliver Goldsmith, a descendant of the family of the poet, and a gentleman who wrote poetry too, occa
sionally, and whose "Rising Village," a companion piece to "The Deserted Village," was not without some slight merit, called on Judge Ritchie and told him that he had received orders from the Government asking for tenders for the old building on Rocky Hill, and he suggested that he had better tender for it. The judge did so, and to his great astonishment, his was the only tender sent, and he got the whole of the property, including the house and a stone barn which were on it, for £500 sterling, three months after his tender was accepted. He immediately rented it to Dr. Simon Fitch, who was beginning practice and who occupied it for a number of years. It was idle for a while after Dr. Fitch left it, and then Judge Ritchie had it altered and modernized, and he and Mr. L. J. Almon lived in it. It was still located high up on the rock. The judge, whose taste for architecture is well known, often planned the style of building he would like to put up. In the evenings after reading a while it was no uncommon thing for him to draw near to a table, and with pencil and paper plan buildings of infinite variety. It was good employment for the mind, and less expensive than actual building, and the paper houses could be altered and improved and altered again at very little cost. One day the judge planned in earnest, and his ideas took practical shape. He pulled down the high house, excavated the rock and proceeded to build. In 1853 he began work and by the month of February, 1854, his building was pretty well up. He had expended some five thousand pounds on it, and was about leaving for Fredericton when
Mr. L. J. Almon came in and remarked to him that after he was in Fredericton a week or so he would feel rather foolish to get word that his building was burned down, and that there was no insurance on it. This troubled the judge, and he began to feel quite uncomfortable. He told
Mr. Almon to lose no time but go at once and effect insurance. Mr. Almon put £5,000 on the unfinished edifice. The judge went to the capital, sat in the Assembly, and in a few days received intelligence that his building had been burned to the ground. He returned to St. John at once and began to rebuild. This time he proceeded with great care, and the chaste and handsome building destroyed the other day was the result. The first occupants of the offices were W. H. Tuck, Duff & Almon, Chas. Watters, Geo. Blatch, Wetmore & Peters, E. B. Peters, St. John Insurance Co., the Electric Telegraph Co., D. S. Kerr, Chamber of Commerce, Thos. T. Hanford, the Masonic body and some others. The stores below were not rented for some time after the building was ready.
The Society of Free and Accepted Masons, after leaving the Old St. John Hotel, met for some years in the upper story of the residence of the late Mr. Marshall, father of Mr. John R. Marshall, Chief of Police. This house was on the corner of Princess and Sydney Streets. When Judge Ritchie's building was finished, the Masons rented about half of the top story, and had it finished and furnished for masonic purposes. They have occupied these apartments ever since. Up to January, 1868, the various lodges in the city held their warrants from either of the
Grand Lodges of England, Scotland, or Ireland. In the Province there were twenty-six lodges, viz: twenty English, three Irish, and three Scotch. When Confederation came to pass, it was deemed imperative by the leading masons of the Province to separate from their respective parent Grand Lodges in the mother country, and form a new Grand Lodge of their own for New Brunswick. This conclusion was reached only after mature reflection, and when it was found that the great political changes which had taken place in the country rendered it necessary. Three Grand Lodges were already represented in the Province. The Grand Lodge of Nova Scotia was working, and the Grand Lodge of Canada would be formed soon. Unless the craft established a Grand Lodge in and for the Province of New Brunswick, the exercise of masonic jurisdiction by so many governing authorities would only tend to hopeless confusion and detriment to the Order. It was a thing which could not be helped. Either an Independent Grand Lodge of New Brunswick must be formed, or a general Grand Lodge of Canada would be created, which would have entire jurisdiction all over Canada. At a preliminary convention of masters, past-masters and wardens, the subject was fully ventilated, and the motion to form a Grand Lodge of New Brunswick was carried by a large majority. The office of Grand Master of the new Grand Lodge, was first offered to R. T. Clinch,
Esq., who was then District Grand Master, under the Grand Master of the Grand Lodge of England, but he declined the honour on account of the position which he
held. Benjamin Lester Peters, Esq., was then elected Grand Master by acclamation; William Wedderburn, Esq., Deputy Grand Master; Hon. W. P. Flewelling, Senior Grand Warden; David Brown, Junior Grand Warden; Rev. W. Donald, D.D., Grand Chaplain, and Wm. H. A. Keans, Esq., Grand Treasurer; Mr. W. F. Bunting was made Grand Secretary at the meeting in January, 1868, and the following officers were appointed: John Richards, Senior Grand Deacon; Benjamin R. Stevenson, Junior Grand Deacon; John V. Ellis, Grand Director of Ceremonies; Robert Marshall, Assistant ditto; Jas. McDougall, Grand Sword Bearer; John Mullin, Grand Standard Bearer; Henry Card, Grand Organist; James Mullin, Grand Pursuivant; Edward Willis, S. S. Littlehale, Robt. R. Call, Hugh A. Mackenzie, Thos. F. Gillespie, John Wallace, Grand Stewards, and John Boyer, Grand Tyler. Grand Lodge was instituted in January, in the year of masonry, 5868. The craft has made great progress, and preparations before the fire were on foot for the erection of a fine new hall in Germain Street. The greater portion of the stock was subscribed, and operations were to be begun at an early day. The brethren lost heavily by the recent fire. All the warrants were destroyed, but these can be replaced. The private lodges met in several instances with irreparable losses, and the full set of jewels, which Bro. Oliver Goldsmith several years ago presented to Albion Lodge, No. 1, was not the least of these.
In the summer of 1863, the St. John Gymnasium (joint stock) Company began building the Gymnasium, which
was located opposite St. John's Presbyterian Church, King Street East. Its dimensions were 40 x 100, three stories front, and the Gymnasium proper was 40 x 80. The cost was a little over $5,000. The building was heated by steam, well lighted with gas, and neatly and tastily arranged, containing bath-rooms, parlours, drawing-rooms, &c. The first president was John W. Cudlip, Esq. Mr. J. S. Knowles was secretary, and Fred. A. Jones, the lessee and manager. Mr. M. W. Maher was the builder. A few years ago, the building was sold to Carson Flood,
Esq., dealer in piano-fortes, and was by him converted into a commodious hall, suitable for dancing parties, tea-meetings, &c. The Gymnasium caught from the rear of the water-works, and was soon a heap of ashes. The Globe office in the Globe Building, Prince William Street, was burning about the same time as the Bank of New Brunswick, and the proprietors did not save even their fyles.
The fight with the flames on Reed's Point Wharf, which lasted from three o'clock in the afternoon until late the next morning, was one of the most dreadful encounters of the day. A prominent medical man of the city, who lost the house which he had considered fireproof, was hurrying away, when he found his services no longer needful, to a place of safety. All means of exit from the fire were cut off, except one—the route towards Reed's Point. He hastened in that direction, for he saw in a moment that soon that avenue would be closed against him. He fled down Germain Street to St. James's Street,
thence along the latter till he reached the wharf. There he saw an immense crowd of refugees from the district round about, numbering fully fifteen hundred persons. The men were very disorderly, and the liquor they had taken was showing its effect. There was fighting, and quarrelling and swearing. The roughest element of the city was here. A long row of barrels containing kerosene oil or petroleum lay upon the wharf, and the sparks from burning buildings near by came whirling along in dangerous proximity to the barrels. The danger was growing more and more near. Should these barrels ignite and explode, a hundred lives at least must perish. No time must be lost. Water must be carried up to the barrels and the fire kept off. An attempt was made to roll some of them over the wharf into the harbour, but they were too heavy, and the fire was leaping in great strides towards them. The doctor shouted himself hoarse trying to induce the crowd to help him, but he was answered with either a be-sotted stare or a vulgar oath. He kept on running to the water, filling his pail, and dashing it on the barrels till his arms ached. Once he got a response from some rough men on the wharf, and a bargain was made with three of them. He offered them all the money he had—three dollars,—if they would come and help keep the fire away from the deadly oil. But the assistance was of short duration, and after working for about twenty minutes the fellows gave up, and would work no more. Still, nothing daunted, the doctor toiled on. He had all the women put on board the International Line steamer,
through the kindness of Captain Chisholm, who was busily employed on the other end of the wharf in beating back the flames which were massing there, and then with a will he continued his self-imposed labour. None but he seemed to realize their danger. Maddened by drink and worry, and perhaps driven to desperation by the havoc the fire was making, they did not appear to take in the deadly peril in which every one on that wharf stood. The crowd stood about idling away, smoking, drinking, talking, jeering, and quarrelling. A lithe young fellow of twenty sat dangling his legs over the wharf and smoking a cigar, when the doctor called on him to come down and give him a hand. He returned a careless reply, and in a sneering tone asked how much he would get if he gave his help. The doctor grew maddened at this, and turning on him in a moment, cried out, "I am an old man; I have lost all that I was worth, and have nothing left. I have been watching you for an hour, doing nothing while I was working; and as you won't come for asking, I'll make you come down here and carry water if I have to drag you to the very water's edge." So, saying he pulled the young man down, grasped him by the neck, ran him to the water, and giving him a pail set him to work filling it while he carried it to the barrels himself. The lesson was a salutary one, and the unwilling assistant will probably never forget it. He had some manhood left in him after all though, for he worked well and hard, and after a time he apologized to the doctor and said he was sorry for having spoken as he did. It was some hours after
this episode, that the doctor hailed a passing tug-boat, and the captain learning what was wanted, ran his little steamer alongside the wharf and got ready his hose. In a few minutes the wharf was deluged with water and the great danger was averted. It was this hose and the well directed efforts of the doctor which saved the wharf and the lives of many people. It is a matter of regret that the name of the captain of the tug could not be got as he deserves well of the country, and should make himself known that he may receive something more tangible than thanks. Hemmed in by the streets of flame to the right and left of them and directly in their front, from fifteen hundred to two thousand persons were imprisoned on the wharf from three o'clock in the afternoon till four the next morning, when the fire had gone down, and one of
the loveliest mornings of the year dawned on the stricken city.
One of the prettiest sights was to be seen from the head of King Street, looking down in the direction of the market slip. When the schooners therein had caught, the flames mounted the masts and communicating with one another formed a complete bridge of fire from the north wharf to the south. It was like a gala-day celebration of fire-works on a large scale.
LIST OF VESSELS TOTALLY BURNED.
SCHOONERS.
WOOD-BOATS.
"Burnett," 46 tons, Captain Reed; "Linda," 26 tons; "President," 46 tons, Captain Orchard; and "Messenger," 33 tons.
Four lime scows laden with lime, two owned by Mr. Raynes, of Fairville; two owned by Mr. Joseph Armstrong, of Greenhead.
CASUALTIES.
Schooner "Justice," Westport, hauled out of slip badly burned.
Schooner "George Calhoun," lying in Walker's slip, mainmast burned, hauled out without further damage.
On board the ferry-boat between three and four o'clock in the afternoon, the appearance of the city burning in four places at once, was a grand as well as an awful sight. The passengers gathered together and wore very anxious
looks, when it seemed for a time to be the intention of the captain not to land. The houses and stores of many who were on board were in danger, and all wanted to be at the fire. From the water it appeared to be levelling houses to the ground at the rate of one a minute, and the frightful ratio seemed never to slacken its speed. The ships lying near the wharves moved out into the harbour, and some sailed far down the bay. The path of the ferry-boat was crossed more than once by vessels which had succeeded in getting away in safety, and collisions now and then were threatened; but fortunately none occurred. At length, to the relief of all on board, the boat succeeded in getting safely to her landing-place, and a grand rush was made up the floats for the head of Princess Street.
Perhaps one of the best and first specimens of enterprise which occurred on the night of the fire was that which was displayed by the chief officers of the Western Union Telegraph Company. The office was burned down, and only the books and some of the instruments were saved. The Fairville wire would not work, and no means of sending abroad intelligence of the ruin of the doomed city remained. It was fully eleven o'clock when R. T. Clinch, Esq., the superintendent of the company, Mr. Thos. Robinson, the manager, Mr. Dawson, Mr. Black and other gentlemen connected with the company, met the writer of these pages on Germain Street. The fire was still raging, though not at all fiercely in the lower part of the city. The party went down to the railway station, and
we give an illustration of the building so that the reader may see the temporary Western Union Telegraph Office during the first few days of the fire, and after a little while a wire was put in working order. The first and only dispatch which left the city that night, and which on Thursday morning was read all over Canada, and in the United States, was sent forward, and each page was telegraphed as rapidly as it was written. In the morning the office was ready to receive and deliver messages, and those who stood by the counter, and every day watched the enormous crowd of people all anxious to be served first, can realize how hard the operators had to work in order to meet the requirements of the citizens. At one time there were between five and six hundred messages on the operator's table, and the sender might consider himself fortunate if his telegram got off three hours after it was written. Some miscreants in some instances cut the wires a few days after the fire, and the company had to send out twenty-five or thirty patrol men to look after them. Mr. Clinch lost no time in getting suitable quarters for the patrons of the company, and in a week he had a comfortable office, working finely, in the Market House. He began work at once on the new building which the company intend putting up, and in six months the new telegraph office will be ready for occupancy on its old site at the foot of King
Street.
THE TEMPORARY W. U. TEL. OFFICE.
CHAPTER XII.
A Thrilling Incident—The Burning House—The Tall Figure in the Hall—Escape cut off—The only Way Out—The Street of Fire—Walking on Coals—The Open Boat—The way to the Wharf—Terrible Suffering—The Awful Death in the Street—Worn Out—The Escape—Saved—The Firemen—How they Fought the Flames.
In olden times men who had performed deeds of bravery on the battle-field were canonized as saints, and those who had shown daring in other ways were revered as gods. There is a fascination about the stories which come down to us through the long centuries of time, and from the middle ages, and we are accustomed, almost from the cradle, to revere the names of the great ones who have filled the world with the splendour of their exploits in the defence of cities and the protection of fair ladies. In the nursery we learn to lisp the names of stalwart knights and doughty warriors, and the great deeds which they performed, ages and ages ago, live again in the memory of all mankind. And it is well that it should be so. It is well that the splendid actions of the world's great men should be remembered for all time. Who is there who does not feel the blood mantling his cheek when he thinks of a Clive and of a Marlborough? Who can think of a Napier and a Wellington, and not experience for a time a thousand emotions coursing and careering madly through his breast? And Robert Bruce on his little palfrey giving battle to the last of one of England's proudest and sternest knights, in
full view of Stirling Castle, the day before the great battle was fought, is a story which every Scottish lad is taught before he is old enough to read. And the lives of such men as Bonaparte, Turenne, Wolfe, the Great Frederic, Von Moltke, and a hundred others, are undying records in the histories of nations, the memory of whose deeds shall last when time shall be no more.
In a young country like ours, whose territory has not often felt the hostile tread of invading armies, and whose broad acres are almost wholly unstained with the blood of battles, the heroes we have developed have earned their reputation in another and nobler way. Halifax has had her England, whose name will be remembered as long as ships sail the seas; and in St. John, we have long learned to bless the name of a hero in humble life, honest Tom Sloven. And now from the ashes of the fire two names arise, which in after years, when their owners shall have passed away, will live in the hearts of the people, and leave there an imperishable record. We applaud success, and oftentimes let honest effort and endeavour go unrewarded. We worship the rising sun, and when a man works hard to achieve a certain success and fails, we are apt to pass him by. And though the object, in the instance which we are about to relate, was not successful in the end, let us never forget the deed which was attempted at the imminent risk of the lives of the chief actors. When the story of the fire is told at firesides in the years to come, generations now unborn will listen with blanched cheeks and curdling blood, to the great
incident in the conflagration, when a woman perished by the roadside, and two men escaped a dreadful death.
Mr. John E. Turnbull's sash factory, in Main Street, despite all exertions, caught so quickly that the workmen narrowly escaped from the ruins with their lives. Mr. Turnbull crossed the street to his residence, which, like many others on that eventful day, he considered impregnable. He had worked long at the factory, and had stored in his house a large quantity of belting and tools of his workshop. He had carefully gathered up everything of an inflammable character, and had swept the yard clean, so that nothing could ignite and spread around the fire, that but too readily devoured everything in its way. A vigorous defence was inaugurated to save the house. Mr. Turnbull had good assistants. His sons were there, working like beavers, and Mr. Walker Frink in his department, stayed the flames for a long time. The neighbours, believing like Mr. Turnbull, that nothing could harm this house, had piled large quantities of furniture against its front, these were lying before the windows of the cellar, and after a while took fire. Mrs. Turnbull fearing that the house might after all be burned, and at the request of her husband, made her escape by the back window, and had to be lifted over the fence. It was well that she did go, for in a few moments the house was threatened from a dozen quarters. The fence in the rear was crackling, and Mr. Turnbull went down into the cellar and began to shove off the blazing furniture from the windows. He worked away at this for some time, never
dreaming that the fire was so near him, or that escape would soon be cut off. He had lost his hearing some years before, and did not hear the roar of the fire nor feel its approach. His son James was up-stairs battling with the fire, and Mr. Frink was on the roof. James Turnbull, realizing in an instant the condition of his father and his infirmity, and knowing well the determined character of his nature, was about to rush into the cellar and tell him how near the fire was, when he turned and beheld a dark shadow in the doorway. It was coming towards him, and for a moment struck terror into his soul. The tall figure of a woman, deeply robed in black, holding up a long train in her hand, and with head-dress all aflame, stood before him in the hall. He advanced towards her, as soon as he could recover himself, and at once tore off the burning head-dress and stamped it with his foot. He then brushed the kindling sparks from her dress. She seemed demented and unable to understand the nature of these proceedings. Indeed she remonstrated with him, and begged him not to destroy her bonnet. The fire had crazed her brain, and after escaping from her house she had wandered into Mr. Turnbull's blazing residence, unheedful of the terrible burns she had received, and notwithstanding that she was on fire herself in several places. James, realizing the state of affairs at once, coaxed her to go with him to the cellar to see his father, but she hung back and implored him to leave her there. He was forced to drag her unwillingly along, and together they both arrived at the place where the father was still labouring to
extinguish the fire that was coming from all sides. He knew nothing of the great headway that had been made upstairs, and had not even begun to realize the danger of his situation below. As soon as he saw the lady he told his son to go and fetch a mat and throw it over her, and he would be with them in a few minutes. This was done, but as often as this mat was wrapped around her, it was thrown off again. Some moments passed, and Mr. Turnbull finding that he could do no more, resolved to leave the house. He and his son and the lady went upstairs where a sight that would have appalled a heart of stone met his eyes. All hope of escape through the alley in the rear was cut off. The house was on fire in the back. The flames were melting the roof in a dozen places. On either side the blaze was at its height, and not a moment was to be lost. Escape lay in one direction only, and that was hazardous in the extreme. They must face the fire and escape by the front door, or perish where they stood. The position they were in was trying, but fortunately for them their nerves were strong, and they were cool and collected. And now they began preparing for the struggle. The warrior formerly buckled on his armour of steel before venturing on the fray, but the armour of the fire-fighters consisted of old coats and wet clothes. A coat was fastened around the lady, who was still unknown to Mr. Turnbull, and her head was covered. His son James enveloped in the same way, stood by her side. Mr. Turnbull tied a wet handkerchief across his mouth, and after putting a coat over his head, they began the memorable
race for life. James seized the lady, lifted her on his shoulders and followed his father out of the door. She was heavy, very tall, and had passed in age the allotted three score and ten. In addition to this, she was unwilling to leave the house, and twice she had to be dragged away by main force from the sofa. In no instance did she seem to comprehend what was being done or how great her peril was. She was more concerned about her parasol and head-dress than she appeared to be about her own personal safety. James seemed endowed with superior strength, and he seized his burden with a sort of death grip from which despite her struggles, she could not escape. She afterwards became calmer, and while she made no attempt to get off his back, he had her full dead weight to carry. The three stepped into the street and walked into the furnace. The heat was intense, and holding down their heads they hurried along. They ran over blazing coals, and hands and feet burned to the very bone. They had not proceeded twenty-five yards from the house, which was situate near the corner of Main and Sydney Streets when they came upon a boat, thirty feet long, which was lying directly across their path on its side. They could not pass by the inside and had to go around by the bow. They were hastening along to Charlotte Street, and intended going down that street to the Ballast Wharf, and when the worst came the intention was to leap into the sea. But the lady grew very violent just as the boat was passed a few feet, and refused to go any further. She straightened herself up, and slipping from James's
shoulders, fell prone upon the ground. In vain she was reasoned with, in vain she was asked to make an effort, in vain she was appealed to, she would not move, but lay on her back helplessly, saying, "O leave me alone, leave me here, I'm very, very comfortable." The great fire, like a whirlwind, brushed against the exposed flesh of the three human beings, and wore it to the bone. It was like some invisible fiend. Before them they saw no flames, but a dead white heat that was all the more terrible because it could not be seen. Every time the covering was removed from their heads as they sought to look out and see where they were going, this intense, imperceptible heat burned their very eyeballs. The trees alongside were grasped by this unseen power, and their trunks were twisted and turned in its cobra-like embrace. Every thing in the road seemed charged with an element that appeared to draw the flames on. Though Main Street is one hundred and five feet wide, and the fire was for the most part confined to the houses on the side of the road, a cat could not run the gauntlet that night, and live. No one can realize the awful power of the heat, which the Messrs. Turnbull and the lady they were striving to save experienced on that thrilling march through the melting valley, without having passed through a similar experience. It was a trial that can never be blotted from their memories.
So much time was lost in trying to induce their charge to continue on with them, that their chance of escape by Charlotte Street was cut off, and the only hope that re
mained now, was to return by the terrible route they had come. The battle had to be fought over again. The race back had to be run once more. The boat must be crossed again, they must go nearly two blocks forward, or die in their tracks. The street was full of smoke now, and flying embers alighted on their shoulders and burned their clothes, and the wild heat and the scorching flames were madly tearing through to their faces. Their charge remained as helpless as before, and there was something pitiable in her beseeching cries, that almost tempted them to accede to her request and leave her there in the street. But not a moment must now be lost, the fire-king was trampling down all before him. The two men seized her. She struggled and would not move. They dragged her to the boat, and she fell from their now powerless arms. Weakened by the fire, and sick at heart at their ill success, they could do no more, and could scarcely resist themselves the desire to stay there by the upturned boat, and yield their lives back to Him who gave them. The old lady fell back, and died with a smile upon her lips. The men, too weak to carry her further, placed her close by the boat, and shouted loudly for help. But the streets were bare of people, and no sound could be heard but their own voices rising above the crackling of the flames. They ran over the lava-like street, stopping every now and then to catch breath. On, on they sped, the youthful spirit of the one being roused when it lagged, by the inspiring words of the wiry and vigorous elder. It was a terrible journey, fraught by direful dangers on every
side.
Each foot of the way was gained by a struggle, every yard was won by a battle. It was not until Carmarthen Street was reached, that father and son could realize that they were saved. They removed the covering from their heads, and looked back at the road they had passed. A moment more in that fire would have been their last. A figure was coming towards them, as they, arm in arm, almost reeled up Carmarthen Street, and it proved to be the brother of the woman Mr. Turnbull and his boy had tried to rescue. He was told that his sister was left by the boat dead, and that no earthly power could have saved her. One can imagine his agony when he learned these tidings. The old lady proved to be Mrs. Reed, mother of Mr. T. M. Reed, a former mayor of the city. At three o'clock the next morning, Mr. Turnbull went back to Main Street, and on coming up to the unburned portion of the boat, found close by it, the remains of Mrs. Reed. Mrs. Reed lost in the fire two sisters—the Misses Clark, one of whom, it is thought, was burned in her house, on the corner of Sydney and Main Streets. These three ladies were highly respected and loved by all who knew them, and their afflicted relatives meet with the sympathy of all.
Mr. Turnbull's loss is very heavy and foots up fully twenty-five thousand dollars. He lost absolutely everything he possessed, and the deeds and bank-notes which he had in his safe were all burned. He does not despair now of being able to retrieve himself in some way. He
was the first man to erect a wooden shanty and send a flag flying from its summit.
A large number of persons escaped from the resistless and giant-striding flames by means of rafts and small boats. Others got a friendly sail to Partridge Island in the tugs and steamers which approached the wharves whenever it was safe to do so. Many of those who were on Reed's Point Wharf and the Ballast Wharf got away in this manner.
The contingent of firemen from Portland worked with a will, and did much to check the flames—as much, indeed, as mortal man could do in a fire like this, with a high wind blowing a perfect gale all the time. The city firemen performed, with their brethren of the adjacent town, signal service. They drew lines round the burning buildings and tried again and again to confine the fire to one place, and prevent its spread. But the effort was futile. The flames broke down the lines, rose up in a hundred new places, and drove the firemen and their engines away from the spot. Some splendid work was performed in the vicinity of King Street East, and down towards Pitt. Here they were partly successful, and did all that could be done under the circumstances. Many of them are heavy losers, having lost everything they had in their own houses, while they were engaged in trying to save those of others. In a fire which never ceased to rage at its height until it came to the water's brink, and which poured an unceasing stream of flame for nine steady hours, and which burned in fifteen sections of the city at
once, it was a difficult matter for them with only four engines, to do anything like stopping the conflagration until it had spent itself, no matter how efficient and perfect the organization might be. No one expected the firemen to accomplish anything. There was something in the air which seemed to breed a sort of contagion, and the fire paralyzed buildings in a moment, and no one could tell how they caught. The fire struck men down where they were standing, and an invisible heat bore to the earth the trees on the sideways.
CHAPTER XIII.
A Chapter of Incidents—Agony on Board—Coming Up the Harbour—The Story of the Moths—The Newly Married Lady's Story—No Flour—Moving Out—Saving the Drugs—The Man with the Corn-Plasters—Incendiarism—Scenes—Thievery—The Newspapers—Enterprise—Blowing Down the Walls—An Act of Bravery—The Fatal Blast—Danger and Death in the Walls—Accidents—The Fire and the Churches—The Ministers.
As the "Empress" was steaming up the harbour, from Digby, on the night of the fire, the passengers on board, many of whom belonged to St. John, beheld the city in flames. Some of them even saw from the water their own residences on fire, and witnessed the alarming rapidity of the flames and the almost powerless efforts of the people to stay their ravages. One can imagine the feelings of those passengers who had left children at home, and who now began to experience the greatest anguish and suffering. What made the matter worse was, that some time had to elapse before the captain could venture to approach his wharf, and this added largely to the bitterness of the fathers and mothers on board. A mother who had left a little one in the city, while absent on a journey to Nova Scotia, told the writer that the agony she endured while making the approach to the city completely deadened and prostrated her. She grew perfectly helpless, and for a time nothing could rouse her from the seeming state of insensibility under which she sank.
Those were terrible moments of suffering—awful moments of uncertainty.
Among the curious incidents of the fire which are constantly coming to the surface, is the rather good story which is told of one of our neatest housekeepers. Her house is noted for its spotlessness, and some who profess to know, say that such a thing as a spider's web could not be seen about the premises, even in the cellar or wood-shed. The lady has a natural abhorrence of those pests, the moths which will get into our furs sometimes and defy all the camphor and snuff in existence to keep them out. One day, about six months ago, some handsome newly upholstered chairs were purchased, and duly placed in the parlour. In a week a moth was found in one of the new chairs, and there was much consternation thereat. The rest of the furniture was examined carefully, and the offending chair was sent to the upholsterer for his examination. The result proved to the lady's satisfaction that she was right, and that the flock which had been put into the chair with the hair had caused all the mischief. The whole set was sent back to the furniture-man, and he was ordered to take the flock out. He returned them after a time, but in less than a week the persevering house-keeper succeeded in finding moths in every one of the chairs. She sent them to another upholsterer this time, and was awaiting their return when the fire occurred, and they were burned up, moths and all, while her own house was untouched.
A newly-married lady fearing the fire would reach her
dwelling, succeeded in hiring a team, and putting into it her best furniture, bedding, husband's clothes, and all her silver, sent them up to her mother's house at about four o'clock in the afternoon. At six o'clock her mother's residence was burned down, and with it all that was in it, while her own house was about half a mile from the vicinity of the fire. The lady was quite annoyed when the folks came in for a night's lodging that night, shortly after tea was over.
Considerable consternation prevailed among the people when it was known that nearly all the flour in town had been burned. The estimated loss was considered to be about fifty or sixty thousand barrels. One man is said to have hurried out and paid $18 for a barrel, while there were several persons who paid twenty cents a loaf for bread.
A good many people who feared the fire was coming their way moved out, and put their furniture, etc., in the street, and watched it till after midnight, when the expected flames not arriving, they marched the effects back again. The goods were almost as much damaged as if they had remained in the fire. Large quantities of material were lost in this way, and a lady saved an old pewter-box which once contained her husband's sleeve-buttons and studs, while she wrapped the latter up in a bag and never saw them again.
Quite a number of cases of petty thieving occurred. A drug store, shortly before the fire came to it, was filled with a gang of roughs and pickpockets, who insisted on
helping the proprietor to save a few things. They were saving them with a vengeance; opening every box and package that came in their way, and taking a dip out of each. One young man, whose face bore the picture of health, had managed to save, when detected, enough Blood Mixture to cure the scrofula in his family for the next fifteen years. Boys, who should have stolen soap, were going in for that excellent capillary restorer, Mrs. Allen's Zylobalsamum, and a man, hobbling along with a wooden leg, was filling his pockets with bunion and corn plasters. The boxes had a neat look, and he thought he would see the next day what the contents were good for. Everyone wanted to help, and one could not but admire the zeal with which these gentry emptied drawers and boxes on the floor, and scrambled for the contents. One young gentleman in his anxiety to save a mirror-stand, which certainly could never be of any use to him, cut it in two and hastened away, leaving a drawer full of toothpicks, and a bottle of rat poison behind him, which he might have had just as well as not. A citizen, who said he felt dry after working so hard all day, regaled himself with a pint bottle of Ipecacuanha wine, and left immediately after it was down, to see how the fire was getting along in another place. One can never forget these little acts of kindness. It is the performance of deeds like these which exalts a nation, and makes us feel that the world is not altogether a fleeting show or a snare.
The cry of incendiarism was raised during the first
days of the fire, and a good deal of alarm prevailed. Special constables patrolled the city, volunteer soldiers were placed on guard, and the policemen were ordered to be vigilant. Several arrests were made; but the greater portion of these were unnecessary, and, in nearly all cases, the persons arrested turned out to be noisy, drunken men, whose actions were misinterpreted by the officers. Some cases of incendiarism did really occur, however, and it was just as well that the city should be guarded, and the rougher element closely looked after. There is no doubt but that the fire at half-past two in the morning, in J. and T. Robinson's brick building, York Point Slip, was caused by the torch of the incendiary; and on Monday afternoon, a man was actually caught in the act of setting fire to Mrs. David Tapley's house in Indian-town. A good deal of talk about lynching was indulged in, but no one was lynched, though rumours came thick and fast, that one man had been shot, another hanged, and any number of people, according to the fertility of the narrator's imagination, were thrown into the sea. Drunkenness was rampant, and all saw how necessary it was that this evil should be stopped short. The licenses to the sellers could not be taken away, and it was optional with them whether they would listen to the appeals of the citizens or not. A committee, at a meeting of the people was appointed to ask the bar-tenders to close their bars for one week. To the credit of these gentlemen, be it said, they acceded to the request at once, and the bars
were closed. This had a salutary effect on the morals of the community.
For days after the fire, stolen goods were being constantly recovered by the police and special constables. Large quantities were found concealed in houses situate a little distance away from the city, while even in the city limits, the officers met with a good deal of success in tracing articles that had been surreptitiously carried off. Some outward-bound schooners arrived at their places of destination along the New Brunswick and Nova Scotia coasts, laden with spoils from the fire, but in most cases these were got back.
H. M. S. Argus arrived from Halifax with the Marine Artillery and some soldiers. A number of the sailors did patrol duty in Carleton, and the artillery spent several days blowing down the walls of the buildings, and doing other work entrusted to their care. A number of soldiers of the 97th Regiment also arrived from Halifax, and these together with a company of the 62nd Battalion of volunteers, and some men of the volunteer artillery under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Foster, the senior Lieutenant-Colonel of the Dominion, performed guard and other duty until the 6th of July, when the volunteers were disbanded, and the regulars were continued for a time. The men behaved excellently and did good service. They were all encamped in King's Square.
KING SQUARE AFTER THE FIRE, ENCAMPMENT OF THE 97TH REGIMENT.
The U.S. Revenue Cutter "Gallatin" made two trips from Boston laden with supplies from the generous people there, for the relief of the sufferers by the fire.
With commendable enterprise, many of the merchants who were burned out, and could not secure premises in which to carry on their business, by permission of the authorities, erected shanties on King and Market Squares, which they promise to pull down before the first of May, 1878. The city now looks quite primitive. Turn where you will, shanties of various sizes and styles meet the eye.
Some very good work was done at the ferry floats by the employes of the boat. Through their exertions the fire was kept away for a considerable time from the handsome new Magee Block, which stood on the corner of Water and Princess Streets. This building will be put up again at once.
The newspaper men were heavy losers, but nothing daunted, they went to work at once and lost no time. The Telegraph, through the courtesy of Mr. George W. Day, printer, was out on the very morning after the fire, with a smaller, but very spicy and interesting little sheet. The Telegraph proprietor and editor, Mr. Elder, did not save even his fyles. The Globe also did not lose an issue, and on Thursday evening it was as bright and attractive as usual, and contained an excellent account of the fire. The Daily News lost its issue on Thursday, but on Sunday, the proprietors, Messrs. Willis & Mott, issued a very interesting paper, and so made up for what it lost on Thursday. The resume of the work of spoliation in this number of the News was very graphic. The Freeman[R] did not issue a
paper. The three principal papers immediately set to work buying type, paper, and presses, and in a fortnight after the fire, the News was issued full size from a new press on the site of its old office. The Globe and Telegraph followed with new presses, &c., a day or two after. The News and Globe were issued after the fire for a few days from the Weekly Herald office, Germain Street.
At the blowing down of the walls of the Post Office, an act of valour was performed by some men belonging to the volunteer Battery of Artillery, which deserves prominent mention. Major Cunard, Captain A. J. Armstrong, and Lieutenants Inch and Ewing, together with a detachment of the Brigade of New Brunswick Artillery, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel S. K. Foster, marched to Prince William Street, and proceeded to blow down the walls of the Post Office. Sentries were posted all round a circle of nearly two hundred yards, and everything being in readiness the work was begun. Two bags of powder were placed against the building with the length of spouting which would contain the port fire fuse that was to connect with the powder. Two charges went off and the effect on the walls was slight. The men thought of the expediency of placing a charge against the inside as well as one on the outside of the building. The trains were laid and the fuses lit, but some loose powder igniting in a moment with the train, it exploded with a deafening crash before the men could get away, and half of the wall facing Prince William Street, came down as if a thunder-bolt had struck it. Gunner John Nixon, of No. 2 Battery,
was covered with the debris, but escaped uninjured, save a few scratches on the arm and a cut or two. Gunner Walter Lamb, of No. 10 Battery, was stricken down and every one deemed him dead, the smoke and debris completely hiding him. The second 70lb blast was still burning and was momentarily expected to go off, when Lamb's hand was observed to rise over his head and touch his cap. In a moment five men, unmindful of the terrible fate which threatened them, rushed in and bravely dragged from the mass of ruins, their fallen comrade. He was borne away just as the second charge went off with a roar, carrying away at a bound the remainder of the wall. Stones and bricks flew in every direction and John Anderson, who was standing in Germain Street, but whose presence there was unknown, fell badly wounded. He was conveyed to the hospital and died in a few days. The names of the five artillery men who behaved so bravely are, Lieutenant Inch, No. 10; Lieutenant Wm. King, No. 10; Corporal J. R. Andrews, No. 3; Corporal Anderson, No. 1; and Gunner R. McJunkin, No. 10. Captain Ring, of Carleton Battery, was standing within three paces of Gunner Lamb when he fell. His escape was certainly miraculous.
The pulling down of the walls has been attended by a good many accidents, some of them terminating seriously. A week after the fire some men were engaged in taking down the walls of the building in Dock Street, belonging to the Johnston estate. Two men were cleaning out the foundation at the same time. The wall trembled in the breeze, and the men looking up fled for their lives. One of them,
James Wilkins escaped, but Thomas Sullivan was caught by the pile of bricks and his head was badly cut and his limbs bruised. A day or so after this accident, another one occurred which ended fatally. Some workmen were removing the rubbish from a building, when a wall that enclosed a vault of some seven or eight feet in height fell, and George Gallagher was buried in the ruins. He was taken to the Hospital (Dr. E. B. C. Hanington, resident physician), and it was found that his spine was broken, his thigh fractured, and he had sustained serious injuries internally. He died in a few hours.
The Sunday after the fire, the ministers referred in their sermons to the very general conflagration, and its lessons. At St. Paul's Church, in the morning, Rev. Mr. De Veber preached. In the afternoon, the Rev. Mr. Mather, and in the evening, Rev. Mr. Brigstocke, of Trinity, officiated. Rev. Mr. Windeyer preached both morning and evening in his church, the Reformed Episcopal. Rev. S. P. Fay, a Bangor clergyman, preached in the Union Street Congregational Church, morning and evening. Rev. James Bennet preached in St. John's Presbyterian in the morning, and Rev. A. McL. Stavely in the afternoon. Rev. Dr. D. Maclise, in the morning preached in Calvin Church; and in the evening, Rev. Mr. Mitchell, of St. Andrew's Kirk, preached. The Exmouth Street Church held three services, Rev. Mr. Duke in the morning, Rev. Howard Sprague in the afternoon, and in the evening Revs. Messrs. Hartt and Sprague addressed the congregation. Rev. Mr. Fowler preached in
Carleton Presbyterian Church in the morning, and there was no service in the evening. The Baptist pulpit was occupied by Rev. Mr. Hickson, the pastor, both morning and evening. Rev. Theodore Dowling preached in St. George's Church. At the Free Christian Church, Rev. George Hartley preached in the afternoon. At the Portland Baptist Church, Rev. Mr. McLellan, the pastor, preached morning and evening. The Portland Methodist Church had Rev. Mr. Barrett in the morning, and
Rev. Mr. Teed in the evening. St. Luke's, Portland, had sermons from Rev. Mr. Almon, the rector. Brussels Street Church had Rev. Mr. Alexander. At the Roman Catholic Cathedral, at nine o'clock mass, Bishop Sweeny addressed the congregation, and at eleven, Bishop Power, of Newfoundland, preached. Rev. Mr. Wills delivered a sermon at the Unitarian Hall; and in the St. Stephen Presbyterian Church, Rev. D. Macrae preached in the morning, and the Rev. Mr. Donald, of Port Hope, in the evening.
Thirty-nine orphans were kindly taken care of by Mr. R. B. Graham, the visiting agent of the Baldwin Place Home for Little Wanderers, who carried them to Boston, Massachusetts.
Some months ago a clever poem in several books, entitled "On the Hills," from the pen of a Nova Scotia lady of excellent reputation as a writer, Mrs. Morton, née Irene S. Elder, was placed in the hands of Wm. Elder, Esq., of the St. John's Daily Telegraph, to read. On the day of the fire, he put this manuscript in his safe, for protection. When the safe was opened, the manuscript was found
quite legible. The scene of the poem is laid in our sister province, and it is said to contain some genuine touches of true poetry.
Apropos of manuscripts, it may be said that Prof. Wm. Lyall, of Halifax, lost a very valuable treatise "On the Emotions," which was burned in Mr. Stewart's safe, King street. Mr. W. P. Dole lost all his sonnets, and his late paper "On Definitions," upon which he had expended a good deal of time.