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