Unable to hold her any longer, he dropped her to the ground, where she alighted without suffering any serious injury. But the fireman became entangled in the wire netting of the machine, and it held him there in its cruel grasp, in spite of all his struggles, while the fierce fire roasted him alive.
At length, by a desperate effort, he broke the netting, apparently by straining the rungs of the ladder; but he himself fell to the ground so heavily, that his helmet was quite doubled up, and its brasswork hurt his head severely. His clothes were burning as he lay on the pavement; but, happily, they were soon extinguished, and he was removed, suffering great agony, to the Royal Free Hospital in the Gray's Inn Road. He lingered until eight o'clock on the evening of the same day, when he died.
He was only about thirty years of age, and had been four years in the brigade, where he bore a good character. A subscription was raised for his widow and two children, and his funeral was an imposing and solemn ceremony. The coffin was borne on a fire-engine drawn by four horses to Abney Park Cemetery, and was followed by detachments of firemen and of police.
It is a peculiarly sad feature of this case that, after saving so many lives, he should himself have succumbed, and that the very machine intended to save life should have been the cause of his death. At the inquest the jury added to their verdict the remark that, had the canvas been non-inflammable (means having been discovered to render fabrics non-inflammable), and had the machine been covered with wire gauze instead of the netting, Ford's life might have been saved. Considerable improvements have been made in fire-escapes since then, and machines of various patterns are in use in the brigade; but, speaking generally, it may be said that the shoot, when used, is made of copper netting, which is, of course, non-inflammable.
Happily, all the brave deeds of the firemen do not meet with personal disaster. One brilliant summer afternoon in July, 1897, the Duke and Duchess of York were present at the annual review of the brigade on Clapham Common, and the Duchess pinned the silver medal for bravery on the breast of Third-class Fireman Arthur Whaley, and the good service medal was given to many members of the brigade. Whaley had saved two little boys from a burning building, and his silver medal is a highly-prized and honourable memorial of his gallant deed.
About one o'clock on the early morning of April 26th, 1897, a passer-by noticed that a coffee-house in Caledonian Road, North London, was on fire. Several policemen hurried to the spot; but in three minutes from the first discovery the place was in flames. The house was full of people. Mr. Bray, the occupier, was apparently the first inmate to notice the fire from within, and the others were soon aroused. The terrified people appeared at the windows, and, impelled by the cruel fire, threw themselves one after the other into the street below. They numbered Mr. and Mrs. Bray and four daughters; all except Mr. Bray appeared to be injured, and were taken to the hospital. Some one also threw a child into the street, and he was caught by one of the persons passing by.
And now up came the firemen with their escape from Copenhagen Street. Pitching it against the house, they hurried to the upper windows. From one of these they brought down a young woman, who was sadly burnt about the face, and she was sent also to the hospital. Penetrating still farther amid the smoke and flame, Arthur Whaley groped about, and found two lads asleep, and, bearing them out, saved their lives by means of the escape.
The fire did considerable damage before it was finally extinguished; but when the stand-pipes were got fully to work, the flames were quickly subdued. One of the daughters died from severe burns soon after her admission to the hospital, and it was afterwards found that a girl of fifteen had been unhappily suffocated in bed. But for the bravery of Whaley, the two little boys might have suffered the same sad fate.
These true stories of work in the brigade show how various are the perilous risks to which firemen are liable. Danger, indeed, meets them at every turn, and in almost every guise. To cope with these risks requires instant readiness of resource as well as knowledge and skill. In times when seconds count as hours, it is not enough to know what to do, but how to do it with the utmost smartness and efficiency.
Improved appliances will greatly assist the men; and Commander Wells's horsed escape fully justified expectations soon after its introduction. It can be hurried through the streets at twelve miles an hour, and the wonder is that the brigade used the old hand-driven machine with its slow pace so long. In December, 1898, a horsed escape reached a fire in Goswell Road in a minute from the alarm signalling in St. John's Square fire-station, and saved three lives,—an instance of very smart work that might establish a record, except that great smartness is everywhere the characteristic of the brigade.