The Third Alarm: A Story of the New York Fire Department

by James L. Ford

During the first few days of his confinement in the hospital, Bruce found that the time hung very heavy on his hands, that his wounds were painful, his spirits low, and if it had not been for the occasional visits of his friends from the quarters, it is possible that he would have come to the conclusion that after all a fireman’s life was not a happy one. He was rather surprised that the Van Kuren children neither came to see him again nor wrote to him, but the truth was that Harry and Laura who were, in spite of their many faults, tactful children and thoughtful of the feelings of others, had decided that it would be best to keep their friend in ignorance of their father’s commands. “Because,” they argued, “he has a hard enough time of it now, lying there all day in the hospital, and if he learns that our father has put a stop to our friendship with him, it may make him worse, and it will certainly not make him any happier than he is.”

Bruce, of course, knew nothing about this, but imagined that the children would come to see him or write him again at the first opportunity. As he grew better he found himself taking an interest in the events of the ward in which he lay, and it was not long before he had made the acquaintance of a few of the patients who were well enough to walk about and gossip with the occupants of the different beds. Most of the people in the casualty ward were working men who had met with accidents, and he noticed to his surprise that some of them seemed in no hurry to get well, and always limped in the most grievous fashion when any of the doctors were about.

It was Skinny the Swiper who explained this phenomenon to him by remarking that these invalids lived better in the hospital than they did at home and at much less expense, and were therefore perfectly willing to stay there all winter and board at the expense of the city without doing any hard work.

There were other men, however, who took their confinement much to heart and had no anxiety save to get out again and go to work for their wives and families. Bruce noticed, also, that the most intelligent men about him always yielded to the wishes of the physicians, took the medicines that were given them, and reposed faith in the wisdom of the medical practitioners, while the more ignorant ones did not hesitate to affirm that the doctors did not know their business, and that they themselves were capable of determining what medicine they should take and how their wounds should be treated. Having very little to do but lie on his back, and notice what went on about him, the boy acquired no small knowledge of human life and nature by his observations in the hospital ward.

As to Skinny the Swiper, he proved an uncomplaining patient and, although rather taciturn from force of habit, was at times very entertaining in his accounts of life in what he called “de Fort’ ward” where he lived, and his comments on the people about him.

It was Skinny who awakened a burst of laughter one morning by suddenly calling out to one of the patients who had no desire to leave the hospital and return to his work, “Cheese it, Welch, you’re limpin’ on de wrong leg this morning! De doctor’ll drop to yer.” And it was Skinny who learned to imitate the voices of the other men and would often break the silence of the early night with his monkey-like drollery. He regarded Bruce as his preserver, and although he said but little in token of his gratitude, the other soon began to feel that he could rely upon the tough little news boy to render him any service that he might ask of him. And as day succeeded day, he carefully studied the character of his new friend, in order to determine whether it would be safe to trust him with the secret which as yet he had shared with no one but Laura. Then he remembered his promise to the young girl and determined that no matter what might happen he would say nothing without first obtaining her permission.

At last the day came when the house surgeon, pausing in front of the boys’ beds, remarked: “Well, you two young men seem to be doing quite nicely, so I think you can get ready to leave here at the end of the week.” By this time both boys had progressed so far that they were able to walk about the ward and eat their meals in the dining room instead of having them brought to their bedside. They were not strong by any means, but it was no longer necessary for them to remain in the hospital and their beds were needed for other patients. Bruce was delighted at the prospect of going and instantly wrote to Chief Trask to tell him the news. But Skinny heard the doctor’s words with passive indifference and did not seem to care much whether he went or stayed.

“Where are you going to when you leave here?” said Bruce to his companion as he folded up his letter and addressed the envelope.

“Dunno,” was the laconic reply.

Bruce paused in his work and looked at the other with surprise. “Do you mean to tell me that you haven’t any place to go to after you leave here?” he demanded.