[ 1 ] Ash-cats: engineers and firemen.
BETWEEN THE MILLSTONES
He stood before the recruiting officer, trembling with nervousness, anxious of face, and clothed in rags; but he was clean, for, knowing the moral effect of cleanliness, he had lately sought the beach and taken a swim.
"Want to enlist?" asked the officer, taking his measure with trained eye.
"Yes, sir; I read you wanted men in the navy."
"Want seamen, firemen, and landsmen. What's your occupation? You look like a tramp."
"Yes," he answered bitterly, "I'm a tramp. That's all they'd let me be. I used to be a locomotive engineer—before the big strike. Then they blacklisted me, and I've never had a job above laborin' work since. It's easy to take to the road and stay at it when you find you can't make over a dollar a day at back-breakin' work after earnin' three and four at the throttle. An engineer knows nothin' but his trade, sir. Take it away, and he's a laborin' man.
"I'd ha' worked and learned another, but they jailed me—put me in choky, 'cause I had no visible means o' support. I had no money, and was a criminal under the law. And they kept at it,—jailed me again and again as a vagrant,—when all I wanted was work. After a while I didn't care. But now's my chance, sir, if you'll take me on. I don't know much about boats and the sea, but I can fire an engine, and know something about steam."
"A fireman's work on board a war-vessel is very different from that of a locomotive fireman," said the officer, leaning back in his chair.