Personal Reminiscences in Book Making by Robert Michael Ballantyne (i am malala young readers edition .TXT) 📖

He unshipped his first-floor ladder, and, with the assistance of a policeman, brought Mr Nathan down. Being informed that there was a servant girl in the kitchen, Wood took his crowbar, wrenched up the grating, and brought the young woman out in safety. Now this I give as a somewhat ordinary case. It involved danger; but not so much as to warrant the bestowal of the silver medal. Nevertheless, Wood and the policeman were awarded a written testimonial and a sum of money.

I have had some correspondence with Conductor Wood, whose broad breast was covered with medals and clasps won in the service of the F.E. Society. At one fire he rushed up the escape before it was properly pitched, and caught in his arms a man named Middleton as he was in the act of jumping from a window.

At another time, on arriving at a fire, he found that the family thought all had escaped, "but," wrote the conductor to me, "they soon missed the old grandmother.--I immediately broke the shop door open and passed through to the first-floor landing, where I discovered the old lady lying insensible. I placed her on my back, and crawled back to the door, and I am happy to say she is alive now and doing well!"

So risky was a conductor's work that sometimes he had to be rescued by others--as the following extract will illustrate. It is from one of the Society's reports:--

"CASE 10,620.

"Awarded to James Griffin, Inspector of the K Division of Police, the
Society's Silver Medal, for the intrepid and valuable assistance
rendered to Fire Escape Conductor Rickell at a Fire at the `Rose and
Crown' public-house, Bridge Street, at one o'clock on the morning of
February 1st, when, but for his assistance there is little doubt that
the Conductor would have perished. On the arrival of Conductor
Rickell with the Mile End Fire Escape, not being satisfied that all
the inmates had escaped, the Conductor entered the house, the upper
part of which was burning fiercely; the Conductor not being seen for
some time, the Inspector called to him, and, not receiving an answer,
entered the house and ascended the stairs, and saw the Conductor lying
on the floor quite insensible. With some difficulty the Inspector
reached him, and, dragging him down the staircase, carried him into
the air, where he gradually recovered."

While attending fires in London, I wore one of the black leather helmets of the Salvage Corps. This had the double effect of protecting my head from falling bricks, and enabling me to pass the cordon of police unquestioned.

After a night of it I was wont to return home about dawn, as few fires occur after that. On these occasions I felt deeply grateful to the keepers of small coffee-stalls, who, wheeling their entire shop and stock-in-trade in a barrow, supplied early workmen with cups of hot coffee at a halfpenny a piece, and slices of bread and butter for the same modest sum. At such times I came to know that "man wants but little here below," if he only gets it hot and substantial.

Fire is such an important subject, and an element that any one may be called on so suddenly and unexpectedly to face, that, at the risk of being deemed presumptuous, I will, for a few minutes, turn aside from these reminiscences to put a few plain questions to my reader.

Has it ever occurred to you to think what you would do if your house took fire at night? Do you know of any other mode of exit from your house than by the front or back doors and the staircase? Have you a rope at home which would support a man's weight, and extend from an upper window to the ground? Nothing easier than to get and keep such a rope. A few shillings would purchase it. Do you know how you would attempt to throw water on the walls of one of your rooms, if it were on fire near the ceiling? A tea-cup would be of no use! A sauce-pan would not be much better. As for buckets or basins, the strongest man could not heave such weights of water to the ceiling with any precision or effect. But there are garden hand-pumps in every seedsman's shop with which a man could deluge his property with the greatest ease.

Do you know how to tie two blankets or sheets together, so that the knot shall not slip? Your life may one day depend on such a simple piece of knowledge.

Still further, do you know that in retreating from room to room before a fire you should shut doors and windows behind you to prevent the supply of air which feeds the flames? Are you aware that by creeping on your hands and knees, and keeping your head close to the ground, you can manage to breathe in a room where the smoke would suffocate you if you stood up?--also, that a wet sponge or handkerchief held over the mouth and nose will enable you to breathe with less difficulty in the midst of smoke?--Do you know that many persons, especially children, lose their lives by being forgotten by the inmates of a house in cases of fire, and that, if a fire came to you, you ought to see to it that every member of your household is present to take advantage of any means of escape that may be sent to you?

These subjects deserve to be considered thoughtfully by every one, especially by heads of families--not only for their own sakes, but for the sake of those whom God has committed to their care. For suppose that, (despite the improbability of such an event), your dwelling really _did_ catch fire, how inconceivable would be the bitterness added to your despair, if, in the midst of gathering smoke and flames--with death staring you in the face, and rescue all but hopeless--you were compelled to feel that you and yours might have escaped the impending danger if you had only bestowed on fire-prevention, fire-extinction, and fire-escape a very little forethought and consideration.


CHAPTER FOUR.


A WAR OF MERCY.

There is a great war in which the British Nation is at all times engaged.

No bright seasons of peace mark the course of this war. Year by year it is waged unceasingly, though not at all times with the same fury, nor always with the same results.

Sometimes, as in ordinary warfare, there are minor skirmishes in which many a deed of heroism is done, though not recorded, and there are pitched battles in which all our resources are called into action, and the papers teem with the news of the defeats, disasters, and victories of the great fight.

This war costs us hundreds of lives, thousands of ships, and millions of money every year. Our undying and unconquerable enemy is the storm, and our great engines of war with which, through the blessing of God, we are enabled to fight more or less successfully against the foe, are the Lifeboat and the Rocket.

These engines, and the brave men who work them, are our sentinels of the coast. When the storm is brewing; when grey clouds lower, and muttering thunder comes rolling over the sea, men with hard hands and bronzed faces, clad in oilskin coats and sou'westers, saunter down to our quays and headlands, all round the kingdom. These are the Lifeboat crews on the look-out. The enemy is moving, and the sentinels are being posted-- or, rather, they are posting themselves--for the night, for all the fighting men in this great war are volunteers. They need no drilling to prepare them for the field; no bugle or drum to sound the charge. Their drum is the rattling thunder, their trumpet the roaring storm. They began to train for this warfare when they were not so tall as their fathers' boots, and there are no awkward squads among them now. Their organisation is rough and ready, like themselves, and simple too. The heavens call them to action; the coxswain grasps the helm; the men seize the oars; the word is given, and the rest is straightforward fighting-- over everything, through everything, in the teeth of everything, until the victory is gained, and rescued men and women and children are landed in safety on our shores.

In the winter of 1863 my enthusiasm in the Lifeboat cause was aroused by the reading in the papers of that wonderful achievement of the famous Ramsgate Lifeboat, which, on a terrible night in that year, fought against the storm for sixteen hours, and rescued a hundred and twenty souls from death.

A strange fatality attaches to me somehow--namely, that whenever I have an attack of enthusiasm, a book is the result!

Immediately after reading this episode in the great war, I called on the Secretary of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, who kindly gave me minute information as to the working of his Society, and lent me its journals.

Then I took train to the coast of Deal, and spent a considerable part of the succeeding weeks in the company of Isaac Jarman--at that time the coxswain of the Ramsgate Lifeboat, and the chief hero in many a gallant fight with the sea.

The splendid craft which he commanded was one of the self-righting, insubmergible boats of the Institution. Jarman's opinion of her was expressed in the words "she's parfect, sir, and if you tried to improve her you'd only spile her." From him I obtained much information, and many a yarn about his experiences on the famous and fatal Goodwin Sands, which, if recorded, would fill a volume. Indeed a volume has already been written about them, and other deeds of daring on those Sands, by one of the clergymen of Ramsgate.

I also saw the captain of the steam-tug that attends upon that boat. He took me on board his vessel and showed me the gold and silver medals he had received from his own nation, and from the monarchs of foreign lands, for rescuing human lives. I chatted with the men of Deal whose profession it is to work in the storm, and succour ships in distress, and who have little to do but lounge on the beach and spin yarns when the weather is fine. I also listened to the thrilling yarns of Jarman until I felt a strong desire to go off with him to a wreck. This, however, was not possible. No amateur is allowed to go off in the Ramsgate boat on any pretext whatever, but the restriction is not so absolute in regard to the steamer which attends on her. I obtained leave to go out in this tug, which always lies with her fires banked up ready to take the Lifeboat off to the sands, if her services should be required. Jarman promised to rouse me if a summons should come. As in cases of rescue from fire, speed is all-important. I slept for several nights with my clothes on--boots and all--at the hotel nearest to the harbour. But it was not to be. Night after night continued exasperatingly calm.

No gale would arise or wreck occur. This was trying, as I lay there,