Part 8 (1/2)

puttin' of 'em out doorin' the night, Joe; ain't it?” said Bob Clazie.

”So 'tis Bob, but it must be done, you know. Duty first, pleasure afterwards,” replied Joe, with a laugh. ”Besides, the green hands could never learn how to do it if they hadn't some of the old uns to show 'em the way.”

”Hall right,” replied Bob; ”come along.”

They left the room with a hearty ”good-day” to Mrs Dashwood, and a nod to the children.

Putting on the round sailor's caps which replaced the helmets when they were not on actual service, the three firemen took their way towards the city, and finally reached a large piece of open ground, where a number of very old houses had been partly pulled down, to be soon replaced by new ones. The Fire-Brigade had obtained permission to perform their drill there until the ground should be required.

It was a curious waste place in the heart of the great city, with rubbish c.u.mbering the ground in front of the half demolished houses.

Here several ungainly fire-escapes leaned against the ruined walls, and thrust their heads through broken windows, or stood on the ground, rampant, as if eager to have their heads crammed into smoke and flames.

Here also were several manual engines, with their appropriate gearing and hose, and near to these were grouped a band of as fine, fresh, muscular young fellows as one could wish to see. These were the new hands of the brigade--the young men, recently engaged, who were undergoing drill. Each was a picked, and, to some extent, a proved man.

The lightest and least powerful among these men was a st.u.r.dy, courageous fellow. He, like the others, had been tried at an old fire-escape which stood in a corner of the yard, and which was unusually large and c.u.mbrous. If he had failed to ”work” various portions of that escape single-handed, without a.s.sistance, he would have been p.r.o.nounced physically unfit for the service. Courage and strength alone would not have been sufficient. Weight, to a certain extent, was essential.

Among these youths were several of the older hands, and one or two officers of the brigade, the latter being distinguished by bra.s.s ornaments or ”bra.s.ses” on their shoulders. They were there to superintend and direct. In the midst of them stood their chief, explaining the minutiae of the work they had to do.

When our three firemen reached the drill-ground the chief was showing his recruits how to coil several lengths of the hose, so as to avoid a twist or ”kink,” which might endanger its bursting when the water was turned suddenly on by the powerful ”steamers.” He then pointed to the tall empty buildings beside him and ordered his recruits to go into the third floor of the premises, drag up the hose, and bring the branch to bear on the back rooms, in which fire was supposed to be raging.

”Look alive, now,” he said, ”see how quickly you'll manage it.”

Instantly the active youths sprang to their work. Some got the hose out of the box of an engine and uncoiled it length by length towards the house, others screwed the lengths together at the same time that the water-trough was being set up and the suction-pipe attached. Meanwhile, some had run up into the building, and from an upper window let down a rope so as to be ready to drag up the hose when it was made long enough to reach them. Thus they practised during the forenoon the mimic warfare with the flames which they should have to carry into actual operation at night. In another part of the yard a foreman was instructing some recruits in the use of the fire-escape. Under a neighbouring archway stood a small group of idlers looking on at these stirring operations, one of these was Philip Sparks, another was the Bloater. The interests of the first had taken him there, the second had been led to the scene by his affections. Sparks did not observe the Bloater, but the Bloater being unusually sharp, had observed Sparks, and, with a look of surprise and glee at the unexpected sight, set himself to watch and listen.

”That's him,” growled Sparks in a low whisper, pointing to Joe Dashwood as he entered the yard.

This was said to a dark-skinned, ill-looking, powerful man who stood at his elbow. The man nodded in reply.

”Take a good look at him, Jeff; you'll know him again?”

Jeff nodded and guessed that he would.

”Well, then, West-End; Friday, at 12 p.m. Number 5, close to the fire-station. You won't forget?” whispered Sparks, as he and his ill-looking friend slunk away.

”I say,” observed the Bloater, poking Little Jim in the ribs, and looking down at him with one eye shut, ”you and I shall form an engagement for Friday night--shan't we.”

Little Jim opened his eyes very wide, pressed his mouth very tight, and nodded his head violently.

”Well then,” continued the Bloater, repeating Sparks's words in a deep stage whisper, ”West-End; Friday, at 12 p.m. Number 5, close to the fire-station. You won't forget?”

Little Jim again nodded his head, and uttered a little shriek of delight. This attracted the notice of a policeman, who hinted, as delicately as possible, that the boys had better ”move on.”

They took the hint, and retired precipitately.

CHAPTER SIX.

Oh! but it _was_ an interesting occupation to watch the expression of Little Jim's countenance, as the Bloater watched it, while the two boys were on their way to the ”West-End” that evening, bent on doing duty as amateur watchmen on ”Number 5,” close to the fire-station.

”Your face ain't cherubic,” observed the Bloater, looking down at his little friend. ”If anythink, I should say it partakes of the diabolic; so you've got no occasion to make it wus than it is by twistin' it about like that. Wotever do you do it for?”

Little Jim replied by a sound which can only be represented by the letters ”sk,” p.r.o.nounced in the summit of the nose.