The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1891-08-12

man, that endless maze of mighty anat-
omy is at first simply awful. 1t sobers
one, this sullen, ceaseless throb of the
monsters heart, the deep breathing of
the steam chests, the sigh of the cres-
tures spirit as the pistons make one move
and yet one more herculean thrust tu1n4
ing the crank shaft.
Each time, as the piston slowly starts,
il seems as IL 1t must be the last, and i'm
finite fatigue prevail. But no, IL goes
on, night and day, motion, motion, mo-
| tion. Don't let me tire you; reader, but
l do wish could express to you some-
thing Of the solemn impression that be-
gan to seize upon me, crawling like a fly
after Ed, the oiler. Then the hiss, the
scream, the little sighs and moans of
here and there jet of truant steam, al
most human sounds, issuing from the
jungle of polished STEEL
"She's a tiger, she ISL" cried Ed.
"Look out"
heard that kind exclamation fire.
quently as we went our rounds. There
were others doing the same work, but 1
became chosen attendant Of my cat
like friend. He had a sprained elbow
and ] helped him professionally. He
got my story. We were intimate in two
or three days, and 1 record it with hon
est satisfaction, for Ed B--was a gen.
uine man.
Itwas one day off the Banks that we
stopped. The chief got a notion that
the shaft was not sound, and the next
voyage it proved so, for hair line along
and around that huge polished arm of
power turned out an incipient fracture.
But it was on investigation decided this
voyage that there was nothing wrong.
Still, there we lay on the breast of the
swells for more than two hours. Ed
came to me and saidi
''Now she's still the second engineer
thinks we might go into the pit and
clean out the waste and oil puddles. l
don't like it, doctor, when she's got
steam on. What if she turned her
crank, eh2"
The brave boy went jumping down,
however, down, down, till he stood di-
rectly under that massive crank, which
had stopped at the half turn over his
head.
The reader will understand that the
space allowed for the crank to make the
full circuit round below was only sufii-
clent for the iron to sweep through.
Into that now empty space Ed was pre-
pairing to step. 1t was dark as grave
and about graves dimensions. held
the torch above his head. Men working
by torchlight in that place resemble
imps. We were good natured imps,
however, and, though very cautious,
were chattin cheerfully enough.
~ never like this job at sea" resumed
Ed, "nor any time, except when the
last pound o steam is out of her, two or
three days at dock"
"But the engineer knows we are
here" replied.
"Yes, he ordered me down--and
there's no need of it-and he don't like
me-" Ell got off between his breath,
bending to his periIous work in the pit.
"Heavens, mani" l exploded, catch
ing at what thought was his meaning.
"That would be murder!"
"Hush, doctor Not that, not that
But if had refused to come, as he
thought would, don't you see he could
break me-that is, discharge me when
we get into New York"
A few minutes later Ed sent me aloft
for an extra mop of cotton waste. l
was to hurry, for we knew not what
minute the captain might go ahead. l
remember had secured the waste, was
picking my way along the enigma of lit
tie ladders and platforms. Far below,
through the shadows, flung from occas-
ional gas jets the sleeping monster, like
a nickel plated spider, lay prone, and
seemed to be exploring its viscera like
some daring pathologist. Away below
me in the light of his torch Ed reminded
me of a microb.
Suddenly the gong struck from the
pilot house. God help me, can hear it
yeti
l was near the engineers landing.
Quick as u flash 1 was on the engineer,
and like tiger caught at the wheel
which he was turning to let on steam.
"Manl B. is in the crank pitt !"
But was too late. She gave one turn,
! NJ letlSt. uSu luo sCouHuIcL oI 4OOl1 4
don't know which, yielded to me and we
stopped her. But such a cry as came
echoing up from the very heart of the
engine!
"Thauk God for that second cry" /
fairly sobbed, as it hoated up.
ThenI sprang away and down. Ed
| lay insensible on the arm of the crank,
as if the engine had stopped in pity and
held him out to us. He had tainted with
pain only, for the sprained elbow had
been broken. How he escaped heaven
only knows.
Now this is the curious part of my
story. Less than year after, when she
was cold and lying at the docks without
pound OF steam, that engine killed this
same engineer. 1t must have been in the
middle OF the night. What he was do
ing down in her no one knows. A list
by cargo and tide must have moved the
machinery a half a turn and crushed
! him.
Ed B says that engines have souls,
but seafaring men cherish queer notions.
-Neto York Press.
| Mor,fod fI,a RoufI,y