The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-08-04

It was one day of the Banks that we
stopped. The chief got a notion that the
shaft was not sound, and the next voyage
IL proved so, for g hair line along and
around that 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 said;
Now she's still the second engineer
thinks we might go into the pit and clean
out the waste and oil puddles. don't like
it, doctor, when she's got steam on. What
If she turned her crank, eh?"
The brave boy went jumping down, how
ever; down, down, till he stood directly
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 sufficient
for the iron to sweep through. Into that
now empty space Ed was preparing to
step. 1t was as dark as grave and about
q graves dimensions. / held the torch
above his head. Men working by torch
light in that place resemble imps We
were good natured imps, however, and,
though very cautious, were chatting cheer
fully enough.
81 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.
Eyes, he ordered me down, and there's
no need of it-and he don't like me" Ed
got off between his breath, bending to his
periloas work in the pit.
Heavens, mani" ! exploded, catching at
what l thought was his meaning. THAT
| would be murderp
Hush, doctorl Not that, not that! But
IL l 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. 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 little ladders and
platforms. Far below, through the shad-
ows flung from occasional gas jets, the
sleeping monster, like nickel plated spi-
der, lay prone, and l seemed TO be explor-
/ ing the viscera like some daring patholo-
! gist. Away below me in the light of his
! torch Ed reminded me of microbe.
| Suddenly the gong struck from the pilot
house. God help me, can hear it yeti
! Twas near the engineers landing. Quick
as flash was on the engineer, and like a
| tiger | caught at the wheel which he was
! turning to let on steam.
| "Manr' l yelled, you haven't struck
| your own warning all clear B is in
the crank pitp
! But was too late She gave one turn,
at least. Then the scoundrel or fool, don't
know which, yielded to me and we stopped
| her. But such cry as came echoing up
from the very heart of the enginel
! 'Thank God for that second cry" fairly
sobbed as it foated up.
Then l spraDg 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 a year after, when she was cold
and lying at the docks without a pound of
steam, that engine killed this same en-
t gineer. 1t must have been in the middle
of the night. What he was doing down in
must have moved the machinery half
| turn and crushed him.
Ed B says that engines have souls,
/ but seafaripg men cherish queer notions
| New York Press.