The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1896-03-08
TRAPPED IN A TUGS FuREBOx.
The Terrible Experience of Two Men
I'm the Port of Buffalo.
From the Buffalo Express.

From the Buffalo Express.
Marine engineers have their share of
startling experiences. George ]. Little
tells story of being trapped in the firebox
Of boiler. In such circumstances the
hair sometimes turns gray.
Il can never forget it if I live to be
100 years DID, said Mr.. Little TT oc-
Cured on an old Buffalo tug named after
G. NJ. Farrar of the firm of Farrar &
Trefts of this city. The tug has gone
where all good tugs go, but the memory
of that few minutes 1 spent trapped, like
a rat in the firebox, comes back to me
often and 1 wonder if the man who
was with me that afternoon remembers
it as vividly as l do.
1T was in the fall of the year, along
in December. 1 think. We were laying up
for the winter. We had been breaking ice
all the week previous, and the tug was
leaking badly, so badly in fact, that we
had been obliged to pump her out with
tin pump that afternoon. 1t was cold
and we wanted to get through with our
job while it was light, so we spent very
little time on the pump, and at no time
did we pump her dry. We kept the water
OFF the firehole floor so we would not be
| Obliged. to work in the water, and that
was about all. We intended to pump her
| thoroughly after we had finished our
work There were two jobs we could do
after dark. One was the pumping and the
other was oiling the inside of the fire
box. When a. tug is laid up for the win
ter, you know, the boiler and every bright
part of the engine is painted over with
oil to prevent 1t rusting, The inside of
| the firebox is one of the particular places,
and the owner of the tug had cautioned
us not to slight it. That was one of the
reasons we had put it off till the last
thing. Besides wa had to use a torch, so
| 1t made no difference if it was dark out
side.
1T is necessary that you understand the
construction of the boiler in order to have
a clear idea of the situation. The boiler
was an ordinary marine boiler, such as
we used ten years ago. 1t had water legs
and a water bottom, with a damper OPP
ening about five inches wide extending
across the front of the boiler. The furnace
door was such as you will see on any
tug in Buffalo to-day. IT was about two
feet one way and eighteen inches the
other. The opening which it covered was
a trifie smaller, but was plenty large
enough to allow a man to crawl through
it. The door fastened by a heavy latch
on the outside, which dropped into place
whenever the door was shut. Inside the
ffrebox there was plenty of room for
two men to sit or kneel and work. The
CRATES were removed and there was room
from the ashpan, which was the water
bottom, to the crown sheet OF course, it
was noH an inviting place, nor large
enough for a club-room, but there was
room for the two of us to work and as
two can do more work than one, we crawl
est the door, / forget now whether 1T was
my companion or myself, reached out the
door and handed in the oil, brushes and
the torch We put the torch in the open
ing of the flue at the back of the fire.
box and started to work. The drought
through the door into the fue was so
strong that it threatened to blow the light
out, so my companion said to me: Shut
the door,.
Without thinking, I reached out and
pulled the door shut In an instant / re-
allied the situation / turned to look at
my companion, and saw that he, too, UNI
derstood. We were in the furnace of the
boiler with the only exit locked. We had
both heard the heavy latch of the door
drop into place. The tug that we were
on was leaking. so badly that she would
sink in a few hours unless some assist
ance came. Even then we could see the
water slowly crawling over the fire-hole
floor If we called it would do no good.
We could hardly be heard on deck and
there was no one within half a mile of us.
The damper-hole was not large enough
to allow a boy to pass through it, to say
nothing of man All these thoughts ran
through our minds in a second. We were
perfectly familiar with the situation and
knew our chances were slim. l will never
forget that scene. Before me sat nv
companion in a half-crouched position,
his face thrown into bold relief by the
blackness Of the iron behind him The
Pickering light of the torch gave the
face, with the firm-set jaw. an awful ex-
preston. / remember, as / looked into
the face that looked into mine with brave
eyes, the thought came to me- will ]
meet it as bravey as hep
THE man with me was the son of the
owner of the boat and my cousin. He
was game to the fullest meaning of the
word, and knew It, We looked at each
other for at least a minute. 1t seemed
century. was waiting for him to
speak and he for me I could not. The
situation was hopeless. I saw his eyes
travel to the door, then to the damper,
then to the fiue, in which the torch flick
cred feebly. Then his eyes again sought
mine as he asked in a low, distinct voice
Did the door latch?'
Il put my hand against it and pushed
1t did not give. / nodded my head j
could not speak. He half lifted himself
and kicked the door with his foot and ii
swung open. The draught of air put the
light out, and in that moment of dark
ness l thanked God.
ITO this day l cannot understand how
that latch lifted, or if it did not drop,