The Bee-Hive : — 1869-08-21 (London, England)

THE FATAL STEAM-TUG EXPLOSION. The bad boileis have another year of it to themselves. How many lives, we wonder, would it take to get rid of them all, by this process of natural death as to the inanimate iron, but of cruel maiming and slaughter to sensitive human beings? Poor JOE WILLIAMS was the second person killed by the bursting of the steam-tug boiler at BREWER'S quay last week. He was a likely youth of seventeen, the main stay, perhaps, of a widowed mother; but that does not appear. His life, at any rate, was of value to himself, and ought to have bean respected. For our part, we strongly suspect that there is no greater rubbish afloat than those dirty, lumbering, cranky little steam-t ea. Let us trace, as well as we can, the history of this murder-trap. It was made at Glasgow,--but when? Half a century ago? The boat used Lobe called the Thistle; which reminds us that the Latin motto to that Scotch emblem runs, "No one hurts me with impunity." Will the Thistle, or rather, the owners of the Thistle (which may now be called the Trash), be dealt with on that principle? .But the engine-driver stands between them and such consequences. "TOWERS," said the. Deputy-coroner, 111 rather DOGBERRY style, "you stand here in the nature of a man under an imputation of neglect." According to the evi, deuce' on Tuesday week, TOWERS was ordered to get into the boiler and screw up the bolts. If we may credit the representation of one of the owners, the old boiler was replaced by a new one about two years and a half • ago. But, though comparatively new, was it ever tested? Mark the reply. "We had 110 means," said EDWARD JEREMIAH OLYETT, "of testing it." All he did was to order "a new , boiler of the best workmanship and materials." I Well, what more could a man do? Ay, but the sentence is not finished : he added, "at the price :" that is to say,he wanted a cheap article, thinking more of his own pocket than of other men's lives. But we will not be too hasty. Tbe builder of the exploded boiler engaged by letter that it would be pi °of against a pressure of 1201bs to the square inch. At what pressure, then, had it been worked? According to the owner, mind, not any of the men, it had been worked at from 501bs to 701bs. in proportion to the work to be done. This, then, all that an be learned about the boiler, what about the engine-driver? Had he been sufficiently tested? No; he was under trial at the time, not having been more than six weeks in charge. The Coroner wanted to know whether TOWERS, who seems to be quite a youth, had undergone an examination and received a certifica`e of competency; but these are ceremonies deemed quite superfluous we ace, on board tugs. " There are a great many of the class," says Mr. OLYETT, "driving engines on the river." This is pleasant intelligence for those who run from pier to pier on board the river—boats. It is hardly possible to cross the river, or pass from London—bridge to St. Paul's Pier without coming across one of these ugly—looking things, m,hich, when they; do explode, scatter their fragments of wood Oa iron n inety yards around. Well, we have got the length of an untestecl boiler, the best " at the price," and an untestt engine-driver who had only just begun tots. prentieo-hand. What of the whole conanaon of the boat? " Oh," says Mr. OT,YTT, rather coolly, "she was not in regular working trim. We had not decided on what we were going to do with her." What, then, was she known to be so rieketty as to be on the point of being condemned and broken np, or sold " at a price" to any body that might have been foolish and reckless enough to buy her..? There is a delicious simplicity about this tug-owner. The coroner's jury want to know how he came to have a boat which was ready at any moment to go off and kill those on board her; and listen to his answer: " We have another little steamboat, for which, we have a regular man to drive the engine.' That may be so; but it is no consolation to the friends of the )outh who perished in the explosion of the vessel that was not driven by , regular man." A certain old book tts' "Happy is the man who condemneth is self in that thing which he alloweth." -Luis plosion.xantim e, a happiness which we cannot promise to the sI