. Our firemen. A history of the New York fire departments, volunteer and paid ... 650 engravings; 350 biographies. . rst kept a lookout for the leather heads, as the police were thentermed. The buckets were passed to Tweed, by him filled with coal, andreturned to Borst on the sidewalk. The party managed to get back to theengine house without being detected, and lit a fire in the small sugar-loafstove, and set about making themselves comfortable for the evening. On theprevious night they had been called to a small fire. The engine was of thegoose-neck pattern, and the men were in the habit of j
. Our firemen. A history of the New York fire departments, volunteer and paid ... 650 engravings; 350 biographies. . rst kept a lookout for the leather heads, as the police were thentermed. The buckets were passed to Tweed, by him filled with coal, andreturned to Borst on the sidewalk. The party managed to get back to theengine house without being detected, and lit a fire in the small sugar-loafstove, and set about making themselves comfortable for the evening. On theprevious night they had been called to a small fire. The engine was of thegoose-neck pattern, and the men were in the habit of jumping sidewalks with doing so the king bolt had been broken, and the apparatus had been turnedin, tongue first, being unfit for duty until repaired. Tweed and his companionswere just beginning to reap the reward of their raid on the coal yard—for, ashas been said, the night was bitterly cold—when the alarm for the great firewas given. The party, leaving their damaged engine in the house, hurried tothe scene of the conflagration, and were there continuously on duty for thesubsequent forty-eight firemans emblems. OUR FIRE M K N. CHAPTER XII. STOKIES OF THE COMPANIES. | Rivals. A Tragedy in the Tea-water Combats and Battle of the Big Bowery of the Firemen-Foraging for a Supper —Hard Work at the Fires. rpHE way they used to do thing-s in the Forties is told by an old fireman1 of Hook and Ladder No. 4. I joined Hook and Ladder No. 5, hesaid to the writer, in the spring of 1845. She was called theScreamer, and we were as proud of her as some of the survivors are now1(1886) of their certificates on their walls. I was a youngster then, and visedto lav awake at nights fearful lest 1 should miss an alarm. We used to havefine times at the station house. On fine nights we used to sit around the doorand sing. 1 was mighty fond of music, and was so taken with Big McCollumssinging that I joine
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