Hearts Afire (18 page)

Charlotte starred up with a look of surprise, but uttered no word, and
throwing his strong arm around her slender waist,
Harleigh
dragged rather than led her toward the little door that gave exit to the
musicians. In a moment they were under the stage groping around blindly in the
dark, while the angry flame hissed and crackled overhead with a sullen, ominous
roar. Supporting the beautiful girl,
Harleigh
darted
toward a door through which he saw some of the actors disappear. He found
himself in a little entry, dimly lighted by a single gas burner. It was a
subterranean passage under the floor to the box office in front of the house.
Pushing the beautiful girl before him,
Harleigh
sprang into this seeming haven of safety, and as the door closed behind him,
the angry flames, fanned by the draught, almost licked the clothes from his
back. Rapidly fleeing along the passage way, the young couple reached a flight
of steps, at the head of which was a door.
Harleigh
tried in vain to open it, but his efforts were useless.

“Great God!”
Harleigh
cried; “it is locked.”

Charlotte answered with a moan of anguish, and the sight of her face,
ethereally beautiful in its paleness, nerved him to desperation. He stepped
back a few paces, and threw his entire weight upon the door. It shivered, swayed,
and gave way, admitting them into the box office. There was yet another door to
pass through, leading into the lobby, through which the maddened multitude was
struggling. Resting a moment,
Harleigh
again dashed
forward and burst the door open against the struggling throng. In an instant
the two were in the midst of the frenzied mob, who fought and struggled for
life with the desperation of mad men. Men and women were being trampled upon by
those behind them, and the former were as terror-stricken as the latter. The
glare in the street, and the smoke in the corridor, enhanced the terror of
those seeking an exit.

“Cling closely to me,”
Harleigh
whispered in the
ear of Charlotte in his arms. Raising aloft his strong right arm, he tightened
his hold upon Charlotte’s waist, and swaying from right to left, fighting down
all opposition, was in a minute in the thickest of the throng. The two were
lifted off their feet instantly, and carried out into the street with the
surging mass.

A carriage was standing near, and into it
Harleigh
hurried his half-fainting damsel. Directing the coachman to drive with all
speed to the address he gave him,
Harleigh
leaned
again into the carriage, and this time dared to snatch a kiss from her pale
lips.

“I will see you again, Charlotte, my darling!”
Harleigh
cried; and bursting into tears, the beautiful girl could only cry,

“You have saved my life; I shall never forget you.”

Again
Harleigh
ventured to touch his lips to her
cheek, and then, closing the door of the carriage, he bade the coachman drive
with all haste, and hurried back toward the burning theatre.

A mad and
frightened crowd was still pouring from the building,
Harleigh
never once thought of the great danger he placed himself in,
Harleigh
dashed in among the struggling men and women, to
save more lives, if possible. He struggled manfully with the surging mass, and
was soon in the auditorium of the theatre.

But one man and two women were in the auditorium, and bidding them run for
their lives,
Harleigh
seized one of the pillars
supporting the family circle gallery, and by a few vigorous muscular efforts
raised himself to the top of the railing. Jumping quickly over he rushed toward
one of the exits, through which a maddened crowd was struggling in tumult and
disorder. In vain he endeavored to quell their frenzy. Forcing his way toward
the head of the stairs, his strong arm was exerted to hurl back frightened men
and allow the shrieking, shouting mass below to escape. Suddenly a cry came
from below that aided him to drive back the uppermost.

“For Goodness sake, turn back; we cannot get out,” was called from the
bottom of the blocked and creaking stairway, and immediately there was a
momentary relaxation of the downward pressure of the crowd. At this moment
Harleigh
extricated himself from the crowd, and hurried
back into the dress-circle. The parquet below was empty, and people were
dropping from the gallery into it, and lowering themselves from tier to tier.
The stage was a mass of flames, and the smoke was filling the auditorium and
rushing into the corridors. He hurried to the front main entrance of the
dress-circle, and there found a mass of men and women shrieking, shouting and
crowding madly down upon the living mass below. For a while the passage seemed
blocked by a human barrier which could neither move of itself nor give way to
pressure from above. Burly men and weak women seemed alike powerless in that
dense throng, and to aggravate the panic, people at the turn of the stairs kept
calling, “Go back! Go back! You cannot get out this way.” This may have been
intended to restrain the crowd above from forcing their way down, but it had a
different effect. People madly urged each other forward, men swore and women
shrieked, and to heighten the horror of the scene a volume of black smoke burst
into the passage and rolled along, blinding the eyes and parching the throat.
In this dreadful moment, when the horrors of death seemed to stare those people
in the face and to overshadow them like a pall, a desperate flight for life
began. Women fainted and men fell under foot and were trampled down, and
through that writhing, struggling mass, amid a tumult of cries and shrieks and
groans, the lower vestibule was reached.

A lady in front of
Harleigh
,
pressed and beaten down by the mad crowd, fainted and would have fallen. He
caught her in his arms, and now began a desperate struggle. Persons from the
gallery and elsewhere had blocked the doors, and there were many behind him in
the dress-circle, pushing violently, even clutching at the head of the
unconscious lady as she hung over his shoulder. Slowly they were making for the
doors, when the flames from the ceiling seemed to dart down and met the jets
from the
gaselier
. Then there was dreadful yelling
and crowding at the doors, men and women struggling desperately for every inch
gained. A horrible accident occurred. A lady partly suffocated, like the rest
of them, had fallen and could not be lifted, and was evidently trampled to
death. But there was no time to think.
Harleigh
passed over several lifeless forms. Looking behind for an instant he saw there
was a frightful panic in the theatre. The gas or something else had exploded,
the lights were out, the flames roared and the pieces of wood and plaster fell
upon the heads of those at a distance. “Mercy!” “My God, save me!” and names of
husbands and brothers were shouted. The heat was intense, for the fire was
rapidly closing upon them. Arms were thrown up in an attempt to force a
passage, as men sometimes do when swimming, and dozens must have been swept
under and trodden to death. He had now nearly reached the door. All at once a
fearful crash came, as if the gallery or ceiling had fallen. “Help!” “Help!”
“Help me!” seemed to be shouted from a hundred lips. He turned as he felt the
fresh air blow upon his face, and saw behind something like a dark wall. He
then felt that at least a hundred and fifty people were shut in to certain
destruction. But the groaning and yelling continued worse than ever. Beyond
this wall he could see bright flames, which seemed to swell and surge in a
terrible manner. On gaining the street he found still more excitement; but he
had to hurry to the station-house with his unconscious burden. In a moment he
was back again at the theatre, exerting himself to the utmost to quiet the
people in the lower lobby, and have them leave in an orderly way, so that all
might get out safe. But when the audience, in their mad rush to escape from the
flames, began to trample on one another, he commanded them to keep back so that
he might save those who had fallen. Although the surging crowd was loath to
obey, yet his commands were so earnest that he kept them back a sufficient time
to pick up about twenty persons who would otherwise have been crushed and
killed, and carried them, comparatively unhurt, into the adjoining
station-house. After saving these people he returned to the theatre, which was
now enveloped in flames. Men, women and children were thrown down and trampled
upon, but the brave man rushed in among the frantic crowd, at the imminent risk
of his own life, and pulled out a number of bodies, cut, bruised and bleeding.
Those who witnessed his actions state that he saved in this way the lives of at
least forty persons.

When the firemen arrived, he assisted them to quell the flames. He remained
at the fire throughout the night and all the next day. He was one of the first
to discover the dead bodies, and although faint, hungry, and burned and
blackened out of human semblance, he assisted in getting out the charred and
mangled bodies, and it was not until the last one had been removed that he
sought repose.

Harleigh
, or rather Mr.
Daly, took an early opportunity of visiting the house of his
ex old
employer, Mr. Morgan.
Harleigh
Daly being possessed now of abundant means and letters of introduction from
high dignitaries in the New York government had no difficulty in getting an
invitation from Mr. Morgan to tea. It is unnecessary to say that Mr. Morgan was
eternally grateful for the young gallant rescuer, he began to look upon him as
a possible son-in-law.

It was not our purpose to tell a love-story, and it is only necessary to add
that if there is anything in “signs,” Mr.
Harleigh
Daly will certainly carry off as a bride the charming Miss Charlotte Morgan.

The Brooklyn Theater Fire was a
catastrophic theater fire that broke out on the evening of December 5, 1876 in
the city of Brooklyn, New York, United States. The conflagration claimed the
lives of at least 278 individuals, with some accounts reporting more than 300
dead. One hundred and three unidentified victims were interred in a common
grave at Green-Wood Cemetery. An obelisk near the main entrance at Fifth Avenue
and 25th Street marks the burial site. More than two dozen identified victims
were interred individually in separate sections at the Cemetery of the
Evergreens in Brooklyn. The Brooklyn Theater Fire ranks third in fatalities,
among fires occurring in theaters and other public assembly buildings in the
United States, falling behind the 1942 Cocoanut Grove nightclub fire and the
1903 Iroquois Theater Fire.

On the night of December 5, 1876, Kate Claxton was playing Louise, the poor
blind girl “The Two Orphans” at Conway’s Theater in Brooklyn, The last scene of
the last act of the play was The Boat house scene, it covered three sides of
the stage, with a canopy roof above, midway between the Floor and the roof of
the stage. At the back were two great doors, which at the climax of the story
were to be burst open by the police, coming to the rescue of the blind orphan.
At the drop of the curtain on the last act the stage is usually crowded with 30
or 40 persons of all degrees of importance in the play. Miss Claxton had just
lain down on a pallet of straw, when she saw above her in the flies a tiny
flame. An actor named Murdoch, on the stage with her, saw it about the same
time, and was so excited that he began to stammer his lines. Miss Claxton tried
to reassure him and partly succeeded.

To this little group, came the earliest suspicion of impending disaster.
They heard but did not see it. One of the streamers which cross the stage, and
represent either "sky” or “ceiling,’’ as occasion may require— was blown
violently against a gas jet, and quickly ignited. The men aloft as quickly cut
away the burning piece, and it fell— alas! Not to the stage, as they
anticipated, but upon the painted canvas roof of the “boat house,” and rapidly
burned through. The warning which had been heard in the rustling of scene was
confirmed by the blazing of the scenery. Those on the stage had the presence of
mind to rush forward to the footlights and warn the audience of the danger.
They then sought safety in flight. Miss Claxton and Mrs.
Farren
escaped by an underground passage to the box office.

Miss Kate Claxton relates her harrowing escape. The back entrance was by
this time a perfect hell of fire. Miss Harrison, on my call, rushed from her
room and darted by me into a little subterranean passage, which led from the
stage under the floor to the box office in front of the house. No such passage
exists in other theaters. It was designed by Mrs. Conway when the theater was
built, so that she could readily communicate with her treasurer. I rapidly
followed Miss Harrison, and it seemed as if the fire, swept by the draught, almost
licked the clothes from our backs as we entered the passage. As we fled through
it I remembered that it was closed at the other end by a door with a spring
lock, and was usually kept closed, one of the ushers carrying the key. As I
reached the flight of three or four steps leading up to the door my heart stood
still, and I hesitated to try it. I thought it might not open. The door
fortunately was open, and we were in a second inside the box office. With the
strength of despair we burst the door open against the struggling throng, and
in an instant were in their midst. We had yet some distance to go; the fire
followed us fast, and there was still a crowd of excited people to pass
through. We got into the crowd and dashed along, heedless that now and again we
felt that we had trod upon a human being. Once I looked down and saw a human
face, horribly distorted and burned. Oh, my God! It was a fearful sight. I
shall never forget it. Afterward I saw the injured man taken out. He was
horribly injured, and I think, must be dead. As soon as we got into the street
we dashed into the police station. There a gentleman loaned me his overcoat,
and after a short stay in the station we walked around home.”