I Thought it was Safe 
2003 Reader Submission
Pending Acceptance
I have been a collector of black powder firearms for some years. In 1985 I bought an orginal 1861 Springfield rifled-musket from an antique store in Toronto Ontario. The gun was old and needed a lot of work. When I put the ramrod down the barrel it would not travel all the way to the bottom of the barrel. After removing the ramrod a ton of rust fell out of the barrel, so I figured it was a rust problem. I took the barrel to a friends workshop and put it in the vise, I was going to use the torches to heat up the breach plug to remove it to clean the barrel. After much thought, I decieded to run water down the barrel to make sure there was not "powder and ball" down there. Sure enough, water started dripping out of the nipple, so I thought it must be just rust stopping the ramrod. I put the barrel back in the vise and put the torches to the breach. I remember the breach glowing a nice cherry red, then darkness. When I can too, my shirt was on fire, there was smoke everywhere ( I forgot to mention my buddy that owns the shop had been loading his own ammo and some gunpowder had fallen on the floor, and his father had been woodworking and had not cleaned up the shavings)
the torches were still lit and were moving closer to the tanks. I beat the flames out on my shirt and turned off the torches, by now the wooden work bench was on fire, and the smoke was getting bad. Fortunatly, outside the workshop there was an old boat full of rainwater and I used this to put out the fire.
I found the barrle that was now bent, and there was a neat hole through the wall. I eventually got the breachplug out of the barrel and discovered half of a ball round and a powdercharge still intact. It appears the barrel was double loaded and the front round went off.
I later discovered I had lost my eyebrows
y freinds father, Hugh, is a man I respect and like, he is also much larger than myself, he could never figure out why all his tools had rusted until... A year later Robert (the son and my friend) got married, I was best man and master of cerimonies. When I introduced Hugh I mentioned the incident to those assembled explaining there were too many witneeses for him to do anything about it ( I had had a few drinks and threw dicression to the wind) As I passed Hugh on the stage he slapped me in the back of the head, mumbling something about finding the answeres to questions if you just wait long enough ( and live long enough.
Dean Owen
Whitby Ontario Canada Submitted on 02/27/2003
Submitted by:
Dean Owen
Reference:
y own story
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