When we said that the firemen returned to their respective stations, it
must not be supposed that the house which had been burnt was left in
forlorn wretchedness. No; one of the firemen remained to watch over it,
and guard against the upstarting of any sneaking spark that might have
managed to conceal itself.
The man selected for this duty was Joe Corney.
Unfortunately for Joe, this was the only part of a fireman's duty that
he did not relish.
Joe Corney was, both by nature and education, very superstitious. He
believed implicitly in ghosts, and knew an innumerable host of persons,
male and female, who had seen people who said they had seen ghosts. He
was too honest to say he had ever seen a ghost himself; but he had been
"very near seein' wan two or three times," and he lived in perpetual
expectation and dread of meeting one face to face before he died. Joe
was as brave as a lion, and faced danger, and sometimes even what
appeared to be certain death, with as much unflinching courage as the
bravest of his comrades. Once, in particular, he had walked with the
branch in his hands along the burning roof of a tottering warehouse,
near the docks, in order to gain a point from which he could play on the
flames so as to prevent them spreading to the next warehouse, and so
check a fire which might have easily become one of the "great fires of
London."
Joe was therefore a man who could not be easily frightened; yet Joe
trembled in his shoes when he had the most distant prospect of meeting
with a ghost!
There was no help for it, however. He had been appointed to watch the
ruin; and, being a man who cherished a strong sense of duty, he set
himself doggedly to make the most of his circumstances.
It was past one o'clock when the fire was finally extinguished. A few
night-birds and late revellers still hung about it, as if in the hope
that it would burst forth again, and afford them fresh excitement; but
before two o'clock, everyone had gone away, and Joe was left alone with
his "preventer" and lantern. Even the policeman on the beat appeared to
avoid him; for, although he passed the ruin at regular intervals in his
rounds, he did not stop at it beyond a few moments, to see that the
fireman's lantern was burning and all right.
"Corney, me lad," said Joe to himself, "it's bad luck has befallen ye
this night; but face yer luck like a man now, and shame it."
Encouraging himself thus, he grasped his preventer, and pulled about the
_debris_ in various places of which he had some suspicion; but the
engines had done their work so effectually that not a spark remained.
Then Joe walked up and down, and in and out for an hour; studied the
half-consumed pictures that still hung on the walls of one of the lower
rooms, which had not been completely destroyed; moralised on the dire
confusion and ruin that could be accomplished in so short a space of
time; reflected on the probable condition of the unfortunates who had
been burnt out; on the mutability of human affairs in general, and
wondered what his "owld mother" would think of him, if she saw him in
his forlorn situation.
This latter thought caused his mind to revert to ghosts; but he was
comforted by hearing the slow, distant foot-fall of the policeman. On
it came, not unlike the supposed step of an unearthly visitant, until
the guardian of the night stood revealed before him on the other side of
the road.
"It's a cowld night intirely," cried Corney.
"It is," responded the policeman.
"How goes the inimy?" inquired the fireman.
"Just gone three," replied the other.
The policeman's voice, although gruff, was good-humoured and hearty; but
he was evidently a strict disciplinarian, for he uttered no other word,
and passed on.
"Faix, I'm gettin' slaipy," remarked Joe to himself, with a loud yawn.
"I'll go and rest a bit."
So saying, he re-entered the ruin, and with the aid of his lantern
sought about for the least uncomfortable apartment on the ground floor.
He selected one which was comparatively weather-tight. That is to say,
only one of the windows had been dashed out, and the ceiling was entire,
with the exception of a hole about four feet wide, through which the
charred beams above could be seen depicted against the black sky. There
was about an inch of water on the floor; but this was a small matter,
for Joe's boots were thick and strong. The door, too, had been burst
off its hinges, and lay on the floor; but Joe could raise this, and
place it in its original position.
The room had been a parlour and there were several damaged prints
hanging on the walls, besides a quantity of detached paper hanging from
them. Most of the furniture had been removed at the commencement of the
fire; but a few broken articles remained, and one big old easy-chair,
which had either been forgotten, or deemed unworthy of removal, by the
men of the Salvage Corps. [See note 1.]
Joe wheeled the chair to the fireplace--not that there was any fire in
it; on the contrary, it was choked up with fallen bricks and mortar, and
the hearth was flooded with water; but, as Joe remarked to himself, "it
felt more homelike an' sociable to sit wid wan's feet on the finder!"
Having erected the door in front of its own doorway, Joe leaned his
preventer against the wall, placed his lantern on the chimney-piece, and
sat down to meditate. He had not meditated long, when the steady
draught of air from the window at his back began to tell upon him.
"Och! but it's a cowld wind," said he. "I'll try the other side.
There's nothin' like facin' wan's inimies."
Acting on this idea, he changed his position, turning his face to the
window and his back to the door.
"Well," he remarked on sitting down again, "there's about as much
draught from the door; but, sure, ye've improved yer sitivation, Corney,
for haven't ye the illigant prospect of over the way through the windy?"
Not long after this, Joe's mind became much affected with ghostly
memories. This condition was aggravated by an intense desire to sleep,
for the poor man had been hard worked that day, and stood much in need
of repose. He frequently fell asleep, and frequently awoke. On falling
asleep, his helmet performed extremely undignified gyrations. On
awaking, he always started, opened his eyes very wide, looked round
inquiringly, then smiled, and resumed a more easy position. But, awake
or asleep, his thoughts ran always in the same channel.
During one of those waking moments, Joe heard a sound which rooted him
to his seat with horror; and would doubtless have caused his hair to
stand on end, if the helmet would have allowed it. The sound was simple
enough in itself, however; being slight, slow, and regular, and was only
horrible in Joe's mind, because of his being utterly unable to account
for it, or to conceive what it could be.
Whatever the sound was, it banished sleep from his eyes for at least a
quarter of an hour. At last, unable to stand the strain of uncertainty,
he arose, drew his hatchet, took down his lantern, and, coughing loudly
and sternly--as though to say:
"Have a care, I'm coming!"--removed the door and went cautiously into
the passage, where the sound appeared to come from. It did not cease on
his appearing; but went on slowly and steadily, and louder than before.
It appeared to be at his very elbow; yet Joe could see nothing, and a
cold perspiration broke out on him.
"Och! av I could only _see_ it!" he gasped.
Just as he said this he _did_ see it, for a turn of his lantern revealed
the fact that a drop of water fell regularly from one of the burnt beams
upon a large sheet of paper which had been torn from the passage wall.
This, resting on the irregular rubbish, formed a sort of drum, which
gave forth a hollow sound.
"Ah, then, but ye _are_ a goose, Joe Corney, me boy!" said the fireman,
as he turned away with an amiable smile and resumed his seat after
replacing the door.
About this time the wind began to rise, and came in irregular gusts. At
each gust the door was blown from the wall an inch or so, and fell back
with a noise that invariably awoke Joe with a start. He looked round
each time quickly; but as the door remained quiet he did not discover
the cause of his alarm. After it had done this several times Joe
became, so to speak, desperately courageous.
"Git out wid ye!" he cried angrily on being startled again, "wasn't the
last wan all a sham? an' sure ye're the same. Go 'long in pace--an'
goodnight!"
As he said this the over-taxed man fell asleep; at the same moment a
heavy gust of wind drove the door in altogether, and dashed it down on
his head. Fortunately, being somewhat charred, the panel that struck
his helmet was driven out, so that Joe came by no greater damage than
the fright, which caused his heart to bound into his throat, for he
really believed that the ghost had got him at last!
Relieving himself of the door, which he laid on the floor lest it should
play him the same prank over again, Joe Corney once more settled himself
in the easy-chair and resolved to give his mind to meditation. Just
then the City clocks pealed forth the hour of four o'clock.
This is perhaps the quietest hour of the twenty-four in London. Before
this most of the latest revellers have gone home, and few of the early
risers are moving.
There was one active mind at work at that hour, however--namely, that of
Gorman--who, after recovering from the blow given him by Dale, went to
his own home on the banks of the Thames, in the unaristocratic locality
of London Bridge.
Gorman owned a small boat, and did various kinds of business with it.
But Gorman's occupations were numerous and not definite. He was
everything by turns, and nothing long. When visible to the outward eye
(and that wasn't often), his chief occupations were loafing about and
drinking. On the present occasion he drank a good deal more than usual,
and lay down to sleep, vowing vengeance against firemen in general, and
Dale in particular.
Two or three hours later he awoke, and leaving his house, crossed London
Bridge, and wended his way back to the scene of the fire without any
definite intention, but with savage desires in his breast. He reached
it just at that point where Joe Corney had seated himself to meditate,
as above described.
Joe's powers of meditation were not great at any time. At that
particular time they were exerted in vain, for his head began to sway
backward and forward and to either side, despite his best efforts to the
contrary.
Waiting in the shadow of a doorway until the policeman should pass out
of sight and hearing, and cautiously stepping over the debris that
encumbered the threshold of the burnt house, Gorman peeped into the
room, where the light told him that some one kept watch. Great was his
satisfaction and grim his smile when he saw that a stalwart fireman sat
there apparently asleep. Being only able to see his back, he could not
make certain who it was,--but from the bulk of the man and breadth of
the shoulders he concluded that it was Dale. Anyhow it was one of his
enemies, and that was sufficient, for Gorman's nature was of that brutal
kind that he would risk his life any day in order to gratify his
vengeance, and it signified little to him which of his enemies fell in
his way, so long as it was one of them.
Taking up a brick from the floor, he raised himself to his full height,
and dashed it down on the head of the sleeping man. Just at that moment
Corney's nodding head chanced to fall forward, and the brick only hit
the comb of his helmet, knocking it over his eyes. Next moment he was
grappling with Gorman.
As on previous occasions, Joe's heart had leaped to his throat, and that
the ghost was upon him "at last" he had no manner of doubt; but no
sooner did he feel the human arm of Gorman and behold his face than his
native courage returned with a bound. He gave his antagonist a squeeze
that nearly crushed his ribs together, and at the same time hurled him
against the opposite wall. But Gorman was powerful and savage. He
recovered himself and sprang like a tiger on Joe, who received him in a
warm embrace with an Irish yell!
The struggle of the two strong men was for a few moments terrible, but
not doubtful, for Joe's muscles had been brought into splendid training
at the gymnastics. He soon forced Gorman down on one knee; but at the
same moment a mass of brickwork which had been in a toppling condition,
and was probably shaken down by the violence of their movements, fell on
the floor above, broke through it, and struck both men to the ground.
Joe lay stunned and motionless for a few seconds, for a beam had hit him
on the head; but Gorman leaped up and made off a moment or two before
the entrance of the policeman, who had run back to the house on hearing
Joe's war-whoop.
It is needless to add that Joe spent the remainder of his vigil that
night in an extremely wakeful condition, and that he gave a most graphic
account of his adventure with the ghosts on his return to the station!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The Salvage Corps is a body of men appointed by the insurance
offices to save and protect goods at fires, and otherwise to watch over
their interests. They wear a uniform and helmets, something like those
of the firemen, and generally follow close in their wake--in their own
vans--when fires break out.