Wending his way through the crowded streets, Joe soon reached the door
of the house in Russell Square which belonged to Mrs Denman.
The good lady had made use of a cab after quitting Miss Deemas, so that
she was at home and seated in a luxuriously easy chair in her splendidly
furnished drawing-room when the fireman applied the knocker.
"Does Mrs Denman stop here, my dear?" said Joe to the smart
servant-girl who opened the door.
"Yes," replied the girl, "and she told me to show you up to the
drawing-room whenever you came. Step this way."
Joe pulled off his cap and followed the maid, who ushered him into the
presence of the little old lady.
"Pray take a chair," said Mrs Denman, pointing to one which had
evidently been placed close to hers on purpose. "You are a fireman, I
understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Joe, "I've bin more nor tin years at the business
now."
"You must find it a very warm business, I should imagine," said Mrs
Denman, with a smile.
"True for ye, ma'am. My body's bin a'most burnt off my sowl over and
over again; but it's cowld enough, too, sometimes, specially when ye've
got to watch the premises after the fire's bin put out of a cowld winter
night, as I had to do at _your_ house, ma'am."
Mrs Denman started and turned pale.
"What! d'you mean to say that you were at the fire in--in Holborn that
night?"
"Indeed I do, ma'am. Och! but ye must be ill, ma'am, for yer face is as
white as a ghost. Shure but it's _red_ now. Let me shout for some
wather for ye, ma'am."
"No, no, my good man," said Mrs Denman, recovering herself a little.
"I--I--the fact is, it did not occur to me that you had been at _that_
fire, else I would never--but no matter. You didn't see--see--any one
saved, did you?"
"See any one saved, is it? Shure, I did, an' yerself among the lot.
Och! but it's Frank Willders as knows how to do a thing nately. He
brought ye out o' the windy, ma'am, on his showlder as handy as if ye'd
bin a carpet-bag, or a porkmanty, ma'am--"
"Hush, _man_!" exclaimed poor Mrs Denman, blushing scarlet, for she was
a very sensitive old lady; "I cannot bear to think of it. But how
could--you know it was me? _It--it--might_ have been anything--a
bundle, you know."
"Not by no manes," replied the candid Joe. "We seed your shape quite
plain, ma'am, for the blankit was tight round ye."
Mrs Denman covered her face with her hand at this point, and resting
her elbow on the arm of her chair, reflected that the thing was beyond
remedy, and that, as the man had come and was now looking at her,
matters could not be worse; so she resolved to carry out her original
intention, and question him as to the best course of action in the event
of fire.
"My good man," she said, "I have taken the liberty of asking you to come
here to tell me what I should do to guard against fire in future."
Joe rubbed his nose and looked at the ground; then he stroked his chin
and looked at the old lady; then a look of intelligence lighted up his
expressive countenance as he said abruptly--
"Is yer house an' furniture insured, ma'am?"
"No, it is not," replied Mrs Denman. "I have never insured in my life,
because although I hear of fires every day in London, it has never
occurred to me until lately that there was any probability of _my_ house
being burned. I know it was very foolish of me, but I shall see to
having it done directly."
"That's right, ma'am," said Joe, with an approving nod. "If you seed
the heaps an' heaps o' splendid furnitur' an' goods an' buildin's as is
burnt every day a'most in London, an' lost to the owners 'cause they
grudged the few shillin's of insurance, or 'cause they was careless an'
didn't b'lieve a fire would ever come to them, no matter how many might
come to other folk, you'd insure yer house an' furnitur' first thing i'
the mornin', ma'am."
"I have no doubt you say what is quite correct, Mr Corney, and I will
certainly attend to this matter in future; but I am more particularly
anxious to know how I should act if the house in which I live were to
take fire."
"Get out of it as fast as possible," said Joe promptly, "an' screech out
_fire_! till yer sides is sore."
"But suppose," said Mrs Denman, with a faint smile, "that the fire is
burning in the stair, and the house full of smoke, what am I to do?"
"Och! I see yer drift now, ma'am," said Joe, with a knowing look. "Av
it's that what ye wants to know, I'll just, with your lave, ma'am, give
ye a small discourse on the subjic'."
Joe cleared his throat, and began with the air of a man who knows what
he is talking about.
"It's as well, ma'am, to begin by tryin' to prevent yer house ketchin'
fire--prevention bein' better nor cure. If ye'd kape clear o' that,
there's two or three small matters to remimber. First of all, take
oncommon good care o' your matches, an' don't let the childer git at
'em, if you've any in the house. Would you believe it, ma'am, there was
above fifty fires in London last year that was known to ha' bin set
alight by childers playin' wid matches, or by careless servants lettin'
'em drop an' treadin' on 'em?"
"How many?" asked Mrs Denman in surprise.
"Fifty, ma'am."
"Dear me! you amaze me, fireman; I had supposed there were not so many
fires in London in a year."
"A year!" exclaimed Joe. "Why, there's nearly three fires, on the
average, every twinty-four hours in London, an' that's about a thousand
fires in the year, ma'am."
"Are you sure of what you say, fireman?"
"Quite sure, ma'am; ye can ax Mr Braidwood if ye don't b'lieve me."
Mrs Denman, still in a state of blank amazement, said that she did not
doubt him, and bade him go on.
"Well, then," resumed Joe, "look well arter yer matches, an' niver read
in bed; that's the way hundreds o' houses get a light. When you light a
candle with a bit o' paper, ma'am, don't throw it on the floor an' tramp
on it an' think it's out, for many a time there's a small spark left,
an' the wind as always blows along the floor sets it up an' it kitches
somethin', and there you are--blazes an' hollerin' an' ingins goin' full
swing in no time. Then, ma'am, never go for to blow out yer gas, an' if
there's an escape don't rest till ye get a gasfitter and find it out.
But more particularly don't try to find it yerself with a candle. Och!
if ye'd only seen the blows up as I've seen from gas, ye'd look better
arter it. Not more nor two weeks gone by, ma'am, we was called to
attend a fire which was caused by an escape o' gas. W'en we got there
the fire was out, but sitch a mess you niver did see. It was a house,
ma'am, in the West End, with the most illigant painted walls and
cornices and gimcracks, idged all with goold. The family had just got
into it--noo done up for 'em, only, by good luck, there wasn't much o'
the furnitur' in. They had smelled a horrid smell o' gas for a good
while, but couldn't find it. At last the missis, she goes with a
workman an a _candle_ to look for it, an' sure enough they found it in a
bathroom. It had been escapin' in a small closet at the end o' the
bath, and not bein' able to git out, for the door was a tight fit, it
had gone away an' filled all the space between the ceilin's an' floors,
an' between the lath, and plaster, and the walls. The moment the door
in the bath-room was opened all this gas took light an' blowed up like
gunpowder. The whole inner skin o' the beautiful drawing-room, ma'am,
was blowed into the middle of the room. The cook, who was in the
drawin'-room passage, she was blow'd down stairs; the workman as opened
the little door, he was blow'd flat on his back; an' the missis, as was
standin' with her back to a door, she was lifted off her legs and blow'd
right through the doorway into a bedroom."
"Gracious!" exclaimed the horrified Mrs Denman, "was she killed?"
"No, ma'am, she warn't killed. Be good luck they was only stunned an'
dreadful skeared, but no bones was broken."
Mrs Denman found relief in a sigh.
"Well, ma'am," continued Joe, "let me advise you to sweep yer chimleys
once a month. When your chimley gets afire the sparks they get out, and
when sparks get out of a windy night there's no tellin' what they won't
light up. It's my opinion, ma'am, that them as makes the laws should
more nor double the fines for chimleys goin' afire. But suppose, ma'am,
your house gets alight in spite of you--well then, the question is
what's best to do?"
Mrs Denman nodded her old head six or seven times, as though to say,
"That is precisely the question."
"I'll tell you, ma'am,"--here Joe held up the fore-finger of his right
hand impressively. "In the first place, every one in a house ought to
know all the outs and ins of it, 'cause if you've got to look for things
for the first time when the cry of `Fire' is raised, it's not likely
that you'll find 'em. Now, d'ye know, or do the servants know, or does
anybody in the house know, where the trap in the roof is?"
Mrs Denman appeared to meditate for a minute, and then said that she
was not sure. She herself did not know, and she thought the servants
might be ignorant on the point, but she rather thought there was an old
one in the pantry, but they had long kept a cat, and so didn't require
it.
"Och!" exclaimed Joe, with a broad grin, "sure it's a trap-door I'm
spakin' of."
Mrs Denman professed utter ignorance on this point, and when told that
it ought to be known to every one in the house as a mode of escape in
the event of fire, she mildly requested to know what she would have to
do if there were such a trap.
"Why, get out on the roof to be sure," (Mrs Denman shivered) "and get
along the tiles to the next house," (Mrs Denman shut her eyes and
shuddered) "an' so make yer escape. Then you should have a ladder fixed
to this trap-door so as it couldn't be took away, and ye should have
some dozen fathoms o' half-inch rope always handy, cause if ye was cut
off from the staircase by fire an' from the roof by smoke ye might have
to let yourself down from a windy. It's as well, too, to know how to
knot sheets and blankets together, so that the ties won't slip, for if
you have no rope they'd be better than nothin'. You should also have a
hand-pump, ma'am, and a bucket of water always handy, 'cause if you take
a fire at the beginnin' it's easy put out. An' it's as well to know
that you should go into a room on fire on your hands and knees, with
your nose close to the ground--just as a pinter-dog goes--'cause there's
more air there than overhead; an' it's better to go in wi' the hand-pump
the first thing. Don't wait to dress, ma'am."
"Stop, stop, Mr Corney!" cried Mrs Denman, holding up her hand.
The little lady was stunned with the rapid utterance of the enthusiastic
fireman, and with the dreadful suggestion that she, Mrs Denman, should,
in the dead of night, get upon the roof of her dwelling and scramble
over the tiles, or let herself down by a rope from a window into the
public street, or creep into a burning room on her hands and knees with
her nose to the ground like a pointer, and all this, too, in her
night-dress, so she begged of him to stop, and said:
"But you forget, fireman, it is impossible for _me_ to do any of these
dreadful things."
"Well, ma'am," returned Joe coolly, "it wouldn't be easy--though, for
the matter o' that, it's wonderful what people will do for their lives;
but I was tellin' ye, ma'am, what ought to be done, so as somebody else
in the house might do it, if you couldn't.
"But suppose, ma'am," continued Joe, without waiting for a reply;
"suppose that the house is alight. Well, the first thing you've got to
do, is not to get into a fluster. That can't do no good, you know, and
is sure to do mischief. Keep cool. That's the first thing, ma'am; and
be deliberate in all ye do. The second thing is, to wrap a blanket
round ye, an' get out of the house as fast as ye can without stoppin' to
dress. It's of no use lookin' put out, ma'am; for it's better to escape
without yer clo'es than to be burnt alive in 'em. Then be careful to
_shut all doors after ye_ as ye go. This keeps the air from gittin' at
the fire, and so smothers it down till the ingines come up. Also keep
all windows shut. If the smoke is like to choke ye, git yer nose as
near the ground as possible, an' go along on yer hands and knees. A bit
o' flannel or a worsted sock held over yer mouth an' nose, will help you
to bear it better.
"If ye can't escape by the street-door, or the trap in the roof, then
get into a front room, where you will be more easy to be got at wid
ladders or fire-escapes, an' see that _every mimber o' the household_ is
there. Many a wan has bin forgotten in the hurry-skurry of a fire, and
left asleep in bed, ignorant o' the danger till too late; when a cool
head might have missed 'em, and wakened 'em in time. Whatever ye do,
ma'am--keep cool."
The probability of poor Mrs Denman keeping cool in such circumstances
was uncommonly small; for she was at that moment hot all over, and her
face flushed at the mere recital of such horrors!
Joe then went on to state, that the very last thing she should do was to
jump from a window (a somewhat unnecessary piece of advice, poor Miss
Denman thought), and that, when she was compelled to take such a step,
she should first of all pitch over all the blankets and bedding she
could lay hold of to make her fall easy. He wound up with an emphatic
reiteration of the assurance that her only chance lay in "keeping cool."
That night, poor Mrs Denman, in a condition of mind that is utterly
indescribable, because inconceivable, went through the whole of the
dreadful processes which Joe had described; and did it, too, with
miraculous presence of mind and energy--in her dreams.