Barret, half ashamed of the wild anxiety he displayed, turned at once,
sprang back into the burning house, and began to expend his energies in
helping his companions and the men of the establishment to save as much
as possible of the laird's property.
While this was being done and the attention of every one was directed
exclusively to the work of salvage--in which work Pat Quin shone
conspicuous for daring as well as for all but miraculous power to endure
heat and swallow smoke, Roderick, the groom, retired to the lawn for a
few moments' respite. He was accompanied by Donald, his faithful
assistant, who was almost exhausted by his labours.
"Tonal', poy, what iss it that Muster Archie wull pe doin'?"
"I think he wull pe takin' the hoose!"
They had not time to make further inquiry, for just then the wind
changed and blew the flames towards the part of the mansion that had
been already burned, giving some hope that the other parts might yet be
saved, and calling for the redoubled efforts of all hands.
Donald was right in his conjecture. Archie was indeed "takin'" the
house! He and Eddie--having succeeded in rescuing the photographic
apparatus, and, finding that no lives were in danger, and that enough
people were already endeavouring to save the property--had calmly
devoted themselves to taking photographs of the blazing scene from
several points of view--a feat that was still possible, as daylight had
not yet been diminished in power.
The change of wind, however, brought their operations to an abrupt
close, for no idlers were tolerated. Even the women were summoned to
stand in a row, and pass buckets from a neighbouring pond to the burning
house.
The proceedings now had been reduced to some degree of order by Giles
Jackman, whose experience abroad had tended to develop his powers of
organisation.
The buckets were passed in uninterrupted succession from the pond to the
house, where Mabberly received them at the front door, that being deemed
the point where danger and the need for unusual energy began. He passed
them in through the smoke of the hall to MacRummle, who handed them to
Roderick and the butler. These last stood in the dense smoke of the
staircase, at the head of which the tall gamekeeper, Jackman and Barret,
were engaged in close and deadly conflict with the flames, intense heat,
falling _debris_, and partial suffocation. The rest of the people,
headed by the laird, who seemed to have renewed his youth and become
ubiquitous, continued the work of salvage.
By that time the party of warriors who fought the flames was increased
by the shepherds and a few small farmers who dwelt in the neighbourhood.
These being stalwart and willing men, were a valuable accession to the
force, and did good service not only in saving property, but in
extinguishing the fire. So that, before night closed in, the flames
were finally subdued, after about one-half of the mansion had been
consumed.
That half, however, was still a source of great danger, the walls being
intensely hot and the fallen beams a mass of glowing charcoal, which the
least breath of wind blew into a flame. A few of the shepherds were
therefore stationed to watch these, and pour water on them continually.
But the need for urgent haste was past, and most of the people had
assembled on the lawn among the furniture when the stars began to
glimmer in the darkening sky.
"My dear," said the laird, on finding his wife in the group, "it is all
safe now, so you had better get off to rest, and take all the women with
ye. Come, girls, be off to your beds," he added, turning with kindly
smile to the domestics, and with the energetic manner that was habitual
to him. "You've done good service, and stand much in need of rest, all
of you. The men will keep a sharp look out on what's left o' the fire,
so you have nothing to fear. Off with you, an' get to sleep!"
There was no hesitation in obeying the laird's commands. The female
domestics went off at once to their dormitories, and these were
fortunately in that part of the mansion which had escaped. Some of the
younger girls, however, made no effort to conceal a giggle as they
glanced at their master who, with coat off, shirt torn, face blackened,
hair dishevelled, and person dripping, presented rather an undignified
appearance. But as worthy Allan Gordon had never set up a claim to
dignity, the giggles only amused him.
"Duncan! Duncan, man, where are ye?" he called out, when the ladies and
female domestics had gone. "Oh! there ye are--an' not much more
respectable than myself!" he added, as the butler answered to his
summons. "Go and fetch the whisky bottle. We'll all be the better of a
dram after such a fight. What say you, gentlemen? Do you not relax
your teetotal principles a little on an occasion like this?"
"We never relax our _total abstinence_ principles," returned Jackman,
with a smile, as he wrung some of the water out of his garments. "I
think I may speak for my companions as well as myself. Friendship has
been a sufficient stimulant while we were engaged in the work, and
gratitude for success will suffice now that the work is done."
"Run, Donald, boy, an' tell them to get some hot coffee ready at once!
It's all very well, gentlemen," said the laird, turning again to his
friends, "to talk of subsisting on friendship and gratitude; but
although very good in their way, they won't do for present necessities.
At least it would ill become me to express my gratitude to such good
friends without offering something more. For myself," he added, filling
and tossing off a glass of whisky, "I'm an old man, and not used to this
kind of work, so I'll be the better of a dram. Besides, the Gordons--my
branch of them, at least--have always taken kindly to mountain dew, in
moderation, of course, in strict moderation!"
There was a quiet laugh at this among some of the men who stood near,
for it was well-known that not a few of the laird's ancestors had taken
kindly to mountain dew without the hampering influence of moderation,
though the good man himself had never been known to "exceed"--in the
Celtic acceptation of that term.
"Are ye laughing, you rascals?" he cried, turning to the group with a
beaming, though blackened countenance. "Come here an' have your share--
as a penalty!"
Nothing loath, the men came forward, and with a quiet word of thanks
each poured the undiluted fiery liquid down his throat, with what the
boy Donald styled a "pech" of satisfaction.
Ivor Donaldson chanced to be one of the group, but he did not come
forward with the rest.
"Come, Ivor, man, and have a dram," said the laird, pouring out a glass.
But the keeper did not move. He stood with his arms crossed firmly on
his broad chest, and a stern dogged expression on his handsome face.
"Ivor, hi!" exclaimed the old gentleman, in a louder voice, supposing
that the man had not heard. "After work like this a dram will do you
good."
"Oo, ay!" remarked one of the shepherds, who had probably began to feel
the "good" by that time; "a tram of whusky iss a fery coot thing at
_all_ times--specially when it is _coot_ whusky!"
At this profound witticism there was a general laugh among the men, in
the midst of which the laird repeated his invitation to Ivor, saying
that he seemed knocked up after his exertions (which was partially
true), and adding that surely he was man enough to take a little for his
good at such a time, without giving way to it.
The laird did not mean this as a taunt, but it was taken as such by the
keeper, who came forward quickly, seized the glass, and drained it.
Having done so he stood for a moment like one awaking from a dream.
Then, without a word of thanks, he dropped the glass, sprang into the
shrubbery, and disappeared.
The laird was surprised, and his conscience smote him, but he turned the
incident off with a laugh.
"Now, lads," he said, "go to work again. It will take all your energies
to keep the fire down, if it comes on to blow; and your comrades must be
tired by this time."
Fortunately it did not come on to blow. The night was profoundly calm,
so that a steady though small supply of water sufficed to quench
incipient flames.
Meanwhile Giles Jackman had left the group on the lawn almost at the
same moment with the gamekeeper; for, having been accustomed to deal
with men in similar circumstances, he had a suspicion of what might
follow. The poor man, having broken the resolve so recently and so
seriously formed, had probably, he thought, become desperate.
Ivor was too active for him, however. He disappeared before Jackman had
followed more than a few yards. After a few moments of uncertainty, the
latter made straight for old Molly Donaldson's cottage, thinking it
possible that her unhappy son might go there. On the way he had to pass
the keeper's own cottage, and was surprised to see a light in it and the
door wide open. As he approached, the sound of the keeper's voice was
heard speaking violently, mingled with blows, as if delivered with some
heavy instrument against timber. A loud crash of breaking wood met
Jackman's ear as he sprang in. Ivor was in the act of rending the
remains of a door from a corner cupboard, while an axe, which he had
just dropped, lay at his feet on the earthen floor. A black quart
bottle, visible through the opening which had been made, showed the
reason of his assault on the cupboard. If there had been any
uncertainty on the point, it would have been dispelled by the wild
laugh, or yell of fierce exultation, with which he seized the bottle,
drew the cork, and raised it to his dry lips.
Before it reached them, however, Jackman's strong hand seized the
keeper's arm. A gasp from the roused giant, and the deadly pallor of
his countenance, as he glanced round, showed that superstition had
suddenly seized on his troubled soul; but no sooner did he see who it
was that had checked him, than the hot blood rebounded to his face, and
a fierce glare shot from his eyes.
"Thank God!--not too late!" exclaimed Jackman, fervently.
The thanksgiving was addressed to God, of course without reference to
its influence on Ivor; but no words, apparently, could have been used
with better effect upon the keeper's spirit. His eyes lost their
ferocity, and he stood irresolute.
"Break it, like a good fellow," said Jackman, in a soft, kindly voice,
as he pointed to the bottle.
"I broke one before, sir," said Ivor, in a despairing tone; "and you see
how useless that was."
"Give it to me, then."
As he spoke, he took the bottle from the man's grasp, and cast it
through the open doorway, where it was shivered to atoms on the stones
outside.
Striding towards a pitcher of water which stood in a corner of the room,
the keeper seized it, put it to his lips, and almost drained it.
"There!" he exclaimed; "that will drown the devil for a time!"
"No, Ivor, it won't; but it will _help_ to drown it," said Jackman, in
the same kindly, almost cheerful, voice. "Neither cold water nor
hottest fire can slay the evils that are around and within us. There is
only one Saviour from sin--Jesus, `who died for the sins of the whole
world.' He makes use of means, however, and these means help towards
the great end. But it was not the Saviour who told you to lock that
bottle in that cupboard--was it?"
An expression of perplexity came over the keeper's face.
"You are right, sir; it was not. But, to my thinkin' it was not the
devil either!"
"Very likely not. I think sometimes we are inclined to put many things
on the devil's shoulders which ought to rest on our own. You know what
the Bible says about the deceitfulness of our hearts."
"I do, sir, an' yet I don't quite see that it was that either. I did
not put that bottle there to have it handy when I wanted it. I put it
there when I made up my mind to fight this battle in Christ's name, so
as I might see if He gave me strength to resist the temptation, when it
was always before me."
"Just so, Ivor, my friend. That `if' shows that you doubted Him!
Moreover, He has put into our mouths that prayer, `lead us not into
temptation,' and you proposed to keep temptation always before your
eyes."
"No, sir, no, not quite so bad as that," cried the keeper, growing
excited. "I shut the door an' locked the accursed thing out of my
sight, and when I found I could _not_ resist the temptation, I took the
key out and flung it into the sea."
"Would it not have been better to have flung the evil thing itself into
the sea? You soon found another key!" said his friend, pointing to the
axe.
"You say truth, sir; but oh, you hev no notion o' the fight I hev had
wi' that drink. The days an' nights of torment! The horrors! Ay, if
men could only taste the horrors _before_ they tasted the drink, I do
believe there would be no drunkards at all! I hev lain on that bed,
sir," he pointed to it as he spoke, while large drops stood on his pale
brow at the very recollection, "and I hev seen devils and toads and
serpents crawlin' round me and over me--great spiders, and hairy
shapeless things, wi' slimy legs goin' over my face, and into my mouth,
though I gnashed my teeth together--and glaring into my tight shut eyes,
an' strangling me. Oh! sir, I know not what hell may be, but I think
that it begins on earth wi' some men!"
"From all this Jesus came to save us, Ivor," said Jackman, endeavouring
to turn the poor man's mind from the terrible thoughts that seemed about
to overwhelm him; "but God will have us to consent to be saved in _His_
_own_ way. When you put the temptation in the cupboard, you disobeyed
Him, and therefore were trying to be saved in _your own_ way.
Disobedience and salvation cannot go together, because salvation means
deliverance from disobedience. You and I will pray, Ivor, that God
would give us his holy Spirit, and then we shall fight our battles in
future with more success."
Thereupon, standing as they were, but with bowed spirits and heads, they
laid the matter in the hands of God in a brief but earnest prayer.
While these two were thus engaged, the scene at the house had entered
upon another phase. The weather, which all that day had been extremely
changeable, suddenly assumed its gloomiest aspect, and rain began to
fall heavily. Gradually the fall increased in volume, and at last
descended in an absolute deluge, rendering the use of water-buckets
quite unnecessary, and accomplishing in a very few minutes what all the
men at the place could not have done in as many hours. But that which
prevented effectually the extension of the fire, caused, almost as
effectually, the destruction of much of the property exposed on the
lawn. The men were therefore set to work with all their energies to
replace in the unburnt part of the mansion all that they had so recently
carried out of it.
In this work Ivor Donaldson found a sufficient outlet for the fierce
unnatural energies which had been aroused within him. He went about
heaving and hauling, and staggering under weights that in an ordinary
state of body and mind he could scarcely have moved. Little notice was
taken of him, however, for every one else was, if not doing the same
thing, at least working up to the utmost extent of his ability.
Before midnight all was over. The fire was what the cook termed black
out. The furniture, more than half destroyed, was re-housed. The
danger of a revival of the flames was past, and the warriors in the
great battle felt themselves free to put off their armour and seek
refreshment.
This they did--the males at least--in the gun-room, which, being
farthest from the fire, and, therefore, left untouched, had not been
damaged either by fire or water. Here the thoughtful laird had given
orders to have a cold collation spread, and here, with his guests,
men-servants, boys, and neighbouring farmers around him, he sat down to
supper.