A GLOW ON THE HORIZON—A FANTASTIC PEAL—WHAT I SAW WHEN THE ROOF FELL
IN.
It was the second day of our return voyage. Mr. Rowe had been very
kind, and especially so to me. He had told us tales of seafaring life,
but they related exclusively to the Royal Navy, and not unfrequently
bore with disparagement on the mercantile marine.
Nowhere, perhaps, are grades of rank more strongly marked with
professional discipline and personal independence better combined than
in the army and navy. But the gulf implied by Mr. Rowe between the
youngest midshipman and the highest seaman who was not an officer was,
I think, in excess of the fact. As to becoming cabin-boy to a trading
vessel in hopes of rising to be a captain, the barge-master contrived
to impress me with the idea that I might as well take the situation of
boot and knife cleaner in the Royal Kitchen, in hopes of its proving
the first step towards ascending the Throne.
We seemed to have seen and done so much since we were on the canal
before, that I felt quite sentimental as we glided into Linnet Flash.
"The old place looks just the same, Barge-master," said I with a
travelled air.
"So it do, sir," said Mr. Rowe; and he added—"There's no place like
Home."
I hardly know how near we were to the town, but I know that it was
getting late, that the dew was heavy on the towing-path, and that
among the dark pencilled shadows of the sallows in the water the full
moon's reflection lay like a golden shield; when the driver, who was
ahead, stepped back and shouted—"The bells are ringing!"
When we got a little nearer we heard them quite clearly, and just when
I was observing a red glow diffuse itself in the cold night sky above
the willow hedge on our left, Mr. Rowe said, "There must be a queer
kind of echo somewhere, I heard sixteen bells."
And then I saw the driver, whose figure stood out dark against the
moonlit moorland on our right, point with his arm to the fast
crimsoning sky, and Mr. Rowe left the rudder and came forward, and
Fred, who had had his head low down listening, ran towards us from the
bows and cried,
"There _are_ sixteen, and they're ringing backwards—_it's a fire_!"
The driver mounted the horse, which was put to the trot, and we
hurried on. The bells came nearer and nearer with their fantastic
clanging, and the sky grew more lurid as they rang. Then there was a
bend in the canal, and we caught sight of the two towers of S. Philip
and S. James, dark against the glow.
"The whole town is in flames!" cried Fred.
"Not it," said the barge-master; "it's ten to one nothing but a
rubbish-heap burning, or the moors on fire beyond the town."
Mr. Rowe rather snubbed Fred, but I think he was curious about the
matter. The driver urged his horse, and the good barge _Betsy_ swung
along at a pace to which she was little accustomed.
When we came by the cricket-field Mr. Rowe himself said—"It's in the
middle of the town."
Through the deafening noise of the bells I contrived to shout in his
ear a request that I might be put ashore, as we were now about on a
level with my home. Mr. Rowe ran a plank quickly out and landed me,
without time for adieux.
I hastened up to the town. The first street I got into was empty, but
it seemed to vibrate to S. Philip's peal. And after that I pushed my
way through people, hurrying as I was hurrying, and the nearer I got
to home the thicker grew the crowd and the ruddier became the glow.
And now, in spite of the bells, I caught other noises. The roar of
irresistible fire,—which has a strange likeness to the roar of
irresistible water,—the loud crackling of the burning wood, and the
moving and talking of the crowd, which was so dense that I could
hardly get forward.
I contrived to squeeze myself along, however, and as I turned into our
street I felt the warmth of the fire, and when I looked at my old home
it was a mass of flames.
I tried to get people to make way for me by saying—"It's my house,
please let me through!" But nobody seemed to hear me. And yet there
was a pause, which was only filled by that curious sound when a crowd
of people gasp or sigh; and if every man had been a rock it could not
have been more impossible to move backwards or forwards. It was dark,
except for the moonlight, where I stood, but in a moment or two the
flames burst from the bedroom windows, and the red light spread
farther, and began to light up faces near me. I was just about to
appeal to a man I knew, when a roar began which I knew was not that of
the fire. It was the roar of human voices. And when it swelled louder,
and was caught up as it came along, and then broke into deafening
cheers, I was so wild with excitement and anxiety that I began to kick
the legs of the man in front of me to make him let me go to the home
that was burning before my eyes.
What he would have done in return, I don't know, but at this moment
the crowd broke up, and we were pushed, and pressed, and jostled
about, and people kept calling to "Make way!" and after tumbling down,
and being picked up twice, I found myself in the front row of a kind
of lane that had been made through the crowd, down which several men
were coming, carrying on their shoulders an arm-chair with people in
it.
As they passed me there was a crash, which seemed to shake the street.
The roof of our house had fallen in!
As it fell the flames burst upon every side, and in the sudden glare
the street became as bright as day, and every little thing about one
seemed to spring into sight. Half the crowd was known to me in a
moment.
Then I looked at the chair which was being carried along; and by a
large chip on one of the legs I knew it was my father's old arm-chair.
And in the chair I saw Rupert in his shirt and trousers, and Henrietta
in a petticoat and an out-door jacket, with so white a face that even
the firelight seemed to give it no colour, and on her lap was Baby
Cecil in his night-gown, with black smut marks on his nose and chin.