GUS HAS HIS REVENGE.
PHILIP DARNELL was determined that his work-people should not get the
better of him. Since they had chosen to go out on strike, they must
take the consequences of their folly. He would soon find others to fill
their places. He went back to town that same day resolved to find men;
and they were not hard to find. Ere the next day closed, he had engaged
a sufficient number, and it was arranged that they should travel down
to Rayleigh on the following day by a train which arrived there late in
the evening.
Mr. Ellary had the difficult task of providing for their accommodation
within the mill buildings. He could gain no help from the villagers.
Everybody sympathised with the strikers, and one and all refused to
stretch forth a finger in the service of Philip Darnell.
How it became known that he was sending men down to work at the mill
no one could explain. Doubtless the sight of the large supplies of
necessaries which kept arriving from London suggested the idea to the
strikers, on the alert to guard their rights.
Every precaution Mr. Ellary could take failed to secure the strangers
from a warm reception. The strikers collected and mobbed them as
they came out of the station. Brickbats were thrown, and one man was
seriously injured. The darkness of the night favoured the attacking
party, and the village police were overpowered. Many of the new-comers
were persuaded or frightened into turning back ere they reached the
mill gates. The band of men whom Mr. Ellary at last succeeded in
getting within was little more than half the number of those who had
come to Rayleigh, and they were in a sadly disheartened frame of mind.
But though his new arrangement did not work well, Philip Darnell was
not disposed to give in. He brought more men down from London, and
established himself for a while at the Mill House, that he might be at
hand to assist and support Mr. Ellary.
Week after week passed on, and the mill was kept going, though not
without difficulty, owing to the inexperience of the new mill-hands.
Meanwhile, the strikers and their families were suffering sorely.
Children sickened and died, and their death was laid to the charge of
Philip Darnell. When a spell of severe weather set in, and there still
seemed no prospect of a termination of the strike, the general feeling
of resentment towards Philip Darnell grew to a white heat. One day
his effigy was carried the whole length of the village, followed by
a mocking, hooting crowd, and finally burnt on the common behind the
colonel's house.
Sebastian Mouncey began to fear that the mill-owner would not escape
personal violence.
The clergyman did what he could to relieve the poor families in the
straits they had brought on themselves; but he had no power to bring
about a better state of things, since Mr. Darnell refused to listen to
any mediator.
Nor was Gus idle. He had found plenty to do since he was dismissed
from the mill. The colonel's house was now empty, and there was work
for boys to do in weeding and hoeing the garden. But Gus had a way of
finding tasks for himself in addition to those with which the vicar
provided him. He went in and out of the cottages, greeted everywhere
with a welcome; for since it became known that he, too, was a sufferer
from Philip Darnell's tyranny and injustice, all the old friendliness
towards him had revived.
If there was an over-worked mother to be helped, or a sick child to be
amused, or any job to be done to which he could give his strength and
skill, Gus was ready to meet the need. He was never so happy as when he
was helping others.
Christmas was close at hand. It promised to be the gloomiest Christmas
the villagers of Rayleigh had ever known. It was the night of the
twentieth—a night long remembered at Rayleigh. Gus was sleeping in the
tiny room he had to himself beneath the thatched roof of the cottage.
He was never a heavy sleeper, and towards morning the melancholy
howling of a dog roused hint from his slumber. The sound seemed to come
from the direction of the mill. Sitting up in bed to listen, Gus was
surprised to see a red glow in the sky. Was it the herald of the dawn?
He hurried to the little casement beneath the eaves. Then he saw that
the glow came from behind the mill, and from it, showing dark against
the copper-coloured sky, rose a thick column of smoke. As Gus gazed in
bewilderment, unable at once to conceive the meaning of what he saw, a
flame shot through the smoke.
Gus sprang from the window, and rushed to the top of the stairs,
crying, "Fire! Fire!" Hustling on his clothes, he was abroad as soon as
any one, and flew to rouse those who were sleeping at the mill. As he
hurried along, he soon perceived whence the smoke came. It was not the
mill, but Mill House that was in flames.
The men were quickly roused; but for a while the greatest confusion
prevailed. There was a fire-engine belonging to the mill, but the new
hands did not understand how to use the gear, and the firemen wert of
course amongst the strikers. Even in this extremity they held back,
mindful of their wrongs.
"Let him burn!" Gus heard a man say. "He has done his best to starve
us; he would not care if we and our children perished. Let him burn, I
say!"
"For shame, Ned!" cried Gus passionately. "Are you a man, and talk like
that?"
There was no time for more words. The boy was working with an energy
which put to shame every half-hearted man. Mr. Ellary and the vicar
were now on the spot, issuing commands, and working so hard themselves
that few could resist the contagion of their example. But work as they
might, things seemed against them. The hose was out of order; there was
a terrible delay ere it could be got to work. Meanwhile, in the still
frosty air the fire was burning fiercely, and spreading all along the
front of the house.
Gus was one of those who helped to drag the fire-escape round to the
burning house. No sign of life was apparent in the front, where the
fire raged fiercest. Happily there were few persons in the house.
In the absence of his wife and family, Mr. Darnell had been content
with the services of a married couple, formerly servants of his, who
had been left in the house as caretakers. These two were presently
seen at an upper window at the back of the house, crying for help, in
a state of the utmost terror. They had tried to escape, but the stairs
which led to their rooms were in flames. In a few minutes, by means of
the fire-escape, they were brought safely to the ground.
"Where is Mr. Darnell? Is he awake?" demanded several voices.
"We cannot tell," was the reply; "he sleeps at the other side of the
house—the room with two windows, to the right of the great door."
The room to the right! Just where the flames were gathering most
fiercely! The fire-escape was promptly brought to the spot, but the
flames were now shooting outwards and upwards with such fury that it
was found impossible to use it. Shout after shout was raised, but no
voice responded, no sign of life was apparent anywhere.
[Illustration]
"He is beyond help by this time," said one of the men.
And a momentary sense of awe fell even upon those who a little before
could have cried, "Serve him right!"
"There must be some way of getting to him—something can surely be
done!" cried Sebastian Mouncey, aghast at the thought of Philip Darnell
being thus abandoned to his fate.
But the lower rooms and the staircase were in flames; it would be
madness to attempt to enter, and the amateur firemen were by no means
disposed to risk their lives in an heroic effort to save that of
the man they hated. All they would do was to apply the hose freely,
trusting thus to check the progress of the flames.
But whilst they hung back, deeming rescue hopeless, one, who had
certainly no less cause to regard Philip Darnell as his enemy, was
resolved to dare his utmost rather than let him perish without making
an attempt to save him.
A shout was suddenly raised, and looking up, Mr. Mouncey perceived that
Gus had ascended by means of the fire-escape at a point to which the
fire had not extended, and was advancing along a narrow stone coping
towards a window which adjoined those of Mr. Darnell's bedroom. The
ledge was so narrow that the attempt was most hazardous.
After that one instinctive shout, the crowd held their breath as they
watched his slow, cautious advance. Presently he was lost in a cloud
of smoke. Then again they saw him. He had reached the window, and was
clinging to its framework. They saw him break the wide pane with his
elbow. The heat had loosened it, the whole sheet of glass came out
easily; but the smoke rolled out through the opening, and as the brave
lad crawled within, they saw him no more.
The men below raised another ringing shout. Sebastian Mouncey could not
join in it. A mist passed before his eyes, a sickening dread oppressed
his heart.
Mr. Ellary murmured, "A hero, if ever there was one; but he cannot come
out alive!"
Gus had entered the dressing-room connected with Mr. Darnell's bedroom.
The rush of smoke that met him was almost overpowering, but drawing his
woollen muffler closely over his mouth, he pressed through into the
next room. The air was heavy with smoke; already the floor felt hot
beneath his feet, but Gus stumbled across it, till he found the bed and
the form stretched in stupor upon it.
There was no rousing the sleeper, and every moment passed in that
suffocating atmosphere was full of danger. By main force—happily he
was strong for his years—Gus dragged the unconscious form out of bed,
and across the floor into the dressing-room. Here there was water,
and dashing it upon the face of the sleeper, and then shaking him
violently, Gus roused him to a sense of his awful peril.
Philip Darnell raised himself from the floor, but, shivering and
bewildered with terror, seemed powerless to move, whilst the blinding
smoke rolled towards them. Flames were already licking about the window
by which Gus had entered. It was impossible to escape by that.
"Put this over your face," cried Gus, seizing a towel from the
washstand, "and come with me."
Clutching his wrist, he drew him into the passage. Fresh clouds of
smoke rolled to meet them. Flames were leaping upwards from the burning
staircase. Philip Darnell shrank back in terror; but Gus, with the
strength of desperation, dragged him on through the dense smoke down
the passage, and into one of the back bedrooms, where the atmosphere
was clearer. Gus made for the window, threw it up, and stepped out
upon the sill. Darnell managed, with his help, to get up beside him,
clinging to the casement; but the man was shaking so, that it seemed
impossible that he could long retain his hold. They tried to shout; but
their voices were choked, and only a faint sound escaped them.
The fire was at a distance from them now; they had only to fear the
smoke, the suffocating, choking smoke. How long could they hold out
against that? Would it hide them from those below?
"Is there any hope?" asked Darnell faintly.
"Yes, there is hope," Gus said. "I hear a shout. I believe the people
see us. Hold on with all your might."
"I can't hold on much longer," was the reply. Then, as a thought struck
him, Darnell tried to peer through the smoke at the boy who stood
beside him. "I don't know you," he said; "who are you?"
In moments of extreme peril, the past comes back to us with
extraordinary vividness. At that instant, there flashed upon Gus' mind
all that his father had told him of his past history, and of the way
in which he had been wronged by Philip Darnell. He remembered how his
father had told him that he was by birth a gentleman; and the name
rightfully his, though so long forgotten, stood forth distinctly before
him now, as though written on the murky atmosphere in letters of fire.
There was scarce a pause ere he said calmly, in reply to his
companion's question, "I am Augustus Devereux Carruthers."
Darnell's ear caught the words. He started violently, lost his balance
for a moment, and, but for Gus' quick grasp, must have fallen. Gus did
not loose his hold of him again.
There were more shouts from below. The people had seen them. The
fire-escape was being brought to the spot. No time was lost by those
below; but the waiting seemed awful to the two who stood on the
window-sill.
Gus dared not look down. His head was growing dizzy, his limbs
numb. His hands still kept their grasp of Philip Darnell and of the
window-frame, but they were growing lax; they seemed not to belong to
him.
There was another shout. The fire-escape was in position. Some one
was mounting rapidly. But just as Philip Darnell's arm was grasped by
Sebastian Mouncey, Gus on the other side relaxed his hold, staggered,
and fell to the ground.