FIRE!
SHUTTING the door behind him, Colonel Smyth went swiftly to the
second window, bearing still the unconscious child, and dragging the
half-stupefied Bertha. He flung it open, and a cry of horror broke
from the gathering crowd below, at the sight of three more threatened
victims.
"No way out, I suppose, along the leads, either front or back?" Colonel
Smyth inquired of Bertha.
As yet, Mrs. Burrell and Hope, in their absorption of terror, had not
become aware of the Colonel's entrance.
Bertha's "No, sir," was bewildered.
He saw that she hardly knew what she said.
"Take the child for a moment!" And he laid Rhona in the girl's arms.
Then he was gone from the room, but only for a few seconds. Almost
before Bertha had time to conjecture his purpose, he returned. And as
he reached the window, Rhona opened her eyes, revived by a breath of
fresher air.
"No hope there," he said gloomily. "I had thoughts of a descent at the
back, making use of the cistern,—but the flames are all over it. Why is
there no fire-escape?"
The Colonel was a brave man, but the threatening peril was very
terrible, rendered still more terrible by his utter helplessness; and
his cheeks blanched as he gazed.
To meet death on the battle-field would have been far easier.
"What are they about?" he groaned inaudibly. "The fire has made fearful
way."
"Can't we get out?" Rhona asked, her clear voice sounding distinctly
through the roar of the fire and the shouts of the crowd.
She seemed to have wakened quietly to a full sense of the position,
and her large eyes were dilated with fear. She had slid partly out of
Bertha's arms, which indeed were hardly able to bear her up, and stood
leaning against her kind attendant, swathed still in the blanket from
head to foot.
"I hope so,—very soon," the Colonel answered gravely. "I expect a
fire-escape every moment. You have no ropes here, my good girl?" he
asked of Bertha in a lower tone.
She shook her head mutely.
"The sheets—" said the Colonel.
Mrs. Burrell and Hope, becoming suddenly aware of their presence,
rushed to the same window. Mrs. Burrell passionately implored aid,
and Hope fairly flung herself at Colonel Smyth's feet, with sobs and
incoherent shrieks.
"Hush! Be quiet," he said sternly. "Don't you see that we are all in
the same condition? Here! You had better help me fasten the sheets
together. Not you, Bertha,—don't leave Miss Rhona."
Hope was limp and helpless, but Mrs. Burrell, though refusing to move
far from the window, gave some assistance. The Colonel worked as a man
works for his life; and, in an incredibly short space of time, the
improvised rope of sheets and blankets was ready for use. He brought it
to the window, and there paused. The descent thus would be a passage
through smoke and flame.
"Will any one make the trial?" asked the Colonel, looking round.
Hope hid her face.
Bertha said steadily, "I will take Miss Rhona down, if you wish, sir."
He looked at her and at the child, and shuddered.
"It would be a bare chance," he muttered. "Hardly a hope. Hanging so
close to the windows, the sheets would certainly take fire. Wait a few
more seconds," he said aloud. "The escape, if it comes soon, will be
better."
Hope flung herself wildly on the knotted bedding. "Oh let me down,
let me down," she cried piercingly; "I can't stay here. Oh let me
down—quick—"
Colonel Smyth made no fresh protest. He was indeed unable to decide
whether the peril of going or of delaying were the greatest. With
compressed lips, he attached the end blanket to her waist, folding her
up in it as much as possible, and helped her to mount the sill. But a
glance over proved too much for her fortitude, and with a scream she
fell back into the room.
"Don't you mean to go, Hope?" asked her mother in a voice of sullen
misery.
"Oh, I don't know," gasped Hope. "Oh, I don't know. It looks so
frightful. Oh, what shall I do?"
"The floor burns my feet," murmured Rhona patiently, and Colonel Smyth
caught her up in his arms.
"What can they be about? Why don't they come?" he groaned, as she clung
to him.
"I don't think we shall be burnt. God will take care of us," said Rhona.
"Pray to Him, my dear,—you know how. Pray for all of us," whispered the
Colonel.
"I am praying all the time. God will take care of us," Rhona said
again. But after a moment she added softly, "Only He might want to take
me to mother that way. Would it hurt very much?"
Colonel Smyth could not answer, and again Hope sprang up wildly. "Oh,
it burns, it burns," she screamed. "Oh, let me go down. I can't stay
here."
"You must choose for yourself," Colonel Smyth answered gravely. "I
don't know that this is long enough, and—"
"Oh, but it is worse waiting here. It is frightful," shrieked Hope.
"Let me down,—quick—quick."
Bertha again received Rhona, supporting her with difficulty. And in
another instant, Hope was hanging over the depth. Her shrill cries
of terror rang piercingly through the night-air, and the crowd below
seemed to watch with suspended breath. Colonel Smyth paid out the
improvised rope rapidly yet cautiously. But that which he had dreaded
came to pass. It proved too short; and as she hung some little way from
the ground, for two short seconds of agony, a leaping tongue of fire
set light to the sheets by which she was suspended.
Those above could not distinguish what went on so close underneath, but
Hope's screams ceased, and the weight which depended on the Colonel's
hands was suddenly lightened. Whether the change meant life or death to
Hope, they could not tell. A flame was running up the twisted sheeting,
which Colonel Smyth held, and he flung it down as useless.
"No hope now—that way," he muttered.
Then a loud cry rose from the people, resolving itself into joyful
words. "Ha! The escape at last!" echoed Colonel Smyth, with relief
unutterable.
At last, and not too soon. Was it even in time! A dull crash told of
the first floor falling in, and flames rushed wildly out from the lower
windows, fanned by the strong breeze.
Another minute found the ladders in position, and a brave man rapidly
mounted through whirling smoke.
Their rescuer appeared suddenly close to the window, a helmeted figure,
framed in coils of smoke, steadying himself in his perilous position.
What had to be done needed to be done quickly. For a man to remain
outside there any length of time was an impossibility. Colonel Smyth
would fain have sent the child down first, but Mrs. Burrell pushed
resolutely to the front, and no time could be wasted in parleying. As
she flung herself over the windowsill, the man grasped her. And almost
before she knew what would happen next, she was performing a swift
descent down the canvas trough, to be safely caught by expectant hands
below.
Another rush of flame, this time from the drawing-room windows,
compelled the fireman to beat a retreat. He held out his arms, and
Rhona was dropped into them.
"Come at once, sir," he said, seeing only the figure of the Colonel in
that fire-illuminated window. For Bertha had sunk to the floor.
Those in the street saw the fireman reappear, descending through the
smoke, saw him pause and falter while still some way from the ground,
saw the child slipping from his grasp. A wail of horror broke from
many, but another fireman rushed underneath and caught the little
figure in his arms, thereby changing the wail into a frantic cheer.
The poor fellow reached the bottom in safety, though nearly fainting,
and Rhona's last rescuer, handing her over to a gentleman not far-off,
immediately went up to the ladder in his stead.
Rhona's new friend, a strongly-built young man, perhaps about eight
and twenty in age, carried her quickly away from the vicinity of the
burning house. As the fresher air again recalled her scattered senses,
she was startled to find herself in the grasp of strange arms. The face
which met her opening eyes was reassuring, yet her first impulse was a
distressful struggle, and an imploring, "Wait! Oh, please wait! Don't
take me anywhere till he is safe."
"You shall wait near, my dear. I am only taking you to a house across
the road," the gentleman said kindly. "Is he your father?"
"No, it is my uncle,—it is Colonel Smyth. Oh, why doesn't he come
down?" Rhona asked in an agony. "Please, please, I can't go till he is
safe."
"I am afraid of your taking cold," the gentleman said. Yet for an
instant he had to pause that he might wrap more closely round her the
blanket, disarranged by her struggle.
It was a wild scene, viewed from where he stood. The house threatened
to become soon a mass of fire; and thus far, the steady play of the
engines seemed to take no effect. At the windows of houses round about,
opposite and on either side, faces of ghastly pallor and fear were
visible in the red glare, which glowed upon glass panes, and lent a
false hue to the dark sky.
Again the booming crash, and the burst of flame told of a floor falling
in. Then a gust of wind swept the heavy smoke aside, and Colonel Smyth
could be seen, still at the window, apparently striving to lift a heavy
weight.
"Oh, it is Bertha! O uncle!" cried poor Rhona.
One fireman, striving to ascend, had already been beaten back half-way,
but another now essayed the same successfully. A few more seconds of
terrible suspense, and he was on his way downward, bearing a female
figure. The Colonel following, seemed in some way to slip or fail,
when getting out of the window, and was all but precipitated upon
the pavement below. He caught the ladder with one hand, and somehow
regained his footing, showing an activity hardly to be expected at
his age. The remainder of the descent was accomplished by him without
accident. A sudden change in the wind appeared to have taken place; and
though flames leaped out fitfully, charring the canvas bagging, yet the
chief rush of smoke and heated air was now in another direction.
But of all this, including the Colonel's most narrow escape, Rhona saw
nothing. One glance only was permitted. Then despite sobbing protests,
she was borne hurriedly to a house over the way, near the farthest end
of the street.
"Yes, yes, my dear child, you shall know all as soon as possible," the
gentleman said soothingly, as answer to her pleadings. "I cannot keep
you out here in the night-air. I will come and tell you directly your
uncle is safely down."
"They won't let him stay there,—poor uncle! They won't let him be burnt
to death," said Rhona's quivering lips.
"No, no, don't be afraid. Think how many people there are to help, and
they will do their utmost. See, I am going to take you in here to a
friend of mine, a kind old lady."
"But I don't know her, and I haven't any frock," said Rhona.
"Never mind the frock. You and Mrs. Montague will not be strangers
long, I am sure."
It was a private house at which he stopped, just beyond the region
of shops. The front door was on the latch, and the inhabitants were
evidently astir. Rhona's friend entered with the air of one much at
home. He carried her swiftly upstairs, clearing two steps at a time
with long easy strides, tapped at a door, and on receiving no answer
walked in. A candle stood alight on the dressing-table, and the bed
bore signs of having been slept in that night, but nobody was present.
Rhona was laid on a couch, still rolled up in her sheltering blanket,
and an eider-down quilt, caught up from the bed, was spread quickly
over her. The gentleman paused then and bent down, looking into her
eyes.
"Will you be afraid, my dear, to lie alone for a minute?"
"No," said Rhona, returning the gaze. "I don't think I am
afraid—exactly."
"I am going to see after Colonel Smyth. You would rather I should do
that than stay with you,—but Mrs. Montague will come directly. Somebody
might be a little hurt at the fire, and I am a doctor."
"Oh please, please, go—" Rhona implored, shivering violently, though
not from cold. "Oh please, don't wait."
Presently a lady entered, little and old and gentle, dressed in a
quaint flowered wrapper, while a soft cream-coloured shawl was folded
round her shoulders and passed, mantilla-wise, over her head. The face
within these creamy folds was singularly small, aged yet delicate, worn
yet still attractive. Rhona saw so much, almost without seeing, as a
little wrinkled hand patted her fingers in soothing fashion, rubbing
away their chill.
"Now the other hand, if we can get at it. They have rolled you up into
an Egyptian mummy. Ah, here comes the hot stuff, to put a little colour
into those white cheeks. It is well I bade my maids light a fire and
have boiling water ready, thinking either might be needed. Drink it up,
little one and after that you shall rest in my nice bed."