One dark night at the end of March we went down to the works all four,
meaning to watch two and two through the dark hours. The wind blew hard
and the rain fell, and as we reached the lane we could hear the water
lapping and beating against the sluice and the stones that formed the
head of the dam, while the waste rushed away with a hollow roar.
"Pity to lose so much good power," said Uncle Jack.
"Sun and wind will bring it back to the hills," said Uncle Dick gravely.
"There is no waste in nature."
I half expected to see a group of men, friends or enemies, waiting
about; but not a soul was in sight, and as we reached the gates I
shivered involuntarily and thought that people must have very serious
spite against us if they left their snug firesides to attack us on a
night like that.
Uncle Dick opened the little door in the gate and we stepped in, but to
our surprise there was no low growl and then whine of recognition from
Piter.
"That's strange," said Uncle Jack suspiciously, and he walked on quickly
to the door of the building and listened.
There was no dog there, and his chain and collar did not hang over the
kennel as if they had been taken from the dog's neck. They were gone.
This seemed very strange, and what was more strange still, though we
went from grinding-shop to smithy after smithy, furnace house and shed,
there was no sign of the dog, and everything seemed to point to the fact
that he had been led away by his chain, and was a prisoner somewhere.
"Looks like mischief," whispered Uncle Bob. "Where's that scoundrel
lying asleep?"
We went upstairs to see, and expected to find our careful watchman
carefully curled up somewhere, but there was no snoring this time, and
Uncle Bob's threat of a bucket of water to wake him did not assume
substance and action.
For though we searched everywhere it soon became evident that Searby was
not present, and that we had come to find the works deserted.
"Then there is going to be some attack made," said Uncle Dick. "I'm
glad we came."
"Shall you warn the police?" I whispered.
"No," said Uncle Jack sharply. "If we warn the police the scoundrels
will get to know, and no attack will be made."
"So much the better," I said. "Isn't it?"
"No, my lad. If they did not come to-night they would be here some
other time when we had not been warned. We are prepared now, so let
them come and we may give them such a lesson as shall induce them to
leave us in peace for the future."
"Do you mean to fight, then?" I asked.
"Most decidedly, boy. For our rights, for our place where we win our
livelihood. We should be cowards if we did not. You must play the
dog's part for us with your sharp eyes and ears. Recollect we have
right on our side and they have wrong."
"Let's put the fort in a state of defence," said Uncle Dick merrily.
"Perhaps it will turn out to be all nonsense, but we must be prepared.
What do you say--divide in two watches as we proposed, and take turn and
turn?"
"No: we'll all watch together to-night in case anything serious should
be meant."
It did seem so vexatious that a small party of men should be able to
keep up this system of warfare in the great manufacturing town. Here
had my uncles brought a certain amount of prosperity to the place by
establishing these works; the men had found out their worth and
respected them, and everything was going on in the most prosperous way,
and yet we were being assailed with threats, and it was quite possible
that at any moment some cruel blow might be struck.
I felt very nervous that night, but I drew courage from my uncles, who
seemed to take everything in the coolest and most matter-of-fact way.
They went round to the buildings where the fires were banked up and
glowing or smouldering, ready to be brought under the influence of the
blast next day and fanned to white heat. Here every precaution was
taken to guard against danger by fire, one of the most probable ways of
attack, either by ordinary combustion or the swift explosion of
gunpowder.
"There," said Uncle Jack after a careful inspection, "we can do no more.
If the ruffians come and blow us up it will be pretty well ruin."
"While if they burn us we are handsomely insured," said Uncle Dick.
"By all means then let us be burned," said Uncle Bob laughing. "There,
don't let's make mountains of molehills. We shall not be hurt."
"Well," said Uncle Dick, "I feel as if we ought to take every possible
precaution; but, that done, I do not feel much fear of anything taking
place. If the scoundrels had really meant mischief they would have done
something before now."
"Don't halloa till you are out of the wood," said Uncle Jack. "I smell
danger."
"Where, uncle?" I cried.
"In the air, boy. How the wind blows! Quite a gale. Brings the smell
of naphtha from those works half a mile away. Shows how a scent like
that will travel."
"I say, boys," said Uncle Bob, "what a trade that would be to carry on--
that or powder-mills. The scoundrels would regularly hold one at their
mercy."
"Wind's rising, and the water seems pretty lively," said Uncle Dick as
we sat together in the office, listening to the noises of the night.
We were quite in the dark, and from time to time we had a look round
about the yard and wall and that side of the building, the broad dam on
the other side being our protection.
"What a curious gurgling the water makes!" said Uncle Bob as we sat
listening; "anyone might think that half a dozen bottles were being
poured out at once."
"The water plays in and out of the crevices amongst the stones, driving
the air forth. I've often listened to it and thought it was someone
whispering out there beneath the windows," said Uncle Dick.
Then came a loud gust of wind that shook the windows, and directly after
there was the strong sour scent of naphtha.
"They must have had an accident--upset a tank or something of the kind,"
said Uncle Jack. "How strong it is!"
"Yes; quite stinging. It comes each time with the puffs of wind. I
suppose," continued Uncle Dick, "you would consider that which we smell
to be a gas."
"Certainly," said Uncle Bob, who was, we considered, a pretty good
chemist. "It is the evaporation of the spirit; it is so volatile that
it turns of itself into vapour or gas and it makes itself evident to our
nostrils as it is borne upon the air."
"There must be great loss in the manufacture of such a spirit as that."
"Oh, they charge accordingly!" said Uncle Bob; "but a great deal does
undoubtedly pass off into--"
He stopped short, for Uncle Jack laid his hand upon his knee and we all
listened.
"Nothing," said the latter; but I felt sure I heard a noise below.
"I heard the gurgling sound very plainly," said Uncle Dick. "There it
is again. One might almost think there was water trickling into the
building."
"Or naphtha, judging by the smell," said Uncle Bob. "It's very curious.
I have it!" he cried.
"What do you mean?" said Uncle Jack sharply.
"There has been an accident, as we supposed, at the naphtha works, and a
quantity of it has floated down the stream and into our dam."
"It has been very clever then," said Uncle Jack gruffly, "for it has
floated up stream a hundred yards to get into our dam, and--Good
heavens!"
He sprang to the window and threw it open, for at that moment a heavy
dull explosion shook the room where we were, and in place of the
darkness we could see each other distinctly, for the place seemed to
have been filled with reflected light, which went out and then blazed up
again.
"Ah!" ejaculated Uncle Jack, "the cowards! If I had a gun!"
I ran to his side, and in the middle of the dam, paddling towards the
outer side, there was a sort of raft with three men upon it, and now
they were distinctly seen, for the black water of the dam seemed to have
suddenly become tawny gold, lit by a building burning furiously on our
right. That building was our furnace-house and the set of smithies and
sheds that connected it with the grinding-shops and offices.
Uncle Jack banged to the window and took the command.
"Cob," he cried, "run to the big bell and keep it going. Our lads will
come. Dick, throw open the gate; Bob, follow me. Fire drill. We may
nip the blaze in the bud."
The fire-bell was not rung, the gate was not thrown open; for as we ran
out of the office and down the stairs it was to step into a pool of
naphtha, and in a few instants we found that a quantity had been poured
in at the lower windows--to what extent we could not tell--but it was
evident that this had been done all along the basement by the scoundrels
on the raft, and that they had contrived that some should reach one of
the furnaces, with the result that in an instant the furnace-house had
leaped into a mass of roaring flame, which the brisk gale was fanning
and making the fire run along the naphtha-soaked buildings like a wave.
"Stop, stop!" roared Uncle Jack; "we can do nothing to stay this. Back
to the offices and secure all books and papers."
So swiftly was the fire borne along by the gale that we had hardly time
to reach the staircase before it came running along, licking up the
naphtha, of which a large quantity had been spilled, and as it caught
there were dozens of little explosions.
I do not think either of us gave a thought to how we were to get away
again, for the valuable books and plans had to be saved at all hazards;
so following Uncle Jack we rushed into the big office, the safe was
opened, and as rapidly as possible a couple of tin boxes were filled
with account-books, and a number of papers were bound round with string.
"You must look sharp," said Uncle Bob.
"But we must take my books, and odds and ends, and fishing-tackle," I
cried.
"Better try and save our lives," said Uncle Bob. "Are you ready?"
"No; there are some plans we must take," said Uncle Dick.
"You must leave them," shouted Uncle Bob. "There, you are too late!" he
cried, banging to the door at the end of the workshop; "the flame's
coming up the stairs."
"We can get out of the windows," said Uncle Jack coolly.
"The place beneath is all on fire," cried Uncle Bob, flinging himself on
his knees. "The floor's quite hot."
We should have been suffocated only that there was a perfect rush of
cold air through the place, but moment by moment this was becoming hot
and poisonous with the gases of combustion. The flames were rushing out
of the grinding-shop windows beneath us, and the yard on one side, the
dam on the other, were light as day.
In one glance over the fire and smoke I saw our wall covered with
workmen and boys, some watching, some dropping over into the yard.
While in a similar rapid glance on the other side I saw through the
flame and smoke that on one side the dam bank was covered with
spectators, on the other there were three men just climbing off a rough
raft and descending towards the stream just below.
"Now," said Uncle Jack, seizing one box, "I can do no more. Each of you
take your lot and let's go."
"But where?--how?" I panted.
"Phew!"
Uncle Jack gave vent to a long whistle that was heard above the
crackling wood, the roar of flames carried along by the wind, and the
shouts and cries of the excited crowd in the yard.
"It's worse than I thought," said Uncle Jack. "We can't get down. Keep
cool, boys. We must save our papers. Here, there is less fire at that
window than at either of the others--let's throw the boxes out there.
They'll take care of them."
We ran to the far corner window, but as we reached it a puff of flame
and smoke curved in and drove us back.
It was so with every window towards the yard, and escape was entirely
cut off.
The men were trying to do something to save us, for there was a
tremendous noise and excitement below; but they could do absolutely
nothing, so rapidly had the grinding-shop beneath us been turned into a
fiery furnace.
And now the flames had mastered the end door, which fell inward, and
flame and black and gold clouds of smoke rolled in.
"Quick, Cob!--into the office!" roared Uncle Dick; and I darted in with
some of the papers, followed by the rest, Uncle Jack banging to the
door.
"Keep cool, all of you," he cried. "I must save these books and
papers."
"But we must save our lives, Jack," said Uncle Dick. "The floor's
smoking. Our only chance is to jump into the dam."
"Through that blaze of flame!" said Uncle Bob gloomily.
"It is our only chance," said Uncle Jack; "but let's try to save our
boxes as well. They will float if we take care."
"Now, then, who's first?"
The window was open, the tin boxes and the packets on the table, the dam
beneath but invisible; for the flame and smoke that rose from the window
below came like a fiery curtain between us and the water; and it was
through this curtain that we should have to plunge.
Certainly it would be a momentary affair, and then we should be in the
clear cold water; but the idea of taking such a leap made even my stout
uncles shrink and vainly look round for some other means of escape.
But there were none that we could see. Above the roar and crackling of
the flames we could hear the shouting of the mob and voices shrieking
out more than crying, "Jump! Jump!" Everything, though, was one whirl
of confusion; and I felt half-stifled with the terrible heat and the
choking fumes that came up between the boards and beneath the door.
It was rapidly blinding as well as confusing us; and in those exciting
moments leadership seemed to have gone, and if even I had made a bold
start the others would have followed.
At last after what seemed to have been a long space of time, though it
was doubtless only moments, Uncle Jack cried fiercely:
"Look: the floor's beginning to burn. You, Dick, out first, Cob shall
follow; and we'll drop the two tin boxes to you. You must save them.
Now! Are you ready?"
"Yes," cried Uncle Dick, climbing on a chair, and thrusting his arm out
of the window.
As he did so, there was a puff like some gigantic firework, and a large
cloud of fiery smoke rose up full of tiny sparks; and he shrank back
with an ejaculation of pain.
"Hot, Dick?" cried Uncle Jack almost savagely. "Go on, lad; it will be
hotter here. In five minutes the floor will be burned through."
"Follow quickly, Cob," cried Uncle Dick; and then he paused, for there
was a curious rushing noise, the people yelled, and there were shrieks
and cries, and above all, a great trampling of feet.
We could see nothing for the flame and smoke that rose before the
window; and just then the roar of the flames seemed to increase, and our
position became unendurable.
But still that was a curious rushing noise in the air, a roar as of
thunder and pouring, hissing rain, and a railway train rushing by and
coming nearer and nearer every moment; and then, as Uncle Dick was about
to step forth into the blaze and leap into the dam, Uncle Jack caught
him and held him back.
Almost at the same moment the rush and roar increased a hundred-fold,
confusing and startling us, and then, as if by magic, there was a
tremendous thud against the walls that shook the foundations; a fierce
hissing noise, and one moment we were standing in the midst of glowing
light, the next moment we were to our waists in water dashed against the
opposite wall, and all was black darkness.
As we struggled to our feet the water was sinking, but the horrible
crashing, rushing noise was still going on--water, a huge river of water
was rushing right through our factory threatening to sweep it away, and
then the flood seemed to sink as quickly as it had come, and we stood
holding hands, listening to the gurgling rush that was rapidly dying
away.
"What is it?" panted Uncle Bob.
"Life. Thank heaven, we are saved!" said Uncle Dick fervently.
"Amen!" exclaimed Uncle Jack. "Why, Dick," he cried, "that great dam up
in the hills must have burst and come sweeping down the vale!"
Uncle Jack was right, for almost as he spoke we could hear voices
shouting "rezzyvoyer;" and for the moment we forgot our own troubles in
the thought of the horrors that must have taken place up the vale.
But we could not stay where we were, half suffocated by the steam that
rose, and, opening the door, which broke away half-burned through, we
stood once more in the long workshop, which seemed little changed, save
that here and there a black chasm yawned in the floor, among which we
had to thread our way to where the stout door had been.
That and the staircase were gone, so that our only chance was to descend
by lowering ourselves and dropping to the ground.
Just then we heard the splashing of feet in the yard, and a voice we
recognised as Pannell cried:
"Mebbe they've got away. Ahoy there, mesters! Mester Jacob!"
"Ahoy!" I shouted; and a ringing cheer went up from twenty throats.
"We're all right," I cried, only nearly smothered. "Can you get a short
ladder?"
"Ay, lad," cried another familiar voice; and another shouted, "Owd Jones
has got one;" and I was sure it was Gentles who spoke.
"How's the place, Pannell?" cried Uncle Dick, leaning out of one of the
windows.
"So dark, mester, I can hardly see, but fire's put right out, and these
here buildings be aw reight, but wheer the smithies and furnace was is
nobbut ground."
"Swept away?"
"Pretty well burned through first, mester, and then the watter came and
washed it all clear. Hey but theer's a sight of mischief done, I fear."
A short ladder was soon brought, and the boxes and papers were placed in
safety in a neighbouring house, after which in the darkness we tramped
through the yard, to find that it was inches deep in mud, and that the
flood had found our mill stout enough to resist its force; but the
half-burned furnace-house, the smithies, and about sixty feet of tall
stone wall had been taken so cleanly away that even the stones were
gone, while the mill next to ours was cut right in two.
There was not a vestige of fire left, so, leaving our further inspection
to be continued in daylight, we left a couple of men as watchers, and
were going to join the hurrying crowd, when I caught Uncle Dick's arm.
"Well?" he exclaimed.
"Did you see where those men went as they got off the raft?"
"They seemed to be climbing down into the hollow beside the river," he
said:
"Yes," I whispered with a curious catching of the breath, "and then the
flood came."
He gripped my hand, and stood thinking for a few moments.
"It is impossible to say," he cried at last. "But come along, we may be
of some service to those in trouble."
In that spirit we went on down to the lower part of the town, following
the course of the flood, and finding fresh horrors at every turn.