FIRE!
THAT night it blew half a gale. Secure in a sheltered berth the Sea
Scouts could make light of the elements, thankful that they were not
"caught out" in the open sea.
At about one o'clock in the morning, Peter was roused by the
_Thetis_ grinding against the piles of the stage close to which she
was moored. Evidently her quarter-warp had dragged the kedge.
"I'll put a fender out," decided Craddock, doubly careful since he
was in charge of a strange yacht.
He turned out just as he was, barefooted and in pyjamas. But when he
gained the cockpit all thoughts about putting out a fender vanished.
The air was thick with driving smoke that failed to conceal a mass
of deep red flame. The Snodburry mansion was on fire!
"Wake up, old man," exclaimed Peter to his slumbering chum. "Wake
up! Snodburry's house is all on fire."
In the shortest possible time the Sea Scouts threw on some clothes,
thrust their feet into their sea-boots and jumped into the dinghy.
A few strokes of the oars brought them to the opposite bank. Through
the smoke they dashed across the lawn and up to the house, where
they stumbled over the senseless form of one of the men-servants. It
was a moment's work to drag him clear of the falling embers. There
appeared to be no one else about on their side of the buildings. The
late inmates were on the opposite end, vainly striving to quench the
flames with buckets of water.
Already the whole of the ground floor was ablaze, while in one
corner the flames were bursting through the roof.
"Everyone's out, I think," spluttered Peter, half choked with the
fumes. "Let's release the horses and poultry. There's nothing more
that we can do."
It was as well, he thought, that Carline and he had already paid a
visit to the outbuildings. Up to the present the livestock were in
no great danger, although the neighing horses and loudly cackling
fowls were terrified by the roaring of the flames and the billowing
clouds of smoke.
"There is someone, though!" exclaimed Peter, pointing to an upper
window.
"Your imagination," declared Carline.
"No--look!"
A hand was fumbling with the casement. Then a face appeared,
horror-stricken, gasping.
"It's old Snodburry!" exclaimed Carline. "They've forgotten all
about him."
"Quick--bring a ladder!" shouted Peter. "There's one in the
stable-yard."
"Stand by to steady it," said Peter resolutely, as the ladder was
reared against the wall. "I'm going up--not you."
Waiting only to tie his scarf over his mouth and nose Craddock
ascended the ladder. One smart blow demolished the pane of glass
that enabled him to get to the casement fastening. The next instant
the window was wide open, a rush of smoke well nigh forcing the Sea
Scout from his precarious perch.
The room was full of smoke and in darkness. Leaning over the sill
Peter groped but found nothing. Then a spurt of reddish flame
darting through a charred portion of the floor revealed a huddled
figure lying half way between the window and the door.
Craddock hesitated no longer. With a diving-like movement he leapt
through the window on to the floor, that gave ominously as it felt
his weight. With smarting eyes and painfully drawn breath he crawled
over the hot floor-boards until he was able to seize the unconscious
form of Mr. Snodburry, and dragged him to the window.
Then came the critical time. The senseless man was too heavy. Peter,
in spite of his strength, was handicapped by the fumes, while the
window sill was waist-high from the floor.
Without knowing how he managed it, Peter heaved the helpless man
until his head and shoulders were without the window. Then he got
astride the sill and groped for the top rung of the ladder, by this
time unable to decide what to do. He was suffocating, but even in
his half stifled state he realised that if he let go of his burden,
Mr. Snodburry would probably break his neck by the fall.
A burst of flame from the lower window enveloped the ladder.
Something had to be done, and that quickly.
"Coming, Peter!" shouted Carline.
This time Craddock did not forbid him. He was only half conscious
that his chum was shouting, until Carline's head and shoulders
appeared above the flame-tinged smoke.
"Let go!" bawled Carline. "I've got him."
Peter let go. Like a sack of flour the bulky figure of Mr. Snodburry
vanished. There was a crash and the ladder disappeared.
Summoning up his last remaining strength Peter jumped and landed on
his hands and feet upon the soft turf.
Carline, with his left arm dangling helplessly, was dragging the
rescued man clear ... Brass helmets glinted in the firelight ...
That was the last Peter remembered until he found himself in bed.
The two Sea Scouts admitted next afternoon that they hadn't done so
badly and had got off lightly. Peter was slightly burnt about the
legs and had had the greater part of his hair and eyebrows singed
off; Carline had his left arm in splints with a fracture of the
wrist. They were in the Cottage Hospital, and in an adjoining bed
was Mr. Horatio Snodburry, whose neck had been saved at the expense
of Carline's wrist.
True to his trust, Peter, declaring that he felt quite all right,
went on board the _Thetis_ that evening, where he was warmly greeted
by Rex. Next day Mr. Clifton returned and Carline was sent home to
Aberstour by train.
According to the usual run of things, Mr. Horatio Snodburry ought to
have gratefully thanked the Sea Scouts for saving his life, and by
virtue of his escape ought to have lived for ever afterwards in love
and charity with his neighbours. But he did neither. Perhaps his
mind was still rankling over the pound that he might have got had
the Sea Scouts not assisted in recovering Farmer Thorley's ducks.