Before the thunder of Giles Scott’s first rap had ceased, a pane1 of glass in one of the lower windows burst, and out came dense2 volumes of smoke, with a red tongue or two piercing them here and there, showing that the fire had been smouldering long, and had got well alight.
It was followed by an appalling3 shriek4 from Mrs Frog, who rushed forward shouting, “Oh! baby! baby!”
“Hold her, sir,” said Giles to young Welland, who sprang forward at the same moment.
Welland was aware of the immense value of prompt obedience5, and saw that Giles was well fitted to command. He seized Mrs Frog and held her fast, while Giles, knowing that there was no time to stand on ceremony, stepped a few paces back, ran at the door with all his might, and applied6 his foot with his great weight and momentum7 to it. As the oak is shattered by the thunderbolt, so was Samuel Twitter’s door by the foot of Number 666. But the bold constable8 was met by a volume of black smoke which was too much even for him. It drove him back half suffocated9, while, at the same time, it drove the domestic out of the house into his arms. She had rushed from the lower regions just in time to escape death.
A single minute had not yet elapsed, and only half-a-dozen persons had assembled, with two or three policemen, who instantly sought to obtain an entrance by a back door.
“Hold her, Sir Richard,” said Welland, handing the struggling Mrs Frog over. The knight10 accepted the charge, while Welland ran to the burning house, which seemed to be made of tinder, it blazed up so quickly.
Giles was making desperate efforts to enter by a window which vomited11 fire and smoke that defied him. An upper window was thrown open, and Samuel Twitter appeared in his night-dress, shouting frantically12.
Stephen Welland saw that entrance or egress13 by lower window or staircase was impossible. He had been a noted14 athlete at school. There was an iron spout15 which ran from the street to the roof. He rushed to that, and sprang up more like a monkey than a man.
“Pitch over blankets!” roared Giles, as the youth gained a window of the first floor, and dashed it in.
“The donkey-cart!” shouted Welland, in reply, and disappeared.
Giles was quick to understand. He dragged—almost lifted—the donkey and cart on to the pavement under the window where Mr Twitter stood waving his hands and yelling. The poor man had evidently lost his reason for the time, and was fit for nothing. A hand was seen to grasp his neck behind, and he disappeared. At the same moment a blanket came fluttering down, and Welland stood on the window-sill with Mrs Twitter in his arms, and a sheet of flame following. The height was about thirty feet. The youth steadied himself for one moment, as if to take aim, and dropped Mrs Twitter, as he might have dropped a bundle. She not only went into the vegetable cart, with a bursting shriek, but right through it, and reached the pavement unhurt—though terribly shaken!
Four minutes had not yet elapsed. The crowd had thickened, and a dull rumbling16 which had been audible for half a minute increased into a mighty17 roar as the fiery-red engine with its brass18-helmeted heroes dashed round the corner, and pulled up with a crash, seeming to shoot the men off. These swarmed19, for a few seconds, about the hose, water plug, and nozzles. At the same instant the great fire-escape came rushing on the scene, like some antediluvian20 monster, but by that time Giles had swept away the débris of the donkey-cart, with Mrs Twitter imbedded therein, and had stretched the blanket with five powerful volunteers to hold it. “Jump, sir, jump!” he cried. Samuel Twitter jumped—unavoidably, for Welland pushed him—just as the hiss21 and crackle of the water-spouts began.
He came down in a heap, rebounded22 like india-rubber, and was hurled23 to one side in time to make way for one of his young flock.
“The children! the children!” screamed Mrs Twitter, disengaging herself from the vegetables.
“Where are they?” asked a brass-helmeted man, quietly, as the head of the Escape went crashing through an upper window.
“The top floor! all of ’em there!—top flo–o–o–r!”
“No—no–o–o! some on the second fl–o–o–or!” yelled Mr Twitter.
“I say top—floo–o–o–r,” repeated the wife.
“You forget—baby—ba–i–by!” roared the husband.
A wild shriek was Mrs Twitter’s reply.
The quiet man with the brass helmet had run up the Escape quite regardless of these explanations. At the same time top windows were opened up, and little night-dressed figures appeared at them all, apparently24 making faces, for their cries were drowned in the shouts below.
From these upper windows smoke was issuing, but not yet in dense, suffocating25 volumes. The quiet man of the Escape entered a second floor window through smoke and flames as though he were a salamander.
The crowd below gave him a lusty cheer, for it was a great surging crowd by that time; nevertheless it surged within bounds, for a powerful body of police kept it back, leaving free space for the firemen to work.
A moment or two after the quiet fireman had entered, the night-dressed little ones disappeared from the other windows and congregated26, as if by magic, at the window just above the head of the Escape. Almost simultaneously27 the fly-ladder of the Escape—used for upper windows—was swung out, and when the quiet fireman had got out on the window-sill with little Lucy in his arms and little Alice held by her dress in his teeth, its upper rounds touched his knees, as if with a kiss of recognition!
He descended28 the fly-ladder, and shoved the two terrified little ones somewhat promptly29 into the canvas shoot, where a brother fireman was ready to pilot them together xxx to the ground. Molly being big had to be carried by herself, but Willie and Fred went together.
During all this time poor Mrs Frog had given herself over to the one idea of screaming “baby! bai–e–by!” and struggling to get free from the two policemen, who had come to the relief of Sir Richard, and who tenderly restrained her.
In like manner Mr and Mrs Twitter, although not absolutely in need of restraint, went about wringing30 their hands and making such confused and contradictory31 statements that no one could understand what they meant, and the firemen quietly went on with their work quite regardless of their existence.
“Policeman!” said Sam Twitter, looking up in the face of Number 666, with a piteous expression, and almost weeping with vexation, “nobody will listen to me. I would go up myself, but the firemen won’t let me, and my dear wife has such an idea of sticking to truth that when they ask her, ‘Is your baby up there?’ she yells ‘No, not our baby,’ and before she can explain she gasps32, and then I try to explain, and that so bamboozles—”
“Is your baby there?” demanded Number 666 vehemently33.
“Yes, it is!” cried Twitter, without the slightest twinge of conscience.
“What room?”
“That one,” pointing to the left side of the house on the first floor.
Just then part of the roof gave way and fell into the furnace of flame below, leaving visible the door of the very room to which Twitter had pointed34.
A despairing groan35 escaped him as he saw it, for now all communication seemed cut off, and the men were about to pull the Escape away to prevent its being burned, while, more engines having arrived, something like a mountain torrent36 of water was descending37 on the devoted38 house.
“Stop, lads, a moment,” said Giles, springing upon the Escape. He might have explained to the firemen what he had learned, but that would have taken time, and every second just then was of the utmost value. He was up on the window-sill before they well understood what he meant to do.
The heat was intolerable. A very lake of fire rolled beneath him. The door of the room pointed out by Twitter was opposite—fortunately on the side furthest from the centre of fire, but the floor was gone. Only two great beams remained, and the one Giles had to cross was more than half burned through. It was a fragile bridge on which to pass over an abyss so terrible. But heroes do not pause to calculate. Giles walked straight across it with the steadiness of a rope-dancer, and burst in the scarred and splitting door.
The smoke here was not too dense to prevent his seeing. One glance revealed baby Frog lying calmly in her crib as if asleep. To seize her, wrap her in the blankets, and carry her to the door of the room, was the work of a moment, but the awful abyss now lay before him, and it seemed to have been heated seven times. The beam, too, was by that time re-kindling with the increased heat, and the burden he carried prevented Giles from seeing, and balancing himself so well. He did not hesitate, but he advanced slowly and with caution.
A dead silence fell on the awe-stricken crowd, whose gaze was concentrated now on the one figure. The throbbing39 of the engines was heard distinctly when the roar of excitement was thus temporarily checked.
As Giles moved along, the beam cracked under his great weight. The heat became almost insupportable. His boots seemed to shrivel up and tighten40 round his feet.
“He’s gone! No, he’s not!” gasped41 some of the crowd, as the tall smoke and flame encompassed42 him, and he was seen for a moment to waver.
It was a touch of giddiness, but by a violent impulse of the will he threw it off, and at the same time bounded to the window, sending the beam, which was broken off by the shock, hissing43 down into the lake of fire.
The danger was past, and a loud, continuous, enthusiastic cheer greeted gallant44 Number 666 as he descended the chute with the baby in his arms, and delivered it alive and well, and more solemn than ever, to its mother—its own mother!
When Sir Richard Brandon returned home that night, he found it uncommonly45 difficult to sleep. When, after many unsuccessful efforts, he did manage to slumber46, his dreams re-produced the visions of his waking hours, with many surprising distortions and mixings—one of which distortions was, that all the paupers47 in the common lodging-houses had suddenly become rich, while he, Sir Richard, had as suddenly become poor, and a beggar in filthy48 rags, with nobody to care for him, and that these enriched beggars came round him and asked him, in quite a facetious49 way, “how he liked it!”
Next morning, when the worthy50 knight arose, he found his unrested brain still busy with the same theme. He also found that he had got food for meditation51, and for discussion with little Di, not only for some time to come, but, for the remainder of his hours.
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1
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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vomited
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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egress
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| n.出去；出口 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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antediluvian
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| adj.史前的，陈旧的 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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rebounded
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| 弹回( rebound的过去式和过去分词 )； 反弹； 产生反作用； 未能奏效 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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encompassed
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| v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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43
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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46
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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47
paupers
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| n.穷人( pauper的名词复数 )；贫民；贫穷 | |
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48
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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49
facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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50
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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51
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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