Miss Carewe was at her desk, writing to Sister Cecilia, whom she most loved of all the world, when the bells startled her with their sudden clangor. The quill1 dropped from her hand; she started to her feet, wide-eyed, not understanding; while the whole town, drowsing peacefully a moment ago, resounded5 immediately with a loud confusion. She ran to the front door and looked out, her heart beating wildly.
The western sky was touched with a soft rose-color, which quickly became a warm glow, fluctuated, and, in the instant, shot up like the coming of a full Aurora6. Then through the broken foliage7 of the treetops could be seen the orange curls of flames, three-quarters of a mile away though they were.
People, calling loudly that “it was Carewe's warehouses9,” were running down the street. From the stable, old Nelson, on her father's best horse, came galloping10, and seeing the white figure in the doorway11, cried out in a quavering voice, without checking his steed.
“I goin' tell yo' pa, Miss Betty, he in de kentry on lan' bus'ness. Go back in de house, Missy!”
The other servants, like ragged12 sketches13 in the night, flitted by, with excited ejaculations, to join the runners, and Miss Betty followed them across the dew-strewn turf in her night slippers14, but at the gate she stopped.
From up the street came the sound of a bell smaller than those of the churches and courthouse, yet one that outdid all others in the madness of its appeal to clear the way. It was borne along by what seemed at first an indefinite black mass, but which—as the Aurora grew keener, producing even here a faint, yellow twilight—resolved itself into a mob of hoarsely-shouting men and boys, who were running and tugging15 at ropes, which drew along three extraordinary vehicles. They came rapidly down the street and passed Miss Betty with a hubbub16 and din3 beyond all understanding; one line of men, most of them in red shirts and oil-cloth helmets, at a dead run with the hose-cart; a second line with the hand-engine; the third dragging the ladder-wagon. One man was riding, a tall, straight gentleman in evening clothes and without a hat, who stood precariously17 in the hose-cart, calling in an annoyed tone through a brazen18 trumpet19. Miss Betty recognized him at once; it was he who caught her kitten; and she thought that if she had been Fanchon Bareaud she must have screamed a warning, for his balance appeared a thing of mere20 luck, and, if he fell, he would be trampled21 under foot and probably run over by the engine. But, happily (she remembered), she was not Fanchon Bareaud!
Before, behind, and beside the Department, raced a throng22 of boys, wild with the joy experienced by their species when property is being handsomely destroyed; after them came panting women, holding their sides and gasping23 with the effort to keep up with the flying procession.
Miss Betty trembled, for she had never seen the like in her life; she stood close to the hedge and let them go by; then she turned in after them and ran like a fleet young deer. She was going to the fire.
Over all the uproar24 could be heard the angry voice through the trumpet, calling the turns of the streets to the men in the van, upbraiding25 them and those of the other two companies impartially26; and few of his hearers denied the chief his right to express some chagrin27; since the Department (organized a half-year, hard-drilled, and this its first fire worth the name) was late on account of the refusal of the members to move until they had donned their new uniforms; for the uniforms had arrived from Philadelphia two months ago, and tonight offered the first opportunity to display them in public.
“Hail Vanrevel!” panted Tappingham Marsh28 to Eugene Madrillon, as the two, running in the van of the “Hose Company,” splattered through a mud-puddle. “You'd think he was Carewe's only son and heir instead of his worst enemy. Hark to the man!”
“I'd let it burn, if I were he,” returned the other.
“It was all Crailey's fault,” said Tappingham, swinging an arm free to wipe the spattered mud from his face. “He swore he wouldn't budge29 without his uniform, and the rest only backed him up; that was all. Crailey said Carewe could better afford to lose his shanties30 than the overworked Department its first chance to look beautiful and earnest. Tom asked him why he didn't send for a fiddle,” Marsh finished with a chuckle31.
“Carewe might afford to lose a little, even a warehouse8 or two, if only out of what he's taken from Crailey and the rest of us, these three years!”
“Taken from Vanrevel, you mean. Who doesn't know where Crailey's—Here's Main Street; look out for the turn!”
They swung out of the thick shadows of Carewe Street into full view of the fire, and their faces were illuminated32 as by sunrise.
The warehouses stood on the river-bank, at the foot of the street, just south of the new “covered bridge.” There were four of them, huge, bare-sided buildings; the two nearer the bridge of brick, the others of wood, and all of them rich with stores of every kind of river-merchandise and costly33 freight: furniture that had voyaged from New England down the long coast, across the Mexican Gulf34, through the flat Delta35, and had made the winding36 journey up the great river a thousand miles, and almost a thousand more, following the greater and lesser37 tributaries38; cloth from Connecticut that had been sold in Philadelphia, then carried over mountains and through forests by steam, by canal, by stage, and six-mule freight-wagons39, to Pittsburg, down the Ohio, and thence up to Rouen on the packet; Tennessee cotton, on its way to Massachusetts and Rhode Island spindles, lay there beside huge mounds40 of raw wool from Illinois, ready to be fed to the Rouen mill; dates and nuts from the Caribbean Sea; lemons from groves41 of the faraway tropics; cigars from the Antilles; tobacco from Virginia and Kentucky; most precious of all, the great granary of the farmers' wheat from the level fields at home; and all the rich stores and the houses that held them, as well as the wharves42 upon which they had been landed, and the steamers that brought them up the Rouen River, belonged to Robert Carewe.
That it was her father's property which was imperilled attested43 to the justification44 of Miss Betty in running to a fire; and, as she followed the crowd into Main Street, she felt a not unpleasant proprietary45 interest in the spectacle. Very opposite sensations animated46 the breast of the man with the trumpet, who was more acutely conscious than any other that these were Robert Carewe's possessions which were burning so handsomely. Nor was he the only one among the firemen who ground his teeth over the folly47 of the uniforms; for now they could plainly see the ruin being wrought48, the devastation49 threatened. The two upper stories of the southernmost warehouse had swathed themselves in one great flame; the building next on the north, also of frame, was smoking heavily; and there was a wind from the southwest, which, continuing with the fire unchecked, threatened the town itself. There was work for the Volunteer Brigade that night.
They came down Main Street with a rush, the figure of their chief swaying over them on his high perch50, while their shouting was drowned in the louder roar of greeting from the crowd, into which they plunged51 as a diver into the water, swirls52 and eddies53 of people marking the wake. A moment later a section of the roof of the burning warehouse fell in, with a sonorous54 and reverberating55 crash.
The “Engine Company” ran the force-pump out to the end of one of the lower wharves; two lines of pipe were attached; two rows of men mounted the planks56 for the pumpers, and, at the word of command, began the up-and-down of the hand-machine with admirable vim57. Nothing happened; the water did not come; something appeared to be wrong with the mechanism58. As everyone felt the crucial need of haste, nothing could have been more natural than that all the members of the “Engine Company” should simultaneously59 endeavor to repair the defect; therefore ensued upon the spot a species of riot which put the engine out of its sphere of usefulness.
In the meantime, fifty or sixty men and boys who ran with the machines, but who had no place in their operation, being the Bucket Brigade, had formed a line and were throwing large pails of water in the general direction of the southernmost warehouse, which it was now impossible to save; while the gentlemen of the “Hook-and-Ladder Company,” abandoning their wagons, and armed with axes, heroically assaulted the big door of the granary, the second building, whence they were driven by the exasperated60 chief, who informed them that the only way to save the wheat was to save the building. Crailey Gray, one of the berated61 axemen, remained by the shattered door after the others had gone, and, struck by a sudden thought, set his hand upon the iron latch62 and opened the door by this simple process. It was not locked. Crailey leaned against the casement63 and laughed with his whole soul and body.
Meanwhile, by dint64 of shouting in men's ears when near them, through the trumpet when distant, tearing axes from their hands, imperiously gesticulating to subordinate commanders, and lingering in no one spot for more than a second, Mr. Vanrevel reduced his forces to a semblance65 of order in a remarkably66 short time, considering the confusion into which they had fallen.
The space between the burning warehouse and that next it was not more than fifty feet in width, but fifty feet so hot no one took thought of entering there; an area as discomfiting67 in appearance as it was beautiful with the thick rain of sparks and firebrands that fell upon it. But the chief had decided68 that this space must be occupied, and more: must be held, since it was the only point of defence for the second warehouse. The roof of this building would burn, which would mean the destruction of the warehouse, unless it could be mounted, because the streams of water could not play upon it from the ground, nor, from the ladders, do much more than wet the projecting eaves. It was a gable roof, the eaves twenty feet lower on the south side than on the north, where the ladders could not hope to reach them. Vanrevel swung his line of bucketeers round to throw water, not upon the flames, but upon the ladder-men.
Miss Carewe stood in the crowd upon the opposite side of the broad street. Even there her cheeks were uncomfortably hot, and sometimes she had to brush a spark from her shoulder, though she was too much excited to mind this. She was watching the beautiful fiery69 furnace between the north wall of the burning warehouse and the south wall of its neighbor, the fifty feet brilliant and misty70 with vaporous rose-color, dotted with the myriad71 red stars, her eyes shining with the reflection of their fierce beauty. She saw how the vapors72 moved there, like men walking in fire, and she was vaguely73 recalling Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, when, over the silhouetted74 heads of the crowd before her, a long black ladder rose, wobbled, tilted75 crazily, then lamely76 advanced and ranged itself against the south wall of the second warehouse, its top rung striking ten feet short of the eaves. She hoped that no one had any notion of mounting that ladder.
A figure appeared upon it immediately, that of a gentleman, bareheaded and in evening dress, with a brass77 trumpet swinging from a cord about his shoulders; the noise grew less; the shouting died away, and the crowd became almost silent, as the figure, climbing slowly drew up above their heads. Two or three rungs beneath, came a second—a man in helmet and uniform. The clothes of both men, drenched78 by the bucketeers, clung to them, steaming. As the second figure mounted, a third appeared; but this was the last, for the ladder was frail79, and sagged80 toward the smoking wall with the weight of the three.
The chief, three-fourths of the way to the top, shouted down a stifled81 command, and a short grappling-ladder, fitted at one end with a pair of spiked82 iron hooks, was passed to him. Then he toiled83 upward until his feet rested on the third rung from the top; here he turned, setting his back to the wall, lifted the grappling-ladder high over his head so that it rested against the eaves above him, and brought it down sharply, fastening the spiked hooks in the roof. As the eaves projected fully4 three feet, this left the grappling-ladder hanging that distance out from the wall, its lowest rung a little above the level of the chief's shoulders.
Miss Betty drew in her breath with a little choked cry. There was a small terraced hill of piled-up packing-boxes near her, possession of which had been taken by a company of raggamuffinish boys, and she found herself standing2 on the highest box and sharing the summit with these questionable84 youths, almost without noting her action in mounting thither85, so strained was the concentration of her attention upon the figure high up in the rose-glow against the warehouse wall. The man, surely, surely, was not going to trust himself to that bit of wooden web hanging from the roof! Where was Miss Bareaud that she permitted it? Ah, if Betty had been Fanchon and madwoman enough to have accepted this madman, she would have compelled him to come down at once, and thereafter would lock him up in the house whenever the bells rang!
But the roof was to be mounted or Robert Carewe's property lost. Already little flames were dancing up from the shingles86, where firebrands had fallen, their number increasing with each second. So Vanrevel raised his arms, took a hard grip upon the lowest rung of the grappling-ladder and tried it with his weight; the iron hooks bit deeper into the roof; they held. He swung himself out into the air with nothing beneath him, caught the rung under his knee, and for a moment hung there while the crowd withheld87 from breathing; then a cloud of smoke, swirling88 that way, made him the mere ghostly nucleus89 of himself, blotted90 him out altogether, and, as it rose slowly upward, showed the ladder free and empty, so that at first there was an instant when they thought that he had fallen. But, as the smoke cleared, there was the tall figure on the roof.
It was an agile91 and daring thing to do, and the man who did it was mightily92 applauded. The cheering bothered him, however, for he was trying to make them understand, below, what would happen to the “Engine Company” in case the water was not sent through the lines directly; and what he said should be done to the engineers included things that would have blanched93 the cheek of the most inventive Spanish Inquisitor that ever lived.
Miss Betty made a gesture as if to a person within whispering distance. “Your coat is on fire,” she said in an ordinary conversational94 tone, without knowing she had spoken aloud, and Mr. Vanrevel, more than one hundred feet away, seemed particularly conscious of the pertinence95 of her remark. He removed the garment with alacrity96, and, for the lack of the tardy97 water, began to use it as a flail98 upon the firebrands and little flames about him; the sheer desperate best of a man in a rage, doing what he could when others failed him. Showers of sparks fell upon him; the smoke was rising everywhere from the roof and the walls below; and, growing denser99 and denser, shrouded100 him in heavy veils, so that, as he ran hither and thither, now visible, now unseen, stamping and beating and sweeping101 away the brands that fell, he seemed but the red and ghostly caricature of a Xerxes, ineffectually lashing102 the sea. They were calling to him imploringly103 to come down, in heaven's name to come down!
The second man had followed to the top of the ladder against the wall, and there he paused, waiting to pass up the line of hose when the word should come that the force-pump had been repaired; but the people thought that he waited because he was afraid to trust himself to the grappling-ladder. He was afraid, exceedingly afraid; though that was not why he waited; and he was still chuckling104 over the assault of the axes.
His situation had not much the advantage of that of the chief: his red shirt might have been set with orange jewels, so studded it was with the flying sparks; and, a large brand dropping upon his helmet, he threw up his hand to dislodge it and lost the helmet. The great light fell upon his fair hair and smiling face, and it was then that Miss Betty recognized the Incroyable of her garden.
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1
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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3
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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4
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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5
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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6
aurora
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| n.极光 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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8
warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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10
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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11
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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12
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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13
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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14
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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15
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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16
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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17
precariously
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| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
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18
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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19
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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20
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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21
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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22
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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23
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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24
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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25
upbraiding
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| adj.& n.谴责（的）v.责备，申斥，谴责( upbraid的现在分词 ) | |
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26
impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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27
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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28
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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29
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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30
shanties
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| n.简陋的小木屋( shanty的名词复数 )；铁皮棚屋；船工号子；船歌 | |
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31
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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32
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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33
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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35
delta
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| n.（流的）角洲 | |
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36
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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37
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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38
tributaries
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| n. 支流 | |
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39
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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40
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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41
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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42
wharves
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| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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43
attested
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| adj.经检验证明无病的，经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
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44
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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45
proprietary
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| n.所有权，所有的；独占的；业主 | |
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46
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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47
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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48
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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49
devastation
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| n.毁坏；荒废；极度震惊或悲伤 | |
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50
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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51
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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52
swirls
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| n.旋转( swirl的名词复数 )；卷状物；漩涡；尘旋v.旋转，打旋( swirl的第三人称单数 ) | |
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53
eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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54
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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55
reverberating
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的现在分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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56
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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57
vim
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| n.精力，活力 | |
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58
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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59
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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60
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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61
berated
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| v.严厉责备，痛斥( berate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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63
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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64
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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65
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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66
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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67
discomfiting
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| v.使为难( discomfit的现在分词 )；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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shingles
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| n.带状疱疹；（布满海边的）小圆石( shingle的名词复数 )；屋顶板；木瓦（板）；墙面板 | |
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withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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nucleus
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| n.核，核心，原子核 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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pertinence
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| n.中肯 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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flail
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| v.用连枷打；击打；n.连枷（脱粒用的工具） | |
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denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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102
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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