So the boys took to going out walks, which got longer and longer as the evenings drew out, and when they were not disposed for a long ramble they would go down to a disused wharf and sit there and watch the barges drifting down the river or tacking backwards and forwards, if there was a wind, with their great brown and yellow sails hauled tautly in, and the great steamers dropping quietly down the river, and the little busy tugs dragging great ships after them. There was an endless source of amusement in wondering from what ports the various craft had come or what was their destination.
"What seems most wonderful to me, George," Bill said one day, "when one looks at them big steamers——"
"Those," George corrected.
"Thank ye—at those big steamers, is to think that they can be tossed about, and the sea go overthem, as one reads about, just the same way as the wave they make when they goes down——"
"Go down, Bill."
"Thank ye—go down the river, tosses the little boats about; it don't seem possible that water can toss itself about so high as that, does it?"
"It does seem extraordinary, Bill; we know that it is so because there are constantly wrecks; but looking at the water it does not seem possible that it should rise up into waves large enough to knock one of those great steamers in pieces. Some day, Bill, not this year, of course, because the house isn't finished, but next year, I hope we shall be able all of us to go down for a trip to the sea. I have seen it stuck up you can go to Margate and back for three or four shillings; and though Bob Grimstone says that isn't regular sea, it would be enough to show us something of what it's like."
The garden occupied a good deal of the boys' time. Bill's long experience in the market had given him an interest in vegetables, and he was always ready for an hour's work in the garden after tea. The results of much labor and plenty of manure were not unsatisfactory, and Mrs. Andrews was delighted with her regular supply of fresh vegetables. Bill's anticipation, however, of the amount that could be grown in a limited space were by no means fulfilled, and seeing the small amount which could be daily gathered, and recalling the countless piled-up wagons which he had been accustomed tosee in Covent Garden, he was continually expressing his astonishment at the enormous quantity of ground which must be employed in keeping up the supply of the market.
They did not that year get the trip to Margate; but in the autumn, after the great work of furnishing was finished, they did get several long jaunts, once out to Epping Forest on an omnibus, once in a steamer up to Kew, and several times across to Greenwich Park. Mrs. Andrews found it a very happy summer, free from the wear of anxiety, which, more even than the work, had brought on her long illness. She grew stronger and better than she had ever expected to be again, and those who had only known the pale, harassed-looking needlewoman of Croydon would not have recognized her now; indeed, as George said sometimes, his mother looked younger and younger every day. She had married very young, and was still scarcely five-and-thirty, and although she laughed and said that George was a foolish boy when he said that people always took her for his sister, she really looked some years younger than she was. Her step had regained its elasticity, and there was a ring of gladness and happiness in her voice which was very attractive, and even strangers sometimes looked round as they passed the bright, pleasant-looking woman chatting gayly with the two healthy, good-looking young fellows.
In August the annual outing, or, as it was called, the bean-feast, at the works took place. Usually the men went in vans down into Epping Forest; but this year it was determined that a steamer should be engaged to take the whole party with their wives and families down to Gravesend. They were to make an early start, and on arriving there all were to do as they pleased until they assembled to dine in a pavilion at one of the hotels. After this they were to go to the gardens and amuse themselves there until the steamer started in the evening. The party embarked at Blackwell at ten o'clock in the morning. George and Bill got together up in the bow of the steamer, and were delighted with their voyage down, their only regret being that Mrs. Andrews had declined to accompany them, saying that she would far rather go with them alone than with so large a party.
"What shall we do, Bill?" George said, when they landed. "We are not to dine till two, so we have two good hours before us. I vote we hire a boat and go out. It will be ten times as jolly here as up in that crowded river by London."
This was said in reference to various short rowswhich they had had in boats belonging to barges which had been sometimes lent them for half an hour of an evening by a good-natured bargeman as they hung about the wharves.
"I suppose you can row, young chaps?" the waterman, whom they hired the boat of, said.
"Oh, yes, we can row!" George replied with the confidence of youth.
"Mind the tide is running out strong," the waterman said.
"All right, we will mind," George answered, scarce heeding his words; and getting out the oars they pushed off.
For some little time they rowed among the anchored vessels, both being especially filled with delight at the yachts moored opposite the clubhouses. These were new craft to them, and the beauty and neatness of everything struck them with surprise and admiration. Tide had only turned a short time before they got into their boat, and while keeping near the shore they had no difficulty in rowing against it.
Presently they determined to have a look at a fine East-Indiaman moored well out in the stream a short distance below Gravesend. They ceased rowing when they approached her, and sat idly on their oars talking over the distant voyage on which she was probably about to start, and the country she might visit, George was telling his companion the ports she would touch if her destination wasChina, and absorbed in their conversation they paid no attention to anything else, until George gave a sudden exclamation.
"Good gracious, Bill! Why, the ship is ever so far behind. It is two miles, I should think, from the town. We must set to work or we shan't be back in time for dinner."
The boys' knowledge of the navigation of the Thames was not sufficient to tell them that to row against tide it is necessary to keep close inshore, and turning the boat's head they set to work to row back in the middle of the river. Their knowledge of rowing was but slight, and the mere operation of their oars took up all their attention. They rowed away till their hands burned and the perspiration ran down their faces.
After half an hour of this George looked round, thinking that he ought to be near to the vessel by this time. He uttered an exclamation of surprise and dismay. Neither the ship nor Gravesend were visible. Their puny efforts had availed nothing against the sweeping tide. They had already, without knowing it, swept round the turn in the river, and were now entering Sea Reach.
"My goodness, Bill! what are we to do? Just look at that buoy; we are going past it as fast as a horse could trot. Look what a width the river is. What on earth are we to do?"
"I have no idea," Bill replied. "Where shall we go to if we go on like this?"
"Right out to sea, I should think," George said. "I do not know how far it is; but the river seems to get wider and wider in front."
"Perhaps," Bill suggested, "the tide will turn again and take us back."
"Not it," George said. "It was against us, you know, all the way down, and could only have turned a little while before we got in the boat. Look at that line of barges sailing down on the right-hand side. I vote we pull to them and ask the men what we had better do. Anyhow we could row to the land and get out there and wait till tide turns. It turned at about eleven, so that it will turn again somewhere about five. The steamer is not to start till eight, so we shall be back in plenty of time to catch it. We shall lose the dinner and the fun in the gardens, but that can't be helped."
"That don't make no odds," Bill said cheerfully; "this is a regular venture, this is; but I say, shan't we have to pay a lot for the boat?"
"Yes," George assented mournfully; "but perhaps the man will let us off cheap when he sees we couldn't help it. He looked a good-tempered sort of chap. Come, let us set to work. Every minute it is taking us further away."
They set steadily to work. The boat was a large and heavy one, and their progress was by no means rapid.
"How thick it's getting!" George exclaimed suddenly.
"Aint it just!" Bill assented. "My eye, George, I can't see the barges!"
Unobserved by them a fog had been steadily creeping up the river. They were just at its edge when they made the discovery. Another two minutes and it rolled thickly over them, and they could not see ten yards away. They looked at each other in silent bewilderment.
"What's to be done, George?" Bill said at length in awe-struck tones.
"I don't know, Bill; I haven't an idea. It's no use rowing, that I see, for we don't know which way the boat's head is pointing."
"Well, it can't be helped," Bill said philosophically. "I am going to have a pipe. Oh, I say, aint my hands blistered!"
"All right, you can have your pipe, Bill, but keep your oar in your hand to be ready to row."
"What for?" Bill demanded. "I thought you said it warn't no use rowing!"
"No more it is, Bill; but we must look out for those big buoys. If the tide were to sweep us against one of them we should capsize to a certainty. That must have been a big steamer," he went on, as the boat rolled suddenly. "It's lucky we were pretty well over towards the side of the river, before the fog came on. Listen—there's another. I can hear the beat of her engines. I have an idea, Bill!" he exclaimed suddenly. "We know the steamers were passing to the left of uswhen the fog came on. If we listen to their whistles and the sound of their paddles, and then row to the right, we shall get to the bank at last."
"Yes, that's a good idea," Bill agreed, laying down the pipe he had just lighted. "There's a whistle over there."
"Yes, and another the other way," George said, puzzled. "Why, how can that be! Oh, I suppose one is coming up the river and one down, but it's awfully confusing."
It was so, but by dint of listening intently the boys gained some idea of the proper direction; but they could only row a few strokes at a time, being obliged to stop continually to listen for fresh guidance.
Fortunately for them the fog lay low on the water, and the upper spars of the steamers were above it, and men placed there were able to direct those on deck as to their course. Had it not been for this the steamers must all have anchored. As it was they proceeded slowly and cautiously on their way, whistling freely to warn any small craft, that might be hidden in the fog, of their coming.
Half an hour's rowing and the boys gave a simultaneous exclamation. The boat had quietly grounded on the edge of a mud flat. They could not see the bank, and had no idea how far distant it was. Bill at once offered to get overboard and reconnoiter, but George would not hear of it.
"You might not be able to find your way back,Bill, or you might sink in the mud and not be able to get out again. No, we won't separate; and, look here, we must keep the boat afloat just at the edge of the mud. If we were to get left here we should not float again till tide comes up to us, and that wouldn't be till about two hours before high tide, and it won't be high, you know, until twelve o'clock at night."
"I wish this fog would clear off!" Bill said, looking round at the wall of white vapor which surrounded them. "It regular confuses a chap. I say, I expect they are just sitting down to dinner at present. I feel awfully hungry."
"It's no use thinking about that, Bill. We shall be a good deal more hungry before we are done; but I am so glad we have found the land and stopped going out to sea that I don't mind being hungry."
"But I say, George, if this fog keeps on how are we to find our way back to Gravesend?"
"The only way will be, Bill, to keep quite close to the edge of the mud—just as close as the boat will swim. That way, you know, we must come to Gravesend at last."
"So we must. I didn't think of that. You have got a good head, George, you have. I should never have thought about the way to find the bank if it hadn't been for you, and might have gone on floating and floating till we was starved."
"This fog can't last forever, Bill."
"No, but I have known them last a week in London."
"Yes, but not in August, Bill."
"No, not in August," Bill assented; "but you see these here fogs may last just as long down here in August as they do in London in November."
"I don't think so, Bill. Anyhow it doesn't matter to us; we have got the land for a guide, and I hope we shall be back in Gravesend before it's quite dark."
"But if we don't, George?"
"Well, if we don't we must run her ashore before it gets too dark, and wait till it is morning. We shall be all right if we keep quite cool and use our senses. If we had something to eat I shouldn't mind a bit, except that mother will be getting anxious about us. It's a regular adventure, and we shall have something to talk about for a long time. Look out, Bill, we must push her further off—she's getting aground!"
For an hour they sat and chatted.
"Hullo! what's that?" Bill exclaimed at last. "That's the rattle of a chain. I expect it's a barge anchoring somewhere near. Listen; I can hear voices. I vote we hollo."
George lifted up his voice in a lusty shout. The shout was repeated not very far off, and was followed by the shout of "Who are you?"
"We have drifted down from Gravesend and lostour way," George shouted back. "We will come on board if you will let us."
"All right!" the voice replied; "I will go on shouting and you row to my voice."
It was but a hundred yards, and then a voice close at hand said sharply:
"Row bow hard or you will be across the chain."
Bill rowed hard, and George, looking round, saw that they were close to the bows of a barge. Half a dozen more strokes and they were alongside. Bill seized a hand-rope and sprang onto the barge, and the boat was soon towing astern.
"Well, young men, however did you manage to get here?" one of the bargemen asked. "It's lucky for you you weren't taken out to sea with the tide."
George related the history of their voyage and how they had managed to reach the shore.
"Well, you are good-plucked uns anyhow," the man said; "aint they, Jack? Most chaps your age would just have sat in the boat and howled, and a good many longshoremen too. You have done the best thing you could under the circumstances."
"Where are we?" George asked.
"You are on board theSarah and Janetopsail barge, that's where you are, about three parts down Sea Reach. We know our way pretty well even in a fog, but we agreed it was no use trying to find the Swashway with it as thick as this, so we brought up."
"Where is the Swashway?" George asked.
"The Swashway is a channel where the barges go when they are making for Sheerness. It's well buoyed out and easy enough to follow with the help of Sheerness lights on a dark night; but these fogs are worse than anything. It aint no use groping about for the buoy when you can't see ten yards ahead, and you might find yourself high and dry on the mud and have to wait till next tide. Mayhap this fog will clear off before evening, and we shall be able to work in; and now I expect you two young uns would like some grub. Come below."
The two boys joyfully followed into the little cabin, and were soon satisfying their hunger on bread and cold meat. The bargee drew a jug of water from the breaker and placed it before them.
"The fire has gone out," he said, "or I would give yer a cup of tea—that's our tipple; we don't keep spirits on board theSarah and Jane. I like a drop on shore, but it aint stuff to have on a barge, where you wants your senses handy at all times. And now what are you thinking of doing?" he asked when the boys had finished.
"What we had made up our minds to do was to lie where we were at the edge of the mud till tide turned, and then to keep as close to the shore as we could until we got back to Gravesend. The steamer we came by does not go back till late, and we thought we should be back by that time."
"No, you wouldn't," the man said. "Out in the middle of the stream you would be back in twohours easy, but not close inshore. The tide don't help you much there, and half your time you are in eddies and back-currents. No, you wouldn't be back in Gravesend by eight noway."
"Then what would you advise us to do?"
"Well, just at present I won't give no advice at all. We will see how things are going after a bit. Now let's take a look round."
So saying he climbed the ladder to the deck, followed by the boys. The white fog still shut the boat in like a curtain.
"What do you think of it, Jack?"
"Don't know," the other replied. "Thought just now there was a puff of air coming down the river. I wish it would, or we shan't make Sheerness to-night, much less Rochester. Yes, that's a puff sure enough. You are in luck, young uns. Like enough in half an hour there will be a brisk wind blowing, driving all this fog out to sea before it."
Another and another puff came, and tiny ripples swept across the oil-like face of the water.
"It's a-coming, sure enough," the bargeman said. "I'd bet a pot of beer as the fog will have lifted in a quarter of an hour."
Stronger and stronger came the puffs of wind.
The fog seemed as if stirred by an invisible hand. It was no longer a dull, uniform whitish-gray; dark shadows seemed to flit across it, and sometimes the view of the water extended here and there.
"There's the shore!" Bill exclaimed suddenly,but ere George could turn round to look it was gone again.
"I shall have the anchor up directly, lads. Now I tell you what will be the best thing for you if the wind holds, as I expect it will. We shall be at Sheerness in little over an hour—that will make it four o'clock," he added, consulting his watch, "and the young flood will be coming up soon afterwards, and I shall go up with the first of it to Rochester. We shall get there maybe somewhere about seven o'clock. Now the best thing I can do for you is to tow that ere boat up to Rochester with me, and you can get a train there that will take you up to town in goodish time."
"You are very kind," George said; "but what are we to do about the boat?"
"I shall be going back to-morrow night, or more likely next morning, and I will take her along and hand her over to her rightful owner at Gravesend."
"James Kitson."
"Yes, I know him."
"But how about paying for it?" George said. "I am afraid he will expect a great deal of money, for it has been away all the time, and we have only got six shillings between us."
"You will want that to get up to town. Never mind about the boat. I will put that square for you. I will tell Kitson as how you have been shipwrecked, and he will think himself precious lucky in getting the boat without being damaged. If I take thetrouble to tow it up to Rochester and back, he needn't grumble about getting no fare."
"I would rather pay something," George said; "though, you see, we can't afford to pay much."
"Well, then, you send him a post-office order for five bob. I will tell him you are going to send him that, and he will thank his stars he has got so well out of it. If you had drifted out to sea, as he expects you have by this time, and the boat didn't get smashed by a steamer, you would likely enough have been taken off by one of them; but the captain wouldn't have troubled himself about that old tub. I looks upon Kitson as being in luck this job, so don't you worry about him. There, the mist's driving off fast. We will up with the kedge."
The boys lent a hand at the windlass, and the anchor was soon hanging from the bow. Then the brail of the mainsail was loosed, and the great sail shaken out. The foresail was hoisted, and in a few minutes theSarah and Janewas running before a brisk wind down Sea Reach.
The fog had rolled off now, and it was clear astern, though a thick bank still hung over the river ahead, but this was rapidly melting away; and the bargeman, who told them his name was Will Atkins, pointed out a large building low down on the water ahead.
"That's Sheerness Fort," he said. "You can lend Jack a hand to get up the topsail. The wind isrising every minute, and we shall soon be bowling along hand over hand."
Both ahead and astern of them were a line of barges, which had, like theSarah and Jane, anchored when the fog was thickest, and were, like her, making their way to Sheerness. The wind was blowing briskly now, and the barge made her way through the water at a rate which surprised the boys.
"I had no idea that barges sailed so fast," George said.
"There are not many craft can beat them," Atkins replied. "With a breeze so strong that they can only just carry their topsails, they will hold their own with pretty nigh anything afloat. There are mighty few yachts can keep alongside us when we are doing our best."
As Atkins had predicted, in little over an hour they brought up just inside the mouth of the Medway, and dropped the anchor to wait till the tide turned to help them up to Rochester. At six o'clock they were again under way. The wind had fortunately veered round somewhat to the north of west, and they were able for the most part to lay their course, so that soon after seven they were abreast of the dockyard, and a few minutes later dropped anchor off Rochester.
"Jump into the boat, boys," the good-natured bargeman said; "I will put you ashore at once. There is the station close to the end of the bridge."
With many very hearty thanks for his kindnessthe lads jumped ashore and hurried up to the station. They found that there would be a train in half an hour, and by nine o'clock they arrived in town.
Before they had landed the bargeman had scrawled on a piece of paper, "Your boat was picked up by theSarah and Jane. Will bring her back on return trip. No damage done. William Atkins." This he had handed to the boys, and they now got an envelope and directed it to "James Kitson, Waterman, Gravesend," and posted it, and then set out to walk home.
"It's not been the sort of day we expected," George said; "but it's been good fun, hasn't it?"
"Grand!" Bill agreed. "But I didn't think so when we were in the middle of that fog listening to them whistles and trying to find out the way. I didn't say much, George, but I felt downright funky."
"I didn't like it either, Bill. There was such a horribly lonely feeling, lost in the fog there; but it was all right as soon as we touched the mouth, and got an idea where we were. I was worrying most about mother getting anxious if we did not get back to-night, and a little about what we should have to pay for the boat. It was lucky that bargeman took the matter in his hands for us. I expect we should have had to pay over a pound. He was an awfully good fellow, wasn't he?"
"I should just think he was," Bill said. "Hewas a good un, and no mistake. It aint cost us so very much either, considering."
"That it hasn't, Bill. Two and threepence apiece railway fare, that's four and sixpence, and five bob we are to send down for the boat, nine shillings and sixpence. Well, we should have paid two shillings for the boat anyhow, and I expect we should have spent another shilling apiece in things at the gardens, perhaps more; that would make four shillings anyhow, so we have only spent about five shillings more than we calculated. And haven't we got a lot to talk about! It's been a regular adventure."
"It has," Bill said doubtfully; "but I don't think I want many more of them kind of adventures. It's all right now, you know, but it wasn't jolly at the time. I always thought as adventures was jolly; but that didn't seem to me to have no jolliness about it, not when we was out there. It's all very well to hear tell of shipwrecks and fights with savages, but I expect there aint no larks about it at the time. I suppose you will send that five bob off to-morrow, and get it off your mind?"
"No. Atkins said we had better not send it for another three or four days. The man will have got his boat back all right then, and the five bob would come upon him unexpectedly. He was going to tell Kitson that he had arranged with us that was what we were to pay, as we couldn't afford more; but he will never expect to get it, so when it comes he will be only too glad to receive it."
They were met at the door of the house by Bob Grimstone, who was just coming out.
"Why, what have you boys been up to?" he said angrily. "I have been wondering all day what has become of you, and the missis has done nothing but worry and fidget. It's regular spoilt the day. What have you been up to? I haven't seen you since we got ashore at Gravesend, and I have just come round to ask your mother if she has heard of you."
"I am very sorry, Bob, but it wasn't our fault, at least it was not altogether our fault. We went for a row, and the tide took us down, and then the fog came on and we got lost."
"I expected better of you," Grimstone said angrily. "Foggy, indeed! I've been anxious and worried all day. I did think as you warn't like other boys, but could be trusted, and then you go and play such a prank as this. Well, go in; your mother is in a nice taking about you."
"My dear mother," George said as he ran in, "I am so sorry you have been uneasy about us, awfully sorry; but really it hasn't been our fault altogether."
"Never mind that now, George," Mrs. Andrews said, throwing her arms round his neck. "Fortunately I did not know anything about it till Mr. Grimstone came in a few minutes ago. I had been expecting you in for some little time, but I supposed the steamer was late, and I was not at all uneasy till Mr. Grimstone came in and said that he had notseen either of you since the steamer got to Gravesend, and that you had not come back with the rest. Is Bill with you?"
"Yes, mother; he is at the door talking to Bob."
"Ask Mr. Grimstone to come in again," Mrs. Andrews said. "He has been most kind, and he had promised to go down to Gravesend by the first train in the morning if you did not come home to-night, and to make inquiries about you there. He tried to cheer me up by saying that as you were together nothing could very well happen to you and that probably you had only got into some boyish scrape—perhaps, he suggested, only gone out into the country and had helped yourselves to some apples, and had so got locked up."
Bob, however, would not come in again, but went off saying he would hear all about it in the morning, but would go off to tell his wife at once that they had returned safely, for "that she was in such a worry as never was."
Hearing that the boys had had nothing to eat since two o'clock, Mrs. Andrews at once laid the table for supper; and when they had finished it listened to George's account of their adventure.
"You had a very narrow escape, boys," she said when they had finished. "You might have been swept out to sea, or run down by a steamer in the fog. I hope to-night that you will neither of you forget to thank God for his protection through thedanger you have run; and I do hope, my dear boys, that you will be more careful in future."
The next evening, after work was over, George went in to Bob Grimstone's and told them all that had happened. When the story was told, Bob agreed that after all it was not altogether their fault, and that, indeed, they had, in some respects, justified his opinion of them. Mrs. Grimstone, however, was not so easily pacified. They had come back, she said; but it was more than likely that they wouldn't have come back at all, but might have been drifting out far at sea, perhaps cutting each other's throats and eating each other alive, which was, as the good woman said, what she had heard happened when boats were lost at sea.
Two days later they sent off the money to the waterman, and received in reply a letter from him saying that the boat had been brought safely back by theSarah and Janeand that he was glad to get the five shillings.
"Bill Atkins told me as you said you would send it; but knowing what boys is, I say fair as I didn't expect to see the color of your money. It aint everyone as would have paid up when they got safe away, and I consider as you have behaved handsome."
They had heard from Atkins of the wharf off which theSarah and Janemight generally be found moored, between her cruises, and after one or two ineffectual attempts they one day found the bargethere when they rowed up to the spot. She had but just returned from a trip to Rochester and Bill Atkins was still on board. He was very glad to see the boys, but they had great difficulty in persuading him to accept a pound of tobacco which their mother had sent off to him with her compliments as a token of gratitude for his kindness to them.
"Well, young chaps, I didn't look for nothing of the sort, but seeing as your mother has got it for me it wouldn't be manners to say no. Well, look here, any time as you are disposed for a sail down to Rochester and back you're free of theSarah and Jane, and heartily glad shall I be to have you with me."
The boys thanked him for the offer, but said as they were still at work there was but small chance of their being able to accept it, but that they should be glad to come and have a chat with him sometimes when he was in the Pool.
One Saturday evening early in October the boys had been for a long walk down among the marshes. They had told Mrs. Andrews they would be late, and it was past eight o'clock when they came along past the works.
"We shan't get home at this hour again for some time, I expect," George said, "for they say that we are going to begin to work overtime on Monday, and that the orders are so heavy that it will very likely have to be kept up all through the winter."
"I am glad it didn't begin earlier," Bill replied; "it would have been horrid if we had lost all our walks while the weather was fine. How dark the place looks how it's shut up, and how quiet and still it is after the rattle we are accustomed to!"
"Stop a moment," George said, putting his hand on his arm.
"What is it, George?"
"I don't know. It seemed to me, for a moment, as if I saw the big stack clearly and then it was dark again."
"How could that be, George?"
"I don't know; it looked to me as if it was a reflection of light from one of the windows at the back there. There it is again."
"Yes, I saw it," Bill agreed. "What can it be?"
"I don't know, Bill; let's run around to the back. There might be—it's awful to think of—but there might be a fire."
The boys ran down a narrow lane by the side of the works onto a piece of waste ground behind.
"Look, Bill, look at the glare in the molding-room. There must be fire. Here, help to put this bit of old timber against the wall."
The piece of wood was placed into position, the two lads climbed up it onto the wall, and dropped into the yard within. Just as they did so there was a clatter of falling glass, followed by a glare of light as a body of flame burst out from one of the windows.
"Let's ring the dinner-bell, Bill; that will call people's attention, and then we must do the best we can."
They ran along until they reached the front gate, and then, seizing the bell-rope, rang it violently.
In a minute or two there was a clatter of feet outside, and shouts of "What's the matter?"
"There is a fire in the molding-room," George shouted; "run for the engines, someone, and break the gate open. Now come on, Bill."
The two boys ran towards that part of the building where the flames had been seen, broke a window,and climbed in. There was an almost stifling smell of burning wood and at a door at the end of the planing-room they could see a light flame flickering through the cracks of the door leading into the molding-room, which was next to it.
"Quick, Bill, screw that leather pipe onto the hydrant. We must stop it from getting through here till the engines come."
The hydrant communicated with the great tank at the top of the building, and as soon as the hose was screwed on and Bill stood with the nozzle directed towards the burning door, George turned the cock and volumes of water flew out.
The first result seemed disastrous. The door was already nearly burned through, and, as the powerful jet flew against it, it seemed to crumble away and a mass of flame darted out from the molding-room. The joists and timbers supporting the floor above the planing-room would have caught at once, but the boys deluged them with water, as also the framework of the door, and then, throwing the stream of water into the blazing workshop, they kept down the flames near the door. The smoke was stifling.
"We shall be choked, George!" Bill gasped.
"Lie down, Bill. I have heard the air is always better near the ground."
This they found to be the case, and they were still able to direct the jet of water. But three or four minutes had elapsed when the outer door of the planing-house was unlocked and Bob Grimstone andseveral other men rushed in, but were at once driven back by the smoke. George had recognized Grimstone's voice, and shouted:
"This way, Bob, the fire hasn't got through yet. Come and lend a hand, for it's gaining on us in spite of the water. You can breathe if you kneel down."
Grimstone, with two or three of the men, crawled in and joined the boys.
"What! is it you, George? How on earth did you get here?" Bob exclaimed.
"We saw a light as we were passing, and got in from behind. When we saw what it was we rang the alarm-bell, and then came on here to do what we could till help came."
"You are good-plucked, you are," Grimstone said admiringly; "but I am afraid it's not much good."
"You take the hose, Bob, and keep the rafters drenched there. Bill and I will crawl forward and clear the shavings out of the way if we can. They have caught half a dozen times already."
The two boys crawled forward, and although the heat was tremendous they managed to clear away the shavings for a considerable distance. The smoke and heat were so great that they were obliged to crawl back into the outer air, where for a while they lay almost insensible. There were crowds of men in the yard now, but most of them were round at the back, powerless to aid at present, and onlywatching the flames as they roared through the whole of the windows of the molding-room.
Men were hurrying past with buckets of water, and one of them, seeing the condition of the boys, dashed some over their heads and faces, and they presently staggered to their feet. It was now a quarter of an hour since they had first given the alarm, and they were just about to re-enter the planing-shop to rejoin Bill when they met him and his comrades coming out.
"All the water's gone," he said; "if the engines aint here in a minute or two it will be too late."
But just at that moment there was a cheer outside, and immediately afterwards a fire-engine dashed through the gate. Grimstone ran up to the firemen as they leaped off.
"The great thing," he said, "is to prevent it spreading from that shop into this. We have been keeping it back till now, but the tank has just run dry."
While the other firemen were fitting the hose to the fire-plug just outside the gates one of them made his way into the planing-room to ascertain the exact position of affairs.
"Quick, lads," he said; "there's no time to be lost; the fire is making its way through. Another five minutes and we should have been too late to save any of this block. Is there any communication through the upper floors?" he asked Grimstone.
"Yes, there is a door on each floor,"
"Have you got any empty sacks about the place?"
"Yes, there is a pile of them in there."
The fireman gave instructions to one of his comrades, while he himself made his way into the planing-room with the hose; the other got out the sacks, and assisted by Grimstone and some of the hands drenched them with water, and then proceeding to the door on the first floor piled them against it.
"It is hot already," he said as he laid his hand upon it. "Now, do you men bring me buckets of water. Keep the sacks drenched till another engine comes up."
George and Bill, finding they could be of no more use, made their way out to the back and joined the crowd watching the flames, which had already spread to the first floor. They were, however, with the rest of the lookers-on, speedily turned out of the yard by the police, who, having now arrived in sufficient strength, proceeded at once to clear the premises of all save a score or two of men who were engaged in assisting the firemen.
As the boys went out through the front gate another engine dashed up at full speed, dropping lighted cinders on its way.
"Hurray!" Bill said; "this is a steamer. I expect they will do now."
Then the boys made their way round again to the back, and by means of the pieces of timber established themselves on the wall, where they were soonjoined by a number of others, and watched the struggle with the flames.
In half an hour six engines were on the spot; but even this force had no visible effect upon the flames in that portion of the building in which they had taken possession, and the firemen turned the whole of their efforts to prevent it from spreading.
The party wall dividing it from the main building was a very strong one; but so hot had it become that the floor boards touching it were over and over again in flames.
A score of men with saws and axes cut away the flooring adjoining the doors on the first and second stories. The planing-room was fortunately not boarded. While a portion of the fire brigade worked unceasingly in preventing the spread of the flames in this direction, the rest turned their attention to the great wood piles, which were repeatedly ignited by the fragments of burning wood.
Presently the roof fell in, and the flames shot up high into the air, but grand as the sight was, the boys did not wait any longer looking on. Their faces smarted severely from the heat to which they had been exposed; their hands had been a good deal burned by the shavings; their hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes were singed, and the eyeballs ached with the glare.
"I will run home now, Bill; mother will likely enough hear of the fire, and as we said we should be back soon after eight she will be getting anxious."
"I will go and tell her it's all right; you stop and see the end of it here."
But this George would not hear of.
"Very well, then, I will go with you. I must get some grease or something to put on my face and hands; they are smarting awfully."
Mrs. Andrews gave an exclamation of surprise and alarm as the boys entered. The irritation of the wood smoke had so much inflamed their eyes that they could scarcely see out of them, and their faces looked like pieces of raw beef.
"Whatever has happened, boys?" she exclaimed.
"There's a great fire at Penrose's, mother; it broke out just as we were passing, so we stopped to help for a bit, and then came home to tell you, thinking that you might be anxious."
"A fire at the works!" Mrs. Andrews exclaimed; "that is dreadful. Dreadful for Mr. Penrose, and for all of you who work there; more, perhaps, for you than for him, for no doubt he is insured, and you may be out of work for months. Thank God I have plenty of work, so I dare say we shall be able to tide it over."
"It is not all burned, mother; only the molding-shop and the floors above it are on fire at present, and as there are six fire-engines at work, and they keep on arriving every minute, I hope they will save the rest; and now, mother, what can we do to our faces and hands, they are smarting awfully?"
"Dear me, George, are you burnt? I thought you were only dreadfully hot."
"We feel hot, mother, just as if our faces were being roasted."
"I will get some oil, that will be the best thing," Mrs. Andrews said, hurrying away to the kitchen, and coming back with a piece of cotton-wool, and some olive-oil in a cup.
"You are burned, George. Why, child, your hair is all singed, and your eyebrows and eyelashes. Why, what have you been doing to yourselves? There could have been no occasion to put your heads into the flames like that. Why, your hands are worse still; they are quite blistered. I had better wrap them up in cotton-wool."
"It's the inside that's the worst, mother; perhaps if you put a bit of cotton-wool there and tie it round the back it will do; we can't go out with our hands all swaddled round like that. And now, please, directly you have done we want to go down again to see the fire. Just you go up to the road corner, mother. It's a grand sight, I can tell you."
"We will have tea first," Mrs. Andrews said decidedly; "everything has been ready except pouring the water in since eight o'clock, and it's a quarter past nine now. After we have done I will put on my bonnet and walk down with you as near as I can get. I am not going to lose you out of my sight again."
So after their meal they went down together, butcould not get anywhere near the works, all the approaches now being guarded by the police. It was a grand sight, but the worst was over, and there was a general feeling of confidence in the crowd that it would spread no further. A dozen engines were at work now. Some of the firemen were on the roof, some on the stacks of timber, which looked red-hot from the deep glow from the fire. The flames were intermittent now, sometimes leaping up high above the shell of the burned-out buildings, then dying down again.
"Thank God it's no worse!" Mrs. Andrews said fervently. "It would have been a bad winter for a great many down here if the fire had spread; as it is, not a quarter of the buildings are burned."
"No, nothing like that, mother; not above a tenth, I should say. It's lucky that there was a strong wall between that and the next shops, or it must all have gone. I have heard them say that part was added on five or six years ago, so that the wall at the end of the planing-shop was an outside wall before; that accounts for its being so thick."
After looking on for about half an hour they went back home. But neither of the boys got much sleep that night, the excitement they had gone through and the pain of their burns keeping them wide awake till nearly morning. As Mrs. Andrews heard no movement in their rooms—whereas they were usually up and about almost as early on Sundays as on other days, being unable to sleep after their usualhour for rising—she did not disturb them. George was the first to awake, and looking out of the window felt sure by the light that it was later than usual. He put his head out of the door and shouted:
"Bill, are you up?" There was no answer. "Mother, are you up; what o'clock is it?"
"Up! hours ago, George. Why, it's past eleven!"
George gave an exclamation of astonishment and rushed into Bill's room. The latter had woke at his shout.
"It's past eleven, Bill, and mother has been up for hours;" and he dashed off again to his room to dress. It was but a few minutes before they came downstairs just at the same moment.
"Why didn't you wake us, mother?"
"Because I thought it better to let you sleep on, George. I guessed that your burns had kept you awake for some time."
"That they did. I thought I was never going to get to sleep," George said; and Bill gave a similar account of himself. "Still, mother, a short night does no harm for once, and you haven't been able to get to church."
"It does not matter for once, George. What figures you both are!"
"We are figures," George said ruefully. "I hardly knew myself when I looked in the glass. My eyes are almost shut up, and the skin is peelingoff my nose, and my hair is all rough and scrubby; and Bill looks as bad as I do. You are a figure, Bill!" and George burst into a fit of laughter.
"He's no worse than you, George; but come along, breakfast is waiting."
"You haven't waited breakfast for us, I hope, mother?"
"I made myself a cup of tea the first thing, boys, and had a slice of bread and butter, for I thought you might not be down for some time; but I am quite ready to join you; we have got fish. I put them down directly you called."
"Well, I am glad you are not starving, mother; and I am glad too you didn't have your regular breakfast. It would have been horrid to sit down on Sunday morning without you, when it's the only regular breakfast we get in the week."
Just as they had finished their meal there was a knock at the door. It was Bob Grimstone. Bill opened the door.
"Well, how are you to-day, lad? I thought I would just come round and see. You look pretty badly burned; and so do you, George," he added, as he followed Bill into the sitting room.
"Good-day, Mrs. Andrews."
"Good-morning, Mr. Grimstone," Mrs. Andrews said. Since her coming the Grimstones had several times come in on Sunday afternoon to Laburnum Villas. Mrs. Andrews would, indeed, have wished them to come in more frequently, for she felt muchindebted to them for their kindness to George, and, moreover, liked them for themselves, for both were good specimens of their class.
"I see you were busy last night too, Mr. Grimstone; your face looks scorched; but you did not manage to get yourself burned as these silly boys did. What a blessing it is for us all that the fire did not spread!"
"Well, Mrs. Andrews, I don't think those two lads can have told you what they did, for if they had you would hardly call them silly boys."
Mrs. Andrews looked surprised.
"They told me they lent a hand to put out the fire—I think those were George's words—but they did not tell me anything else."
"They saved the building, ma'am. If it hadn't been for them there would not have been a stick or stone of Penrose's standing now; the shops and the wood piles would all have gone, and we should all have been idle for six months to come; there is no doubt about that at all."
"Why, how was that, Mr. Grimstone? How was it they did more than anyone else?"
"In the first place they discovered it, ma'am, and rung the alarm-bell; it mightn't have been found out for another five minutes, and five minutes would have been enough for the fire. In the next place, when they had given the alarm they did the only thing that could have saved the place: they got into the planing-shop and turned on the hose there,and fought the fire from spreading through the door till we got in seven or eight minutes later. It was all we could do to stop it then; but if they hadn't done what they did the planing-shop would have been alight from end to end, and the floors above it too, before the first engine arrived, and then nothing could have saved the whole lot. I can tell you, Mrs. Andrews, that there isn't a man on the works, nor the wife of a man, who doesn't feel that they owe these two lads their living through the winter. I don't know what Mr. Penrose will say about it, but I know what we all feel."
"Why, George," Mrs. Andrews said, while her eyes were filled with happy tears at the praises of her son, "why did you not tell me about it?"
"Why, mother, there was not anything to tell," George said, "and Bob has made a great fuss about nothing. As I told you, we saw a light as we came along and when we went round behind and got on the wall we saw the place was on fire, so we rang the alarm-bell, and then turned on the hose and flooded the place with water till Bob and some more came to help us."
"It sounds very simple, Mrs. Andrews, but I can tell you it wasn't so. When we opened the door of the planing-shop it was so full of smoke that it didn't seem as if anyone could breathe there for a minute, and as we could see the glare of the flames at the other end we thought the place was gone. We should have gone out and waited for the engines ifwe hadn't heard the boys sing out that they were there; and even though we knelt down and crawled in, as they shouted to us to do, we were pretty nearly stifled. When we took the hose they crawled forward and got the shavings cleared away; that was how they burned their hands, I expect; and I hear they tumbled down insensible when they got out. Now, ma'am, they may make light of it, but if ever two young chaps behaved like heroes they did, and you have every right to be proud of them—I say of them, because although Bill's no son of yours I know he is what you and your boy have made him. He was telling me about it one day."
"Will work go on to-morrow as usual, Bob?" George asked, in order to change the subject.
"In some of the shops it will, no doubt," Bob said; "but in our shop and the floors above it it will take a day or two to clear up. I saw the foreman just now, and he tells me that a strong gang of carpenters will be put on, for both the floors are burned away at the end of the wall and pretty near twenty feet of the roof are charred. Two surveyors are coming down this afternoon to examine the wall and say whether it is safe. The walls of the shops that are burned out must come down, of course. The surveyor says that if the wall at the end of the planing-room looks pretty strong they will build up another wall against it as soon as it gets cold enough and the rubbish is cleared away for men to work; that will make a strong job of it, and there won't beany loss of time. Of course if the old one has to come down there can't be much work done in the shops till it's finished. The governor got down about ten o'clock last night. A messenger went up to him almost directly after the fire broke out, but he was out at dinner, and by the time he got down here all danger of it spreading was over. He had a talk with the foreman and arranged about the wall with him. He is as anxious as we are that there should be no delay, for there are some heavy orders in, and, of course, he doesn't want them taken anywhere else."
"Will you look at their hands, Mr. Grimstone. I don't know much about it, but they seem to be badly burned."
"That they are, ma'am," Mr. Grimstone said when he had examined them; "pretty nigh raw. If I might give an opinion, I should say as the doctor had better see them; they are precious painful, aint they, George?"
"They do feel as if they were on fire, Bob, but I don't see any use in a doctor. I don't suppose he can do more than mother has."
"Perhaps not, George, but he had better see them for all that; he may give you some cooling lotion for them, and I can tell you burns on the hand are apt to be serious matters, for the muscles of the fingers may get stiffened. I have known two or three cases like that. You had better go at once to Dr. Maxwell; he always attends if there are any accidents atthe works. You know the house, George; it is about halfway between this and the works."
"Yes, you had better go at once, boys," Mrs. Andrews said; "there, put on your hats and be off."
"I will walk with them. I must be off anyway, for the missis will be waiting dinner for me."
"Are we to pay, mother?"
"No, not till you have done, George. I dare say you will have to have your hands dressed several times."
"There won't be any occasion to pay him, Mrs. Andrews. The firm always pays the doctor in case of accidents, and you may be very sure that in this case they will be only too glad."
"Well, in any case, George," Mrs. Andrews said, "you can tell the doctor that you will pay when he says that you need not come to him again. If Mr. Penrose hears about it and chooses to pay I should not think of refusing, as you have been burned in his service; but certainly I should not assume that he will do so."
"Shall I go in with you, boys?" Bob asked when they reached the door. "I know the doctor; he attended me two years ago when I pretty nigh had my finger taken off by one of the cutters."
"Yes, please, Bob, I wish you would."
They were shown into the surgery, where the doctor soon joined them.
"I've brought these two young chaps for you to look at their hands, Dr. Maxwell. They got themburnt last night at the fire. Mrs. Andrews, the mother of this lad, wished me to say that she would pay the charges when you have done with them; but as if it hadn't been for them the works would have been burnt down as sure as you are standing there, I expect the firm will take the matter in their own hands."
"Yes, they are nasty burns," the doctor said, examining the boys' hands. "Can you open and shut them, boy?"
"I think I could if tried, sir," George said, "but I shouldn't like to try, for if I move my fingers at all it hurts them awfully."
"I see you have had oil and cotton-wool on your hands."
"Yes."
"The best thing you can do, boys, is to put on some soothing poultices. Tell your mother to get some linseed and mix it with olive-oil. I will give you a bottle of laudanum. Let her put about twenty drops of that into the oil before she mixes it with the linseed. Every four or five hours change the poultices. I think you will find that will relieve the pain a good deal. I see your faces are scorched too. You can do nothing better than keep them moistened with sweet-oil. I should advise you to keep as quiet as possible for three or four days."
"But we shall want to get to work, sir," George said.
"Nonsense! You will be very lucky if you canuse your hands in another fortnight. I will send in the usual certificate to the works."
"Will you tell the foreman, Bob," George said when they left the doctor's, "how it is we can't come to work? You tell him we wanted to, and that we hope to come back as soon as our hands are all right; because, you see, the men and boys at the shops which have been burnt down will be all out of work, and it would be awful if we found our places filled up when we went to work again."
"Don't you be afraid, George; there is no fear of your being out of work after what you have done."
"Well, what did the doctor say?" was Mrs. Andrews' first question when they returned home.
"He didn't say much, mother, except that we must not think of going to work for a fortnight anyhow, and we are to have poultices made with linseed mixed with oil, and twenty drops of laudanum from this bottle, and it must be put on fresh every three or four hours. I am afraid it will be an awful trouble."
"The trouble won't matter," Mrs. Andrews said brightly. "Did he say you were to go to bed?"
"No, mother; but we were to keep as quiet as we could."
"Then in that case, George, I think you had better go to bed."
"No; I am sure we had better not," George said. "I should toss and fidget about there horridly. Thebest thing will be for us to sit here, and then we shall be all together. And if you talk to us, and perhaps read to us, we shan't feel it half so much. What are you going to do, mother?" he asked five minutes afterwards, as Mrs. Andrews came down with her bonnet on.
"I am going to get some linseed, George, of course. I haven't got any in the house."
"But it's Sunday, mother, and the shops will be shut."
"I shall get it at the chemist's, George. They will always supply things that are needed even on Sunday. People are ill on Sunday as well as any other day, you know. I shan't be gone more than a quarter of an hour. You must keep very quiet till I come back."
The boys found a good deal of relief from the effect of the poultices, and were very much better after a good night's rest. At ten o'clock the next morning, as Mrs. Andrews was sitting at her work, with the boys both on the hearthrug in front of the fire, there was a knock at the door. It was a loud double knock, quite unlike the ordinary summons of the baker's boy, who was the only regular caller. The boys jumped up in surprise.
"Who can that be, mother?"
"We shall soon see," Mrs. Andrews said quietly.
She was not surprised, on opening the door, to see a gentleman standing there, whom, by the description the boys had given of him, she guessed to betheir employer. A little girl was standing by his side.
"Is this Mrs. Andrews?" the gentleman asked.
"I am Mrs. Andrews," the lady answered quietly.
"My name is Penrose. I have called with my daughter to inquire after the two lads—one of them your son, I believe—who so gallantly saved my place from being burned down on Saturday evening. I only heard about it late yesterday evening, when I came down to arrange about some matters with the foreman. He did not know the facts of the case on Saturday night, but had learned them yesterday, and there can be no doubt whatever, from what he says, that had it not been for the presence of mind and bravery of these two lads nothing could have saved the entire works and all the wood piles from destruction. I told my daughter this morning, and she insisted on coming down with me. You know she is already indebted to your son for saving a locket which we both greatly valued."
"Will you walk in, sir?" and Mrs. Andrews showed them into the sitting room.
Mr. Penrose had been somewhat surprised by Mrs. Andrews' manner, although the foreman, in telling him of the boys' conduct, had also stated what he knew about them.
"They are out-of-the-way sort of boys, sir," he said. "There was quite a talk about them in the shops in the spring. They lodged with Grimstone, and it seems that after they had been here at workfive months Andrews' mother, who had been ill, was coming to them, and they got Grimstone to take a house for them, and it turned out that ever since they had been at work here they had been putting by half their wages to furnish a place for her, so they must have lived on about five shillings a week each and got clothes for themselves out of it. Now, sir, boys as would do that aint ordinary boys, and there was quite a talk among the men about it. I hear from Grimstone that Mrs. Andrews is a superior sort of person, he says quite a lady. She does work, I believe, for some London shop."
Mr. Penrose, therefore, was prepared to find the boys in a more comfortable abode than usual, and their mother what the foreman called a superior sort of woman; but he perceived at once by her address that Grimstone's estimate had been a correct one, and that she was indeed a lady. The prettiness of the little sitting room, with its comfortable furniture, its snowy curtains and pretty belongings, heightened this feeling.
"I have come to see you, boys," he said, "and to tell you how indebted I feel to you for your exertions on Saturday. There is no doubt that had it not been for you the place would have been entirely burned. It was fully insured, but it would have been a serious matter for me, as I should have lost four or five months' work, and it would have been still more serious for the men to have been thrown out of employment at this time of the year, so we allfeel very much indebted to you. I hope you are not much burned."
"Oh, no, sir! our hands are burned a bit, but they will be all right in a few days. Bill and I are very glad, sir, that we happened to be passing, and were able to give the alarm and do something to stop the flames till the others came up; but we don't feel that it was anything out of the way. It was just a piece of fun and excitement to us."
"They didn't say anything about it, Mr. Penrose, when they came home, and it was only when one of the men came in next day to ask after them that I heard that they had really been of use."
"It is all very well to say so, lads," Mr. Penrose replied; "but there is no doubt you showed a great deal of courage, as well as presence of mind, and you may be sure that I shall not forget it. And now, Mrs. Andrews," he said, turning round to her, "I feel rather in a false position. I came round to see the lads, who, when I last saw them, were not in very flourishing circumstances, and I was going to make them a present for the service they had done me, and my daughter has brought them a basket with some wine, jelly, and other things such as are good for sick boys. Finding them as I find them, in your care and in such a home, you see I feel a difficulty about it altogether."
"Thank you, sir," Mrs. Andrews said, "for the kindness of your intention; but my boys—for although one is in no way related to me I feel towardshim as if he were my own—would not like to take money for doing their duty towards their employer."
"No, indeed!" George and Bill exclaimed simultaneously.
"As you see, sir, thanks to the work you were good enough to give the boys and to my needle,"—and she glanced towards the articles on the table,—"we are very comfortable; but I am sure the boys will be very glad to accept the things which your daughter has been so kind as to bring down for them, and will feel very much obliged for her thoughtfulness."
"That is right," Mr. Penrose said, relieved. "Nelly, you may as well leave the basket as it is. I am sure you don't want to carry it back again?"
"No, papa," Nelly said; and indeed even the empty basket would have been more than the child could well have carried. It had come on the top of the carriage to the railway-station, and a porter had accompanied Mr. Penrose with it to Laburnum Villas.
"You would have hardly known your young friend. Would you, Nelly?"
"I don't think I should," she said, shaking her head. "He looks dreadfully burned, and his hair is all funny and frizzled."
"It will soon grow again," George said, smiling. "The doctor says our faces will be all right when the skin is peeled off. Thank you very much, Miss Penrose, for all the nice things. It was a fortunateday indeed for us when I caught that boy stealing your locket."
"And it was a fortunate day for us too," Mr. Penrose responded. "Now, Mrs. Andrews, we will say good-by. You will not mind my calling again to see how the boys are getting on?"
"It will be very kind of you, sir, and we shall be glad to see you," Mrs. Andrews replied; "but I hope in a few days they will both be out of the doctor's hands."
"I can't shake hands with you," Mr. Penrose said, patting the boys on the shoulder, "but I hope next time I see you to be able to do so. Good-morning, Mrs. Andrews."