Fighting the Flames by R. M. Ballantyne (rooftoppers .TXT) đ
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «Fighting the Flames by R. M. Ballantyne (rooftoppers .TXT) đ». Author R. M. Ballantyne
âGracious!â exclaimed the horrified Mrs Denman, âwas she killed?â
âNo, maâam, she warnât killed. Be good luck they was only stunned anâ dreadful skeared, but no bones was broken.â
Mrs Denman found relief in a sigh.
âWell, maâam,â continued Joe, âlet me advise you to sweep yer chimleys once a month. When your chimley gets afire the sparks they get out, and when sparks get out of a windy night thereâs no tellinâ what they wonât light up. Itâs my opinion, maâam, that them as makes the laws should more nor double the fines for chimleys goinâ afire. But suppose, maâam, your house gets alight in spite of youâwell then, the question is whatâs best to do?â
Mrs Denman nodded her old head six or seven times, as though to say, âThat is precisely the question.â
âIâll tell you, maâam,ââhere Joe held up the fore-finger of his right hand impressively. âIn the first place, every one in a house ought to know all the outs and ins of it, âcause if youâve got to look for things for the first time when the cry of âFireâ is raised, itâs not likely that youâll find âem. Now, dâye know, or do the servants know, or does anybody in the house know, where the trap in the roof is?â
Mrs Denman appeared to meditate for a minute, and then said that she was not sure. She herself did not know, and she thought the servants might be ignorant on the point, but she rather thought there was an old one in the pantry, but they had long kept a cat, and so didnât require it.
âOch!â exclaimed Joe, with a broad grin, âsure itâs a trap-door Iâm spakinâ of.â
Mrs Denman professed utter ignorance on this point, and when told that it ought to be known to every one in the house as a mode of escape in the event of fire, she mildly requested to know what she would have to do if there were such a trap.
âWhy, get out on the roof to be sure,â (Mrs Denman shivered) âand get along the tiles to the next house,â (Mrs Denman shut her eyes and shuddered) âanâ so make yer escape. Then you should have a ladder fixed to this trap-door so as it couldnât be took away, and ye should have some dozen fathoms oâ half-inch rope always handy, cause if ye was cut off from the staircase by fire anâ from the roof by smoke ye might have to let yourself down from a windy. Itâs as well, too, to know how to knot sheets and blankets together, so that the ties wonât slip, for if you have no rope theyâd be better than nothinâ. You should also have a hand-pump, maâam, and a bucket of water always handy, âcause if you take a fire at the beginninâ itâs easy put out. Anâ itâs as well to know that you should go into a room on fire on your hands and knees, with your nose close to the groundâjust as a pinter-dog goesââcause thereâs more air there than overhead; anâ itâs better to go in wiâ the hand-pump the first thing. Donât wait to dress, maâam.â
âStop, stop, Mr Corney!â cried Mrs Denman, holding up her hand.
The little lady was stunned with the rapid utterance of the enthusiastic fireman, and with the dreadful suggestion that she, Mrs Denman, should, in the dead of night, get upon the roof of her dwelling and scramble over the tiles, or let herself down by a rope from a window into the public street, or creep into a burning room on her hands and knees with her nose to the ground like a pointer, and all this, too, in her night-dress, so she begged of him to stop, and said:
âBut you forget, fireman, it is impossible for me to do any of these dreadful things.â
âWell, maâam,â returned Joe coolly, âit wouldnât be easyâthough, for the matter oâ that, itâs wonderful what people will do for their lives; but I was tellinâ ye, maâam, what ought to be done, so as somebody else in the house might do it, if you couldnât.
âBut suppose, maâam,â continued Joe, without waiting for a reply; âsuppose that the house is alight. Well, the first thing youâve got to do, is not to get into a fluster. That canât do no good, you know, and is sure to do mischief. Keep cool. Thatâs the first thing, maâam; and be deliberate in all ye do. The second thing is, to wrap a blanket round ye, anâ get out of the house as fast as ye can without stoppinâ to dress. Itâs of no use lookinâ put out, maâam; for itâs better to escape without yer cloâes than to be burnt alive in âem. Then be careful to shut all doors after ye as ye go. This keeps the air from gittinâ at the fire, and so smothers it down till the ingines come up. Also keep all windows shut. If the smoke is like to choke ye, git yer nose as near the ground as possible, anâ go along on yer hands and knees. A bit oâ flannel or a worsted sock held over yer mouth anâ nose, will help you to bear it better.
âIf ye canât escape by the street-door, or the trap in the roof, then get into a front room, where you will be more easy to be got at wid ladders or fire-escapes, anâ see that every mimber oâ the household is there. Many a wan has bin forgotten in the hurry-skurry of a fire, and left asleep in bed, ignorant oâ the danger till too late; when a cool head might have missed âem, and wakened âem in time. Whatever ye do, maâamâkeep cool.â
The probability of poor Mrs Denman keeping cool in such circumstances was uncommonly small; for she was at that moment hot all over, and her face flushed at the mere recital of such horrors!
Joe then went on to state, that the very last thing she should do was to jump from a window (a somewhat unnecessary piece of advice, poor Miss Denman thought), and that, when she was compelled to take such a step, she should first of all pitch over all the blankets and bedding she could lay hold of to make her fall easy. He wound up with an emphatic reiteration of the assurance that her only chance lay in âkeeping cool.â
That night, poor Mrs Denman, in a condition of mind that is utterly indescribable, because inconceivable, went through the whole of the dreadful processes which Joe had described; and did it, too, with miraculous presence of mind and energyâin her dreams.
Gorman was one of those peculiar characters who, in personal appearance, are totally devoid of peculiarity. He was a middle-sized, thick-set, commonplace, grave, quiet man; very powerfulâbut not apparently so; one whom it was impossible to âfind outâ unless he chose to let himself be found out. Above all, he was a reserved man.
Everybody knew well enough, at least among his intimates, that he was named Gorman; but not one of the number knew what his Christian name was. A few were aware that he signed himself âD. Gormanâ; but whether the âDâ represented David, dastard, drunkard, or demon, was a matter of pure speculation to all, a few of his female acquaintance excepted (for he had no friends), who asserted roundly that it represented them all, and some were even willing to go the length of saying that it represented more, and stood for dirty, drivelling, desperate, and a few other choice words which it is quite unnecessary to mention. Only a few, and these were among the knowing and peculiarly observant ones of Gormanâs intimates, said that âDâ stood for âdeep.â But then, many of those who thus pronounced their opinion, were comparatively worthless characters, given to scandal and slander; so the reader must not allow himself to be biassed too much by their report.
Certain it is, however, that when Gorman was asked on one occasion what his Christian name was, he replied that he had no Christian name; because he didnât believe in Christianity, and that he signed himself âD,â to be distinguished from the other Gormans who might chance to exist in the universe.
People were not at all shocked at his bold statement of unbelief; because, in the circle in which he moved, the same disbelief was pretty general.
Besides many other traits and qualities, definable and indefinable, Gorman had the power of assuming the appearance either of a burglar of the lowest type, or a well-to-do contractor or tradesman. A slight change in dress and manner were sufficient to metamorphose him beyond recognition.
Everybody knew, also, that Gorman was the landlord of a small public-house at the corner of a dirty street, not far from London Bridge; and that he kept a stout, middle-aged man on the premises to do the duty of host, while he himself went about âother business,â which nobody knew of, and which no one could find out, although many had tried to do so with all their might.
Every day in the year, Gorman might have been seen at the âGolden Swanâ; but never for longer than a few minutes at a time, when he inspected the books, received the cash drawn the day before; and made an impression on all in the premises, that tended to convince them they were well looked after.
âHumph!â ejaculated Gorman, as he finished counting the dirty coppers and pieces of silver which his agent had delivered to him, and dropped them from his dirty fingers into a dirty leather bag: âBusiness is dull, I think.â
âIt ainât brisk just now, sir,â replied the deputy-landlord of the âGolden Swan.â
Gorman received this reply with another âHumph,â and then, putting the bag in his coat pocket, prepared to leave.
âNo one bin askinâ for me?â inquired Gorman.
âNo, sir; no one.â
âIâll be back to-morrow about this time.â
The deputy knew that this was false, for his employer invariably came at a different hour each day, in order to take âthe houseâ by surprise; but he said, âVery well, sir,â as usual.
âAnd mind,â continued Gorman, âthat
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