Life in the Red Brigade | Page 6

very keenly at first; but Betty, who was
young and rather pretty, asserted so earnestly that she had been
unusually happy that night in having done nothing whatever of a
condemnable nature, and backed her asseverations with such floods of
tears, that she was exonerated, and, as we have said, the cause was
reported "unknown."
It was not, however, so completely unknown as was at first supposed.
There was a certain grave, retiring, modest individual who knew the
gentleman of the house and his doings a little more thoroughly than
was agreeable to the said gentleman, and who had become aware, in
some unaccountable way, which it is impossible to explain, that he, the
said gentleman, had very recently furnished the house in a sumptuous
style, and had insured it much beyond its value. The said individual's
knowledge ultimately resulted in the said gentleman being convicted
and transported for arson!
But with all this we have nothing to do. Whatever the uncertainty that
afterwards arose as to the cause of the fire, there could be no
uncertainty as to the fire itself at the time. It blazed and roared so
furiously, that the inside of the house resembled a white-hot furnace.
Flames spouted from the windows and chimneys, glaring fiercely on
the spectators, who assembled rapidly from all quarters, as if defying
them all, and daring the firemen to do their worst. Sparks enough to
have shamed all the Roman candles ever made in or out of Rome were
vomited forth continuously, and whirled away with volumes of dense
black smoke into the wintry sky.
"It's well alight," observed a chimney-sweep to a policeman.
The policeman made no reply, although it did seem as if it would have
been quite safe, even for a policeman, to admit that the sweep was
thoroughly correct. It was "well alight," so well, that it seemed

absolutely ridiculous to suppose that the firemen could make any
impression on it at all.
But the firemen did not appear to think the attempt ridiculous. "Never
give in" was, or might have been, their motto. It was their maxim to
attack the enemy with promptitude and vigour, no matter what his
strength might be. When he crept out like a sneaking burglar from
under a hearth-stone, or through an over-heated flue, they would "have
at him" with the hand-pumps and quench him at once. When he came
forth like a dashing party of skirmishers, to devastate a wood-yard, or
light up a music-hall with unusual brilliancy, they sent an engine or two
against him without delay, and put him down in an hour or two. When
he attacked "in force," they despatched engine after engine--manuals
and steamers-- to the front, until he was quelled, and if the prey already
seized could not be wrenched from his grasp, they, at all events, killed
him before he could destroy more. When he boldly and openly declared
war, attacking the great combustible warehouses of Tooley Street,
threatening a descent on the shipping, and almost setting the Thames on
fire, they sent out the whole available army from every quarter of the
metropolis with all their engines of war--manuals, steamers, and
floating batteries, or spouteries, and fought him tooth and nail, till he
gave in. They might be terribly over-matched--as in the case of the
great fire when the gallant Braidwood fell--they might lose men, and
might have to fight day and night for weeks, but they would "never say
die," until the enemy had died and left them, tired and torn, but still
tough and triumphant victors on the field of battle.
Before the engine from Regent Street came on the ground, two manual
engines from Kensington and Notting Hill had arrived, and opened
water on the foe. At first their shot fell harmlessly on the roaring
furnace; but by the time the "steamer" had got ready for action, some
little effect was beginning to be produced. When this great gun, so to
speak, began to play, and sent a thick continuous stream through the
windows, like an inexhaustible water mitrailleuse, clouds of white
steam mingled with the black smoke, and varied the aspect of the fire,
but did not appear to lessen its fury in any degree. Just then another
manual engine dashed into the square at full gallop, and formed up.

Before it had well taken a position, another "steamer," with three horses,
came swinging round the corner, and fell into the ranks. The panting
steeds were unharnessed, the bold charioteers leaped down, the
suction-pipe was dipped into the water-trough, and the hose attached.
As two engines cannot "drink" at the same plug, a canvas trough with
an iron frame is put over the plug, having a hole in its bottom, which
fits tightly round the plug. It quietly fills,