He felt stiff and decided he wanted to go to bed. Very cautiously he got to his feet and stumbled to the kitchen door. Inside, he found he wanted a cup of tea. That would make him feel better, but instinct told him he was not capable of handling a kettle of boiling water. He did not want to get scalded. He rested against the edge of the kitchen table, feeling sorry for himself, wanting no more than a cup of tea yet afraid to make it … Well, he would have a cigarette. That would be a little comfort. With dazed deliberation he took one from a packet, lit it, blew out the match, threw it on the floor. Let her pick it up and be damned to her!
The cigarette smoked, he went quite steadily to his room. It was stifling hot. He pulled off his shirt and threw himself on the bed …
All energy in the house was suspended, with one minute exception. In the attic Althea slept naked on the sheet. Her Great Dane panted on the floor, his muzzle dry in the heat. The tortoise dozed inside his cool shell. The exception was the cigarette-end that Raikes had dropped on the kitchen table. It lay beneath a pile of old newspapers on the shelf above. Only a faint spark showed that it was not quite out, till a gust of hot wind came in at the window and blew one of the newspapers down on the table. The tiny spark fastened on the paper as though its life depended on it. After a little, a creeping flame appeared. Then, in an instant, the paper was ablaze. Then the whole heap of papers. Then the window curtains. Then the window frames. The fire had the kitchen to itself.
Before long the smoke from it poured into the hall. The acrid smell disturbed Gem Clapperton. She sprang up and ran into the passage, into the room where her husband was sleeping.
“Eugene!” she screamed, shaking him. “The house is on fire! The house is on fire!”
He was on his feet in an instant. He might have thought she was unduly terrified had he not smelled that horrible smell of smoke. She left him and ran out screaming her sister’s name. He heard Althea coming, heard the dog bark. He ran down the stairs and saw the smoke pouring through the cracks about the door that led to the kitchen. He saw a brightness in there and heard the crackling of flames. He knew better than to open that door.
One thing he would save and that was the painting of the shipwreck. But first the fire department! Keeping good control of himself he telephoned to their office at Stead. The two girls came down the stairs, Althea, wearing a white coat, holding the Great Dane by the collar. They looked distraught.
“Get right outdoors,” he ordered. “I’ve phoned for the firemen.”
“It’s horrible. Oh, I’m so frightened,” came from his wife’s white lips. Suddenly she remembered Raikes and ran toward the back of the hall. But she heard the crackling of fire and saw the smoke coming thick from under the door.
Althea was struggling with the lock of the front door.
“You fool,” shouted Clapperton, letting himself go, giving voice to what he had always thought her to be. “We can’t have a draught here.” He herded them ahead of him into the living room and slammed that door behind them.
In here was a different world scarcely yet threatened, with only a faint smell of smoke as compared to the hall.
“Tom! Tom!” screamed Gem, and ran and scrambled through the open window after pushing out the screen.
Eugene Clapperton was taking down the painting of the shipwreck. “I’ll save my pictures,” he said.
“Hand them out to me,” said Althea. She too climbed over the sill and took the painting into her hands.
“Will the house be destroyed?” she asked.
“It’s an inferno at the back.”
“Will the fire-reels soon be here?”
“How the hell do I know?”
“Tom will be burned in his bed.”
“The devil looks after his own.”
With all speed he took the pictures from the wall and handed them out to her. She was bent double under their weight. They worked together like people of one mind to save the paintings which she loathed, and each despised the other.
Gem ran to Raikes’ window. The room was thick with smoke. She could make out the pale shape of the bed.
“Tom!” she screamed, putting her face close to the screen, holding her breath. “Tom!”
He woke, rolled over, coughed.
“Tom!” She beat on the window screen but could not get it out.
He was up now. He came to the window, thrust out the screen, threw a leg over the sill. Red flames were rushing into the room.
“Oh, Tom, darling,” she cried, and put her arm about his sleek torso. “Thank God, I’ve got you out!”
“Is the house afire?” he asked, dazed.
“Blazing.”
“Och, ’tis cruel the way the smoke has got into my lungs. Every breath’s a knife.” He pressed his hand to his breast.
“Take deep breaths of the pure air, Tom.”
The sound of men’s voices shouting came to them. A woman in one of the bungalows, up with an ailing child, had seen the red smoke issuing from the roof. She had roused her husband and he had run from door to door, knocking loudly and calling out, — “Clapperton’s is on fire!”
The alarm spread to the farmhands and stablemen at Jalna, then to the house. Now there was life everywhere. Lights came on, the pale dawn appeared in the east, the sirens of the fire reels could be heard. The bright red reels turned in at the gate. The firemen fixed their helmets more firmly. The hook and ladder were ready to go to work — the men with the fire-extinguishing chemicals were there.
Raikes, as soon as he was able, went to Eugene Clapperton and said, — “We could carry a lot of this valuable stuff out, sir, you and me.” He spoke in his normal polite voice.
“Get to work on the silver in the dining room. It’s not too bad in there.”
They went into the room together and swept the sideboard clear of silver. They put the dining room chairs through the window. Grimy sweat poured down Eugene Clapperton’s face but he was oddly exhilarated. The sense of struggle with disaster, of overcoming material loss, gave him a feeling of power that he had not lately experienced.
Now the fire chief came and spoke to him.
“A bad blaze,” he said genially. “Everything’s as dry as tinder. Everyone out of the house?”
“Everyone.”
“Fine. No need for the ladders. But I don’t think we’ll save the building.”
“It looks like that.”
The fire was spreading fast, yet still was confined to the back of the house. While Raikes and the men from the bungalows and the farm labourers from Jalna were dragging out furniture and rugs, the firemen produced a hose and soon a stream of water was drenching the living room. As fire and water struggled together it was soon seen which was the stronger.
Althea came running to Gem. She had tied up the Great Dane in safety but now her face was wild.
“The tortoise!” she cried. “I forgot him. I’ll never forgive myself. I must go to him.”
Before Gem could stop her, she flew round the house toward a side door that opened on to a passage. From this passage led a short stairway to a landing and from the landing another stairway to the top floor. The fire was on the other side of the house.
It was physically impossible for Gem to run with comparable speed. Already her back felt weak and strained. She called to the men to stop Althea, but the shouting, the giving of orders, the rush of water, the crackling of fire, smothered her voice … But now she saw her husband trotting, with sagging knees, in the direction Althea had gone.
“Eugene!” she shrieked. “Bring back Althea — she’s in there.”
He looked over his shoulder at her, put forth his strength in an automaton-like spurt, and ran into the house.
He had not, in fact, heard the words that Gem had so frantically called out to him. He thought she was imploring him to keep out of danger, and in the turmoil of his mind he felt a thrill of happiness at her solicitude for him … In the midst of the confusion he had suddenly remembered a handsome silver tea service t
hat had been presented to him by his employees at the time of his first marriage. He greatly valued this and it was kept in a locked cupboard in that same short passage.
The smoke was thickening here and the heat was almost unbearable. He fumbled for the key of the cupboard where it hung on a nail at the back. He unlocked the cupboard and threw open the door. A volume of smoke poured out. He held his breath, lifted out the tray, on it set the handsome teapot, sugar bowl, and cream jug. He held the tray in front of him and moved resolutely forward, embowered in ruddy smoke, like some grotesque picture of a grim butler. The opening of the cupboard door had let the fire through. Now it raged to get out of the cupboard.
Eugene Clapperton forgot the little step in the passage, he stumbled, he fell with a crash of silver.
Renny Whiteoak had just sprung out of his car and stood a moment appalled by the scene in front of him. Then he saw Gem Clapperton standing, helpless, wringing her hands. He ran to her.
“My sister,” she moaned. “She’s in there … And Eugene, too … He went to save her!”
Barker and Raikes came running. Gem repeated wildly, — “My sister — my husband — he went to save her.”
“I saw him go in,” said Barker. “And I said to myself — that’s risky.”
The three men went to the open door from which a black cloud of smoke shot with flame issued. It would have been madness to venture inside.
Renny came to Gem and put his arm about her shoulders. “Don’t look,” he said. “Don’t look.”
But she ran from him to where she saw Althea emerging from the shrubbery. Althea wailed, — “I daren’t go in. It was too terrible. I had to let him die. I’ll never forgive myself.” It was for the tortoise she wailed.
“Althea!” screamed Gem, in frantic joy. “You’re safe.” She clasped her sister to her.
Firemen came running with the hose and turned the stream into the doorway, but drought had made the pressure of water feeble. For a moment the fire was subdued, but only for a moment. Then the flames, like thirsty tongues, lapped up the water. Everyone now crowded outside the fatal doorway. Everyone knew that Eugene Clapperton was somewhere inside … but not living … no one could survive in that fiery trap.
Piers and his Sons joined Renny. Piers said, — “They tell me Clapperton’s dead in there. An awful end.”
Renny flung up his arm in tragic salute. “A hero’s end,” he said. “Clapperton went in to save Althea Griffith.”
“But she’s over there. She’s with her sister.”
“He thought she was in the house. His wife told me.”
“God! I wouldn’t have believed he had it in him.”
The women from the bungalows were about Gem, crying, condoling with her. Then someone shouted that the nearest bungalow was on fire, and they left her and ran screaming toward their homes. The roof of the garage too had caught fire. Raikes was pushing the smaller car along the drive to safety. Then, at risk of his life he brought out the Cadillac and had them both safe.
The firemen ran toward the bungalows with a second hose but there was nothing to attach it to. The women’s husbands, the farm workers and stablemen from Jalna fought this new fire with buckets filled with water from taps.
Now the large house was fire swept from end to end. There was no saving it. What furniture had been saved stood forlornly on the trampled lawn. A group of stalwart old pines that grew just beyond the lawn, a young one rising tall in their midst, now claimed the attention of the fire. A single bright spark sped toward the nearest. It alighted on the full plumy needles. There was no delay, no hesitation. That pine was a bouquet of fire. All its needles shone red-hot against the sky. A red spark sped to the next pine.
“The trees,” shouted Piers to the firemen. “Bring that thingamabob! That extinguisher!”
They came, their faces red beneath their red helmets. Another pine was gone. Then another and another. The firemen drenched them with the chemical. Some trees stood, one side turned red from the fire, the other still green. The young pine remained untouched. It shone green in the light of the rising sun.
Renny’s obsession was that he must get Eugene Clapperton’s body out of that furnace. Twice he was prevented by Piers and the firemen from entering the passage. Now he stood waiting with impatience for the unrestrained moment.
Piers’ son Philip stayed close to him, held by the gruesome thought of the body in there. The healthy boy had been here, there, everywhere, exhilarated by the spectacle. But now that the flames were dying down, that the house was a ruin, he remained close to this last excitement, peering into the smoking passage.
“when do you think you dare go in, Uncle Renny?”
“Now — in a minute. Everything is drenched with water. It’s safe enough.”
“They say the roof’s going to cave in.”
“I want to get him out first.”
“Can I come with you?”
“No. Stay where you are.”
He stepped in on the wet charred floor. The bitter air cut his nostrils, his eyeballs. He did not know how far into the house Eugene Clapperton had ventured. Now, after only half-a-dozen paces he stumbled over his body. He drew back in astonishment. There he was, so near to safety, yet overtaken! Renny bent down, took hold of the blackened body, and, walking backward, dragged it into the morning light. He had one look — young Philip had one look. The boy turned green.
“why —” he stammered, “I saw him yesterday.”
Renny took off his jacket and laid it over the blackened, hairless head, the blackened naked shoulders. Piers saw what he had done and hastened to his side, followed by the firemen. There was nothing more for them to do.
“You’ve got him out,” exclaimed Piers. “You shouldn’t have gone in there.”
“It was nothing. He was in the passage, near the door.”
“The smoke overcame him,” said the fire chief. “Too bad. Too bad.”
Renny turned to the men with a dramatic gesture. “Take off your helmets,” he said. “This is the body of a hero. He gave his life trying to save a life.”
Awkwardly the men pulled off their helmets and bent their heads. The ruddy sunrise blazed on the desolate scene, turned the smoke that rose from the roof to gold.
Now Noah Binns, his face sagging in disappointment, came panting toward the group. “Lands sakes,” he mourned, “I wouldn’t’a missed that blaze fer a year of my life! Oh, what a sight! Oh, what a conflaggeration! That big house nothing but a roon. What’s that there on the ground? Him, hey? Him that owned it all! Didn’t I foretell this was to be a roastin’ blazin’ summer? Folks laughed at me. Now they know.” He bent and lifted a corner of the jacket. “Here’s a sight!” He looked without flinching. “Here’s a roon! Here’s what boastful man can come to in an hour! Was anybody else burned?”
They shook their heads.
“Well, well, nobody else, eh? Danged if ever I seen a conceiteder man. He knew it all! and now — danged if he don’t know it all.”
XIX
WHAT CAME AFTER
Alayne opened the door to Renny when, an hour later, he returned to Jalna. She wore a dressing gown and her face was tense with excitement. She put out her hands and then drew back. “what a state you’re in!” she exclaimed. “why, you reek of smoke.”
“Yes … Do the uncles know?”
“They are still sleeping. They haven’t rung for their breakfast.”
“God, how am I to tell them?”
“Is the house — burned down?”
He led the way into the library and closed the door behind them.
“Yes. Just before I left the roof fell in.”
“Oh, Renny … where are the family?”
“Clapperton himself is dead.”
She turned white. He put out his hands to steady her, then withdrew them. “I mustn’t touch you,” he said.
“Eugene Clapperton is dead,” she breathed. “How — what happened?”
“This is the way he died,”
answered Renny. “His wife told him that her sister had gone back into the house. It was full of smoke then and the rear part burning. He went in to rescue Althea and — the smoke overcame him. I brought out his body myself.”
“And Althea?”
“Safe and sound. She’d never gone back. So he gave his life for nothing, you might say. But he died a hero.”
“How tragic!”
“I was never so mistaken in anyone, Alayne. You can’t know what’s in people till they are put to the test.”
“Poor man … where is his wife?”
A smile flickered across Renny’s face that was made ugly by a mingling of soot and sweat. He said, — “She and Althea are in the newest bungalow — the one I ripped the shingles off. Lord, was that only yesterday? Alayne — the bungalows caught fire. Three of them are burned. There’s only the one where the Barkers live and the new one left. I begged the girls to come here but I couldn’t persuade them.”
She tried to conceal her relief. “And they are in a place without furniture?”
“Oh, they’ve plenty of furniture. Raikes and Barker are carrying in some of what was saved. Enough to go on with.”
“Is Mrs. Clapperton terribly upset?”
“Alayne, I’ve never felt so sorry for a man. There he lies — dead. And his wife — as soon as she knew her sister was safe — showed no more grief.”
Alayne gave a little smile. “Everyone knows she didn’t love him.”
Renny broke out, — “I hated him — yes, hated! But now — I revere him, as a very brave man — a noble fellow. Alayne — don’t you think we should have his funeral from here?”
“No,” she cried. “I refuse.”
“why?”
“It would be horrible. Everyone knows how we felt about him.”
“All the greater reason.”
“where is his body?”
“At the undertaker’s.”
“Then let the funeral be from the undertaker’s. I cannot and will not endure to have him brought here.”
Renny saw that he must capitulate. “Very well,” he said reluctantly.
Books 13-16: Return to Jalna / Renny's Daughter / Variable Winds at Jalna / Centenary at Jalna Page 67