'Good God, Bruce spoke aloud, for from here he could see the reason for
that glow on the clouds. They were burning Port Reprieve.
The flames were well established in the buildings along the wharf, and
as Bruce watched one of the roofs collapsed slowly in upon itself in a
storm of sparks leaving the walls naked and erect, the wooden sills of
the windows burning fiercely. The railway buildings were also on fire,
and there was fire in the residential area beyond the Union
Mini&e offices and the hotel. Quickly Bruce looked towards St.
Augustine's. It was dark, no flames there, no light even, and he felt a
small lift of relief.
'Perhaps they have overlooked it, perhaps they're too busy looting,' and
as he looked back at Port Reprieve, his mouth hardened.
'The senseless wanton bastards!' His anger started as he watched the
meaningless destruction of the town.
'What can they possibly hope to gain by this?' There were new fires
nearer the hotel. Bruce turned to the man behind him.
'We will rest here, but there will be no smoking and no talking.'
He heard the order passed back along the line and the careful sounds of
equipment being lowered and men settling gratefully down upon the gravel
embankment. Bruce unslung the case that contained his binoculars. He
focused them on the burning town.
It was bright with the light of fires and through the glasses he could
almost discern the features of the men in the streets. They moved in
packs, heavily armed and restless. Many carried bottles and already the
gait of some of them was unsteady. Bruce tried to estimate their numbers
but it was impossible, men kept disappearing into buildings and
reappearing, groups met and mingled and dispersed.
He dropped his glasses on to his chest to rest his eyes, and heard
movement beside him in the dark. He glanced sideways. It was Ruffy, his
bulk exaggerated by the load he carried; his rifle across one shoulder,
on the other a full case of ammunition, and round his neck half a dozen
haversacks full of grenades.
'Looks like they're having fun, hey, boss?'
'Fifth of November,' agreed Bruce. 'Aren't you going to take a
breather?'
'Why not?' Ruffy set down the ammunition case and lowered his great
backside on to it.
'Can you see any of those folks we left behind?' he asked.
Bruce lifted the glasses again and searched the area beyond the station
buildings. It was darker there but he made out the square shape of the
truck standing among the moving shadows.
'The truck's still there,' he murmured,' but I can't see At that moment
the thatched roof of one of the houses exploded upwards in a column of
flame, lighting the railway yard, and the truck stood out sharply.
'Yes,' said Bruce, 'I can see them now.' They were littered untidily
across the yard, still lying where they had died.
Small and fragile, unwanted as broken toys.
'Dead?' asked Ruffy.
'Dead,' confirmed Bruce.
'The women?'
