Yes, There'S Blood In Them--The Blood Of The Poor That They Have Sucked
From Father To Son. And All That Blood Have They Turned To
Chapter 16 Pg 114
Gold--Shining, Blood-Red Gold; But," Added He, Mysteriously, "I Will Tap
The Gold Out Of Them--I Will--Till It Shines As Red As Blood All Over
Sandsgaard! Just Wait A Minute!" And Off He Rushed Down The Slope With
The Activity Of A Deer. Woodlouse And The Swede Looked At Each Other
Meaningly, And Each Went His Way Without Saying A Word.
After The Window Had Been Broken, Marianne Quickly Put Out The Light.
She Took Her Petticoat, And Tried To Stop Up The Window, But The Wind
Was Blowing So Hard That She Could Not Manage To Make It Tight. She
Shivered With The Cold As She Stood, And Hurriedly Got Into Bed. But
Every Time A Blast Came She Felt The Cold Draught, And Could Not Get
Warm.
In The Room Below She Heard Her Grandfather Stumbling About, Drinking Up
What Was Left In The Glasses. Marianne Clasped Her Hands, And Prayed
That She Might Die; But In The Night She Got Up, And Felt Herself
Throbbing With Heat And Shivering With Fever. She Thought She Could Hear
A Tumult, And The Sound Of Many Voices.
Chapter 17 Pg 115
Mrs. Garman Had Already Gone To Bed After Her Long And Tiring Day.
Madeleine Had Also Slipped Out Of The Way, As She Always Tried To Do
When Fanny Came. Both Fanny And Morten Were At Sandsgaard That Evening.
The Latter Behaved To Madeleine Just As Before, And Was So Smiling And
Kind That Madeleine Had Often To Ask Herself If She Had Not, After All,
Been Dreaming On That Moonlight Evening.
It Was Nearly Eleven O'Clock, And Gabriel Had Just Returned From His
Expedition To The Field Above The West End. He Had Heard A Noise Up
There When He Had Gone Out To See How The Wind Was.
The Consul And Uncle Richard Were Playing Chess. Morten, Fanny, And
Rachel Were Talking Of To-Morrow'S Ball, And They Every Now And Then
Addressed Themselves To Miss Cordsen, Who Was Sitting By The Fireside
Polishing The Silver.
"It Is A South Wind, Is It Not, Gabriel?" Said The Consul, As He
Listened To The Sough Of The Wind Through The Trees.
"South-West, And Blowing Fresh, Father," Answered Gabriel.
"Good!" Said The Consul. "It Won'T Do Us Any Harm If Only The Wind
Doesn'T Get Round To The Northward, Because That Drives The Sea Right In
On To The Yard."
The Ladies Were Getting Up To Say Good Night, And Morten Was Just
Going To Brew Himself Another Glass Of Toddy, When Excited Voices
Were Heard Below. Some One Came Hurriedly Up The Staircase, The Door
Chapter 17 Pg 116
Opened, And In Rushed Anders Begmand. His Face Was As White As It
Could Be For Sweat And Pitch, His Stiff Hair Was Standing On End,
While, Hat In Hand And With His Eyes Fixed On The Young Consul, He
Began--"The--The--The"--Quicker And Quicker. It Was Quite Plain That
It Was Something Of Great Importance, And His Face Grew As Red As Fire
With The Effort. "The--The--The--"
"Sing, Will You?" Shouted The Young Consul, Stamping On The Floor.
Begmand Began Singing To A Merry Little Air, "A Fire'S Broken Out In The
Pitch-House!"
At The Same Moment Some One In The Yard Below Shouted At The Top Of His
Voice, "Fire! Fire!"
Morten Tore Aside The Blind, And The Red Glare Could Be Seen On The Dewy
Panes. Every One Sprang To The Window.
"Silence!" Cried The Young Consul, While Every One Paused And Looked At
Him. The Little Man Was Standing As Erect As An Arrow, His Eyes Calm And
Clear, And His Lower Jaw Projecting As Usual; And As If Conscious That
He Was The Chief Of The House, He Said, "A Fire Has Broken Out In The
Building-Yard. You, Morten, Go And Get The Two Engines From The
Warehouse. The Keys Are Hanging In The Men'S Bedroom. Take The
Fire-Buckets With You."
Morten Dashed Off.
"Dick, You Must Go Up To The Second Floor In The Same Building. There'S
A Large Sail There; Put It In The Sea, And Stretch It Over The Roof Of
The Storehouse. You Understand? The Storehouse Must Be Saved, Or Else--"
Uncle Richard Was Already Out Of The Door With Anders Begmand.
"Gabriel! You Run Up To The Farm! Gabriel!" Cried The Consul. But There
Was No Gabriel To Be Seen; He Had Already Vanished Through Another Door.
"Oh! What A Wretched Boy It Is!" Said The Young Consul, In Spite Of
Himself.
There Was Something Uncanny About The Black Smoke, And The Dark Red
Flame, Which Seemed Every Moment To Get A Surer Foothold, And To Gather
Strength Without A Soul To Oppose Them. Gabriel Noticed Nothing: He Saw
Only The Red Glare On The Ship, Which Loomed Against The Dark Grey Sky,
And Off He Ran Like A Madman Over The Field Above The House. When He Saw
The Ship Was In danger, Tom Robson Was His First And Only Thought, And
He Went Straight Into The House Where He Was So Well Known.
"Mr. Robson! Tom! Tom!" He Shouted Into The Dark Room, Which Smelt Like
An Old Rum-Cask. "She'S On Fire, Tom! The Ship'S On Fire!"
He Groped His Way To The Bed, And Gave Mr. Robson A Good Shaking. The
Landlady, A Slatternly Sailor'S Wife, Now Entered With A Light. Only A
Few Minutes Before, She Had Managed To Get Tom Undressed, Somehow Or
Another.
"Oh No! Can That Be Mr. Gabriel?" Said She, Drawing Her Night-Dress
Closer To Her. "Is It A Fire? Mr. Robson!" She Cried, And Helped Gabriel
Chapter 17 Pg 117
To Shake Him.
"What'S The Matter?" Muttered He In english, Turning Round His Face, All
Bruised And Bloody As He Was.
"Oh No, No!" Whined The Woman, "How Beastly Drunk He Is! Isn'T It A
Shame For Such A Fine Fellow To Make Himself Just Like A Pig? Tom! Tom!
Oh Dear Me, How Tipsy He Is!"
Without A Moment'S Hesitation, Gabriel Dashed The Contents Of The Basin
In His Face. Mr. Robson Sputtered And Blew, And Raising Himself On His
Left Arm, Swung The Right Feebly Over His Head, And Shouted, "Three
Cheers For Morten Garman! Hip--Hip---" But Before He Got To "Hurrah," He
Fell Back On His Side And Was Snoring Again. Gabriel Left The Room;
There Was Nothing To Be Done With Tom.
The
