Father Always In His Thoughts, Under Whose Eye He Almost Seemed To Be
Working. And Now All Was Thus To Come To Such An Untimely End.
The Large Engine Belonging To The Town Managed To Reach Up Just So High
As To Keep The Ship'S Side Wet As Far As The Gold Stripe Which
Surrounded Her; But In Under The Stern The Water Could Not Get Properly
To Work, And Small Points Of Flame Soon Began To Break Out, And The
Consul Could Now See That The Fire Had Caught The Stern-Post.
The Side Of The Ship Which Was Towards The Fire Became So Hot That The
Steam Rose From It Every Time The Thin Stream Of Water Swept Over It.
And Now All At Once A Large Part Became Covered With Small Sparkling
Flames, Just As If Sheets Of Gold Leaf Had Been Thrown Against It, Which
Crackled In The Wind, And At Last Got Fast Hold In The Oakum Seams
Between The Planking. The Hose Played Upon Them And Swept Them Away; In
Another Moment They Were There Again. They Broke Out In Other Places,
Ever Gaining Ground, Taking Fast Hold With Their Thousand Tiny Feet
Until They Got Up To The Gold Band, And Even Beyond It; And See! The
Flames Now Seemed To Take A Spring, And Seize Upon The Name-Board, And
The Shining Letters Stood Out Amidst The Flames. It Could Be Read By
All. The Consul Saw It. There It Stood: _Morten W. Garman_. It Was The
Old Consul'S Name--His Ship--And Now What Was Its Fate?
"Look At The Young Consul; How Pale He Is!" Said One Of The Spectators
To His Neighbour.
"Where? Where Is He? I Don'T See Him."
"He Was Standing Close By The Corner Window. He Looked As Pale As Death.
I Wonder If He Was Insured?"
But The Young Consul Lay Stretched Upon The Floor, And Had Pulled Down
The Heavy Damask Curtains With Him In His Fall.
Miss Cordsen Came Into The Room. When She Saw The Consul, She Pressed
Her Hand To Her Heart, But Not A Sound Escaped Her Lips. For A Moment
She Stood Collecting Her Thoughts, Then She Knelt Down, Freed The
Curtain From His Grasp, And Lifted Him In Her Long Bony Arms.
Chapter 17 Pg 120
He Was Not Heavy, And She Managed To Raise Herself With Her Burden. At
This Moment Her Glance Fell On The Mirror Opposite. A Shudder Passed
Through Her, And It Was With Difficulty She Kept Herself From Falling. A
Whirlwind Of Recollections Swept Through Her Brain As He Lay On Her
Shoulder; And She Bore Him Along, An Aged And Withered Man. But She
Pressed Her Lips Together, And Drawing Herself Up, She Carried Him Along
Like A Child; And, As All The Doors Were Open, She Was Able To Get As
Far As The Staircase. There She Called To One Of The Maids, Who Came To
Her Assistance.
Chapter 18 Pg 121
After Uncle Richard Had Been Driven From The Roof Of The Storehouse, And
Could See That All Hope Was Over, He Went Off To Take His Turn At The
Engines. He Worked At The Pumps With All His-Might And Main, As If To
Deaden His Sorrow; But Now And Again He Looked Towards The House And
Thought, "Poor Christian Frederick!"
Jacob Worse Was Directing The Operations, And Had Had The Planking,
Which Surrounded The Building-Yard On The Side Where The Warehouses Lay,
Pulled Down In Order To Get Room For The Engines. He Managed To Get Some
Order Among The Men Who Were Handing The Water, And Drove The Idle
Spectators Up Into The Yard Near The House. As He Happened To Pass Uncle
Richard, The Latter Asked Him, "Do You Think There Is Any Hope, Worse?"
"No!" Answered Worse, In a Low Tone; "I Am Working In Sheer
Desperation."
"So Am I," Said The _Attache_, With A Nod; "But Think Of Poor Christian
Frederick."
Just Then A Murmur Went Through The Crowd, Who Could Read The Name Of
The Vessel--_Marten W. Garman._
"Why, That'S The Old Consul'S Name," Said Several Voices.
Uncle Richard Had Already Heard The Name From His Brother, And, Looking
Up, He Saw The Name Of Their Father Standing Out In Its Gold Letters
Amidst The Flames, Which Were Curling Up The Vessel'S Side. Jacob Worse
Seized The Nozzle Of The Hose, And With One Sweep Forced The Water To
Such A Height That The Fire Was Quenched For The Moment.
But Now It Was Plain To All That The Ship'S Fate Was Sealed, And Even If
There Were Some Among The Spectators Who Might Owe Garman And Worse A
Grudge, Still They Could Not But Feel That It Was A Pity For The Proud
Ship To Be Thus Doomed To Destruction.
Morten Had Returned After His Interview With His Father, And Was
Chapter 18 Pg 122
Standing Close By Uncle Richard. Every Eye Was Fixed On The Ship. The
Fire Increased Every Second, And With A Loud Roar The Flames Burst Out
Above The Roof Of The Storehouse, And At Each Blast Of Wind The
Conflagration Waxed Higher And Higher, Until The Heat By The Engines
Became Almost Intolerable. The More Furiously The Fire Raged, The More
Silent Grew The Crowd. No Orders Were Heard, And The Shouts Of
Encouragement From The Seamen Died Away; While The Strokes Of The Pump
No Longer Fell With The Same Determined Regularity. Even Jacob Worse
Lost Heart.
But Now A Shout Is Heard From A Small Boy Belonging To The West End, Who
Had Climbed Up Into The Rigging Of A Coaster Which Lay Off One Of The
Warehouses. "She'S Giving Way! She'S Off! Hurrah! She'S Off!"
A Murmur Of Disapproval Went Through The Crowd At This Ill-Timed Joke.
But See! It Almost Seems As If The Joke Were A Reality. The Excitement
Increases Every Moment, And With It Are Heard Cries Of Hope And Fear.
Yes!--No!--Yes! She Really Is Moving. She'S Off! The Pumps Are Deserted
Amidst Breathless Expectation, While The Sound Of Voices Waxes Higher
And Higher, Not Only In The Yard Itself, But Among The Crowd Who
Surround It, Till It Becomes A Cheer, A Joyous Cry Of Hundreds; Men,
Women, Boys, All Shouting They Know Not What, Till All Is Mingled In One
Tumultuous Roar.
For See! She'S Starting. The Huge Dark Mass Begins To Move; And Inch By
Inch, With Ever-Increasing Speed, The Massive Hull
