CHAPTER XXII
FIRE!
That night it blew half a gale. Secure in a sheltered berth the Sea Scouts could make light of the elements, thankful that they were not "caught out" in the open sea.
At about one o'clock in the morning, Peter was roused by the Thetis grinding against the piles of the stage close to which she was moored. Evidently her quarter-warp had dragged the kedge.
"I'll put a fender out," decided Craddock, doubly careful since he was in charge of a strange yacht.
He turned out just as he was, barefooted and in pyjamas. But when he gained the cockpit all thoughts about putting out a fender vanished. The air was thick with driving smoke that failed to conceal a mass of deep red flame. The Snodburry mansion was on fire!
"Wake up, old man," exclaimed Peter to his slumbering chum. "Wake up! Snodburry's house is all on fire."
In the shortest possible time the Sea Scouts threw on some clothes, thrust their feet into their sea-boots and jumped into the dinghy.
A few strokes of the oars brought them to the opposite bank. Through the smoke they dashed across the lawn and up to the house, where they stumbled over the senseless form of one of the men-servants. It was a moment's work to drag him clear of the falling embers. There appeared to be no one else about on their side of the buildings. The late inmates were on the opposite end, vainly striving to quench the flames with buckets of water.
Already the whole of the ground floor was ablaze, while in one corner the flames were bursting through the roof.
"Everyone's out, I think," spluttered Peter, half choked with the fumes. "Let's release the horses and poultry. There's nothing more that we can do."
It was as well, he thought, that Carline and he had already paid a visit to the outbuildings. Up to the present the livestock were in no great danger, although the neighing horses and loudly cackling fowls were terrified by the roaring of the flames and the billowing clouds of smoke.
"There is someone, though!" exclaimed Peter, pointing to an upper window.
"Your imagination," declared Carline.
"No—look!"
A hand was fumbling with the casement. Then a face appeared, horror-stricken, gasping.
"It's old Snodburry!" exclaimed Carline. "They've forgotten all about him."
"Quick—bring a ladder!" shouted Peter. "There's one in the stable-yard."
"Stand by to steady it," said Peter resolutely, as the ladder was reared against the wall. "I'm going up—not you."
Waiting only to tie his scarf over his mouth and nose Craddock ascended the ladder. One smart blow demolished the pane of glass that enabled him to get to the casement fastening. The next instant the window was wide open, a rush of smoke well nigh forcing the Sea Scout from his precarious perch.
The room was full of smoke and in darkness. Leaning over the sill Peter groped but found nothing. Then a spurt of reddish flame darting through a charred portion of the floor revealed a huddled figure lying half way between the window and the door.
Craddock hesitated no longer. With a diving-like movement he leapt through the window on to the floor, that gave ominously as it felt his weight. With smarting eyes and painfully drawn breath he crawled over the hot floor-boards until he was able to seize the unconscious form of Mr. Snodburry, and dragged him to the window.
Then came the critical time. The senseless man was too heavy. Peter, in spite of his strength, was handicapped by the fumes, while the window sill was waist-high from the floor.
Without knowing how he managed it, Peter heaved the helpless man until his head and shoulders were without the window. Then he got astride the sill and groped for the top rung of the ladder, by this time unable to decide what to do. He was suffocating, but even in his half stifled state he realised that if he let go of his burden, Mr. Snodburry would probably break his neck by the fall.
A burst of flame from the lower window enveloped the ladder. Something had to be done, and that quickly.
"Coming, Peter!" shouted Carline.
This time Craddock did not forbid him. He was only half conscious that his chum was shouting, until Carline's head and shoulders appeared above the flame-tinged smoke.
"Let go!" bawled Carline. "I've got him."
Peter let go. Like a sack of flour the bulky figure of Mr. Snodburry vanished. There was a crash and the ladder disappeared.
Summoning up his last remaining strength Peter jumped and landed on his hands and feet upon the soft turf.
Carline, with his left arm dangling helplessly, was dragging the rescued man clear ... Brass helmets glinted in the firelight ... That was the last Peter remembered until he found himself in bed.
The two Sea Scouts admitted next afternoon that they hadn't done so badly and had got off lightly. Peter was slightly burnt about the legs and had had the greater part of his hair and eyebrows singed off; Carline had his left arm in splints with a fracture of the wrist. They were in the Cottage Hospital, and in an adjoining bed was Mr. Horatio Snodburry, whose neck had been saved at the expense of Carline's wrist.
True to his trust, Peter, declaring that he felt quite all right, went on board the Thetis that evening, where he was warmly greeted by Rex. Next day Mr. Clifton returned and Carline was sent home to Aberstour by train.
According to the usual run of things, Mr. Horatio Snodburry ought to have gratefully thanked the Sea Scouts for saving his life, and by virtue of his escape ought to have lived for ever afterwards in love and charity with his neighbours. But he did neither. Perhaps his mind was still rankling over the pound that he might have got had the Sea Scouts not assisted in recovering Farmer Thorley's ducks.