JAMES BRAIDWOOD.
Then, about an hour after the alarm had been given, a loud explosion startled the people; a bright tongue of flame shot upward through the smoke, and seemed to strike downward also to the ground, while the whole building became a sheet of fire.
The neighbouring buildings became involved; rivers of fire burst out of windows, ran down walls, and actually flowed along the streets. It even poured on to the waters of the Thames itself. Melted tallow and oil flowed along as they burned, like liquid fire. No wonder the conflagration spread rapidly. Less than two hours after the call had been received—that is, at about six o'clock—the fire had extended to eight large warehouses.
The heat now became overpowering. Drifting clouds of smoke obscured the calm evening sky, and spread like a pall overhead. In spite of all efforts, the fierce conflagration gained continually on the men; it leaped over a space between the buildings, and attacked a block of warehouses on the opposite side. The roaring of the flames, the thick smoke, and the curious, disagreeable smells arising from the various goods which were burning, became almost unbearable.
The men suffered greatly from exhaustion; and Mr. Braidwood, seeing their distress, procured refreshments. He was dividing them among the men as he stood near the second building which had caught fire, when again a loud explosion rent the air, and the wall of the warehouse was seen to be falling.
"Run for your lives!" was the cry; and the men, seized for once with panic, rushed away. Mr. Braidwood and a gentleman with him followed; but unhappily they were not in time, and with a loud crash the huge wall fell upon them, and crushed them to the ground with tons of heavy masonry.
"Let us save them!" cried the men; and a score hurried to the spot. But again a third explosion occurred, a mass of burning material was hurled on the fatal heap, all around fell the fire, and rescue was seen to be hopeless.
THE TOOLEY STREET FIRE, 1861.