That extremely vigilant body, the London Fire Brigade, had their nearest engines out in two minutes. Many of the more distant men were roused by telegraph. Though in bed, partially clad and asleep, at one moment, the next moment they were leaping into boots and pantaloons which stood agape for them. Brass-helmeted, and like comets with a stream of fire behind them, they were flying to the rescue five minutes after the yell and shriek of “Fi-i-ire!” and “Smo-o-o-oke!”
Owing to the great elevation of the garden, and its being surrounded by stacks of chimneys, it was some minutes before the sleepers there were aroused. Then, like giants refreshed, David and Sam leapt from their bunks, and, like Jack-in-the-box, Tommy Splint shot from his kennel. There was no occasion to dress. In the circumstances the three had turned in, as Sam expressed it, “all standing.”
They rushed at the door of the garret, but it was bolted on the inside. Susy, who had been awake, had heard the alarm and drawn the bolt so as to give time for hastily throwing on a few garments. The men thundered violently and tried to force the door, but the door was strong, and an instinctive feeling of delicacy restrained them for a few seconds from bursting it open.
“Susy! Susy!” roared the father; “open! Quick! Fire!”
“One moment, father. I’m dressing granny, and—”
A loud shriek terminated the sentence, for the flames, gathering headway with wild rapidity, had burst-up some part of the liquor den at the basement and went roaring up the staircase, sending dense clouds of smoke in advance.
This was enough. Laidlaw threw his heavy bulk against the door, burst lock and hinge, and sent it flat on the garret floor. Blinding smoke met and almost choked him as he fell, and Sam, tumbling over him, caught up the first person his hands touched and bore her out. It was old Liz—half dressed, and wrapped in a blanket! Susy, also half dressed, and with a shawl wrapped round her shoulders, was carried out by Laidlaw. Both were unhurt, though half stifled by smoke, and greatly alarmed.
“Ye ken the hoose, Tammy; hoo shall we gang?”
“There’s no way to escape!” cried the poor boy, with a distracted look.
One glance at the staircase convinced Laidlaw that escape in that direction was impossible. Plunging into the garret again he seized the door and jammed it into its place, thus stopping the gush of black smoke, and giving them a few minutes breathing space.