The crowd below saw what they were attempting, and gave them a cheer of encouragement, yet with bated breath, as if they dreaded the issue.
A few seconds and they were past that danger, but still stood on the burning house at another part of the roof. Here, being suddenly drenched by spray from one of the engines, Sam and Tommy made for the shelter of a chimney-stack. As there was not room behind it for more, Laidlaw carried his light burden to another stack, and looked hastily round to see what next could be done. Just at that moment there was a wild cheer below, in the midst of which a stentorian voice came to them, as it were, on the wings of fire and smoke—“Stay where you are a minute—the escape is coming!”
“Thank God!” exclaimed Laidlaw, looking down at the fair head which rested on his shoulder. The cheeks were deadly white and the eyes closed, but the pressure of her arms showed that the girl clung to him for very life. A bright shower of sparks at the moment flew around them. “Heeven an’ pandemonium brought thegither!” he thought as he bent over to protect her. His face was very near to hers!
“My puir wee doo!” he muttered, and placed a timid kiss upon the pale cheek, which instantly coloured as if the fires around had suddenly kindled them.
“O lassie, forgi’e me! I didna mean to do tha—I railly—did—not,—but I couldna help it! I wad hae waited till ye gie’d me leave. But after a’—what for no? I thought t’ ask ye t’ gie me the right this very day. And O lassie! if I might only hope that—”
He stopped, and something induced him to do that again. At the same moment another mighty roar ascended from the crowd, and the head of the great fire-escape rose like a solemn spectre through smoke, fire, and steam, not ten yards from where he stood.
“Hooray!” shouted Tommy, for he felt that they were saved. Laidlaw said nothing, but sprang to the head of the ladder, got carefully upon it, and began steadily to descend with Susy. Sam was about to follow with old Liz, but glanced at Tommy.
“Go first, lad.”
“Arter you, mate,” said the boy, stepping politely back; “you see, tigers, like captings, are always last to leave a sinkin’ ship.”
It was neither the time nor place for ceremony. With something approaching almost to a laugh, the seaman got on the ladder as smartly as he would have taken to the shrouds of a ship, and Tommy followed.