Meantime, the Fire Department had arrived upon the scene with a couple of engines, a hose reel and other fire-fighting apparatus, the firemen greatly hampered in their operations.
Swinging his car back through the crowd, Maitland made his way to the street, and set to work to clear the space immediately in front of the foundry. Parking his cars at one end of the street, and forming his men up in a single line, he began slowly to press back the crowd. It was slow and difficult work, for the crowd, unable to recognise his ununiformed special constables, resented their attack.
He called Victor to his side. “Get a man with you,” he said, “and bring up two cars here.”
“Come along, Rupert,” cried Victor, seizing Stillwell, and together they darted back to where the cars stood. Mounting one of the cars, Maitland shouted in a loud voice:
“The Chief of Police wants this street cleared. So get back, please! We don't wish to hurt anyone. Now, get back!” And lining up level with the cars, the special constables again began to press forward, using their axe handles as bayonets and seeking to prod their way through.
High up on a telegraph pole, his foot on one of the climbing spikes, was a man directing and encouraging the attack. As he drew near, Maitland discovered this man to be no other than Tony, wildly excited and vastly enjoying himself.
“Come down, Tony!” he said. “Hurry up!”
“Cheerio, Captain!” shouted Tony. “What about Festubert?”
“Come down, Tony,” said Maitland, “and be quick about it!”
“Sorry, can't do it, Captain. I am a fixture here.”