Even as I looked at that stately home, Oliver touched my shoulder, and pointed towards it.
"Look!" he cried, "it is on fire!"
'Twas true, both the barrack and the house were in flames, and as we looked they burst out of one of the windows of the mansion, and licked their fiery tongues upwards as though rejoicing in their mad fury at the disaster they were creating. Higher they crept—higher, as if to climb upwards to their friend the red sun, as he hung above them—embracing the great white house in their fiery clutches, like the eager lover as he catches his cold lady in his passionate embraces, and presses her to him, while she hangs listless and silent in his arms.
The sailors had reached us, and the boats were ready to put out for the ships.
Drake approached me.
"Art ill, Sir Thomas?" he asked uneasily, "if so, my leech will attend thee."
I shook my head, for I could not speak. I was faint and sick; my head reeled as though I had been struck down by some heavy hand; my feet trembled under me from weakness and exhaustion—I was almost finished.
The lad spoke up:
"Aye, Sir Francis, if thou wilt but help me with him to the boat. He is ill, and when we reach the ship thy man shall attend him."
And so with hair dishevelled, and bloodshot eyes, like an old man, trembling and feeble, I staggered to the boat between Drake and Oliver. Laying me upon a seat, they pulled off. I glanced back only once; the fire had ascended to the roof, and the whole house was wrapped in flames; the barrack had burned down to the ground and lay in ashes.