"Ha, ha, ha! There you are again! I say it and I stand to it, if you had
been born in a more elevated speer you would have ris' to be something!"
"Law, professor!"
"Well, I do! and it is a pity you hadn't been! As it is, my poor boy,
you will have to be contented to do your duty 'in that station to which
the Lord has been pleased to call you,' as the Scriptur' says."
"As the catechism says, professor! The Scripture says nothing about
stations. The Lord in no respecter of persons."
"Catechism, was it? Well, it's all the same."
"Professor! look how the flames are pouring from that window! Run! run!"
And with these words Ishmael took to his heels and ran as fast as
darkness, rain, and wind would permit him.
The professor took after him; but having shorter wind, though longer
legs, than his young companion, he barely managed to keep up with the
flying boy.
When they arrived upon the premises a wild scene of confusion lighted up
by a lurid glare of fire met their view. The right wing of the mansion
was on fire; the flames were pouring from the front windows at that end.
A crowd of frightened negroes were hurrying towards the building with
water buckets; others were standing on ladders placed against the wall;
others again were clinging about the eaves, or standing on the roof; and
all these were engaged in passing buckets from hand to hand, or dashing
water on the burning timbers; all poor ineffectual efforts to extinguish
the fire, carried on amid shouts, cries, and halloos that only added to
the horrible confusion.
A little further removed, the women and children of the family, heedless
of the pouring rain, were clinging together under the old elm tree. The
master of the house was nowhere to be seen; nor did there appear to be
any controlling head to direct the confused mob; or any system in their
work.
"Professor, they have got no hose! they are trying to put the fire out
with buckets of water! that only keeps it under a little; it will not
put it out. Let me run to your house and get the hose you wash windows
and water trees with, and we can play it right through that window into
the burning room," said Ishmael breathlessly. And without waiting for
permission, he dashed away in the direction of Morris' house.
"Where the deuce is the master?" inquired the professor, as he seized a
full bucket of water from a man on the ground, and passed it up to the
overseer, Grainger, who was stationed on the ladder.
"He went out to an oyster supper at Commodore Burghe's, and he hasn't
got back yet," answered the man, as he took the bucket and passed it to
a negro on the roof.