Ishmael; Or, In the Depths Part 56

"No, there's a chance of saving them, professor, and I'll risk it!" said Ishmael, preparing for a start.

"You are mad; you shall not do it!" exclaimed the professor, seizing the boy and holding him fast.

"Let me go, professor! Let me go, I tell you! Let me go, then! Israel Putman would have done it, and so will I!" cried Ishmael, struggling, breaking away, and das.h.i.+ng into the burning building.

"But George Was.h.i.+ngton wouldn't, you run mad maniac, he would have had more prudence!" yelled the professor, beside himself with grief and terror.

But Ishmael was out of hearing. He dashed into the front hall, and up the main staircase, through volumes of smoke that rolled down and nearly suffocated him. Ishmael's excellent memory stood him in good stead now.

He recollected to have read that people pa.s.sing through burning houses filled with smoke must keep their heads as near the floor as possible, in order to breathe. So when he reached the first landing, where the fire in the wing was at its worst, and the smoke was too dense to be inhaled at all, he ducked his head quite low, and ran through the hall and up the second flight of stairs to the floor upon which the boys slept.

He dashed on to the front room and tried the door. It was fastened within. He rapped and called and shouted aloud. In vain! The dwellers within were dead, or dead asleep, it was impossible to tell which. He threw himself down upon the floor to get a breath of air, and then arose and renewed his clamor at the door. He thumped, kicked, shrieked, hoping either to force the door or awake the sleepers. Still in vain! The silence of death reigned within the chamber; while volumes of lurid red smoke began to fill the pa.s.sage. This change in the color of the smoke warned the brave young boy that the flames were approaching. At this moment, too, he heard a crash, a fall, and a sudden roaring up of the fire, somewhere near at hand. Again in frantic agony he renewed his a.s.sault upon the door. This time it was suddenly torn open by the boys within.

And horrors of horrors! what a scene met his appalled gaze! One portion of the floor of the room had fallen in, and the flames were rus.h.i.+ng up through the aperture from the gulf of fire beneath. The two boys, standing at the open door, were spell-bound in a sort of panic.

"What is it?" asked one of them, as if uncertain whether this were reality or nightmare.

"It is fire! Don't you see! Quick! Seize each of you a blanket! Wrap yourselves up and follow me! Stoop near the floor when you want to breathe! Shut your eyes and mouths when the flame blows too near. Now then!"

It is marvelous how quickly we can understand and execute when we are in mortal peril. Ishmael was instantly understood and obeyed. The lads quick as lightning caught up blankets, enveloped themselves, and rushed from the sinking room.

It was well! In another moment the whole floor, with a great, sobbing creak, swayed, gave way, and fell into the burning gulf of fire below.

The flames with a horrible roar rushed up, filling the upper s.p.a.ce where the chamber floor had been; seizing on the window-shutters, mantel-piece, door-frames, and all the timbers attached to the walls; and finally streaming out into the pa.s.sage as if in pursuit of the flying boys.

They hurried down the hot and suffocating staircase to the first floor, where the fire raged with the utmost fury. Here the flames were bursting from the burning wing through every crevice into the pa.s.sage. Ishmael, in his wet woollen clothes, and the boys in their blankets, dashed for the last flight of stairs--keeping their eyes shut to save their sight, and their lips closed to save their lungs--and so reached the ground floor.

Here a wall of flame barred their exit through the front door; but they turned and made their escape through the back one.

They were in the open air! Scorched, singed, blackened, choked, breathless, but safe!

Here they paused a moment to recover breath, and then Ishmael said:

"We must run around to the front and let them know that we are out!" The two boys that he had saved obeyed him as though he had been their master.

Extreme peril throws down all false conventional barriers and reduces and elevates all to their proper level. In this supreme moment Ishmael instinctively commanded, and they mechanically obeyed.

They hurried around to the front. Here, as soon as they were seen and recognized, a general shout of joy and thanksgiving greeted them.

Ishmael found himself clasped in the arms of his friend, the professor, whose tears rained down upon him as he cried:

"Oh, my boy! my boy! my brave, n.o.ble boy! there is not your like upon this earth! no, there is not! I would kneel down and kiss your feet! I would! There isn't a prince in this world like you! there isn't, Ishmael! there isn't! Any king on this earth might be proud of you for his son and heir, my great-hearted boy!" And the professor bowed his head over Ishmael and sobbed for joy and grat.i.tude and admiration.

"Was it really so well done, professor?" asked Ishmael simply.

"Well done, my boy? Oh, but my heart is full! Was it well done? Ah! my boy, you will never know how well done, until the day when the Lord shall judge the quick and the dead!"

"Ah, if your poor young mother were living to see her boy now!" cried the professor, with emotion.

"Don't you suppose mother does live, and does see me, professor? I do,"

answered Ishmael, in a sweet, grave tone that sounded like Nora's own voice.

"Yes, I do! I believe she does live and watch over you, my boy."

Meanwhile Mrs. Middleton, who had been engaged in receiving and rejoicing over the two rescued youths, and soothing and composing their agitated spirits, now came forward to speak to Ishmael.

"My boy," she said, in a voice shaking with emotion, "my brave, good boy! I cannot thank you in set words; they would be too poor and weak to tell you what I feel, what we must all ever feel towards you, for what you have done to-night. But we will find some better means to prove how much we thank, how highly we esteem you."

Ishmael held down his head, and blushed as deeply as if he had been detected in some mean act and reproached for it.

"You should look up and reply to the madam!" whispered the professor.

Ishmael raised his head and answered:

"My lady, I'm glad the young gentlemen are saved and you are pleased.

But I do not wish to have more credit than I have a right to; for I feel very sure George Was.h.i.+ngton wouldn't."

"What do you say, Ishmael? I do not quite understand you," said the lady.

"I mean, ma'am, as it wasn't altogether myself as the credit is due to."

"To whom else, then, I should like to know?" inquired the lady in perplexity.

"Why, ma'am, it was all along of Israel Putnam. I knew he would have done it, and so I felt as if I was obliged to!"

"What a very strange lad! I really do not quite know what to make of him!" exclaimed the lady, appealing to the professor for want of a better oracle.

"Why, you see, ma'am, Ishmael is a n.o.ble boy and a real hero; but he is a bit of a heathen for all that, with a lot of false G.o.ds, as he is everlasting a-falling down and a-wors.h.i.+ping of! And the names of his G.o.ds are Was.h.i.+ngton, Jefferson, Putnam, Marion, Hanc.o.c.k, Henry, and the lot! The History of the United States is his Bible, ma'am, and its warriors and statesmen are his saints and prophets. But by-and-by, when Ishmael grows older, ma'am, he will learn, when he does any great or good action, to give the glory to G.o.d, and not to those dead and gone old heroes who were only flesh and blood like himself," said the professor.

Mrs. Middleton looked perplexed, as if the professor's explanation itself required to be explained. And Ishmael, who seemed to think that a confession of faith was imperatively demanded of him, looked anxious--as if eager, yet ashamed, to speak. Presently he conquered his shyness, and said:

"But you are mistaken, professor. I am not a heathen. I wish to be a Christian. And I do give the glory of all that is good and great to the Lord, first of all. I do honor the good and great men; but I do glorify and wors.h.i.+p the Lord who made them." And having said this, Ishmael collapsed, hung his head, and blushed.

"And I know he is not a heathen, you horrid old humbug of a professor!

He is a brave, good boy, and I love him!" said Miss Claudia, joining the circle and caressing Ishmael.

But, ah! again it was as if she had caressed Fido, and said that he was a brave, good dog, and she loved him.

"It was glorious in you to risk your life to save those good-for-nothing boys, who were your enemies besides! It was so! And it makes my heart burn to think of it! Stoop down and kiss me, Ishmael!"

Our little hero had the instincts of a gallant little gentleman. And this challenge was to be in no wise rejected. And though he blushed until his very ears seemed like two little flames, he stooped and touched with his lips the beautiful white forehead that gleamed like marble beneath its curls of jet. The storm, which had abated for a time, now arose with redoubled violence. The party of women and children, though gathered under a group of cedars, were still somewhat exposed to its fury.

Grainger, the overseer, who with his men had been unremitting in his endeavors to arrest the progress of the flames, now came up, and taking off his hat to Mrs. Middleton, said:

"Madam, I think, please the Lord, we shall bring the fire under presently and save all of the building except that wing, which must go.

But, if you please, ma'am, I don't see as you can do any good standing here looking on. So, now that the young gentlemen are safe, hadn't you all better take shelter in my house? It is poor and plain; but it is roomy and weather-tight, and altogether you and the young gentlemen and ladies would be better off there than here."

"I thank you, Grainger. I thank you for your offer as well as for your efforts here to-night, and I will gladly accept the shelter of your roof for myself and young friends. Show us the way. Come, my children. Come, you also, Ishmael."

"Thank you very much, ma'am; but, if I can't be of any more use here, I must go home. Aunt Hannah will be looking for me." And with a low bow the boy left the scene.