A three-storied building was already half gutted; out of its windows roared long, fiery tongues; the structure snapped and volleyed a chorus to the sullen monotone of destruction.  The street was littered with the household belongings of the neighborhood, and from the galleries and windows near by came such a flight of miscellaneous articles as to menace the safety of those below.  Men shouted, women screamed, children shrieked, figures appeared upon the fire-lit balconies hurling forth armfuls of cooking utensils, bedding, lamps, food, and furniture, utterly careless of where they fell or of the damage they suffered.  Kirk saw one man fling a graphophone from a top window, then lower a mattress with a rope.  On all sides was a bedlam which the arrival of the firemen only augmented.  The fire captains shouted orders to the buglers, the buglers blew feebly upon their horns, the companies deployed in obedience to the bugles, then everybody waited for further directions.

Again the trumpet sounded, whereupon each fireman began to interfere with his neighbor; a series of quarrels arose as couplings were made or broken; then, after an interminable delay, water began to flow, as if by a miracle.  But except in rare instances it failed to reach the flames.  A ladder-truck, drawn by another excited company, now rumbled upon the scene, its arrival adding to the general disorder.  Meanwhile, the steady tradewind fanned the blaze to ever-growing proportions.

“Why the devil don’t they get closer?” Kirk inquired of his Jamaican companion.

Allan’s eyes were wide and ringed with white; his teeth gleamed in a grin of ecstasy as he replied: 

“Oh, Lard, my God, it is too ’ot, sar; greatly too ’ot!  It would take a stout ’eart to do such a thing.”

“Nonsense!  They’ll never put it out this way.  Hey!” Kirk attracted the attention of a near-by nozzleman.  “Walk up to it.  It won’t bite you.”  But the valiant fire-fighter held stubbornly to his post, while the stream he directed continued to describe a graceful curve and spatter upon the sidewalk in front of the burning building.  “You’re spoiling that old woman’s bed,” Anthony warned him, at which a policeman with drawn club forced him back as if resentful of criticism.  Other peace officers compelled the crowd to give way, then fell upon the distracted property holders and beat them off their piles of furniture.

For perhaps ten minutes there was no further change in the situation; then a great shout arose as it was seen that the roof of the adjoining building had burst into flame.  At this the fanfare of trumpets sounded again; firemen rushed down the street, dragging a line of hose and drenching the onlookers.  But, despite their hurry, they halted too soon, and their stream just failed to reach the blazing roof.  By now the heat had grown really intense, and the more hardy heroes in the vanguard retreated to less trying positions.  The voice of the crowd had arisen to a roar rivalling that of the flames.