“For Heaven’s sake, Hepburn!” said Sir Charles, “go down and see what new trouble is this. I will come in five minutes, if more help is needed.” At the word, Captain Hepburn disengaged himself from the press, and hurried off. On his way he met a boat’s crew of his own “Erratics,” who, headed by Maurice, were hastening to afford assistance, and who now, with a joyous cheer, as they saw their captain, placed themselves under his orders. They reached the spot; one house was on fire; a large store belonging to three women, which had been but recently built of brick, and now stood alone, the first of a new block. Oh, horror! there were the forms of the wretched inmates at an upper window, whither they had fled from the flames below; the stair-case was consuming; their retreat was cut off. Already had a messenger been sent for a ladder, and as the party of sailors came up, men were seen approaching with one on their shoulders. But at this moment a cry was raised, from whence it came they knew not, that there was powder in the house, and the crowd shrank back in terror. “Better three women than hundreds should perish,” was murmured round. The flames flashed brighter, the black smoke curled thicker every moment. Captain Hepburn sprang forward, and laid his hands upon the ladder which the dastards who bore it had thrown to the earth in their hurried retreat. “What, my men! ‘Erratics’ afraid of powder when a woman is in peril! You have all had _mothers_!” “Ay, ay, sir!” shouted the gallant fellows to a man, and assembled round him. “We’ll heave up the ladder, sir,” said one noble seaman, “if _you_ will keep out of danger; ay, and if needs be, go aloft ourselves. ‘Erratics’ fear neither powder nor smoke;” and as he spoke, the ladder was carried to the house, and in a second run up to the roof, where the three terrified women had crept for safety from a garret window. Captain Hepburn stood at the foot to steady it; Maurice was by his side. In a few, but peremptory words, he ordered all his men back; he would remain alone: the instinct of obedience prevailed; slowly and unwillingly the sailors retired, scarce condescending even then to stand out of danger. The ladder was so frail that the least experienced eye could see that it would not bear the weight of two persons at once, and yet the women, even in their perilous position, half hesitated to trust themselves to their only chance of escape. “Down! down!” shouted the men, in an ecstasy of impatience, “every moment you delay you risk the captain’s life.” Captain Hepburn tried to speak words of encouragement, and at length one, the boldest, ventured the attempt and descended in safety. “Go, Maurice,” said Captain Hepburn to his brother-in-law, as they together watched her progress; “go back with her; you are not wanted here.” “Never while you are in danger,” was the lieutenant’s resolute reply.