Jacob Worse was running in front, shouting and giving his orders.

He gave her a hurried greeting as he passed, and away rumbled the engine towards the ship-yard.

It struck Rachel that his face was the only one that showed any feeling of sympathy or sorrow; all the rest appeared indifferent, and some showed, openly enough, that they thought the fire glorious sport.

Rachel turned away and went into the house.
All this time the young Consul was standing at the corner window, on the north side of the small sitting-room.

The pitch-house was now blazing inside; the flames came bursting out of the door, and followed the line of melted pitch which flowed along the ground.