Noble House

"Ian, we'd better get the hell out of here," Bartlett said.
"Yes. Quillan, would you please lead the way and take charge of the deck," Dunross said. "I'll hold this end."
Gornt turned and roared, "Everyone this way! You'll be safe on deck . . . one at a time. . . ." He opened the door and positioned himself by it and tried to bring order to the hasty retreat—a few Chinese, the remainder mostly British. Once in the open everyone was much less frightened and grateful to be away from the smoke.
Bartlett, waiting in the room, felt excitement but still no fear for he knew he could smash any one of the windows and get Casey and himself out and into the sea. People stumbled past. Flames from the dumbwaiter increased and there was a dull explosion below.
"How you doing, Casey?"
"Okay."
"Out you go!"
"When you go."
"Sure." Bartlett grinned at her. The room was thinning. He helped Lady Joanna through the doorway, then Havergill, who was limping, and his wife.
Casey saw that Orlanda was still frozen to her chair. Poor girl, she thought compassionately, remembering her own absolute terror in her own fire. She went over to her. "Come on," she said gently and helped her up. The girl's knees were trembling. Casey kept her arm around her.
"I … I've lost … my purse," Orlanda muttered.
"No, here it is." Casey picked it up from the chair and kept her arm around her as she half-pushed her past the flames into the open. The deck was crowded but once outside Casey felt enormously better.
"Everything's fine," Casey said encouragingly. She guided her to the railing. Orlanda held on tightly. .Casey turned back to look for Bartlett and saw both him and Gornt watching her from inside the room. Bartlett waved at her and she waved back, wishing he were outside with her.
Peter Marlowe herded his wife onto the deck and came up to her. "You all right, Casey?"
"Sure. How you doing, Fleur?"
"Fine. Fine. It's . . . it's rather pleasant outside, isn't it?" Fleur Marlowe said, feeling faint and awful, petrified at the idea of jumping from this great height. "Do you think it's going to rain?"
"The sooner the better." Casey looked over the side. In the murky waters, thirty feet below, sampans were beginning to collect. All boatmen knew that those on the top would have to jump soon. From their vantage they could see that the fire possessed most of the firs! and second decks. A few people were trapped there, then one man hurled a chair through one of the windows, broke the glass away, scrambled through and fell into the sea. A sampan darted forward and threw him a line. Others who were trapped followed. One woman never came up.
The night was dark though the flames lit everything nearby, casting eerie shadows. The crowds on the wharf parted as the screaming fire engines pulled up. Immediately Chinese firemen and British officers dragged out the hoses. Another detachment joined up to the nearby fire hydrant and the first jet of water played onto the fire and there was a cheer. In seconds six hoses were in operation and two masked firemen with asbestos clothing and breathing equipment strapped to their backs rushed the entrance and began to drag those who were lying unconscious out of danger. Another huge explosion sprayed them with burning embers. One of the firemen doused everyone with water then directed the hose back on the entrance again.
The top deck was empty now except for Bartlett, Dunross and Gornt. They felt the deck sway under them and almost lost their footing. "Jesus Christ," Bartlett gasped, "we going to sink?"
"Those explosions could've blown her bottom out," Gornt said urgently. "Come on!" He went through the door quickly, Bartlett followed.
Now Dunross was alone. The smoke was very bad, the heat and stench revolting him. He made a conscious effort not to flee, dominating his terror. At a sudden thought he ran back across the room to the doorway of the main staircase to make sure there was no one there. Then he saw the inert figure of a man on the staircase. Flames were everywhere. He felt his own fear surging again but once more he held it down, darted forward and began to drag the man back up the stairs. The Chinese was heavy and he did not know if the man was alive or dead. The heat was scorching and again he smelt burning flesh and felt his bile rising. Then Bartlett was beside him and together they half-dragged, half-carried the man across the room out onto the deck.
"Thanks," Dunross gasped.
Quillan Gornt came over to them, bent down and turned the man over. The face was partially burned. "You could have saved yourself the heroics. He's dead."
"Who is he?" Bartlett asked.
Gornt shrugged. "I don't know. Do you know him, Ian?"
Dunross was staring at the body. "Yes. It's Zep . . . Zeppelin Tung."
"Tightfist's son?" Gornt was surprised. "My God, he's put on weight. I'd never have recognized him." He got to his feet. "We'd better get everyone ready to jump. This boat's a graveyard." He saw Casey standing by the railing. "Are you all right?" he asked, going over to her.
"Yes, thanks. You?"
"Oh yes."
Orlanda was still beside her, staring blankly at the water below. People were milling around the deck. "I'd better help get them organized," Gornt said. "I'll be back in a second." He walked off.
Another explosion jarred the boat again. The list began to increase. Several people climbed over the side and jumped. Sampans went in to rescue them.
Christian Toxe had his arm around his Chinese wife and he was staring sourly overboard.
"You're going to have to jump, Christian," Dunross said.
"Into Aberdeen Harbor? You must be bloody joking old chap! If you don't bounce off all the bloody effluvia you'll catch the bloody plague."
"It's that or a red-hot tail," someone called out with a laugh.
At the end of the deck Sir Charles Pennyworth was holding on to the railing as he worked his way down the boat encouraging everyone. "Come on, young lady," he said to Orlanda, "it's an easy jump."
She shook her head, petrified. "No … no not yet … I can t swim."
Fleur Marlowe put her arm around her. "Don't worry, I can't swim either. I'm staying too."
Bartlett said, "Peter, you can hold her hand, she'll be safe. All you have to do, Fleur, is hold your breath!"
"She's not going to jump," Marlowe said quietly. "At least, not till the last second."
"It's safe."
"Yes, but it's not safe for her. She's enceinte. "
"What?"
"Fleur's with child. About three months."
"Oh Jesus."
Flames roared skyward out of one of the flues. Inside the top deck restaurant tables were afire and the great carved temple screens at the far end were burning merrily. There was a great gust of sparks as the inner central staircase collapsed. "Jesus, this whole boat's a firetrap. What about the folk below?" Casey asked.
"They're all out long ago," Dunross said, not believing it. Now that he was in the open he felt fine. His successful domination of his fear made him light-headed. "The view here is quite splendid, don't you think?"
Pennyworth called out jovially, "We're in luck! The ship's listing this way so when she goes down we'll be safe enough. Unless she capsizes. Just like old times," he added. "I was sunk three times in the Med."
"So was I," Marlowe said, "but it was in the Bangka Strait off Sumatra."
"I didn't know that, Peter," Fleur said.
"It was nothing."
"How deep's the water here?" Bartlett asked.
"It must be twenty feet or more," Dunross said.
"That'll be en—" There was a whoopwhoopwhoop of sirens as the police launch came bustling through the narrow byways between the islands of boats, its searchlight darting here and there. When it was almost alongside the Floating Dragon, the megaphone sounded loudly, first in Chinese, "All sampans clear the area, clear the area . . ." Then in English, "Those on the top deck prepare to abandon ship! The hull's holed, prepare to abandon ship!"