Meanwhile, the fire was coming toward them. The breeze was carrying it in a broad swathe, two blocks wide. Its spread was assisted by the fact that, over the decades, the old Dutch ceramic tiles on the roofs had been replaced with wooden shingles. From the waterfront, it moved up the blocks between Whitehall and Broad Street, and its progress was rapid. By one o’clock, it was less than two blocks away. Half an hour later, looking from the front door along Beaver Street toward Bowling Green, Hudson saw the flames catch the roof of the last house.

A great black cloud was towering over the southern side of the street now, filled with glowing embers. He could hear the embers pattering down on the roofs of houses nearby. A house on the other side of the street was catching fire. The huge roar of the moving furnace was getting louder. Master called down to him to close the door, and he went quickly back inside.

Young Albion was very busy now. The other officers had rigged up a pulley to carry buckets of water up to him. He also had a brush with a long pole with which he could push embers off the roof. As the walls of the house were solidly built of brick, the key was to douse the woodwork and the shutters. With luck, the gutters full of water would put out the embers before they set fire to the eaves, but one of the young men had gone into the attic, with more buckets of water, to try to stop the roof timbers catching fire. Abigail had joined her father at one of the windows. Solomon was still busy at the pump.

“If I give the word,” Master ordered, “everyone must leave the house at once.” Hudson wondered if they would. The young men seemed to be enjoying themselves too much. A message came from Albion that more than half of Beaver Street was already alight.

It was almost two o’clock when flames began to crackle from the house next door. Up on the roof, Albion was exerting himself wildly. Hudson went up to help him. Flames were licking one side of the house. They poured buckets of water on that part of the roof so that the gutter would overflow down that wall. The heat was getting fierce. Albion’s face was streaked with black, and seeing tiny embers in his tangled hair, Hudson poured a bucket of water over his head, and the young man laughed. Below, they heard Master’s voice, calling out for them to leave. Hudson looked at Albion. The young officer grinned.

“I can’t hear a thing, Hudson, can you?”

“No, sir.”

And they were just pushing some more embers off the roof when Hudson noticed something. He pointed to the smoke. Albion stared, then let out a shout of triumph.

“Quick, Hudson. Tell ’em to get back. We can still save the house.”