THE FIRE 



and deserted streets, beneath balconies that over- 

 hung, past walls over which nodded tufted palms, 

 until a loud and increasing murmuring told us we 

 were nearing the centre of disturbance. Shortly we 

 came to the outskirts of the excited crowd, and 

 beyond them saw the red furnace glow. 



^^Semeelay! SemeelayT^ warned Mohamet authori- 

 tatively; and the bystanders, seeing a white face, 

 gave me passage. 



All of picturesque Mombasa was afoot — Arabs, 

 Swahilis, Somalis, savages, Indians — the whole lot. 

 They moved restlessly in the narrow streets; they 

 hung over the edges of balconies; they peered from 

 barred windows; interested dark faces turned up 

 everywhere in the flickering light. One woman, 

 a fine, erect biblical figure, stood silhouetted on a 

 flat housetop and screamed steadily. I thought 

 she must have at least one baby in the fire, but it 

 seems she was only excited. 



The fire was at present confined to two buildings, 

 in which it was raging fiercely. Its spread, however, 

 seemed certain; and, as it was surrounded by ware- 

 houses of valuable goods, moving was in full swing. 

 A frantic white man stood at the low doorway of one 

 of these dungeonlike stores hastening the movements 

 of an unending string of porters. As each emerged 

 bearing a case on his shoulder, the white man urged 



los 



