the hour of six
That was the beginning of the great Fishbourne fire , which burnt its way sideways into Mr. Rusper 's piles of crates and straw , and backwards to the petrol and stabling of the Royal Fishbourne Hotel , and spread from that basis until it seemed half Fishbourne would be ablaze . The east wind , which had been gathering in strength all that day , fanned the flame ; everything was dry and ready , and the little shed beyond Rumbold 's in which the local Fire Brigade kept its manual , was alight before the Fishbourne fire hose could be saved from disaster . In marvellously little time a great column of black smoke , shot with red streamers , rose out of the middle of the High Street , and all Fishbourne was alive with excitement . Much of the more respectable elements of Fishbourne society was in church or chapel ; many , however , had been tempted by the blue sky and the hard freshness of spring to take walks inland , and there had been the usual disappearance of loungers and conversationalists from the beach and the back streets when at the hour of six the shooting of bolts and the turning of keys had ended the British Ramadan , that weekly interlude of drought our law imposes . The youth of the place were scattered on the beach or playing in back yards , under threat if their clothes were dirtied , and the adolescent were disposed in pairs among the more secluded corners to be found upon the outskirts of the place . Several godless youths , seasick but fishing steadily , were tossing upon the sea in old Tarbold 's , the infidel 's , boat , and the Clamps were entertaining cousins from Port Burdock . Such few visitors as Fishbourne could boast in the spring were at church or on the beach .