The fire in the wood was very near.
Polloch lay in shadow under a grey-black pall that curtained sunlight as smoke eddied through the darkening cantonment. Herds of red deer and delicate roe escaping the fire continued to be visible along the tree fringe shying from the sight of humans before quitting the forest, one fear being challenged by another.
Armed with beaters, the Commission men formed a defensive line. They stood well back from the edge of dense forest, keeping two metres apart, close to the row of bothies erected along the finger of clearing that held Polloch. The pumping crew had rigged a hose and been stationed some little way behind.
The aggressive roaring of the blaze increased and many knelt to reduce bodily exposure to the approaching inferno. Air shimmered, beginning to dance in its own heat.
Sparks flew overhead, falling amongst the men to singe the grassed areas around the bothies. Arms were raised to shield faces. The impossibility of maintaining position overcame the discipline that tied them together. The line of men wavered.
“Get back, fall back to the bothies,” Mackinnon shouted. To the two men manning the hose, “never mind the wood. Start soaking the houses!”
The defensive line fragmented and men fell back, cursing and coughing, towards the timber framed buildings.
Thick strands of smoke were now pouring through the edge of forest and glimpses of flame were seen. The furious roaring of fire intimidated. The temperature climbed rapidly.
Open areas between tree line and buildings soon became unbearable. The hose played water over bothy roofs and black asphalt roofing hissed and steamed.
Few of the men, and none of the planting squad, were helmeted. “Christ Almighty, Jesus Christ Almighty,” Alex was repeating angrily, his palms beating at his head where he felt his scalp burning.
Noel, his own scalp prickling hotly, joined Alex behind the gable of No2 to gain some respite. “It’s okay, we’ll be okay,” he urged, mouth at Alex ear. The big man nodded, eyes streaming, and briefly pressed Noel’s arm.
The temperature continued to soar, the roaring of the fire forcing men to shout in order to be heard and understood in drifting smoke. They began to bunch, not to be isolated by burning vegetation, red cinders flying as they wielded the long handled beaters.
Treetops flashed fire. Colder air rushed to replace hot air rising, creating gusts of wind. Plumes of flame reared skyward from the forest fringe and a tree exploded.
The heat became yet more intense and again the men retreated. The forest fringe was becoming a fiery wall. A canopy of darkness hung overhead. The sun no longer shone for them.