It took only minutes to give the alarm and rouse the villagers to action, but by the time the first bucket carriers had donned their yokes and drawn water from the village well, most of the northern field had been reduced to blackened stubble and the line of fire was pressing the outskirts of Ngong Ping.Women cut fresh boughs from the guava trees and flailed the burning grass. Men threw pail after pail of water on the dry brush ahead of the flames. Still, the blaze continued to move forward, urged on by gusty bursts of wind, generating enough heat to consume the wet grass and forcing the villagers to retreat. By the time Lim emerged from the foreman's house, the bucketmen were already returning for their second load, and the foreman stopped him before he could join them at the well.
"This fire may be too much for us, I fear. We haven't enough buckets nor men to fight it. The water is difficult to draw. Lim Liang Ku, you must take charge in the village and see that the houses are emptied. We will try to hold back the blaze, but it moves so quickly it may soon reach the town."
With that, the foreman hurried off to the well with the others, leaving Lim with the children to save what property they could. They began carrying food, furniture and clothing to the small village square, where the open area might protect their belongings from flames. Many of the women had returned to their houses too, throwing pots full of water on the walls and the surrounding bushes, while others dug frantically at the weeds nearby. The fire was only moments away.
As they worked, Lim thought of his own house, now ashes and rubble, and of his grandfather who had built it. Yet sad as he felt, in his heart swelled remorse; it was Lim Liang Ku and no other who had brought this peril upon Ngong Ping, betraying the neighbors he had hardly ever known.
Just then, the foreman reappeared from the field. His clothing was scorched, dirtied with soot, and the leader himself smelled heavily of smoke. "It's no use," he said in utter defeat. "The men will soon follow to help clear the houses. I'm afraid we have lost this time, Liang Ku."
Lim saw the resignation in his eyes and knew it was true. There was nothing the villagers could do to stop the fire, but they might try to protect their possessions and families. Already the cloud of smoke rose menacingly near the first house, but to Lim's great surprise, it was not blowing in their direction at all, but northward and away from Ngong Ping.
"Look there!" Lim shouted, pointing to the column of smoke. "The wind has shifted and the fire is failing. The village is safe till the breeze turns again."
"Quickly!" the foreman called to the villagers. "Back to the field before the wind changes." And even before he had finished his words, men and women were refilling pails and puts, cutting fresh boughs and hurrying to subdue the flames. Because the fire had doubled back on itself, there was little fuel left to feed it, and the villagers soon had the blaze well contained.
As the last embers were crushed out under anxious feet, the leader turned to his worker and thanked him for warning the people. But Lim was far too ashamed to reply. Though the morning was barely a few hours old, it seemed that lifetimes had passed since the smoldering dawn. Slowly, Lim began walking back toward his home, where only charred ruins were waiting. However, the foreman would not let him leave alone and joined him on the path as a silent escort.
Then, surprisingly, Lim began to reveal a long withheld tale. "My father once told of a fire in a village which was caused by a neighbor turned thief. As the robber entered a house late one night, masked in darkness, the wife of the owner happened to wake and fought to protect what was rightfully hers. The thief may have killed her, or so it was supposed, for to hide the deed and his name, he set fire to the house and she died in the blaze, if not at his hands."
The foreman stopped in the middle of the path and faced Lim, who was staring blankly into the distance. "What became of the thief and of the owner of the house?"
Lim drew a deep breath and answered softly, "The thief must have escaped, and the owner...the owner? He had been away from the village with his small son at the time. When he returned and learned of his loss, he blamed the village and all of its people. In anger and sadness, he went out from the town, never to return to the place that he hated. Never to live in a village again."
Lim moved away from the foreman abruptly and began coughing heavily by the side of the path. Although the air was now clear and easily inhaled, there was a presence that cluttered Lim's lungs much more thickly than smoke. It was only when the leader placed a firm, but reassuring hand on Lim's shoulder that he finally caught his breath once again. Then, turning, they both faced the wind and began back down the path to the village, Ngong Ping.
