When London Burned : a Story of Restoration Times and the Great Fire

"Then," John Wilkes went on, "there is a man going through the streets, night and day. He speaks to no one, but cries out continually, 'Oh! the great and dreadful God!' This troubles many men's hearts greatly."

"It is a pity, John, that the poor fellow is not taken and shut up in some place where madmen are kept. Doubtless, it is some poor coward whose brain has been turned by fright. People who are frightened by such a thing as that must be poor-witted creatures indeed."

"That may be, Master Cyril, but methinks it is as they say, one fool makes many. People get together and bemoan themselves till their hearts fail them altogether. And yet, methinks they are not altogether without reason, for if the pestilence is so heavy without the walls, where the streets are wider and the people less crowded than here, it may well be that we shall have a terrible time of it in the City when it once passes the walls."

"That may well be, John, but cowardly fear will not make things any better. We knew, when we sailed out against the Dutch the other day, that very many would not see the setting sun, yet I believe there was not one man throughout the Fleet who behaved like a coward."

"No doubt, Master Cyril; but there is a difference. One can fight against men, but one cannot fight against the pestilence, and I do not believe that if the citizens knew that a great Dutch army was marching on London, and that they would have to withstand a dreadful siege, they would be moved with fear as they are now."

"That may be so," Cyril agreed. "Now, John, I think that I could sleep for a bit."

"Do so, Master, and I will go into the kitchen and see what I can do to make you a basin of broth when you awake; for the girl has gone out too. She wanted to see what was going on in the streets; and as I had sooner stay quietly at home I offered to take her place, as the shop was shut and I had nothing to do. Maybe by the time you wake again Captain Dave and the others will be back from their cruise."

It was dark when Cyril woke at the sound of the bell. He heard voices and movements without, and then the door was quietly opened.

"I am awake," he said. "You see I have taken you at your word, and come back to be patched up."

"You are heartily welcome," Mrs. Dowsett said. "Nellie, bring the light. Cyril is awake. We were sorry indeed when John told us that you had come in our absence. It was but a cold welcome for you to find that we were all out."

"There was nothing I needed, madam. Had there been, John would have done it for me."

Nellie now appeared at the door with the light, and gave an exclamation of horror as she approached the bedside.

"It is not so bad as it looks, Nellie," Cyril said. "Not that I know how it looks, for I have not seen myself in a glass since I left here; but I can guess that I am an unpleasant object to look at."

Mrs. Dowsett made a sign to Nellie to be silent.

"John told us that you were badly burned and were all wrapped up in bandages, but we did not expect to find you so changed. However, that will soon pass off, I hope."

"I expect I shall be all right in another week, save for this wound in my shoulder. As for that on my head, it is but of slight consequence. My skull was thick enough to save my brain."

"Well, Master Cyril," Captain Dave said heartily, as he entered the room with a basin of broth in his hand, and then stopped abruptly.

"Well, Captain Dave, here I am, battered out of all shape, you see, but not seriously damaged in my timbers. There, you see, though I have only been a fortnight at sea, I am getting quite nautical."

"That is right, lad—that is right," Captain Dave said, a little unsteadily. "My dame and Nellie will soon put you into ship-shape trim again. So you got burnt, I hear, by one of those rascally Dutch fire-ships? and John tells me that the captain of the sailors who carried you here said that you had gained mighty credit for yourself."

"I did my best, as everyone did, Captain Dave. There was not a man on board the Fleet who did not do his duty, or we should never have beaten the Dutchmen so soundly."

"You had better not talk any more," Mrs. Dowsett said. "You are in my charge now, and my first order is that you must keep very quiet, or else you will be having fever come on. You had best take a little of this broth now. Nellie will sit with you while I go out to prepare you a cooling drink."

"I will take a few spoonfuls of the soup since John has taken the trouble to prepare it for me," Cyril said; "though, indeed, my lips are so parched and swollen that the cooling drink will be much more to my taste."

"I think it were best first, dame," the Captain said, "that John and I should get him comfortably into bed, instead of lying there wrapped up in the blanket in which they brought him ashore. The broth will be none the worse for cooling a bit."

"That will be best," his wife agreed. "I will fetch some more pillows, so that we can prop him up. He can swallow more comfortably so, and will sleep all the better when he lies down again."

As soon as Cyril was comfortably settled John Wilkes was sent to call in a doctor, who, after examining him, said that the burns were doing well, and that he would send in some cooling lotion to be applied to them frequently. As to the wounds, he said they had been so skilfully bandaged that it were best to leave them alone, unless great pain set in.

Another four days, and Cyril's face had so far recovered its usual condition that the swelling was almost abated, and the bandages could be removed. The peak of the helmet had sheltered it a good deal, and it had suffered less than his hands and arms. Captain Dave and John had sat up with him by turns at night, while the Dame and her daughter had taken care of him during the day. He had slept a great deal, and had not been allowed to talk at all. This prohibition was now removed, as the doctor said that the burns were now all healing fast, and that he no longer had any fear of fever setting in.

"By the way, Captain," John Wilkes said, that day, at dinner, "I have just bethought me of this letter, that was given me by the sailor who brought Cyril here. It is for you, from young Lord Oliphant. It has clean gone out of my mind till now. I put it in the pocket of my doublet, and have forgotten it ever since."

"No harm can have come of the delay, John," Captain Dave said. "It was thoughtful of the lad. He must have been sure that Cyril would not be in a condition to tell us aught of the battle, and he may have sent us some details of it, for the Gazette tells us little enough, beyond the ships taken and the names of gentlemen and officers killed. Here, Nellie, do you read it. It seems a long epistle, and my eyes are not as good as they were."

Nellie took the letter and read aloud:—

"'DEAR AND WORTHY SIR,—I did not think when I was so pleasantly entertained at your house that it would befall me to become your correspondent, but so it has happened, for, Sir Cyril being sorely hurt, and in no state to tell you how the matter befell him—if indeed his modesty would allow him, which I greatly doubt—it is right that you should know how the business came about, and what great credit Sir Cyril has gained for himself. In the heat of the fight, when we were briskly engaged in exchanging broadsides with a Dutchman of our own size, one of their fire-ships, coming unnoticed through the smoke, slipped alongside of us, and, the flames breaking out, would speedily have destroyed us, as indeed they went near doing. The grapnels were briskly thrown over, but she had already touched our sides, and the flames were blowing across us when Sir Cyril, perceiving that she had still some way on her, sprang down on to her deck and put over the helm. She was then a pillar of flame, and the decks, which were plentifully besmeared with pitch, were all in a blaze, save just round the tiller where her captain had stood to steer her. It was verily a furnace, and it seemed impossible that one could stand there for only half a minute and live. Everyone on board was filled with astonishment, and the Prince called out loudly that he had never seen a braver deed. As the fire-ship drew away from us, we saw Sir Cyril fasten the helm down with a rope, and then, lowering a bucket over, throw water on to it; then he threw off his helmet and armour—his clothes being, by this time, all in a flame—and sprang into the sea, the fire-ship being now well nigh her own length from us. She had sheered off none too soon, for some of our sails were on fire, and it was with great difficulty that we succeeded in cutting them from the yards and so saving the ship.

"'All, from the Prince down, say that no finer action was ever performed, and acknowledge that we all owe our lives, and His Majesty owes his ship, to it. Then, soon after we had hauled Sir Cyril on board, the Dutchmen boarded us, and there was a stiff fight, all hands doing their best to beat them back, in which we succeeded.

"'Sir Cyril, though scarce able to stand, joined in the fray, unnoticed by us all, who in the confusion had not thought of him, and being, indeed, scarce able to hold his sword, received a heavy wound, of which, however, the doctor has all hopes that he will make a good recovery.

"'It would have done you good to hear how the whole crew cheered Sir Cyril as we dragged him on board. The Prince is mightily taken with him, and is sending him to London in his own yacht, where I feel sure that your good dame and fair daughter will do all that they can to restore him to health. As soon as I get leave—though I do not know when that will be, for we cannot say as yet how matters will turn out, or what ships will keep the sea—I shall do myself the honour of waiting upon you. I pray you give my respectful compliments to Mrs. Dowsett and Mistress Nellie, who are, I hope, enjoying good health.

"'Your servant to command,

"'SYDNEY OLIPHANT.'"

The tears were standing in Nellie's eyes, and her voice trembled as she read. When she finished she burst out crying.

"There!" John Wilkes exclaimed, bringing his fist down upon the table. "I knew, by what that skipper said, the lad had been doing something quite out of the way, but when I spoke to him about it before you came in he only said that he had tried his best to do his duty, just as every other man in the Fleet had done. Who would have thought, Captain Dave, that that quiet young chap, who used to sit down below making out your accounts, was going to turn out a hero?"

"Who, indeed?" the Captain said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. "Why, he wasn't more than fifteen then, and, as you say, such a quiet fellow. He used to sit there and write, and never speak unless I spoke to him. 'Tis scarce two years ago, and look what he has done! Who would have thought it? I can't finish my breakfast," he went on, getting up from his seat, "till I have gone in and shaken him by the hand."

"You had better not, David," Mrs. Dowsett said gently. "We had best say but little to him about it now. We can let him know we have heard how he came by his burns from Lord Oliphant, but do not let us make much of it. Had he wished it he would have told us himself."

Captain Dave sat down again.

"Perhaps you are right, my dear. At any rate, till he is getting strong we will not tell him what we think of him. Anyhow, it can't do any harm to tell him we know it, and may do him good, for it is clear he does not like telling it himself, and may be dreading our questioning about the affair."

Mrs. Dowsett and Nellie went into Cyril's room as soon as they had finished breakfast. Captain Dave followed them a few minutes later.

"We have been hearing how you got burnt," he began. "Your friend, Lord Oliphant, sent a letter about it by the skipper of his yacht. That stupid fellow, John, has been carrying it about ever since, and only remembered it just now, when we were at breakfast. It was a plucky thing to do, lad."

"It turned out a very lucky one," Cyril said hastily, "for it was the means of saving my life."

"Saving your life, lad! What do you mean?"

Cyril then told how Robert Ashford and Black Dick had been brought on board as impressed men, how the former had been killed, and the confession that Black Dick had made to him before dying.

"He said he had made up his mind to kill me during the fight, but that, after I had risked my life to save the Henrietta, he was ashamed to kill me, and that, rather than do so, he had resolved to take his chance of my denouncing him when he returned to land."

"There was some good in the knave, then," Captain Dave said. "Yes, it was a fortunate as well as a brave action, as it turned out."

"Fortunate in one respect, but not in another," Cyril put in, anxious to prevent the conversation reverting to the question of his bravery. "I put down this wound in my shoulder to it, for if I had been myself I don't think I should have got hurt. I guarded the blow, but I was so shaky that he broke my guard down as if I had been a child, though I think that it did turn the blow a little, and saved it from falling fair on my skull. Besides, I should have had my helmet and armour on if it had not been for my having to take a swim. So, you see, Captain Dave, things were pretty equally balanced, and there is no occasion to say anything more about them."

"We have one piece of bad news to tell you, Cyril," Mrs. Dowsett remarked, in order to give the conversation the turn which she saw he wished for. "We heard this morning that the Plague has come at last into the City. Dr. Burnet was attacked yesterday."

"That is bad news indeed, Dame, though it was not to be expected that it would spare the City. If you will take my advice, you will go away at once, before matters get worse, for if the Plague gets a hold here the country people will have nothing to do with Londoners, fearing that they will bring the infection among them."

"We shall not go until you are fit to go with us, Cyril," Nellie said indignantly.

"Then you will worry me into a fever," Cyril replied. "I am getting on well now, and as you said, when you were talking of it before, you should leave John in charge of the house and shop, he will be able to do everything that is necessary for me. If you stay here, and the Plague increases, I shall keep on worrying myself at the thought that you are risking your lives needlessly for me, and if it should come into the house, and any of you die, I shall charge myself all my life with having been the cause of your death. I pray you, for my sake as well as your own, to lose no time in going to the sister Captain Dave spoke of, down near Gloucester."

"Do not agitate yourself," Mrs. Dowsett said gently, pressing him quietly back on to the pillows from which he had risen in his excitement. "We will talk it over, and see what is for the best. It is but a solitary case yet, and may spread no further. In a few days we shall see how matters go. Things have not come to a bad pass yet."

Cyril, however, was not to be consoled. Hitherto he had given comparatively small thought to the Plague, but now that it was in the City, and he felt that his presence alone prevented the family from leaving, he worried incessantly over it.

"Your patient is not so well," the doctor said to Mrs. Dowsett, next morning. "Yesterday he was quite free from fever—his hands were cool; now they are dry and hard. If this goes on, I fear that we shall have great trouble."

"He is worrying himself because we do not go out of town. We had, indeed, made up our minds to do so, but we could not leave him here."

"Your nursing would be valuable certainly, but if he goes on as he is he will soon be in a high fever; his wounds will grow angry and fester. While yesterday he seemed in a fair way to recovery, I should be sorry to give any favourable opinion as to what may happen if this goes on. Is there no one who could take care of him if you went?"

"John Wilkes will remain behind, and could certainly be trusted to do everything that you directed; but that is not like women, doctor."

"No, I am well aware of that; but if things go on well he will really not need nursing, while, if fever sets in badly, the best nursing may not save him. Moreover, wounds and all other ailments of this sort do badly at present; the Plague in the air seems to affect all other maladies. If you will take my advice, Dame, you will carry out your intention, and leave at once. I hear there are several new cases of the Plague today in the City, and those who can go should lose no time in doing so; but, even if not for your own sakes, I should say go for that of your patient."

"Will you speak to my husband, doctor? I am ready to do whatever is best for your patient, whom we love dearly, and regard almost as a son."

"If he were a son I should give the same advice. Yes, I will see Captain Dowsett."

Half an hour later, Cyril was told what the doctor's advice had been, and, seeing that he was bent on it, and that if they stayed they would do him more harm than good, they resolved to start the next day for Gloucestershire.

CHAPTER XV
THE PLAGUE

Reluctant as they were to leave Cyril, Mrs. Dowsett and her daughter speedily saw that the doctor's advice was good. Cyril did not say much, but an expression of restful satisfaction came over his face, and it was not long before he fell into a quiet sleep that contrasted strongly with the restless and fretful state in which he had passed the night.

"You see I was right, madam," the doctor said that evening. "The fever has not quite left him, but he is a different man to what he was this morning; another quiet night's rest, and he will regain the ground he has lost. I think you can go in perfect comfort so far as he is concerned. Another week and he will be up, if nothing occurs to throw him back again; but of course it will be weeks before he can use his arm."

John Wilkes had been sent off as soon as it was settled that they would go, and had bought, at Epping, a waggon and a pair of strong horses. It had a tilt, and the ladies were to sleep in it on the journey, as it was certain that, until they were far away from London, they would be unable to obtain lodgings. A man was engaged to drive them down, and a sail and two or three poles were packed in the waggon to make a tent for him and Captain Dowsett. A store of provisions was cooked, and a cask of beer, another of water, and a case of wine were also placed in. Mattresses were laid down for the ladies to sit on during the day and to sleep on at night; so they would be practically independent during the journey. Early next morning they started.

"It seems heartless to leave you, Cyril," Nellie said, as they came in to say good-bye.

"Not heartless at all," Cyril replied. "I know that you are going because I wish it."

"It is more than wishing, you tiresome boy. We are going because you have made up your mind that you will be ill if we don't. You are too weak to quarrel with now, but when we meet again, tremble, for I warn you I shall scold you terribly then."

"You shall scold me as much as you please, Nellie; I shall take it all quite patiently."

Nellie and her mother went away in tears, and Captain Dave himself was a good deal upset. They had thought the going away from home on such a long journey would be a great trial, but this was now quite lost sight of in their regret at what they considered deserting Cyril, and many were the injunctions that were given to John Wilkes before the waggon drove off. They were somewhat consoled by seeing that Cyril was undoubtedly better and brighter. He had slept all night without waking, his hands were cool, and the flush had entirely left his cheek.

"If they were starting on a voyage to the Indies they could not be in a greater taking," John Wilkes said, on returning to Cyril's bedside. "Why, I have seen the Captain go off on a six months' voyage and less said about it."

"I am heartily glad they are gone, John. If the Plague grows there will be a terrible time here. Is the shop shut?"

"Ay; the man went away two days ago, and we sent off the two 'prentices yesterday. There is naught doing. Yesterday half the vessels in the Pool cleared out on the news of the Plague having got into the City, and I reckon that, before long, there won't be a ship in the port. We shall have a quiet time of it, you and I; we shall be like men in charge of an old hulk."

Another week, and Cyril was up. All his bandages, except those on the shoulder and head, had been thrown aside, and the doctor said that, erelong, the former would be dispensed with. John had wanted to sit up with him, but as Cyril would not hear of this he had moved his bed into the same room, so that he could be up in a moment if anything was wanted. He went out every day to bring in the news.

"There is little enough to tell, Master Cyril," he said one day. "So far, the Plague grows but slowly in the City, though, indeed, it is no fault of the people that it does not spread rapidly. Most of them seem scared out of their wits; they gather together and talk, with white faces, and one man tells of a dream that his wife has had, and another of a voice that he says he has heard; and some have seen ghosts. Yesterday I came upon a woman with a crowd round her; she was staring up at a white cloud, and swore that she could plainly see an angel with a white sword, and some of the others cried that they saw it too. I should like to have been a gunner's mate with a stout rattan, and to have laid it over their shoulders, to give them something else to think about for a few hours. It is downright pitiful to see such cowards. At the corner of one street there was a quack, vending pills and perfumes that he warranted to keep away the Plague, and the people ran up and bought his nostrums by the score; I hear there are a dozen such in the City, making a fortune out of the people's fears. I went into the tavern I always use, and had a glass of Hollands and a talk with the landlord. He says that he does as good a trade as ever, though in a different way. There are no sailors there now, but neighbours come in and drink down a glass of strong waters, which many think is the best thing against the Plague, and then hurry off again. I saw the Gazette there, and it was half full of advertisements of people who said they were doctors from foreign parts, and all well accustomed to cure the Plague. They say the magistrates are going to issue notices about shutting up houses, as they do at St. Giles's, and to have watchmen at the doors to see none come in or go out, and that they are going to appoint examiners in every parish to go from house to house to search for infected persons."

"I suppose these are proper steps to take," Cyril said, "but it will be a difficult thing to keep people shut up in houses where one is infected. No doubt it would be a good thing at the commencement of the illness, but when it has once spread itself, and the very air become infected, it seems to me that it will do but little good, while it will assuredly cause great distress and trouble. I long to be able to get up myself, and to see about things."

"The streets have quite an empty aspect, so many have gone away; and what with that, and most of the shops being closed, and the dismal aspect of the people, there is little pleasure in being out, Master Cyril."

"I dare say, John. Still, it will be a change, and, as soon as I am strong enough, I shall sally out with you."

Another fortnight, and Cyril was able to do so. The Plague had still spread, but so slowly that people began to hope that the City would be spared any great calamity, for they were well on in July, and in another six weeks the heat of summer would be passed. Some of those who had gone into the country returned, more shops had been opened, and the panic had somewhat subsided.

"What do you mean to do, Master Cyril?" John Wilkes asked that evening. "Of course you cannot join the Fleet again, for it will be, as the doctor says, another two months before your shoulder-bone will have knit strongly enough for you to use your arm, and at sea it is a matter of more consequence than on land for a man to have the use of both arms. The ship may give a sudden lurch, and one may have to make a clutch at whatever is nearest to prevent one from rolling into the lee scuppers; and such a wrench as that would take from a weak arm all the good a three months' nursing had done it, and might spoil the job of getting the bone to grow straight again altogether. I don't say you are fit to travel yet, but you should be able before long to start on a journey, and might travel down into Gloucestershire, where, be sure, you will be gladly welcomed by the Captain, his dame, and Mistress Nellie. Or, should you not care for that, you might go aboard a ship. There are hundreds of them lying idle in the river, and many families have taken up their homes there, so as to be free from all risks of meeting infected persons in the streets."

"I think I shall stay here, John, and keep you company. If the Plague dies away, well and good. If it gets bad, we can shut ourselves up. You say that the Captain has laid in a great store of provisions, so that you could live without laying out a penny for a year, and it is as sure as anything can be, that when the cold weather comes on it will die out. Besides, John, neither you nor I are afraid of the Plague, and it is certain that it is fear that makes most people take it. If it becomes bad, there will be terrible need for help, and maybe we shall be able to do some good. If we are not afraid of facing death in battle, why should we fear it by the Plague. It is as noble a death to die helping one's fellow-countrymen in their sore distress as in fighting for one's country."

"That is true enough, Master Cyril, if folks did but see it so. I do not see what we could do, but if there be aught, you can depend on me. I was in a ship in the Levant when we had a fever, which, it seems to me, was akin to this Plague, though not like it in all its symptoms. Half the crew died, and, as you say, I verily believe that it was partly from the lowness of spirits into which they fell from fear. I used to help nurse the sick, and throw overboard the dead, and it never touched me. I don't say that I was braver than others, but it seemed to me as it was just as easy to take things comfortable as it was to fret over them."

Towards the end of the month the Plague spread rapidly, and all work ceased in the parishes most affected. But, just as it had raged for weeks in the Western parishes outside the City, so it seemed restricted by certain invisible lines, after it had made its entry within the walls, and while it raged in some parts others were entirely unaffected, and here shops were open, and the streets still retained something of their usual appearance. There had been great want among the poorer classes, owing to the cessation of work, especially along the riverside. The Lord Mayor, some of the Aldermen, and most other rich citizens had hastened to leave the City. While many of the clergy were deserting their flocks, and many doctors their patients, others remained firmly at their posts, and worked incessantly, and did all that was possible in order to check the spread of the Plague and to relieve the distress of the poor.

Numbers of the women were engaged as nurses. Examiners were appointed in each parish, and these, with their assistants, paid house-to-house visitations, in order to discover any who were infected; and as soon as the case was discovered the house was closed, and none suffered to go in or out, a watchman being placed before the door day and night. Two men therefore were needed to each infected house, and this afforded employment for numbers of poor. Others were engaged in digging graves, or in going round at night, with carts, collecting the dead.

So great was the dread of the people at the thought of being shut up in their houses, without communication with the world, that every means was used for concealing the fact that one of the inmates was smitten down. This was the more easy because the early stages of the disease were without pain, and people were generally ignorant that they had been attacked until within a few hours, and sometimes within a few minutes, of their death; consequently, when the Plague had once spread, all the precautions taken to prevent its increase were useless, while they caused great misery and suffering, and doubtless very much greater loss of life. For, owing to so many being shut up in the houses with those affected, and there being no escape from the infection, whole families, with the servants and apprentices, sickened and died together.

Cyril frequently went up to view the infected districts. He was not moved by curiosity, but by a desire to see if there were no way of being of use. There was not a street but many of the houses were marked with the red cross. In front of these the watchmen sat on stools or chairs lent by the inmates, or borrowed from some house whence the inhabitants had all fled. The air rang with pitiful cries. Sometimes women, distraught with terror or grief, screamed wildly through open windows. Sometimes people talked from the upper stories to their neighbours on either hand, or opposite, prisoners like themselves, each telling their lamentable tale of misery, of how many had died and how many remained.

It was by no means uncommon to see on the pavement men and women who, in the excess of despair or pain, had thrown themselves headlong down. While such sounds and sights filled Cyril with horror, they aroused still more his feelings of pity and desire to be of some use. Very frequently he went on errands for people who called down from above to him. Money was lowered in a tin dish, or other vessel, in which it lay covered with vinegar as a disinfectant. Taking it out, he would go and buy the required articles, generally food or medicine, and, returning, place them in a basket that was again lowered.