CHAPTER XVI. A FLAMING CITY.

Many happy months passed away, and the great city began to forget

the terrible calamity through which it had passed. There was a

little fear at first when the summer set in exceptionally hot and

dry--very much as it had done the preceding year; but the plague

seemed to have wreaked its full vengeance upon the inhabitants, and

there was no fresh outbreak, although isolated cases were reported,

as was usual, from time to time, and sometimes a slight passing

scare would upset the minds of men in a certain locality, to be

shortly laid at rest when no further ill followed.

The two houses on the bridge, standing sociably side by side, were

pleasant and flourishing places of business. Benjamin was now

apprenticed to his brother Reuben, his old master the carpenter

having fallen a victim to the plague. Dorcas remained with Lady

Scrope, who was now reckoned as a kind friend and patroness to the

Harmers, father and son. Rebecca fulfilled her old functions of the

useful daughter at home, though it was thought she would not long

remain there, as she was being openly courted by a young mercer in

Southwark, who had bought a business left without head through the

ravages of the plague, and was rapidly working it up to something

considerable and successful.

The Master Builder, too, was getting on, although still doing a

very small trade compared to what he had done before. Many of his

patrons were dead, others had been scared away altogether from

London for the present, and with so many vacant houses to fill

nobody cared to think of building. Still he found employment of a

kind, and was never idle, although things were very different from

what they had been, and he thought rather of paying his way in a

quiet fashion than of building up a great fortune. He lived in the

old house with his daughter and son-in-law, and was happier than in

the old days, when his wife had always been trying to make him ape

the ways of the gentry, and his son had been wearying his life out

with ceaseless importunities for money, which would only be wasted

in drunkenness and rioting.

Now the days passed happily and peacefully. Gertrude was a loving

wife and a loving daughter. Her father's comfort and welfare were

studied equally with that of her husband. She did her utmost not to

permit him ever to feel lonely or neglected, and she considered his

needs as his own fine-lady wife had never thought of doing.

He had also his friends next door to visit, where he was always

welcome. There was now another door of communication opened between

the two houses, and almost every evening the Master Builder would

drop in for an hour to smoke a pipe with his friend and exchange

the news of the day, leaving the young married couple to

themselves, for a happy interchange of affection and confidences.

The Harmer household remained unchanged, save for the death of Dan

and the marriage of Reuben; but the sailor had been so little at

home, that there was no great blank left by his absence, and Reuben

was too close at hand to be greatly missed. Janet had not returned

to service. Her mother had been rather horrified at the manner in

which the poor girl had been treated by her mistress when the

plague had appeared in the house. She did not care to send her back

to Lady Howe, and Janet had become so accomplished a nurse, and

took such interest in the life, that she begged to be allowed to

follow the calling of her aunt Dinah, and to spend her time amongst

the sick, wherever she might be needed. So both she and Dinah Morse

lived at the house on the bridge, but went about amongst the sick

in the neighbourhood, generally directed by Dr. Hooker, but

sometimes called specially to urgent cases by neighbours or

friends. Sometimes they returned home at night to sleep, sometimes

they remained for several days or weeks at a time with their

patients, according to their degree and the urgency of the case.

Janet found herself very well content in her new life, and her

mother liked it for her, since it brought her so much more to her

home.

It began to be noted that when Dinah Morse was at the house on the

occasions of the visits of the Master Builder, he addressed a great

part of his conversation to her, seemed never to weary hearing her

talk, and would sit looking reflectively at her when other people

were doing the talking. He had never forgotten how she had come to

them in their hour of dire need, when poor Frederick had sickened

of the fell disease which so soon carried him off. He always

declared that her tenderness to his wife and daughter at that time

had been beyond all price, and it seemed as though his sense of

obligation and gratitude did not lessen with time.

Sometimes James Harmer would say smilingly to his wife:

"Methinks our good neighbour hath a great fancy for Dinah. I always

do say that such a woman as she ought to be the wife of some good

honest man. They might do worse, both of them, than think of

marriage. What think you of Dinah? Tends her fancy that way at

all?"

And at that question Rachel would shake her head wisely and

respond:

"Dinah is not one to wear her heart upon her sleeve! A woman hides

her secret in her heart till the right time comes for giving an

answer. But we shall see! we shall see!"

In this manner the spring and summer passed happily and quickly

away.

August had come and gone, and now the first days of September had

arrived. The heat still continued very great, and a parching east

wind had been blowing for many weeks, which had dried up the

woodwork of the houses till it was like tinder. Sometimes the

Master Builder, coming home from his work of repairing or altering

some house either great or small, would say:

"I would we could get rain. This long drought is something serious.

I never knew the houses so dry and parched as they are now. If a

fire were to break out, it would be no small matter to extinguish

it. The water supply is very low, and the whole city is like

tinder."

It was Saturday night. The sun had gone down like a great ball of

fire, and Gertrude had observed to her husband how it had dyed the

river a peculiarly blood-red hue. One of those wandering fortune

tellers, who had paraded the city so often during the early days of

the plague (till the poor wretches were themselves carried off in

great numbers by it), had passed down the street once or twice

during the day, and had been always chanting a rude song like a

dirge, in which many woes were said to be hanging over London town.

These prognostications had been frequent since the appearance in

the sky of another comet, which had been seen on all clear nights

of late. It had considerably alarmed the citizens, who remembered

the comet of the previous year, and the terrible visitation which

had followed. This one was not very like the former; it was far

more bright, and burning, and red, and its motion appeared more

rapid in the sky. The soothsayers and astrologers, of which there

were still plenty left, all averred that it bespoke some fresh

calamity hanging over the city, and for a while there was

considerable alarm in many minds, and some families actually left

London, fearful that the plague would again break out there; but by

this time the panic had well nigh died down. The comet ceased to be

seen in the sky, and even the mournful words of the fortune tellers

did not attract the notice they had done at first. The summer was

waning, and no sickness had appeared; and of any other kind of

calamity the people did not appear to dream.

The Master Builder had gone in as usual to the next house to have a

talk with his neighbour. But tonight he looked in vain for Dinah.

"She and Janet have both been summoned to a fine lady who is sick

in a grand house nigh to St. Paul's. Dr. Hooker fetched them

thither this morning. They will be well paid for their work, he

says. The lady has sickened of a fever, and some of her household

took fright lest it should be the plague, albeit the symptoms are

quite different. So he must needs take both Dinah and Janet with

him, that she might be rightly served and tended. Tomorrow Joseph

shall go and ask news of her, and get speech with Janet if he can,

and learn how it fares with her. I confess I am glad, when she goes

to fine houses, that Dinah should be there also. Janet is a pretty

creature, and those young gallants think of nothing but to amuse

themselves by turning girls' heads, be they ever so humble.

"Ah me! ah me! there is a vast deal of wickedness in the world! I

cannot wonder that men foretell some fresh calamity upon this city.

I am sure some of the things we hear and see--well, well, well, we

must not judge others. It is enough that judgment and vengeance are

the Lord's."

Rachel stopped short because she saw the look of pain which always

came into the Master Builder's face when he thought of his

profligate young son, cut off in the prime of his youthful manhood,

and that without any assurance on the part of those about him that

he had repented of the error of his ways. The carelessness and

wickedness of the young men of the city were always a sore subject,

and he still winced when the pranks of the Scourers were commented

upon by his neighbours.

"It is my Lady Desborough who has fallen ill," concluded Rachel,

anxious to turn the subject. "Methinks you had some dealings with

her lord not such very long time since. The name fell familiarly

upon my ears."

"Yes, truly, I did much to garnish their house, and I built out a

private parlour for my lady, all of looking glass and gilding. Not

long since I purified the house for them with the costliest of

spices. Lord Desborough thinks all the world of his beauteous lady.

They are devoted to each other, which is a goodly thing to see in

these days. He will be greatly alarmed if she be seriously

indisposed. He is a right worthy gentleman; and with thy permission

I will accompany Joseph to St. Paul's tomorrow and learn the latest

tidings of her."

"With all my heart," answered the mother; and soon after that the

Master Builder took his departure, and both houses settled to rest

for the night.

It might have been two or three o'clock in the morning, none could

say exactly how time went on that memorable day, when the Master

Builder was awakened by sounds in the adjoining chamber, where

Reuben and his wife slept; and before he was fully awake, he heard

Gertrude's voice at his door crying out:

"O father, father! there is such a dreadful fire! Reuben is going

out to see where it is. Methinks it must be very nigh at hand.

Prithee go with him, and see that he comes to no hurt!"

The Master Builder was awake in an instant, and although it was an

hour at which the room should be dark, he found it quite

sufficiently light to dress without trouble, owing to the red glare

of fire somewhere in the neighbourhood.

"Pray Heaven it be not very near us!" was the cry of his heart as

he hurried into his clothes, remembering his own auguries of a

short time back respecting the spread of fire, if once it got a

hold upon a street or building.

He was dressed in a moment, and had joined Reuben as the latter was

feeling his way to the fastenings of the door. Two of the shopmen,

who slept below, were already aroused and wishful to join them; and

as they emerged into the street, which was quite light with the

palpitating glow of fire, the door of the Harmers' house opened to

admit the exit of the master of the house and his son Joseph.

"Thou hast seen it also! I fear me it is very nigh at hand. I had a

good look from my topmost window, and methought it must surely be

in Long Lane or in Pudding Lane; certainly it is in one of the

narrow thoroughfares turning off northward from Thames Street. It

must have been burning for some while. It seems to have taken firm

hold. Belike the poor creatures there are all too terrified to do

aught to check the spread of the flames. We must see what can be

done. It will not do to let the flames get a hold. This strong dry

wind will spread them west and north with terrible speed, if

something be not done to check them!"

James Harmer spoke with the air of a man who is used to offices of

authority. He had exercised one so long during the crisis of the

plague, that the habit of thinking for his fellow citizens still

clung to him. It appeared to him to be his bounden duty to do what

he could to save life and property; and all the time he spoke he

was hastening along the bridge in the direction of the smoke clouds

and flames.

The Master Builder hurried along at his side, and before they had

reached the end of the bridge there were quite a dozen of the

householders or their servants joining the procession to the scene

of the conflagration. Until they reached the corner of Thames

Street they saw nothing beyond the red column of flame and the

showers of sparks mingling with clouds of smoke; but when once they

reached the corner, a terrible sight was revealed to them, for the

whole block of buildings between Pudding Lane and New Fish Street

was a mass of flames, and the fire seemed to be like a living

thing, driven onwards before some mighty compelling power.

"God preserve us all! it will be upon us in an hour if nothing be

done to check it," cried Harmer in sudden dismay.

"What is being done? What are the people doing?" cried a score of

voices.

But what indeed could the terrified people do, wakened out of their

sleep in the dead of night to find their houses burning about their

ears? They were running helter skelter this way and that, not

knowing which way to turn, like so many frightened sheep. Not that

they thought as yet that this fire was going to be so very

different from other bad fires which some of them had seen; for

their wooden and plaster houses burned down too readily at all

times, and were built up easily enough afterwards. A little farther

off the people were trying to get their goods out of the houses,

that they might not lose all if the fire came their way. But those

actually burned out seemed to do nothing but stand helplessly by

looking on; and perhaps it was only the Master Builder himself who

at this moment realized that there was a very serious peril

threatening the whole quarter of the city where the fire had broken

out, and had already taken such hold.

The wind being slightly north as well as east in its direction, it

seemed reasonable to hope that the conflagration would not cross

Thames Street in a southerly direction, in which case the bridge

would be safe; and, indeed, as New Fish Street was a fairly wide

thoroughfare, it was rather confidently hoped that this might prove

a check to the fire. The Master Builder ran up the street crying

out to the terrified inhabitants to get all the water they could

and fling it upon the roofs and walls of their dwellings, to strive

to keep the flames at bay; but there was scarcely one to listen or

try to obey. The people were all hurrying out of their houses,

bringing their families and their goods and chattels with them. The

street was so blocked by hand carts and jostling crowds, that it

was hopeless to attempt any plan of organization here.

Then all too soon a cry went up that the fire had leaped the street

and had ignited a house on the west side. A groan and a scream of

terror went up as it was seen that this was all too true, and

already great waves of flame seemed to be rushing onwards as if

driven from the mouth of some vast blasting furnace; and the Master

Builder returned to his friends with a very grave face.

"Heaven send the whole city be not destroyed!" he exclaimed; "never

have I seen fire like unto this fire!

"Reuben, lad, make thy way with all speed to the Lord Mayor, and

tell him of the peril in which we stand. He is the man to find

means to check this fearful conflagration. Would to Heaven it were

good Sir John Lawrence who were Mayor, as he was in the days of the

plague! He was a man of spirit, and courage, and resource. But I

much fear me that poor Bludworth has little of any of these

qualities. Nevertheless go to him, Reuben. Tell him what thou hast

seen, and tell him that if he wishes not to see London burned about

his ears it behoves him to do something!"

Reuben dashed off along Thames Street westward to do his errand,

and then the Master Builder turned gravely to his friend and said:

"Harmer, I like not the aspect of things. I fear me that even we

are likely to stand in dire peril ere long. Yet we shall have time

to take steps for our salvation, seeing the wind is our friend so

far, though Heaven alone knows when that may change, and drive the

flames straight down upon us. Yet, methinks, we shall have time for

what must be done. Wilt thou work hand in hand with me for the

salvation of our goods and houses, even though it may mean present

loss?"

"I will do whatever is right and prudent," answered Harmer,

hurrying hack towards the bridge with his friend and with those who

had followed them, and in a short while they were surrounded by a

number of frightened neighbours, all asking what awful thing was

happening, and what could be done to save themselves.

The Master Builder was naturally the man looked to, and he gave

answer quietly and firmly. If the fire once leaped Thames Street,

and attacked the south side, nothing short of a miracle could save

the bridge houses, unless some drastic step were taken; and the

only method which he could devise in the emergency, was that some

of the houses at the northern end should be demolished by means of

gunpowder, and the ruins soaked in water, so that the passage of

the flames might be stayed there.

But at this suggestion the faces of those who lived in these same

houses grew long and grave, as indeed the speaker had anticipated.

The owners were not prepared for so great a sacrifice. They argued

that with the wind where it was, the fire might in all probability

not extend southward at all, in which case their loss would he

useless. They talked and argued the matter out for about twenty

anxious minutes, and in fine flatly refused to have their houses

touched, preferring to take their chance of escaping the fire to

this wholesale demolition.

This was no more than the Master Builder had foreseen, and without

attempting further argument he turned to his neighbour and said:

"Then it must be your workshops and storerooms that must go. You

can better spare them than the house itself; and on the opposite

side there is the empty house where poor David Norris lived and

died. There is none living there now to hinder us. We must take the

law into our own hands and make the gap there. If the fire comes

not this way, I will bear the blame with the Mayor, if we be called

to account; but methinks a little promptitude now may save half the

bridge, and perchance all the southern part of London likewise!"

"Do as you will, good friend, your knowledge is greater than mine,"

answered James Harmer with cheerful alacrity; "Heaven forbid that I

should value my goods beyond the life and property and salvation of

the many in this time of threatened peril."

"We shall save the goods first. It is only the sheds and workshops

that must go," answered the Master Builder cheerily, and forthwith

he and his men, who had come hurrying up, together with all the men

and boys in the double Harmer household, commenced carrying within

shop and houses all the valuables stored in the smaller buildings

hard by. It was a work quickly accomplished, and whilst it was

being carried out, the Master Builder himself was carefully making

preparations for the demolition of the empty house opposite, which

indeed was already in some danger of falling into decay, and was

empty and desolate.

It had been the abode of the unfortunate man who brought his family

back too soon to the city, and lost them all of the plague within a

short time. He himself had lingered on for some months, and had

then died of a broken heart. But nobody had cared to live in the

house since. It was averred that it was haunted by the restless

spirit of the poor man, and strange noises were said to issue from

it at night. Others declared that the ghost of the wife was seen

flitting past the windows, and that she always carried a sick

moaning child in her arms. So ill a name had the house got by

reason of these many stories that none would take it, and there was

therefore none to interfere when, with a loud report and showers of

dust and sparks, the whole place and the workshop at the side were

blown up at the command of the Master Builder, and reduced to a

pile of ruins.

In spite of all the excitement and fear caused by the spreading

fire, the neighbours looked upon the Master Builder as an

enthusiast and a madman, and upon James Harmer as a poor dupe, to

allow such destruction of property. No sooner were both sets of

buildings destroyed than men were set to work with buckets and

chains to drench the dusty heaps of the ruins with water, nor would

the Master Builder permit the workers to slacken their efforts

until the whole mass of demolished ruin was reduced to the

condition of a soppy pulp.

By this time the day had broken; but the sun was partially obscured

by the thick pall of smoke which hung in the air, whilst the

ceaseless roar of the flames was becoming terrible in its monotony.

Backwards and forwards ran excited men and boys, always bringing

fresh reports as to the alarming spread of the fire. Even upon the

bridge the heat could plainly be felt. The workers who were called

within doors to be refreshed by food and drink were almost too

anxious to eat. Never had such a fire been seen before.

Whilst the Master Builder and his friend were snatching a hasty

meal, Reuben came hurrying back with a smoke-blackened face. He too

showed signs of grave anxiety.

"Well, lad, hast thou seen the Lord Mayor?" was the eager question.

"Ay, verily, I have seen him," answered Reuben, with a bent brow,

and a look of severity on his young face, "but I might as well have

spoken to Fido there for all the good I did."

"Why, how so?" asked his father quickly and sternly; "is the man

lost to all sense of his duties? Where was he? what said he? Come

sit thee down, lad, and eat thy fill, and tell us all the tale."

Reuben was hungry enough, and his wife hung over him supplying his

needs; but he was thinking more of the perils of his fellow

citizens, and of the supine conduct of the Mayor, than of anything

else.

"I found the worshipful fellow in bed," he answered. "Other

messengers had arrived with the news, but his servant had not

ventured to disturb him. I, however, would not be denied. I went up

to him in his bed chamber, and I told him what I had seen, and

warned him that there was need for prompt action. But he only

answered with an oath and a ribald jest, which I will not repeat in

the hearing of my wife or mother; and he would have turned again to

his slumbers, had I not well nigh forced him to get up, and had not

some of the aldermen arrived at that minute to speak of the matter,

and inquire into its magnitude. They be all of them disposed to say

that it will burn itself out fast enough like other fires; but I

trow some amongst them are aroused to a fear that it may spread far

in this dry wind, and with the houses so parched and cracked with

heat. Then I came away, having done mine errand, and went back to

the fire. It had spread all too fast even in that short time, and

the worst thing is that no means seem to be taken to stop it. The

people run about like those distraught, crying that a second

judgment has come, that it is God's doing, and that man cannot

fight against it. They are all seeking to convey away their goods

to some safe place; but the fire travels quicker than they, and

they are forced to leave their chattels and flee for their lives. I

trow such a sight has never been seen before."

"It must be like the burning of Rome in the days of the wicked

emperor Nero," said Gertrude in a low, awed voice. "Pray Heaven

they extinguish the flames soon! It would be fearful indeed were

they to last till nightfall."

At this moment Rachel Harmer came hurrying into the room with a

pale scared face.

"The child Dorcas!" she cried. "Why have we not thought of her? Is

she safe? Where has the fire reached to? God forgive me! I must

surely be off my head! Husband, go for the child; she must be

scared to death, even if naught worse has befallen her!"

"I had not forgot the maid," answered the father; "but it is well

she should be looked to now. The fire has not crossed Thames

Street. Lady Scrope's house is safe yet a while; but unless things

quickly improve, both she and the child should come hither.

"Make ready the best guest chamber in thy house, Gertrude, and thy

husband and I will go and bring her hither.

"Come, lad, as thy mother saith, the child may be scared at the

heat and the flames. And my lady has many valuables to be rescued,

too. It would be shame that they should perish in the flames if

these leap the street. We will take the boat and moor it at Cold

Harbour, and slip up by the side street out of the way of the smoke

and the heat. We can thus bring her and her goods with most safety

here. Marry that is well bethought! We will lose not an hour. One

cannot tell at what moment the fire may change its direction."

Reuben rose at once, and accompanied by two of the steadiest of the

shopmen, they prepared to carry out their plan of seeking to rescue

Lady Scrope and her valuables.

The Sign of the Red Cross: A Tale of Old London · 第 16 / 20 章