SMITTEN DOWN
Two days later, Cyril started at his usual hour to go to Dr. Hodges';
but he had proceeded but a few yards when a man, who was leaning
against the wall, suddenly lurched forward and caught him round the
neck. Thinking that the fellow had been drinking, Cyril angrily tried
to shake him off. As he did so the man's hat, which had been pressed
down over his eyes, fell off, and, to his astonishment, Cyril
recognised John Harvey.
"You villain! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, as he freed
himself from the embrace, sending his assailant staggering back
against the wall.
The man's face lit up with a look of savage exultation..
"I told you you should hear from me again," he said, "and I have kept
my word. I knew the hour you went out, and I have been waiting for
you. You are a doomed man. I have the Plague, and I have breathed in
your face. Before twenty-four hours have passed you will be, as I am,
a dying man. That is a good piece of vengeance. You may be a better
swordsman than I am, but you can't fight with the Plague."
Cyril drew back in horror. As he did so, a change came over John
Harvey's face, he muttered a few words incoherently, swayed backwards
and forwards, and then slid to the ground in a heap. A rush of blood
poured from his mouth, and he fell over dead.
Cyril had seen more than one similar death in the streets, but the
horrible malignity of this man, and his sudden death, gave him a
terrible shock. He felt for the moment completely unmanned, and,
conscious that he was too unhinged for work, he turned and went back
to the house.
"You look pale, lad," John Wilkes said, as Cyril went upstairs. "What
brings you back so soon?"
"I have had rather a shock, John." And he told him of what had
happened.
"That was enough to startle you, lad. I should say the best thing you
could do would be to take a good strong tumbler of grog, and then lay
down."
"That I will do, and will take a dose of the medicine Dr. Hodges
makes everyone take when the infection first shows itself in a house.
As you know, I have never had any fear of the Plague hitherto. I
don't say that I am afraid of it now, but I have run a far greater
risk of catching it than I have ever done before, for until now I
have never been in actual contact with anyone with the disease."
After a sleep Cyril rose, and feeling himself again, went to call
upon Mr. Wallace.
"I shall not come again for a few days," he said, after telling him
what had happened, but without mentioning the name of John Harvey,
"but I will send you a note every other day by John Wilkes. If he
does not come, you will know that I have taken the malady, and in
that case, Mr. Wallace, I know that I shall have your prayers for my
recovery. I am sure that I shall be well cared for by John Wilkes."
"Of my prayers you maybe sure, Cyril; and, indeed, I have every faith
that, should you catch the malady, you will recover from it. You have
neither well-nigh frightened yourself to death, nor have you dosed
yourself with drugs until nature was exhausted before the struggle
began. You will, I am sure, be calm and composed, and above all you
have faith in God, and the knowledge that you have done your part to
carry out His orders, and to visit the sick and aid those in sorrow."
The next day Cyril was conscious of no change except that he felt a
disinclination to exert himself. The next morning he had a feeling of
nausea.
"I think that I am in for it, John," he said. "But at any rate it can
do no harm to try that remedy you spoke of that is used in the East.
First of all, let us fumigate the room. As far as I have seen, the
smoke of tobacco is the best preservative against the Plague. Now do
you, John, keep a bit of tobacco in your mouth."
"That I mostly do, lad."
"Well, keep a bigger bit than usual, John, and smoke steadily. Still,
that will not be enough. Keep the fire burning, and an iron plate
heated to redness over it. Bring that into my room from time to time,
and burn tobacco on it. Keep the room full of smoke."
"I will do that," John said, "but you must not have too much of it. I
am an old hand, and have many times sat in a fo'castle so full of
smoke that one could scarce see one's hands, but you are not
accustomed to it, and it may like enough make you sick."
"There will be no harm in that, John, so that one does not push it
too far. Now, how are you going to set about this sweating process?"
"While you undress and get into bed I will get a blanket ready. It is
to be dipped in boiling water, and then wrung out until it is as dry
as we can get it. Then you are wrapped in that, and then rolled in
five or six dry blankets to keep in the heat. You will keep in that
until you feel almost weak with sweating; then I take you out and
sponge you with warmish water, and then wrap you in another dry
blanket."
"You had better sponge me with vinegar, John."
Cyril undressed. When he had done so he carefully examined himself,
and his eye soon fell on a black spot on the inside of his leg, just
above the knee. It was the well-known sign of the Plague.
"I have got it, John," he said, when the latter entered with a pile
of blankets.
"Well, then, we have got to fight it, Master Cyril, and we will beat
it if it is to be beaten. Now, lad, for the hot blanket."
"Lay it down on the bed, and I will wrap myself in it, and the same
with the others. Now I warn you, you are not to come nearer to me
than you can help, and above all you are not to lean over me. If you
do, I will turn you out of the room and lock the door, and fight it
out by myself. Now puff away at that pipe, and the moment you wrap me
up get the room full of smoke."
John nodded.
"Don't you bother about me," he growled. "I reckon the Plague ain't
going to touch such a tough old bit of seasoned mahogany as I am.
Still, I will do as you tell me."
In a few minutes Cyril was in a profuse perspiration, in which even
his head, which was above the blankets, shared.
"That is grand," John said complacently.
The cloud of tobacco, with which the room was soon filled, was not
long in having the effect that John had predicted, and Cyril was soon
violently sick, which had the effect of further increasing the
perspiration.
"You must open the window and let the smoke out a bit, John," he
gasped. "I can't stand any more of it."
This was done, and for another hour Cyril lay between the blankets.
"I shall faint if I lie here any longer," he said at last. "Now,
John, do you go out of the room, and don't come back again until I
call you. I see you have put the vinegar handy. It is certain that if
this is doing me any good the blankets will be infected. You say you
have got a big fire in the kitchen. Well, I shall take them myself,
and hang them up in front of it, and you are not to go into the room
till they are perfectly dry again. You had better light another fire
at once in the parlour, and you can do any cooking there. I will keep
the kitchen for my blankets."
John nodded and left the room, and Cyril at once proceeded to unroll
the blankets. As he came to the last he was conscious of a strong
fetid odour, similar to that he had more than once perceived in
houses infected by the Plague.
"I believe it is drawing it out of me," he said to himself. "I will
give it another trial presently."
He first sponged himself with vinegar, and felt much refreshed. He
then wrapped himself up and lay down for a few minutes, for he felt
strangely weak. Then he got up and carried the blankets into the
kitchen, where a huge fire had been made up by John. He threw the one
that had been next to him into a tub, and poured boiling water on it,
and the others he hung on chairs round it. Then he went back to his
room, and lay down and slept for half an hour. He returned to the
kitchen and rearranged the blankets. When John saw him go back to his
room he followed him.
"I have got some strong broth ready," he said. "Do you think that you
could take a cupful?"
"Ay, and a good-sized one, John. I feel sure that the sweating has
done me good, and I will have another turn at it soon. You must go at
once and report that I have got it, or when the examiners come round,
and find that the Plague is in the house, you will be fined, or
perhaps imprisoned. Before you go there, please leave word at Dr.
Hodges' that I am ill, and you might also call at Mr. Wallace's and
leave the same message. Tell them, in both cases, that I have
everything that I want, and trust that I shall make a good recovery."
"Ay, ay, sir; I will be off as soon as I have brought you in your
broth, and will be back here in half an hour."
Cyril drank the broth, and then dozed again until John returned. When
he heard his step he called out to him to bring the hot iron, and he
filled the room with tobacco smoke before allowing him to enter.
"Now, John, the blankets are dry, and can be handled again, and I am
ready for another cooking."
Four times that day did Cyril undergo the sweating process. By the
evening he was as weak as a child, but his skin was soft and cool,
and he was free from all feeling of pain or uneasiness. Dr. Hodges
called half an hour after he had taken it for the last time, having
only received his message when he returned late from a terrible day's
work. Cyril had just turned in for the night.
"Well, lad, how are you feeling? I am so sorry that I did not get
your message before."
"I am feeling very well, doctor."
"Your hand is moist and cool," Dr. Hodges said in surprise. "You must
have been mistaken. I see no signs whatever of the Plague."
"There was no mistake, doctor; there were the black marks on my
thighs, but I think I have pretty well sweated it out of me."
He then described the process he had followed, and said that John
Wilkes had told him that it was practised in the Levant.
"Sweating is greatly used here, and I have tried it very repeatedly
among my patients, and in some cases, where I had notice of the
disease early, have saved them. Some bleed before sweating, but I
have not heard of one who did so who recovered. In many cases the
patient, from terror or from weakness of body, cannot get up the heat
required, and even if they arrive at it, have not the strength to
support it. In your case you lost no time; you had vital heat in
plenty, and you had strength to keep up the heat in full force until
you washed, as it were, the malady out of you. Henceforth I shall
order that treatment with confidence when patients come to me whom I
suspect to have the Plague, although it may not have as yet fully
declared itself. What have you done with the blankets?"
"I would not suffer John to touch them, but carried them myself into
the kitchen. The blankets next to me I throw into a tub and pour
boiling water over them; the others I hang up before a huge fire, so
as to be dry for the next operation. I take care that John does not
enter the kitchen."
"How often have you done this?"
"Four times, and lay each time for an hour in the blankets. I feel
very weak, and must have lost very many pounds in weight, but my head
is clear, and I suffer no pain whatever. The marks on my legs have
not spread, and seem to me less dark in colour than they were."
"Your case is the most hopeful that I have seen," Dr. Hodges said.
"The system has had every advantage, and to this it owes its success.
In the first place, you began it as soon as you felt unwell. Most
people would have gone on for another twelve hours before they paid
much attention to the first symptoms, and might not have noticed the
Plague marks even when they went to bed. In the second place, you are
cool and collected, and voluntarily delivered yourself to the
treatment. And in the third place, which is the most important
perhaps of all, you were in good health generally. You had not
weakened yourself by swallowing every nostrum advertised, or wearing
yourself out by vain terrors. Ninety-nine cases out of a hundred
would be probably beyond the reach of help before they were conscious
of illness, and be too weak to stand so severe a strain on the system
as that you have undergone. Another thing is that the remedy could
hardly be attempted in a house full of frightened people. There would
be sure to be carelessness in the matter of the blankets, which,
unless treated as you have done, would be a certain means of
spreading the infection over the house. At any rate, I would continue
the sweating as long as you can possibly stand it. Take nourishment
in the shape of broth frequently, but in small quantity. I would do
it again at midnight; 'tis well not to let the virus have time to
gather strength again. I see you have faith in tobacco."
"Yes, doctor. I never let John Wilkes into the room after I have
taken a bath until it is full of tobacco smoke. I have twice made
myself ill with it to-day."
"Don't carry it too far, lad; for although I also believe in the
virtue of the weed, 'tis a powerful poison, and you do not want to
weaken yourself. Well, I see I can do nothing for you. You and your
man seem to me to have treated the attack far more successfully than
I should have done; for, indeed, this month very few of those
attacked have recovered, whatever the treatment has been. I shall
come round early tomorrow morning to see how you are going on. At
present nothing can be better. Since the first outbreak, I have not
seen a single case in which the patient was in so fair a way towards
recovery in so short a time after the discovery of the infection."
John Wilkes at this moment came in with a basin of broth.
"This is my good friend, John Wilkes, doctor."
"You ought to be called Dr. John Wilkes," the doctor, who was one of
the most famous of his time, said, with a smile, as he shook hands
with him. "Your treatment seems to be doing wonders."
"It seems to me he is doing well, doctor, but I am afraid he is
carrying it too far; he is so weak he can hardly stand."
"Never mind that," the doctor said; "it will be easy enough to build
him up when we have once got the Plague out of him. I have told him
to have another turn in the blankets at twelve o'clock to-night; it
will not do to let the malady get a fresh hold of him. But don't push
it too far, lad. If you begin to feel faint, stop it, even if you
have not been a quarter of an hour in the blankets. Do not cover
yourself up too warmly when you have done; let nature have a rest. I
shall be round between eight and nine, and no doubt you will have had
another bath before I come. Do not sleep in the room, Wilkes; he is
sure to go off soundly to sleep, and there is no use your running any
needless risk. Let his window stand open; indeed, it should always be
open, except when he gets out of his blankets, or is fumigating the
room. Let him have a chair by the open window, so as to get as much
fresh air as possible; but be sure that he is warmly wrapped up with
blankets, so as to avoid getting a chill. You might place a hand-bell
by the side of his bed to-night, so that he can summons you should he
have occasion."
When the doctor came next morning he nodded approvingly as soon as he
felt Cyril's hand.
"Nothing could be better," he said; "your pulse is even quieter than
last night. Now let me look at those spots."
"They are fainter," Cyril said.
"A great deal," Dr. Hodges said, in a tone of the greatest pleasure.
"Thank God, my lad, it is dying out. Not above three or four times
since the Plague began have I been able to say so. I shall go about
my work with a lighter heart today, and shall order your treatment in
every case where I see the least chance of its being carried out, but
I cannot hope that it will often prove as successful as it has with
you. You have had everything in your favour--youth, a good
constitution, a tranquil mind, an absence of fear, and a faith in
God."
"And a good attendant, doctor--don't forget that."
"No, that goes for a great deal, lad--for a great deal. Not one nurse
out of a hundred would carry out my instructions carefully; not one
patient in a thousand would be able to see that they were carried
out. Of course you will keep on with the treatment, but do not push
it to extremes; you have pulled yourself down prodigiously, and must
not go too far. Do you perceive any change in the odour when you take
off the blankets?"
"Yes, doctor, a great change; I could scarcely distinguish it this
morning, and indeed allowed John Wilkes to carry them out, as I don't
think I myself could have walked as far as the kitchen, though it is
but ten or twelve paces away. I told him to smoke furiously all the
time, and to come out of the kitchen as soon as he had hung them up."
Cyril took three more baths in the course of the day, but was only
able to sustain them for twenty minutes each, as by the end of that
time he nearly fainted. The doctor came in late in the evening.
"The spots are gone, doctor," Cyril said.
"Then I think you may consider yourself cured, lad. Do not take the
treatment again to-night; you can take it once in the morning; and
then if I find the spots have not reappeared by the time I come, I
shall pronounce the cure as complete, and shall begin to build you up
again."
The doctor was able to give this opinion in the morning.
"I shall not come again, lad, unless you send for me, for every
moment of my time is very precious, and I shall leave you in the
hands of Dr. Wilkes. All you want now is nourishment; but take it
carefully at first, and not too much at a time; stick to broths for
the next two or three days, and when you do begin with solids do so
very sparingly."
"There was a gentleman here yesterday asking about you," John Wilkes
said, as Cyril, propped up in bed, sipped his broth. "It was Mr.
Harvey. He rang at the bell, and I went down to the lower window and
talked to him through that, for of course the watchman would not let
me go out and speak to him. I had heard you speak of him as one of
the gentlemen you met at the minister's, and he seemed muchly
interested in you. He said that you had done him a great service, and
of course I knew it was by frightening that robber away. I never saw
a man more pleased than he was when I told him that the doctor
thought you were as good as cured, and he thanked God very piously
for the same. After he had done that, he asked me first whether you
had said anything to me about him. I said that you had told me you
had met him and his wife at the minister's, and that you said you had
disturbed a robber you found at his house. He said, quite sharp,
'Nothing more?' 'No, not as I can think of. He is always doing good
to somebody,' says I, 'and never a word would he say about it, if it
did not get found out somehow. Why, he saved Prince Rupert's ship
from being blown up by a fire-vessel, and never should we have known
of it if young Lord Oliphant had not written to the Captain telling
him all about it, and saying that it was the gallantest feat done in
the battle. Then there were other things, but they were of the nature
of private affairs.' 'You can tell me about them, my good man,' he
said; 'I am no vain babbler; and as you may well believe, from what
he did for me, and for other reasons, I would fain know as much as I
can of him.' So then I told him about how you found out about the
robbery and saved master from being ruined, and how you prevented
Miss Nellie from going off with a rascal who pretended he was an
earl."
"Then you did very wrong, John," Cyril said angrily. "I say naught
about your speaking about the robbery, for that was told in open
Court, but you ought not, on any account, to have said a word about
Mistress Nellie's affairs."
"Well, your honour, I doubt not Mistress Nellie herself would have
told the gentleman had she been in my place. I am sure he can be
trusted not to let it go further. I took care to tell him what good
it had done Mistress Nellie, and that good had come out of evil."
"Well, you ought not to have said anything about it, John. It may be
that Mistress Nellie out of her goodness of heart might herself have
told, but that is no reason why anyone else should do so. I charge
you in future never to open your lips about that to anyone, no matter
who. I say not that any harm will come of it in this case, for Mr.
Harvey is indeed a sober and God-fearing man, and assuredly asked
only because he felt an interest in me, and from no idle curiosity.
Still, I would rather that he had not known of a matter touching the
honour of Mistress Nellie."
"Mum's the word in future, Master Cyril. I will keep the hatches fast
down on my tongue. Now I will push your bed up near the window as the
doctor ordered, and then I hope you will get a good long sleep."
The Plague and the process by which it had been expelled had left
Cyril so weak that it was some days before he could walk across the
room. Every morning he inquired anxiously of John how he felt, and
the answer was always satisfactory. John had never been better in his
life; therefore, by the time Cyril was able to walk to his easy-chair
by the window, he began to hope that John had escaped the infection,
which generally declared itself within a day or two, and often within
a few hours, of the first outbreak in a house.
A week later the doctor, who paid him a flying visit every two or
three days, gave him the welcome news that he had ordered the red
cross to be removed from the door, and the watchmen to cease their
attendance, as the house might now be considered altogether free from
infection.
The Plague continued its ravages with but slight abatement, moving
gradually eastward, and Aldgate and the district lying east of the
walls were now suffering terribly. It was nearly the end of September
before Cyril was strong enough to go out for his first walk. Since
the beginning of August some fifty thousand people had been carried
off, so that the streets were now almost entirely deserted, and in
many places the grass was shooting up thickly in the road. In some
streets every house bore the sign of a red cross, and the tolling of
the bells of the dead-carts and piteous cries and lamentations were
the only sounds that broke the strange silence.
The scene was so disheartening that Cyril did not leave the house
again for another fortnight. His first visit was to Mr. Wallace. The
sight of a watchman at the door gave him quite a shock, and he was
grieved indeed when he heard from the man that the brave minister had
died a fortnight before. Then he went to Mr. Harvey's. There was no
mark on the door, but his repeated knockings met with no response,
and a woman, looking out from a window opposite, called to him that
the house had been empty for well-nigh a month, and the people that
were in it had gone off in a cart, she supposed into the country.
"There was a gentleman and lady," she said, "who seemed well enough,
and their servant, who was carried down and placed in the cart. It
could not have been the Plague, though the man looked as if he had
been sorely ill."
The next day he called on Dr. Hodges, who had not been near him for
the last month. There was no watchman at the door, and his man opened
it.
"Can I see the doctor?"
"Ay, you can see him," he said; "he is cured now, and will soon be
about again."
"Has he had the Plague, then?"
"That he has, but it is a week now since the watchman left."
Cyril went upstairs. The doctor was sitting, looking pale and thin,
by the window.
"I am grieved indeed to hear that you have been ill, doctor," Cyril
said; "had I known it I should have come a fortnight since, for I was
strong enough to walk this distance then. I did indeed go out, but
the streets had so sad an aspect that I shrank from stirring out
again."
"Yes, I have had it," the doctor said. "Directly I felt it come on I
followed your system exactly, but it had gone further with me than it
had with you, and it was a week before I fairly drove the enemy out.
I ordered sweating in every case, but, as you know, they seldom sent
for me until too late, and it is rare that the system got a fair
chance. However, in my case it was a complete success. Two of my
servants died; they were taken when I was at my worst. Both were dead
before I was told of it. The man you saw was the one who waited on
me, and as I adopted all the same precautions you had taken with your
man, he did not catch it, and it was only when he went downstairs one
day and found the other two servants lying dead in the kitchen that
he knew they had been ill."
"Mr. Wallace has gone, you will be sorry to hear, sir."
"I am sorry," the doctor said; "but no one was more fitted to die. He
was a brave man and a true Christian, but he ran too many risks, and
your news does not surprise me."
"The only other friends I have, Mr. Harvey and his wife, went out of
town a month ago, taking with them their servant."
"Yes; I saw them the day before I was taken ill," the doctor said,
"and told them that the man was so far out of danger that he might
safely be moved. They seemed very interested in you, and were very
pleased when I told them that I had now given up attending you, and
that you were able to walk across the room, and would, erelong, be
yourself again. I hope we are getting to the end of it now, lad. As
the Plague travels East it abates in the West, and the returns for
the last week show a distinct fall in the rate of mortality. There is
no further East for it to go now, and I hope that in another few
weeks it will have worn itself out. We are half through October, and
may look for cold weather before long."
"I should think that I am strong enough to be useful again now, sir."
"I don't think you are strong enough, and I am sure I shall not give
you leave to do so," the doctor said. "I can hardly say how far a
first attack is a protection against a second, for the recoveries
have been so few that we have scarce means of knowing, but there
certainly have been cases where persons have recovered from a first
attack and died from a second. Your treatment is too severe to be
gone through twice, and it is, therefore, more essential that you
should run no risk of infection than it was before. I can see that
you are still very far from strong, and your duty now is, in the
first place, to regain your health. I should say get on board a hoy
and go to Yarmouth. A week in the bracing air there would do you more
good than six months here. But it is useless to give you that advice,
because, in the first place, no shipping comes up the river, and,
even if you could get down to Yarmouth by road, no one would receive
you. Still, that is what I should do myself as soon as I could get
away, were it not that, in my case, I have my duties here."
"But, doctor, what you said to me surely applies to yourself also?"
Cyril said, with a smile.
"I know that," the doctor said good-humouredly, "and expected it, but
it is not for a doctor to choose. He is not free, like other men; he
has adopted a vocation in which it is his first duty to go among the
sick, whatever their ailment may be, to do all that he can for them,
and if, as in the present case, he can do practically nothing else,
to set them an example of calmness and fearlessness. Still, for a
time, at any rate, I shall be able to go no more into houses where
the Plague is raging. 'Tis more than a month since you were cured,
yet you are still a mere shadow of what you were. I had a much harder
fight with the enemy, and cannot walk across the room yet without
William's help. Therefore, it will be a fortnight or three weeks yet
before I can see patients, and much longer before I shall have
strength to visit them in their houses. By that time I trust that the
Plague will have very greatly abated. Thus, you see, I shall not be
called upon to stand face to face with it for some time. Those who
call upon me here are seldom Plague-stricken. They come for other
ailments, or because they feel unwell, and are nervous lest it should
be the beginning of an attack; but of late I have had very few come
here. My patients are mostly of the middle class, and these have
either fled or fallen victims to the Plague, or have shut themselves
up in their houses like fortresses, and nothing would tempt them to
issue abroad. Therefore, I expect that I shall have naught to do but
to gain strength again. Come here when you will, lad, and the oftener
the better. Conversation is the best medicine for both of us, and as
soon as I can I will visit you. I doubt not that John Wilkes has many
a story of the sea that will take our thoughts away from this sad
city. Bring him with you sometimes; he is an honest fellow, and the
talk of sailors so smacks of the sea that it seems almost to act as a
tonic."
Cyril stayed for an hour, and promised to return on the following
evening. He said, however, that he was sure John Wilkes would not
accompany him.
"He never leaves the house unless I am in it. He considers himself on
duty; and although, as I tell him, there is little fear of anyone
breaking in, seeing how many houses with much more valuable and more
portable goods are empty and deserted, he holds to his purpose,
saying that, even with the house altogether empty, it would be just
as much his duty to remain in charge."
"Well, come yourself, Cyril. If we cannot get this old watch-dog out
I must wait until I can go to him."
"I shall be very glad to come, doctor, for time hangs heavily on my
hands. John Wilkes spends hours every day in washing and scrubbing
decks, as he calls it, and there are but few books in the house."
"As to that, I can furnish you, and will do so gladly. Go across to
the shelves there, and choose for yourself."
"Thank you very much indeed, sir. But will you kindly choose for me?
I have read but few English books, for of course in France my reading
was entirely French."
"Then take Shakespeare. I hold his writings to be the finest in our
tongue. I know them nearly by heart, for there is scarce an evening
when I do not take him down for an hour, and reading him I forget the
worries and cares of my day's work, which would otherwise often keep
me from sleep. 'Tis a bulky volume, but do not let that discourage
you; it is full of wit and wisdom, and of such romance that you will
often find it hard to lay it down. Stay--I have two editions, and can
well spare one of them, so take the one on that upper shelf, and keep
it when you have read it. There is but little difference between
them, but I generally use the other, and have come to look upon it as
a friend."
"Nay, sir, I will take it as a loan."
"You will do nothing of the sort. I owe you a fee, and a bumping
one."
Henceforth Cyril did not find his time hang heavy on his hands. It
seemed to him, as he sat at the window and read, that a new world
opened to him. His life had been an eminently practical one. He had
studied hard in France, and when he laid his books aside his time had
been spent in the open air. It was only since he had been with
Captain Dave that he had ever read for amusement, and the Captain's
library consisted only of a few books of travels and voyages. He had
never so much as dreamt of a book like this, and for the next few
days he devoured its pages.
"You are not looking so well, Cyril," Dr. Hodges said to him abruptly
one day.
"I am doing nothing but reading Shakespeare, doctor."
"Then you are doing wrong, lad. You will never build yourself up
unless you take exercise."
"The streets are so melancholy, doctor, and whenever I go out I
return sick at heart and in low spirits."
"That I can understand, lad. But we must think of something," and he
sat for a minute or two in silence. Then he said suddenly, "Do you
understand the management of a boat?"
"Yes, doctor; it was my greatest pleasure at Dunkirk to be out with
the fishermen."
"That will do, then. Go down at once to the riverside. There are
hundreds of boats lying idle there, for there are no passengers and
no trade, and half of their owners are dead. You are sure to see some
men there; having nothing else to do, some will be hanging about. Say
you want to hire a boat for a couple of months or to buy one. You
will probably get one for a few shillings. Get one with a sail as
well as oars. Go out the first thing after breakfast, and go up or
down the river as the tide or wind may suit. Take some bread and meat
with you, and don't return till supper-time. Then you can spend your
evenings with Shakespeare. Maybe I myself will come down and take a
sail with you sometimes. That will bring the colour back into your
cheeks, and make a new man of you. Would that I had thought of it
before!"
Cyril was delighted with the idea, and, going down to Blackfriars,
bought a wherry with a sail for a pound. Its owner was dead, but he
learned where the widow lived, and effected the bargain without
difficulty, for she was almost starving.
"I have bought it," he said, "because it may be that I may get it
damaged or sunk; but I only need it for six weeks or two months, and
at the end of that time I will give it you back again. As soon as the
Plague is over there will be work for boats, and you will be able to
let it, or to sell it at a fair price."
John Wilkes was greatly pleased when Cyril came back and told him
what he had done.
"That is the very thing for you," he said. "I have been a thick-head
not to think of it. I have been worrying for the last week at seeing
you sit there and do nothing but read, and yet there seemed nothing
else for you to do, for ten minutes out in the streets is enough to
give one the heartache. Maybe I will go out for a sail with you
myself sometimes, for there is no fear of the house being broken into
by daylight."
"Not in the slightest, John. I hope that you will come out with me
always. I should soon find it dull by myself, and besides, I don't
think that I am strong enough yet to manage a pair of sculls for
long, and one must reckon occasionally on having to row against the
tide. Even if the worst happened, and anyone did break in and carry
off a few things, I am sure Captain Dave would not grumble at the
loss when he knew that I had wanted you to come out and help me to
manage the boat, which I was ordered to use for my health's sake."
"That he wouldn't," John said heartily; "not if they stripped the
house and shop of everything there was in them."