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

"I am not afraid of it," Cyril said; "and if it should come to Captain Dowsett's house, I would rather be there, that I may do what I can to help those who were so kind to me."

"Just as you like, lad. Do not hurry to rejoin. It is not likely there will be any fighting for some time, for it will be long before the Dutch are ready to take the sea again after the hammering we have given them, and all there will be to do will be to blockade their coast and to pick up their ships from foreign ports as prizes."

The next morning Cyril was placed on board a little yacht, called the Fan Fan, belonging to the Prince, and sailed up the river, the ship's company mustering at the side and giving him a hearty cheer. The wind was favourable, and they arrived that afternoon in town. According to the Prince's instructions, the sailors at once placed Cyril on a litter that had been brought for the purpose, and carried him up to Captain Dowsett's.

The City was in a state of agitation. The news of the victory had arrived but a few hours before, and the church bells were all ringing, flags were flying, the shops closed, and the people in the streets. John Wilkes came down in answer to the summons of the bell.

"Hullo!" he said; "whom have we here?"

"Don't you know me, John?" Cyril said.

John gave a start of astonishment.

"By St. Anthony, it is Master Cyril! At least, it is his voice, though it is little I can see of him, and what I see in no way resembles him."

"It is Sir Cyril Shenstone," the captain of the Fan Fan, who had come with the party, said sternly, feeling ruffled at the familiarity with which this rough-looking servitor of a City trader spoke of the gentleman in his charge. "It is Sir Cyril Shenstone, as brave a gentleman as ever drew sword, and who, as I hear, saved Prince Rupert's ship from being burnt by the Dutchmen."

"He knows me," John Wilkes said bluntly, "and he knows no offence is meant. The Captain and his dame, and Mistress Nellie are all out, Sir Cyril, but I will look after you till they return. Bring him up, lads. I am an old sailor myself, and fought the Dutch under Blake and Monk more than once."

He led the way upstairs into the best of the spare rooms. Here Cyril was laid on a bed. He thanked the sailors heartily for the care they had taken of him, and the captain handed a letter to John, saying,—

"The young Lord Oliphant asked me to give this to Captain Dowsett, but as he is not at home I pray you to give it him when he returns."

As soon as they had gone, John returned to the bed.

"This is terrible, Master Cyril. What have they been doing to you? I can see but little of your face for those bandages, but your eyes look mere slits, your flesh is all red and swollen, your eyebrows have gone, your arms and legs are all swathed up in bandages—Have you been blown up with gunpowder?—for surely no wound could have so disfigured you."

"I have not been blown up, John, but I was burnt by the flames of a Dutch fire-ship that came alongside. It is a matter that a fortnight will set right, though I doubt not that I am an unpleasant-looking object at present, and it will be some time before my hair grows again."

"And you are not hurt otherwise, Master?" John asked anxiously.

"Yes; I am hurt gravely enough, though not so as to imperil my life. I have a wound on the side of my head, and the same blow, as the doctor says, cleft through my shoulder-bone."

"I had best go and get a surgeon at once," John said; "though it will be no easy matter, for all the world is agog in the streets."

"Leave it for the present, John. There is no need whatever for haste. In that trunk of mine is a bottle of oils for the burns, though most of the sore places are already beginning to heal over, and the doctor said that I need not apply it any more, unless I found that they smarted too much for bearing. As for the other wounds, they are strapped up and bandaged, and he said that unless they inflamed badly, they would be best let alone for a time. So sit down quietly, and let me hear the news."

"The news is bad enough, though the Plague has not yet entered the City."

"The Prince told me that there was a report, before he came on board at Lowestoft, that it had done so."

"No, it is not yet come; but people are as frightened as if it was raging here. For the last fortnight they have been leaving in crowds from the West End, and many of the citizens are also beginning to move. They frighten themselves like a parcel of children. The comet seemed to many a sign of great disaster."

Cyril laughed.

"If it could be seen only in London there might be something in it, but as it can be seen all over Europe, it is hard to say why it should augur evil to London especially. It was shining in the sky three nights ago when we were chasing the Dutch, and they had quite as good reason for thinking it was a sign of misfortune to them as have the Londoners."

"That is true enough," John Wilkes agreed; "though, in truth, I like not to see the' thing in the sky myself. Then people have troubled their heads greatly because, in Master Lilly's Almanack, and other books of prediction, a great pestilence is foretold."

"It needed no great wisdom for that," Cyril said, "seeing that the Plague has been for some time busy in foreign parts, and that it was here, though not so very bad, in the winter, when these books would have been written."

"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."