Zealand

7. Conflagration

Sunday, 2nd September 1666

The sky downriver and across it was dark, but overhead, it glowed yellow and red, lighting our way when Captain and I left the house and hastened along the wharf to Bessy. Bells pealed from every quarter and with many tones, as if all of London's churches were ringing people awake to the danger.

The tide was up again, so boarding the barge was easy, and after he had assisted the man aboard, Captain ordered, "Release the bow line, lad. Then hoist the jib."

"Aye, sir. Bow line then jib."

As the sail pulled Bessy out into the river, I saw over the rooftops a long line of fire leaping far above the houses, sparks streaming beyond in the strong wind. With the jib swiggered and the halyard turned, I headed aft, all the while watching the fire as more of it came into view.

When I arrived in the stern, Captain said, "This is Mister Stourton, the man who buys our vegetables. His house is in the way of the fire."

I offered my hand as I said, "I'm Charles, sir."

He looked down at me and at my hand and shrugged, then he turned to Captain. "You can see the great press of people all along the embankment here and the crowding of barges, and it continues all the way to the bridge. This is why I chose to use Gully Hole[1] just beyond. Two of my sons are there now directing the staff."

"A fine place." Captain waved a hand over the water. "We are fortunate to have the tide favouring us – the shoot through the arch will be easy. To where do you wish your belongings removed?"

"I have a house in Thames Street, above Queenhythe,[2] and you can moor there in the dock. My eldest has hastened to the house to evict the tenants."

Hearing this, my thoughts went to being cast out of the garret, and I hoped whoever Mister Stourton is evicting will fare as well as have I.

With the tide late in its flood, our passage through the arch was gentle. While Captain continued upriver in the strong wind, we regained sight of the fire above the houses on the bridge. Only sparks at first, then soon flames, and I stared in awesome wonderment, not ever seeing so huge a fire – a conflagration, Mister Stourton had called it.

I tried to figure the time, and I knew with the church bells all sounding the alarm, none would ring the hour. Then I thought to the church in Chelsea striking five as we left the wharf – near the end of the flood tide like now. Near the same time, but at night, not in the day.

My thoughts were interrupted by Mister Stourton's loud voice, "We are past Gully Hole, Bryson. Did you not hear me? We go there first."

"Aye, in its time," Captain replied.

"Christ's nails. Wasting time. Another incompetent bargeman. Take me to Gully Hole." Then he shouted, "Now!"

"Tell that to the wind and current. I must obey and abide them."

"God's wounds, Bryson. Use your sweeps."

"The sails will take us there much faster."

"Damn your blood, you idiot. Gully Hole is back there, yet we continue away."

"And you continue to disturb. Now, sit and be still."

All this while, I watched the flames soaring above the bridge, but more, the sparks streaming beyond it in the wind, and I wondered if one of them might set alight a house on this side of the bridge.

Captain's order interrupted my thoughts, "Prepare to come about, lad."

"Aye, sir. Ready about."

Captain pushed the tiller to lay across the wind and then come up into it, and I followed his orders, adjusting the jib sheet until we settled on a course toward the embankment against the current. As we neared, we lost the wind and the view of the fire, and at Captain's command, I unturned the halyard and let fall the sail. Then with the bow line in hand, I leapt ashore.

Captain shouted to those on the wharf, "Remove those goods from the edge. We cannot moor with them covering the bitts.[3] Fast now, before the current pulls us away."

I strained to hold the bow, the line biting into my hands, and I watched Captain ashore with the stern line. As he began kicking away the bales and bundles, I did the same.

Mister Stourton called from aboard, "Damage anything, and you shall pay." Yet, he remained there still, offering no assistance as Captain and I strained to hold the lines while we sought the bitts amid the heaps.

My foot finally struck something solid, and I kicked the bale away, turned the line and called, "Bow line secured, sir."

"Excellent, lad. Very well done."

"Excellent? How in Christ's name is that excellent." Mister Stourton shook his head with such vigour, his jowls wabbled.[4] "Look at the bales he has caused to spill. You shall pay."

"If you do not cease your venom, we shall set you ashore and seek a more grateful charge." Captain found a bitt and turned the stern line to it, then pointing toward a line of people arriving with boxes and bundles, he continued, "Now, lend a hand with the lading, Stourton. And quickly. There are many more we can assist this night." 

"Physical work is beneath the nobility."

"I see nothing noble about you."

"You know damned well my grandfather is a baron, and were it not for my brother, I would be Baronet Stourton. Now, get my chattel aboard."

"Hah! Nobility is far more than blood." Captain pointed to the two elegantly-dressed boys standing beside the heaps. "Spur your idle sons into action – and yourself. We need every man working."

"But –"

"No buts, Stourton. Sparks are already falling here. Soon, this may all be alight – and us with it. Help hasten it aboard. Now!"

Then came a loud call from up the lane, "Ten gold guineas to take us and our goods across the river."

"Fifteen," someone else called.

Another called, "Twenty."

Captain held up his hand. "I am already engaged. If you all assist the lading, we can return here more quickly."

Then a woman's voice called from close beside me, "Get your slothful arse moving, Edward. Here, catch this." She tossed a bale at Mister Stourton.

Notes:
[1] Gully Hole was a lane running down to the river from Thames Street, immediately upstream of the bridge. Hole in this context meant Lane.
[2] Queenhythe was a small artificial mooring inlet from the river, similar to the one at Billingsgate, and they were called docks.
[3] A bitt was similar to what we now call bollard, which didn't enter the language until 1844.
[4] Wabble was the spelling of wobble until 1851.