Zealand

8. Ferrying

Lading was fast with Mistress Stourton directing us on the wharf while her husband and two sons were aboard Bessy, following Captain's instructions on where to place the items as they were passed to them. When completed, the wind carried us swiftly upriver to Queenhythe, and it brought the fire's choking smoke with it, swirling about us in the lee of the houses alongside the dock. We were fast to offload, often accompanied by Mister Stourton's loud cursing that we take more care.

When we left the protection of houses to regain the river, the wind was all the stronger, and it was directly on Bessy's nose. So without sail, we drifted downriver with the early ebb as Captain instructed me on how to use the sweeps to both move and guide the barge. Those on the embankment by Gully Hole took our mooring lines to the bitts, making our landing easy.

The same three families were there with their belongings, and I wondered why no more had come. Then I understood when a man pointed up the lane and said, "We must hasten. The fire advances, and the rain of sparks draws closer."

We took aboard the goods of all three families, the lading rushed by the advancing sparks and cinders. Then with the last of the goods and people aboard, Captain ordered me to unbrail the main and hoist the jib, and as he sheeted them, the wind pulled Bessy from the wharf, straining her mooring lines.

The gap was too wide for me to jump ashore, and as I worried how we would unturn the lines from the bitts, Captain handed me one of his knives and pointed forward. "Hasten to cut the fore mooring, lad. Mind you stand well clear of it."

"Aye, sir. Cut bowline. Stand clear." As I rushed forward, I realised the reason for this. With the current much stronger now, we would be unable to hold Bessy while we removed the lines, and she would be swept away without us.

The line was drawn straight and thin when I arrived, and its strain was such that one slice with the knife parted it. The severed ends whipped suddenly away, the one slapping Bessy, the other soaring high over the lip of the wharf, and as my eyes followed it, I saw flames licking from the windows of the houses above us on the bridge.

The filled jib swung the bow out into the river, and I looked aft to see the stern line still fast to the bitt on the wharf, so I hastened to see what I might do there. Before I arrived, a loud twang sounded, and Bessy shuddered as she was freed by another knife.

Being the more powerful at this instant, the wind blew us upriver against the current. Too slowly, though, as sparks fell all about us, some onto Bessy and her charge. Captain pointed to two buckets at his feet, and he bade those near him to dip them in the river and douse any embers that remained glowing. Then he called to me, "Lower the starboard leeboard, lad."

"Aye, sir, starboard leeboard down."

Then finally, with the leeboard biting, Bessy began responding to the tiller, bending her drift upriver into a course across the wind toward the opposite embankment. As we sailed, I looked back in at the fire, surprised by its great size and intensity. We had been so close to it the past long while that its full extent had been hidden from us. Even with the strong wind, flames leapt higher than the church spires.

Through the bridge arches, I saw houses alight along the embankment toward Billingsgate. Captain was talking with one of the men, so I tapped his tiller arm to gain his attention, then I pointed. "Your house might now be in the way of the fire, sir."

"Aye, lad, I had seen that. But we have Botolph and Love lanes between the fire and home, and these and the wind will slow its spread eastward. Our concern now is for those downwind and in more immediate peril."

We were swiftly across and into the relative calm of Pepper Stairs[1] in Southwarke, and with everyone working, the load was soon set ashore. I listened as the men thanked Captain, and one of them asked, "Is twenty pounds sufficient for all three?"

"My fee for a laden crossing is five, but never you mind." He chuckled. "Your bidding caused me to demand and receive twenty from the belligerent Mister Stourton, so you owe nothing."

While we prepared to leave the mooring, a church bell struck ten, and I realised it was daylight. Dawn's arrival had been hidden by the brightness of the conflagration. Then out in the river again with the sails trimmed and pulling, I asked Captain, "Will we now descend to check the safety of our home?"

He pointed to the lines between the arches and shook his head. "Nay, lad. As much as I wish to, we must remain upstream of the bridge until near the end of the ebb. With this wind so adverse, only a fool would attempt to shoot through before."

I thought of his explanations of the tidal cycles,[2] between six and seven hours from high water to low, and I replied, "So, another two or three hours to slack. Noon of the church bells – or one."

"Aye, lad. You apply well what you have learnt to what you observe."

We continued to ferry loads of people and goods across to Southwarke, each time landing further upstream on the London embankment as the fire advanced along the river at an increasing pace. Our fifth load was taken from Dowgate Stairs, near halfway to Queenhythe from the bridge, and I wondered whether Mister Stourton would again be in the way of the conflagration.

With the current slowed a bit now, Captain tacked Bessy through the central arch of the bridge and then toward the Southwarke strand. Upon finding the first two stairs crowded with lighters and barges, we continued to the ones at Pickle Herring, where we saw the mooring less busy.

Our lines were taken by those already there, and when I had regained the deck from brailing the main, I hefted a large bale to my back. As I adjusted it into place, Captain said, "Nay, lad. Set it down and rest." He pointed toward the long line of people on the stairs. "With four barges all scrabbling to offload at the same time, another pair of hands would do nought but slow it more."

I sat beside him, and we turned to watch the fire across the river, silent for a long while, then he said, "The crowd grows at Billingsgate Dock, so our next loads will be from there."

"Shouldn't the contents of your house be the next, sir?"

"Nay, lad. The fire has still not crossed Botolph Lane,[3] and its rising heat draws air away from there, assisting the wind in keeping our home safe. We shall continue to remove those in greater peril."

Notes:
[1] Pepper Stairs were close under the upstream side of the south abutments of the bridge, which offered lee to the east wind.
[2] The Thames tides at London rise and fall about twenty-three feet (seven metres) twice each day, giving two highs and two lows. The river current reverses at each turn, increasing from still up to 4.3 knots (8 km/h) and back to still.
 [3] Botolph Lane was the next street east of Pudding Lane, where the fire had started. At this point, near Sunday noon, the fire had spread west, south and north but very little eastward because of the wind.