A bastard by birth and orphaned at twelve, Charles has learnt to fend for himself in 1660s London. Homeless, he seeks shelter for the night in some canvas aboard a barge on the Thames. In the morning, he tumbles awake when the sail is hoisted, and t...
When we arose on Tuesday morning, the wind was still strong out of the east, rattling Bessy's halyards and flapping the brailed sail against the mast. The dikes beside her blocked it from blowing hard on the tarpawlings, but they slapped about in the swirls and eddies, as Captain called them. Adjusting and tightening the lines to make taut the roof of our home was our first task of the day.
Then while he kindled the fire in the lee of the dike, I went to fetch water for tae, egg boiling and washing. He had given me the telescopium, asking me to survey the fire and report to him any changes, but as I ascended the slope above the spring, I didn't even need it. Plain to see, the conflagration was all the bigger and that it had greatly spread through the night.
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I sat in the grass and lifted the instrument to my eye, and as I scanned, I saw Saint Paul's Cathedral aflame, and the fire was now heading toward my old home behind Tavistock Street.
Home? What grand comfort and ease I have here compared to there. And now even more with that being in all the smoke and danger. Where would I have gone? All the barges are now full and away. Where have all the other people gone? Half a thousand houses burnt, Mister Harcourt said – and that was yesterday. Double that, now? A thousand? More?
I wondered about the long lines of men in the streets, then when I saw a huge wall collapse, I understood. Pulling down houses to make a gap to stop the fire.
I surveyed for a long time, then with the buckets filled, I returned to Captain and reported about Saint Paul's and the spread west and the men wrecking houses and all. Then I finished with, "And it moves against the wind past Billingsgate and toward the Tower, sir."
"Truly?" He stood from his crouch. "Guard Bessy and tend the fire, lad. This is far worse than I had imagined it would become." As he strode away, he continued, "Surely by now, the King will have mustered..."
His words faded as he crossed the field, and I wondered why the King would want mustard at a time like this.
The tae had steeped, and I was removing the leaves when Captain returned. Then as we sipped, he answered my question, "To muster is to gather a ship's crew, the soldiers of a garrison or other such like group."
"Like all the men in the street pulling houses down."
"Aye, but it is well past time to be more bold than that. Muster the garrisons and have them use gunpowder to destroy the houses in the fire's path. Otherwise, there appears no stopping it until the entire city is consumed – when there remains no more to burn."
Through the day, we sat aboard Bessy, Captain continuing to teach me to read. From time to time, one or the other of us went up the slope to examine the fire. Then in the late afternoon, we heard loud explosions, and Captain hastened away across the field.
The explosions continued, and he returned to report, "Finally, a large swath of houses is being cleared from next to the Tower. Now, we can hope they do the same at the western side of the fire. Surely they must; the Houses of Parliament and the King's many other palaces are not far from its advance."
Wednesday, 5th September 1666
The wind had eased Tuesday evening, and it blew only a gentle breeze on Wednesday morning when we arose. While I lit the fire, Captain went to view the one in London and to fetch water, and he returned to say, "It appears to be dying, lad. The firebreaks have done their work, and there is no more fuel nearby to feed it."
"And the wind dropped."
"Aye, that, as well. Many small fires are still scattered about, but the advancing great walls of it have been stopped."
"But all your houses there burnt. What now?"
"I still own the land, and that has far greater value than that which was upon it."
I pointed. "Like you said about the burnt one there."
"Indeed." After turning to look at it, he continued, "Near half the rafters are now up; the roof slating begins to-morrow."
When we had cleaned from breakfasting, we resumed my reading lessons, stopping now and then to take turns walking across to check on the fire. Also, we watched the workers raising the rafters and fitting them into place, and one of the times we did this, I asked, "Are the same people going to be in the house, sir?"
"How do you mean, lad?"
"The ones that burnt it."
"Nay, they have rented elsewhere, which is good. It will allow us to live there until I have rebuilt at Billingsgate."
"Oh! So, we'll go there as soon as the roof's done – Saturday, Mister Harcourt had said."
"Nay, not so soon, lad. It will be a fortnight or more beyond that. The interior requires fitting out and finishing, the glazing must be done and –"
"What's glazing, sir?"
"Installing glass in the windows, lad." He then explained what all needs doing, and not long after we had gone back to the reading, a man on horseback approached. He stopped beside Bessy and addressed Captain, "Pardon, sir. I am told that is your house abuilding."
"Aye, that it is."
"Might I rent it?"
"I am sorry, good sir. It is –"
"I will pay half again what they do."
Captain shook his head. "Money will not buy my honour."
"Double, then."
"Nor would triple cause me to change."
"Then, what amount will change your mind?"
"It shall not change it." Captain pointed across the dike. "But I own nine more parcels along the creek, and you may lease one of those."
The man turned to follow Captain's point. "But there are no houses there."
"I intend to have more built."
"But I need one now."
"As do thousands of others."
The man nodded, huffed and rode away. Then when he was beyond hearing, I said, "Like Mister Stourton and the ones at Billingsgate, sir. Not caring about others – only themselves."
"Aye, lad." He grimaced. "And unfortunately, there will be many landlords raising rents to reap the spoils of this increased demand."
