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...
The rain had stopped mid-afternoon that day, having little effect on putting out the small fires, so the smoke and the smell continued to carry to us on the breeze. A few days later, while Captain was to market in Deptford, he learnt that a Royal proclamation had been made, which forbade all rebuilding until new regulations were written and issued.
The following days returned to being hot and dry, so I sat on Bessy's stern deck, mostly reading, but sometimes when Captain was there, talking with him. He was often away to Deptford to market and to learn news of London. Also, he was over with Mister Harcourt, seeing to the details of the interior, but recently, more with arranging the start of a new row of houses.
Three weeks after we had arrived in Deptford Creek, we removed Captain's goods from Bessy to our new home, Mister Harcourt and his workers assisting us to make a fast job of it. When the last of it had been taken to the house, Captain bade me remain aboard to guard while he paid the men, and this puzzled me.
He returned a while later, and in answer to my question, he said, "There remains the gold, lad, and it is unwise that the others know of it."
"The gold, sir?"
"In the canvas bags we loaded last."
"Oh, the small, heavy ones."
"Aye. Safest we carry those ourselves – and in buckets to not show their shape nor their unusual heaviness. Though small, each weighs as much as a bucketful of water, so doing it in this manner, our effort will not appear unusual."
I nodded, remembering the bags as I looked around the empty barge. Then not seeing them, I asked, "Where are they, sir?"
"Beneath the coils of spare mooring lines under the side deck." He pointed forward. "Fetch the buckets from the heads, lad."
While Captain carried the first two to the house, I went to the water's edge to wash out the used sponges and the bucket which had held them. Then with two buckets each, we lugged the other four bags, and as we walked, I asked, "Where were these stowed at Billingsgate? I checked everywhere for missed stuff before I rolled my bed."
"We sat on them, lad." He chuckled. "They were beneath a trappe-door well-hidden among the floorboards and covered with a carpet and the leather chairs."
After he had unlocked the door and led me in, I set the buckets down, heaving a sigh and shaking my arms. "Heavier than with water, but I don't fill them all the way to the top, because it just slops out."
"Aye, but no more carrying; the conduit will now do it for us."
Captain lifted a door in the floor to reveal stairs leading down into what he called the earth cellar,[1] and after he had stowed the gold there, we spent much of the afternoon unpacking and arranging.
The main room was a bit smaller than the one at Billingsgate, but there were two other rooms – besides the bathing and privy closets – and one was his to sleep in, and the other was mine. So, without our beds in the corners, the room seemed larger.
When we finished, we sat in the big leather chairs to rest from our toils, and after a long silence, I pointed down at the carpet beneath us and asked, "From the feel of the bags, the gold is in small pieces. Is that so it's easier to handle?"
"Aye, lad. It is all in coin."
"Oh! They make them from gold, too. Not just copper and silver."
"Indeed. And it is far easier to handle and stow this way. If it were all in silver, I would need over a hundred bags to hold it, the shilling being the same size as a guinea."
I nodded, knowing how much heavier his gold plates were than his silver ones, but I stumbled on the hundred bags and also on the new word. "What's a guinea, sir?"
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
"A coin of a pound's value." He dug beneath the waistband of his breeches and pulled out a purse. Then as he picked a coin from it and held it up for me to see, he continued, "But now with the increased value of gold, they trade at twenty-three shillings. This one is a two-guinea piece, so forty-six shillings."
He handed it to me, and as I examined it, I asked, "Why the name guinea?"
"Seems to be from habit now, lad. These were initially struck with gold from Guinea on the west coast of Africa, and they were used for trade there."
"Is that why the elephant under the King's neck?"
"Indeed! Very observant of you. Yes, this was one of the originals with the African gold. But the coins have now found great favour here, so the mint has increased production of them with gold from all sources."
As I turned the heavy coin in my hands, I tried to figure how much was in the bags, but my mind boggled at the quantity, so I tried again.
Captain chuckled and said, "You seem someplace else, lad."
"Sorry, sir. Stuck in my cyphers."
"What are you cyphering now?"
"How much is down there, sir."
"How much did you reckon?"
"Between twelve and fifteen thousand pounds, but that can't be. I must have added an extra zero each time."
"Your mastery of numbers continues to amaze me, lad."
"Oh! Truly, that much?"
"Aye, fourteen thousand and four hundred at my last tally."
"Why so much?"
"It is difficult to find good land to purchase, and carpenters and craftsmen can work only so fast. Once the ban is lifted on rebuilding London, I will have a place to use some of it."
"But then everybody will want carpenters. There must be over a thousand buildings burnt."
"Far more than that, lad." He grimaced and shook his head. "I was told that over thirteen thousand houses were destroyed. Plus eighty churches, most of the shops of the artisans and merchants, and nearly all the offices of the city authorities."[2]
Notes: [1] An earth cellar is called a root cellar these days, and they are used to store root vegetables and other long-keepers like cabbage for winter use. [2] The fire destroyed 13,200 houses, 87 parish churches and Saint Paul's Cathedral. It's estimated that 70,000 of the City's 80,000 inhabitants were left homeless.
