Zealand

21. Aftermath

Captain and I had quickly settled into our new home, and a few days later, when the wind and flooding tide were favourable, we sailed Bessy out of Deptford Creek and upriver to London. As we approached, except for the bridge, little beyond the Tower was recognisable. Scattered chimneys were the only remnants of wooden houses, and partly collapsed walls marked where brick and stone ones had stood.

Were it not for Billingsgate dock, I would not have known where Captain's house had been. Only two stone walls and parts of the other two remained, and they were all blackened. His wharf had burnt, including the top parts of the pilings, the parts not wet from the river. But though I couldn't see because of the tide, I knew the crib would still be there beneath the water.

We moored in the dock, so strangely empty compared to a month before, when far too many had scrambled to save what little they could. And even before the fire, when the market was active, and two dozen or more barges moored to offload, now we were but three.

Here and there up the slope, people picked through the ruins, and I was surprised how few were doing this. Then I thought that by now, most things with any value would have already been taken – the iron, copper and brass for the metal mongers – little else would have survived.

Captain remained silent while we walked along the dock and then toward St Mary Hill, picking our way past chimneys and crumbled walls collapsed onto the cobbles. Then when we reached the first crossing street, he stopped and said, "This corner is mine, two up the hill and three along Thames Street toward the Tower."

For a long while, we stood surveying what little remained, then I asked, "And the other five, sir?"

He pointed along Thames Street. "But for the next two, I own the rest of them to the corner of St Dunstan's and around it." He breathed a loud sigh. "Perhaps now, Mister Douglas will sell."

"Mister Douglas, sir?"

"The man who owns the other two. But for them, this side of the street is mine."

I nodded, then after examining all the way along, I said, "It appears these were all built of wood – no remaining walls nor even their rubble."

"Aye, lad. And my intention had been to replace the lot of them with a grand, stone building, three levels high, with merchants, artisans and offices below and houses above."

"Oh! Like over in Cheapside[1] and the Royal Exchange."[2]

"Somewhat. But even more refined than those. My thought was to serve this sector of the city; it had become an enclave of the wealthy." He paused to examine the ruins for a while, then he continued, "If any benefit comes from this tragedy, it is that I save the time and awkwardness involved in not renewing the tenants' leases."

I pondered his words, thinking how different an attitude this is compared to those of Mister Stourton and the landlord at the garret. "You also save the expenses of removing the houses, sir."

"Indeed! Another benefit."

Seeing there was nothing to be done, we returned to Bessy and headed downriver at the end of the flood. It soon turned to ebb, and we had a pleasant sail in a light westerly breeze all the way to Deptford Creek.

Captain saw no purpose would be served in returning to London, so we spent the following days overhauling Bessy's standing and running rigging,[3] scraping barnacles and loose paint from her hull and repainting.

Tuesday, 9th October 1666

Two weeks after we had been to London, a knock came on the door, and when Captain had opened it, I heard a man say, "I've just come from the Royal Dockyard, sir. Great news. The King's Council issued a decree giving owners two weeks to remove all debris from their foundations, so surveying can begin."

"Thank you, Mister Harcourt. Finally, the beginning of a long process."

When Captain returned from the door, he held a piece of paper, and as he sat, he ran his eyes down it and said, "After the usual praises of the King, it gets to the important part: Rules and directions for rebuilding cannot yet be given, but the inconveniences of hasty and unskillful buildings must be avoided, and lest any should obstinately erect such buildings, the Lord Mayor and others are authorized to pull down the same. Brick having been found to resist and even extinguish fire, all houses are to be of brick or stone."

He looked up from the paper. "This bodes well for a better and safer city." Then he continued reading, "Rules will be issued for the breadth of the principal streets, and no alleys allowed unless absolutely necessary. No houses are to be erected within some feet of the river, and those built are to be fair structures for ornament."

"Oh, does that mean your wharf house cannot be rebuilt?"

He looked at the page and reread it. "This is not clearly stated, lad. Some feet might be five; it might be ten." He shrugged. "Whatever, the house will need to be set farther back – easy to make the garden behind it smaller."

"What about the privy? You won't be able to hang it out over the water."

"A hole can be let down through the wharf, lad." He nodded and looked again at the paper to read, "A survey is to be made of the whole ground, and each person to have his land secured to him by Act of Parliament."

"So nobody can take your land."

"Exactly. But I do hope the City had protected and kept the registers. Many owners might have lost their deeds in the fire, so proving ownership would otherwise be difficult."

We discussed the other contents of the decree as we sat in the leather chairs by the fire. Then later, we read, both before and after supper.

We awoke the next morning to heavy rain, and it fell hard the whole day. This was good because the spring had run low, and Captain had told all our neighbours to reduce their use and to take care to not waste.

The rain continued without stop the next day and the next and the next – what we had so sorely needed weeks ago when the fire started. A week later, rain still fell with no easing whatsoever, and it came straight down with nary a breath of wind. Captain continued delaying our sailing to London to arrange workers to clear his lots, not wanting to row Bessy all the way there and back, and particularly, not in heavy rain.

Finally, after ten days, a westerly breeze blew away the clouds, and with them, the rain. As the tide rose mid-morning, we boarded Bessy and sailed upriver. Aside from trimming the sails as we tacked, I spent most of the voyage bailing, the rain having left over a foot of water in the bilge.[4]

We again moored in Billingsgate, now with a dozen or so other boats there. As we walked up toward Captain's lots, everything looked different; the soot and ashes had been washed away, and most of the foundations were cleared of rubble. We were approached by many, asking if we had work for them, and Captain hired the first twenty, wanting to have the clearing finished quickly to not miss the tide back down to Deptford.

I listened while he instructed them and pointed out the boundaries of the lots at the St Mary corner. Then he bade me remain and oversee while he took ten of the men along to the St Dunstan's corner.

It was then I realised that a boy of twelve can command men. But more, I realised the trust Captain had in me – and in my ability to do so.

Not wanting to appear idle, I worked with the men, and as I hefted bricks from a collapsed chimney, I overheard one telling another, "First day I got thruppence the hour, then tuppence ha'penny as more men came. Now even at tuppence, 'tis more than I ever got afore."

I pondered the implications of this as I carried the bricks to the pile. So much work needed for the rebuilding. And the fire left so many without work. And with all the wealth Captain and others have, surely these pieces fit together.

Notes:
[1] Cheapside was the fashionable shopping district at the time of the Great Fire. The name derives from the Old English word 'cheap', meaning 'market'.
[2] The huge complex of the Royal Exchange was officially opened in 1571 by Queen Elizabeth, who awarded the building its royal title and a licence to sell alcohol and valuable goods. It was England's first specialist commercial building.
[3] The standing rigging is the shrouds and stays that support the mast, and the running rigging is the lines that hoist and adjust the sails.
[4] The bilge is the lowest internal part of a ship, and it is where rain and leaks collect.