When London Burned : a Story of Restoration Times and the Great Fire

The boat rowed away to the shore, which was not more than a hundred yards distant. A little later they heard a stir on the strand, then came the sound of oars, and two minutes later a boat shot past close to them, and then, bearing away, rowed down the river.

"Now, lads," the captain said, "get the hatches off. The wind is coming more offshore, which is all the better for us, but do not make more noise than you can help."

The hatches were taken off, and the men proceeded to get up a number of barrels and bales, some sail-cloth being thrown on the deck to deaden the sound. Lanterns, passed down into the hold, gave them light for their operations.

"This is the lot," one of the sailors said presently.

Six large boxes were then passed up and put apart from the others. Then followed eight or ten coils of rope, a quantity of chain, some kedge anchors, a number of blocks, five rolls of canvas, and some heavy bags that, by the sound they made when they were laid down, Cyril judged to contain metal articles of some sort. Then the other goods were lowered into the hold and the hatches replaced. The work had scarcely concluded when the boat again came alongside, this time with four men on board. Scarcely a word was spoken as the goods were transferred to the boat.

"You will be going to-morrow?" one of the men in the boat asked.

"Yes, I shall get up to Ipswich on the top of the tide—that is, if I don't stick fast in this crooked channel. My cargo is all either for Ipswich or Aldborough. Now let us turn in," as the boatmen made their way up the river. "We must be under way before daylight, or else we shall not save the tide down to-morrow evening. I am glad we have got that lot safely off. I always feel uncomfortable until we get rid of that part of the cargo. If it wasn't that it paid better than all the rest together I would not have anything to do with it."

Cyril was very glad to lie down on the locker, while the men turned into their berths overhead. He had not yet fully recovered from the effects of the blow he had received, but in spite of the aching of his head he was soon sound asleep. It seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when he was roused by the captain's voice,—

"Tumble up, lads. The light is beginning to show."

Ten minutes later they were under way. The breeze had almost died out, and after sailing for some two miles in nearly a straight course, the boat was thrown over, two men got into it, and, fastening a rope to the ketch's bow, proceeded to tow her along, the captain taking the helm.

To Cyril's surprise, they turned off almost at right angles to the course they had before been following, and made straight for the opposite shore. They approached it so closely that Cyril expected that in another moment the craft would take ground, when, at a shout from the captain, the men in the boat started off parallel with the shore, taking the craft's head round. For the next three-quarters of an hour they pursued a serpentine course, the boy standing in the chains and heaving the lead continually. At last the captain shouted,—"You can come on board now, lads. We are in the straight channel at last." Twenty minutes later they again dropped their anchor opposite a town of considerable size.

"That is Ipswich, lad," the captain said. "It is as nasty a place to get into as there is in England, unless you have got the wind due aft."

The work of unloading began at once, and was carried on until after dark.

"That is the last of them," the captain said, to Cyril's satisfaction. "We can be off now when the tide turns, and if we hadn't got clear to-night we might have lost hours, for there is no getting these people on shore to understand that the loss of a tide means the loss of a day, and that it is no harder to get up and do your work at one hour than it is at another. I shall have a clean up, now, and go ashore. I have got your promise, lad, that you won't try to escape?"

Cyril assented. Standing on the deck there, with the river bank but twenty yards away, it seemed hard that he should not be able to escape. But, as he told himself, he would not have been standing there if it had not been for that promise, but would have been lying, tightly bound, down in the hold.

Cyril and the men were asleep when the captain came aboard, the boy alone remaining up to fetch him off in the boat when he hailed.

"There is no wind, captain," Cyril said, as the anchor was got up.

"No, lad, I am glad there is not. We can drop down with the tide and the boat towing us, but if there was a head wind we might have to stop here till it either dropped or shifted. I have been here three weeks at a spell. I got some news ashore," he went on, as he took his place at the helm, while the three men rowed the boat ahead. "A man I sometimes bring things to told me that he heard there had been an attempt to rescue the men concerned in that robbery. I heard, before I left London, it was likely that it would be attempted."

There were a lot of people concerned in that affair, one way and another, and I knew they would move heaven and earth to get them out, for if any of them peached there would be such a haul as the constables never made in the city before. Word was passed to the prisoners to be ready, and as they were being taken from the Guildhall to Newgate there was a sudden rush made. The constables were not caught napping, and there was a tough fight, till the citizens ran out of their shops and took part with them, and the men, who were sailors, watermen, 'longshore-men, and rascals of all sorts, bolted.

"But two of the prisoners were missing. One was, I heard, an apprentice who was mixed up in the affair, and no one saw him go. They say he must have stooped down and wriggled away into the crowd. The other was a man they called Black Dick; he struck down two constables, broke through the crowd, and got clean away. There is a great hue and cry, but so far nothing has been heard of them. They will be kept in hiding somewhere till there is a chance of getting them through the gates or on board a craft lying in the river. Our men made a mess of it, or they would have got them all off. I hear that they are all in a fine taking that Marner is safely lodged in Newgate with the others taken in his house; he knows so much that if he chose to peach he could hang a score of men. Black Dick could tell a good deal, but he wasn't in all the secrets, and they say Marner is really the head of the band and had a finger in pretty nigh every robbery through the country. All those taken in his place are also in Newgate, and they say the constables are searching the city like ferrets in a rabbit-warren, and that several other arrests have been made."

"I am not sorry the apprentice got away," Cyril said. "He is a bad fellow, there is no doubt, and, by the look he gave me, he would do me harm if he got a chance, but I suppose that is only natural. As to the other man, he looked to me to be a desperate villain, and he also gave me so evil a look that, though he was in the dock with a constable on either side of him, I felt horribly uncomfortable, especially when I heard what sort of man he was."

"What did they say of him?"

"They said they believed he was a man named Ephraim Fowler, who had murdered the skipper and mate of a coaster and then went off in the boat."

"Is that the man? Then truly do I regret that he has escaped. I knew both John Moore, the master, and George Monson, the mate, and many a flagon of beer we have emptied together. If I had known the fellow's whereabouts, I would have put the constables on his track. I am heartily sorry now, boy, that I had a hand in carrying you off, though maybe it is best for you that it has been so. If I hadn't taken you someone else would, and more than likely you would not have fared so well as you have done, for some of them would have saved themselves all further trouble and risk, by chucking you overboard as soon as they were well out of the Pool."

"Can't you put me ashore now, captain?"

"No, boy; I have given my word and taken my money, and I am not one to fail to carry out a bargain because I find that I have made a bad one. They have trusted me with thousands of pounds' worth of goods, and I have no reason to complain of their pay, and am not going to turn my back on them now they have got into trouble; besides, though I would trust you not to round upon me, I would not trust them. If you were to turn up in London they would know that I had sold them, and Marner would soon hear of it. There is a way of getting messages to a man even in prison. Then you may be sure that, if he said nothing else, he would take good care to let out that I was the man who used to carry their booty away, sometimes to quiet places on the coast, and sometimes across to Holland, and the first time I dropped anchor in the Pool I should find myself seized and thrown into limbo. No, lad; I must carry out my agreement—which is that I am not to land you in England, but that I am to take you across to Holland or elsewhere—the elsewhere meaning that if you fall overboard by the way there will be no complaints as to the breach of the agreement. That is, in fact, what they really meant, though they did not actually put it into words. They said, 'We have a boy who is an informer, and has been the means of Marner being seized and his place broken up, and there is no saying that a score of us may not get a rope round our necks. In consequence, we want him carried away. What you do with him is nothing to us so long as he don't set foot in England again.' 'Will Holland suit you? I am going across there,' I said, 'after touching at Ipswich and Aldborough.' 'It would be much safer for you and everyone else if it happen that he falls over before he gets there. However, we will call it Holland.'"

"Then if I were to fall overboard," Cyril said, with a smile, "you would not be breaking your agreement, captain? I might fall overboard to-night, you know."

"I would not advise it, lad. You had much better stay where you are. I don't say I mightn't anchor off Harwich, and that if you fell overboard you couldn't manage to swim ashore, but I tell you I would not give twopence for your life when you got back to London. It is to the interest of a score of men to keep Marner's mouth shut. They have shown their willingness to help him as far as they could, by getting you out of the way, and if you got back they would have your life the first time you ventured out of doors after dark; they would be afraid Marner would suppose they had sold him if you were to turn up at his trial, and as like as not he would round on the whole lot. Besides, I don't think it would be over safe for me the first time I showed myself in London afterwards, for, though I never said that I would do it, I have no doubt they reckoned that I should chuck you overboard, and if you were to make your appearance in London they would certainly put it down that I had sold them. You keep yourself quiet, and I will land you in Holland, but not as they would expect, without a penny or a friend; I will put you into good hands, and arrange that you shall be sent back again as soon as the trial is over."

"Thank you very much, captain. I have no relations in London, and no friends, except my employer, Captain David Dowsett, and by this time he will have made up his mind that I am dead, and it won't make much difference whether I return in four or five days or as many weeks."

CHAPTER VI
A NARROW ESCAPE

The Eliza, for this Cyril, after leaving Ipswich, learnt was her name, unloaded the rest of her cargo at Aldborough, and then sailed across to Rotterdam. The skipper fulfilled his promise by taking Cyril to the house of one of the men with whom he did business, and arranging with him to board the boy until word came that he could safely return to England. The man was a diamond-cutter, and to him packets of jewellery and gems that could not be disposed of in England had often been brought over by the captain. The latter had nothing to do with the pecuniary arrangements, which were made direct by Marner, and he had only to hand over the packets and take back sums of money to England.

"You understand," the captain said to Cyril, "that I have not said a word touching the matter for which you are here. I have only told him that it had been thought it was as well you should be out of England for a time. Of course, he understood that you were wanted for an affair in which you had taken part; but it matters not what he thinks. I have paid him for a month's board for you, and here are three pounds, which will be enough to pay for your passage back if I myself should not return. If you do not hear from me, or see the Eliza, within four weeks, there is no reason why you should not take passage back. The trial will be over by that time, and as the members of the gang have done their part in preventing you from appearing, I see not why they should have further grudge against you."

"I cannot thank you too much for your kindness, captain. I trust that when I get back you will call at Captain Dowsett's store in Tower Street, so that I may see you and again thank you; I know that the Captain himself will welcome you heartily when I tell him how kindly you have treated me. He will be almost as glad as I shall myself to see you. I suppose you could not take him a message or letter from me now?"

"I think not, lad. It would never do for him to be able to say at the trial that he had learnt you had been kidnapped. They might write over here to the Dutch authorities about you. There is one thing further. From what I heard when I landed yesterday, it seems that there is likely to be war between Holland and England."

"I heard a talk of it in London," Cyril said, "but I do not rightly understand the cause, nor did I inquire much about the matter."

"It is something about the colonies, and our taxing their goods, but I don't rightly understand the quarrel, except that the Dutch think, now that Blake is gone and our ships for the most part laid up, they may be able to take their revenge for the lickings we have given them. Should there be war, as you say you speak French as well as English, I should think you had best make your way to Dunkirk as a young Frenchman, and from there you would find no difficulty in crossing to England."

"I know Dunkirk well, captain, having indeed lived there all my life. I should have no difficulty in travelling through Holland as a French boy."

"If there is a war," the captain said, "I shall, of course, come here no more; but it may be that you will see me at Dunkirk. French brandy sells as well as Dutch Schiedam, and if I cannot get the one I may perhaps get the other; and there is less danger in coming to Dunkirk and making across to Harwich than there is in landing from Calais or Nantes on the south coast, where the revenue men are much more on the alert than they are at Harwich."

"Are you not afraid of getting your boat captured? You said it was your own."

"Not much, lad. I bring over a regular cargo, and the kegs are stowed away under the floor of the cabin, and I run them at Pin-mill—that is the place we anchored the night before we got to Ipswich. I have been overhauled a good many times, but the cargo always looks right, and after searching it for a bit, they conclude it is all regular. You see, I don't bring over a great quantity—fifteen or twenty kegs is as much as I can stow away—and it is a long way safer being content with a small profit than trying to make a big one."

Cyril parted with regret from the captain, whose departure had been hastened by a report that war might be declared at any moment, in which case the Eliza might have been detained for a considerable time. He had, therefore, been working almost night and day to get in his cargo, and Cyril had remained on board until the last moment. He had seen the diamond dealer but once, and hoped that he should not meet him often, for he felt certain that awkward questions would be asked him. This man was in the habit of having dealings with Marner, and had doubtless understood from the captain that he was in some way connected with his gang; and were he to find out the truth he would view him with the reverse of a friendly eye. He had told him that he was to take his meals with his clerk, and Cyril hoped, therefore, that he should seldom see him.

He wandered about the wharf until it became dark. Then he went in and took supper with the clerk. As the latter spoke Dutch only, there was no possibility of conversation. Cyril was thinking of going up to his bed when there was a ring at the bell. The clerk went to answer it, leaving the door open as he went out, and Cyril heard a voice ask, in English, if Herr Schweindorf was in. The clerk said something in Dutch.

"The fool does not understand English, Robert," the man said.

"Tell him," he said, in a louder voice, to the clerk, "that two persons from England—England, you understand—who have only just arrived, want to see him on particular business. There, don't be blocking up the door; just go and tell your master what I told you."

He pushed his way into the passage, and the clerk, seeing that there was nothing else to do, went upstairs.

A minute later he came down again, and made a sign for them to follow him. As they went up Cyril stole out and looked after them. The fact that they had come from England, and that one of them was named Robert, and that they had business with this man, who was in connection with Marner, had excited his suspicions, but he felt a shiver of fear run through him as he recognised the figures of Robert Ashford and the man who was called Black Dick. He remembered the expression of hatred with which they had regarded him in the Court, and felt that his danger would be great indeed did they hear that he was in Rotterdam. A moment's thought convinced him that they would almost certainly learn this at once from his host. The letter would naturally mention that the captain had left a lad in his charge who was, as he believed, connected with them. They would denounce him as an enemy instead of a friend. The diamond merchant would expel him from his house, terrified at the thought that he possessed information as to his dealings with this band in England; and once beyond the door he would, in this strange town, be at the mercy of his enemies. Cyril's first impulse was to run back into the room, seize his cap, and fly. He waited, however, until the clerk came down again; then he put his cap carelessly on his head.

"I am going for a walk," he said, waving his hand vaguely.

The man nodded, went with him to the door, and Cyril heard him put up the bar after he had gone out. He walked quietly away, for there was no fear of immediate pursuit.

Black Dick had probably brought over some more jewels to dispose of, and that business would be transacted, before there would be any talk of other matters. It might be a quarter of an hour before they heard that he was an inmate of the house; then, when they went downstairs with the dealer, they would hear that he had gone out for a walk and would await his return, so that he had two or three hours at least before there would be any search.

It was early yet. Some of the boats might be discharging by torchlight. At any rate, he might hear of a ship starting in the morning. He went down to the wharf. There was plenty of bustle here; boats were landing fish, and larger craft were discharging or taking in cargo; but his inability to speak Dutch prevented his asking questions. He crossed to the other side of the road. The houses here were principally stores or drinking taverns. In the window of one was stuck up, "English and French Spoken Here." He went inside, walked up to the bar, and called for a glass of beer in English.

"You speak English, landlord?" he asked, as the mug was placed before him.

The latter nodded.

"I want to take passage either to England or to France," he said. "I came out here but a few days ago, and I hear that there is going to be trouble between the two countries. It will therefore be of no use my going on to Amsterdam. I wish to get back again, for I am told that if I delay I may be too late. I cannot speak Dutch, and therefore cannot inquire if any boat will be sailing in the morning for England or Dunkirk. I have acquaintances in Dunkirk, and speak French, so it makes no difference to me whether I go there or to England."

"My boy speaks French," the landlord said, "and if you like he can go along the port with you. Of course, you will give him something for his trouble?"

"Willingly," Cyril said, "and be much obliged to you into the bargain."

The landlord left the bar and returned in a minute with a boy twelve years old.

"He does not speak French very well," he said, "but I dare say it will be enough for your purpose. I have told him that you want to take ship to England, or that, if you cannot find one, to Dunkirk. If that will not do, Ostend might suit you. They speak French there, and there are boats always going between there and England."

"That would do; though I should prefer the other."

"There would be no difficulty at any other time in getting a boat for England, but I don't know whether you will do so now. They have been clearing off for some days, and I doubt if you will find an English ship in port now, though of course there may be those who have been delayed for their cargo."

Cyril went out with the boy, and after making many inquiries learnt that there was but one English vessel still in port. However, Cyril told his guide that he would prefer one for Dunkirk if they could find one, for if war were declared before the boat sailed, she might be detained. After some search they found a coasting scow that would sail in the morning.

"They will touch at two or three places," the boy said to Cyril, after a talk with the captain; "but if you are not in a hurry, he will take you and land you at Dunkirk for a pound—that is, if he finds food; if you find food he will take you for eight shillings. He will start at daybreak."

"Tell him that I agree to his price. I don't want the trouble of getting food. As he will be going so early, I will come on board at once. I will get my bundle, and will be back in half an hour."

He went with the boy to one of the sailors' shops near, bought a rough coat and a thick blanket, had them wrapped up into a parcel, and then, after paying the boy, went on board.

As he expected, he found there were no beds or accommodation for passengers, so he stretched himself on a locker in the cabin, covered himself with his blanket, and put the coat under his head for a pillow. His real reason for choosing this craft in preference to the English ship was that he thought it probable that, when he did not return to the house, it would at once be suspected that he had recognised the visitors, and was not going to return at all. In that case, they might suspect that he would try to take passage to England, and would, the first thing in the morning, make a search for him on board any English vessels that might be in the port.

It would be easy then for them to get him ashore, for the diamond merchant might accuse him of theft, and so get him handed over to him. Rather than run that risk, he would have started on foot had he not been able to find a native craft sailing early in the morning. Failing Dunkirk and Ostend, he would have taken a passage to any other Dutch port, and run his chance of getting a ship from there. The great point was to get away from Rotterdam.

The four men forming the crew of the scow returned late, and by their loud talk Cyril, who kept his eyes closed, judged that they were in liquor. In a short time they climbed up into their berths, and all was quiet. At daybreak they were called up by the captain. Cyril lay quiet until, by the rippling of the water against the side, he knew that the craft was under way. He waited a few minutes, and then went up on deck. The scow, clumsy as she looked, was running along fast before a brisk wind, and in an hour Rotterdam lay far behind them.

The voyage was a pleasant one. They touched at Dordrecht, at Steenbergen on the mainland, and Flushing, staying a few hours in each place to take in or discharge cargo. After this, they made out from the Islands, and ran along the coast, putting into Ostend and Nieuport, and, four days after starting, entered the port of Dunkirk.

Cyril did not go ashore at any of the places at which they stopped. It was possible that war might have been declared with England, and as it might be noticed that he was a foreigner he would in that case be questioned and arrested. As soon, therefore, as they neared a quay, he went down to the cabin and slept until they got under way again. The food was rough, but wholesome; it consisted entirely of fish and black bread; but the sea air gave him a good appetite, and he was in high spirits at the thought that he had escaped from danger and was on his way back again. At Dunkirk he was under the French flag, and half an hour after landing had engaged a passage to London on a brig that was to sail on the following day. The voyage was a stormy one, and he rejoiced in the possession of his great-coat, which he had only bought in order that he might have a packet to bring on board the scow, and so avoid exciting any suspicion or question as to his being entirely unprovided with luggage.

It was three days before the brig dropped anchor in the Pool. As soon as she did so, Cyril hailed a waterman, and spent almost his last remaining coin in being taken to shore. He was glad that it was late in the afternoon and so dark that his attire would not be noticed. His clothes had suffered considerably from his capture and confinement on board the Eliza, and his great-coat was of a rough appearance that was very much out of character in the streets of London. He had, however, but a short distance to traverse before he reached the door of the house. He rang at the bell, and the door was opened by John Wilkes.

"What is it?" the latter asked. "The shop is shut for the night, and I ain't going to open for anyone. At half-past seven in the morning you can get what you want, but not before."

"Don't you know me, John?" Cyril laughed. The old sailor stepped back as if struck with a blow.

"Eh, what?" he exclaimed. "Is it you, Cyril? Why, we had all thought you dead! I did not know you in this dim light and in that big coat you have got on. Come upstairs, master. Captain Dave and the ladies will be glad indeed to see you. They have been mourning for you sadly, I can tell you."

Cyril took off his wrap and hung it on a peg, and then followed John upstairs.

"There, Captain Dave," the sailor said, as he opened the door of the sitting-room. "There is a sight for sore eyes!—a sight you never thought you would look on again."

For a moment Captain Dave, his wife, and daughter stared at Cyril as if scarce believing their eyes. Then the Captain sprang to his feet.

"It's the lad, sure enough. Why, Cyril," he went on, seizing him by the hand, and shaking it violently, "we had never thought to see you alive again; we made sure that those pirates had knocked you on the head, and that you were food for fishes by this time. There has been no comforting my good wife; and as to Nellie, if it had been a brother she had lost, she could not have taken it more hardly."

"They did knock me on the head, and very hard too, Captain Dave. If my skull hadn't been quite so thick, I should, as you say, have been food for fishes before now, for that is what they meant me for, and there is no thanks to them that I am here at present. I am sorry that you have all been made so uncomfortable about me."

"We should have been an ungrateful lot indeed if we had not, considering that in the first place you saved us from being ruined by those pirates, and that it was, as we thought, owing to the services you had done us that you had come to your end."

"But where have you been, Master Cyril?" Nellie broke in. "What has happened to you? We have been picturing all sorts of horrors, mother and I. That evil had befallen you we were sure, for we knew that you would not go away of a sudden, in this fashion, without so much as saying goodbye. We feared all the more when, two days afterwards, the wretches were so bold as to attack the constables, and to rescue Robert Ashford and another from their hands. Men who would do this in broad daylight would surely hesitate at nothing."

"Let him eat his supper without asking further questions, Nellie," her father said. "It is ill asking one with victuals before him to begin a tale that may, for aught I know, last an hour. Let him have his food, lass, and then I will light my pipe, and John Wilkes shall light his here instead of going out for it, and we will have the yarn in peace and comfort. It spoils a good story to hurry it through. Cyril is here, alive and well; let that content you for a few minutes."

"If I must, I must," Nellie said, with a little pout. "But you should remember, father, that, while you have been all your life having adventures of some sort, this is the very first that I have had; for though Cyril is the one to whom it befell, it is all a parcel with the robbery of the house and the capture of the thieves."

"When does the trial come off, Captain Dave?"

"It came off yesterday. Marner is to be hung at the end of the week. He declared that he was but in the lane by accident when two lads opened the gate. He and the man with him, seeing that they were laden with goods, would have seized them, when they themselves were attacked and beaten down. But this ingenuity did not save him. Tom Frost had been admitted as King's evidence, and testified that Marner had been several times at the gate with the fellow that escaped, to receive the stolen goods. Moreover, there were many articles among those found at his place that I was able to swear to, besides the proceeds of over a score of burglaries. The two men taken in his house will have fifteen years in gaol. The women got off scot-free; there was no proof that they had taken part in the robberies, though there is little doubt they knew all about them."