by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER IX
THE FIRE IN THE SAVOY
The next evening John Wilkes returned after an absence of but half anhour.
"Why, John, you can but have smoked a single pipe! Did you not findyour cronies there?"
"I hurried back, Captain, because a man from one of the ships in thePool landed and said there was a great light in the sky, and that itseemed to him it was either a big fire in the Temple, or in one ofthe mansions beyond the walls; so methought I would come in and askCyril if he would like to go with me to see what was happening."
"I should like it much, John. I saw a great fire in Holborn justafter I came over from France, and a brave sight it was, though veryterrible; and I would willingly see one again."
He took his hat and cloak and was about to be off, when Captain Davecalled after him,--
"Buckle on your sword, lad, and leave your purse behind you. A fireever attracts thieves and cut-throats, who flock round in hopes ofstealing something in the confusion. Besides, as I have told youbefore, you should never go out after dark without your sword, evenwere it but to cross the road."
Cyril ran upstairs to his room, buckled on his weapon, and ran downagain.
"The Captain is right," John Wilkes said, as he joined him at thedoor. "After your two adventures, it would be folly for you to go outunarmed."
"Oh, I expect they have forgotten about me long ago," Cyril laughedlightly.
"I don't know," John Wilkes said seriously. "As to Marner's gang, Ithink that there is not much fear from them, unless that young rascalRobert and the scoundrel who was with him have returned from Holland;and that they are not likely to do for some time to come. But itwould not be in human nature if the man you call John Harvey shouldtake his defeat without trying to pay you back for that wound yougave him, for getting Mistress Nellie out of his hands, and formaking him the laughing-stock of his comrades. I tell you that thereis scarce an evening that I have gone out but some fellow passes mebefore I have gone twenty yards, and, as he brushes my sleeve, turnshis head to look at me. But yesternight I said to one who so behaved,'Look here, mate, this is not the first time you have run against me.I warn you that if it happens again I will crack your head with mycudgel.' The fellow went off, muttering and grumbling, but I have nodoubt that he and the others, for it certainly was not always thesame man, were watching for you. To-night there was no one about, or,if there was, he did not come near me, and it may be that, findingyou never leave the house after nightfall, they have decided to giveit up for the present. But I thought I heard a footfall lower downthe street, just as we came out of the house, and it is like enoughthat we are followed now."
"At any rate, they would scarce attack two of us, John, and I shouldnot mind if they did. It is a stab in the back that I am afraid ofmore than an open quarrel."
"You may have a better swordsman to deal with next time. The fellowhimself would scarcely care to cross swords with you again, but hewould have no difficulty in getting half-a-dozen cut-throats from thepurlieus of the Temple or Westminster, professional bullies, who areready to use their swords to those who care to purchase them, and whowould cut a throat for a few crowns, without caring a jot whosethroat it was. Some of these fellows are disbanded soldiers. Some aremen who were ruined in the wars. Some are tavern bullies--broken men,reckless and quarrelsome gamblers so long as they have a shilling intheir pockets, but equally ready to take to the road or to rob ahouse when their pockets are empty."
By this time they had passed the Exchange into Cheapside. Many peoplewere hurrying in the same direction and wondering where the fire was.Presently one of the Fire Companies, with buckets, ladders, and axes,passed them at a run. Even in Cheapside the glow in the sky aheadcould be plainly seen, but it was not until they passed St. Paul'sand stood at the top of Ludgate Hill that the flames, shooting uphigh in the air, were visible. They were almost straight ahead.
"It must be at the other end of Fleet Street," Cyril said, as theybroke into a run.
"Farther than that, lad. It must be one of the mansions along theStrand. A fire always looks closer than it is. I have seen a ship inflames that looked scarce a mile away, and yet, sailing with a briskwind, it took us over an hour to come up to it."
The crowd became thicker as they approached Temple Bar. The upperwindows of the houses were all open, and women were leaning outlooking at the sight. From every lane and alley men poured into thestreet and swelled the hurrying current. They passed through the Bar,expecting to find that the fire was close at hand. They had, however,some distance farther to go, for the fire was at a mansion in theSavoy. Another Fire Company came along when they were within ahundred yards of the spot.
"Join in with them," Cyril said; and he and John Wilkes managed topush their way into the ranks, joining in the shout, "Way there, way!Make room for the buckets!"
Aided by some of the City watch the Company made its way through thecrowd, and hurried down the hill from the Strand into the Savoy. Aparty of the King's Guard, who had just marched up, kept back thecrowd, and, when once in the open space, Cyril and his companionstepped out from the ranks and joined a group of people who hadarrived before the constables and soldiers had come up.
The mansion from which the fire had originated was in flames from topto bottom. The roof had fallen in. Volumes of flame and sparks shothigh into the air, threatening the safety of several other housesstanding near. The Fire Companies were working their hand-pumps,throwing water on to the doors and woodwork of these houses. Longlines of men were extended down to the edge of the river and passedthe buckets backwards and forwards. City officials, gentlemen of theCourt, and officers of the troops, moved to and fro shoutingdirections and superintending the work. From many of the houses theinhabitants were bringing out their furniture and goods, aided by theconstables and spectators.
"It is a grand sight," Cyril said, as, with his companion, he tookhis place in a quiet corner where a projecting portico threw a deepshadow.
"It will soon be grander still. The wind is taking the sparks andflames westwards, and nothing can save that house over there. Do yousee the little jets of flame already bursting through the roof?"
"The house seems empty. There is not a window open."
"It looks so, Cyril, but there may be people asleep at the back. Letus work round and have a look from behind."
They turned down an alley, and in a minute or two came out behind thehouse. There was a garden and some high trees, but it was surroundedby a wall, and they could not see the windows.
"Here, Cyril, I will give you a hoist up. If you stand on myshoulders, you can reach to the top of the wall and pull yourself up.Come along here to where that branch projects over. That's it. Nowdrop your cloak, and jump on to my back. That is right. Now get on tomy shoulders."
Cyril managed to get up.
"I can just touch the top, but I can't get my fingers on to it."
"Put your foot on my head. I will warrant it is strong enough to bearyour weight."
Cyril did as he was told, grasped the top of the wall, and, after asharp struggle, seated himself astride on it. Just as he did so, awindow in a wing projecting into the garden was thrown open, and afemale voice uttered a loud scream for help. There was light enoughfor Cyril to see that the lower windows were all barred. He shoutedback,--
"Can't you get down the staircase?"
"No; the house is full of smoke. There are some children here. Help!Help!" and the voice rose in a loud scream again.
Cyril dropped down into the roadway by the side of John Wilkes.
"There are some women and children in there, John. They can't getout. We must go round to the other side and get some axes and breakdown the door."
Snatching up his cloak, he ran at full speed to his former position,followed by Wilkes. The roof of the house was now in flames. Many ofthe shutters and window-frames had also caught fire, from the heat.He ran up to two gentlemen who seemed to be directing the operations.
"There are some women and chi
ldren in a room at the back of thathouse," he said. "I have just been round there to see. They are inthe second storey, and are crying for help."
"I fear the ladders are too short."
"I can tie two or three of them together," Wilkes said. "I am an oldsailor and can answer for the knots."
The firemen were already dashing water on the lower windows of thefront of the house. A party with axes were cutting at the door, butthis was so massive and solid that it resisted their efforts. One ofthe gentlemen went down to them. At his orders eight or ten menseized ladders. Cyril snatched some ropes from a heap that had beenthrown down by the firemen, and the party, with one of the gentlemen,ran round to the back of the house. Two ladders were placed againstthe wall. John Wilkes, running up one of them, hauled several of theothers up, and lowered them into the garden.
The flames were now issuing from some of the upper windows. Cyrildropped from the wall into the garden, and, running close up to thehouse, shouted to three or four women, who were screaming loudly, andhanging so far out that he thought they would fall, that help was athand, and that they would be speedily rescued. John Wilkes rapidlytied three of the short ladders together. These were speedily raised,but it was found that they just reached the window. One of thefiremen ran up, while John set to work to prepare another longladder. As there was no sign of life at any other window he laid itdown on the grass when finished.
"If you will put it up at the next window," Cyril said, "I will mountit. The woman said there were children in the house, and possibly Imay find them. Those women are so frightened that they don't knowwhat they are doing."
One woman had already been got on to the other ladder, but instead ofcoming down, she held on tightly, screaming at the top of her voice,until the fireman with great difficulty got up by her side, wrenchedher hands from their hold, threw her across his shoulder, and carriedher down.
The room was full of smoke as Cyril leapt into it, but he found thatit was not, as he had supposed, the one in which the women at thenext window were standing. Near the window, however, an elderly womanwas lying on the floor insensible, and three girls of from eight tofourteen lay across her. Cyril thrust his head out of the window.
"Come up, John," he shouted. "I want help."
He lifted the youngest of the girls, and as he got her out of thewindow, John's head appeared above the sill.
"Take her down quick, John," he said, as he handed the child to him."There are three others. They are all insensible from the smoke."
Filling his lungs with fresh air, he turned into the blinding smokeagain, and speedily reappeared at the window with another of thegirls. John was not yet at the bottom; he placed her with her headoutside the window, and was back with the eldest girl by the timeWilkes was up again. He handed her to him, and then, taking theother, stepped out on to the ladder and followed Wilkes down.
"Brave lad!" the gentleman said, patting him on the shoulder. "Arethere any more of them?"
"One more--a woman, sir. Do you go up, John. I will follow, for Idoubt whether I can lift her by myself."
He followed Wilkes closely up the ladder. There was a red glow now inthe smoke. Flames were bursting through the door. John was waiting atthe window.
"Which way, lad? There is no seeing one's hand in the smoke."
"Just in front, John, not six feet away. Hold your breath."
They dashed forward together, seized the woman between them, and,dragging her to the window, placed her head and shoulders on thesill.
"You go first, John. She is too heavy for me," Cyril gasped.
John stumbled out, half suffocated, while Cyril thrust his head asfar as he could outside the window.
"That is it, John; you take hold of her shoulder, and I will help youget her on to your back."
Between them they pushed her nearly out, and then, with Cyril'sassistance, John got her across his shoulders. She was a heavy woman,and the old sailor had great difficulty in carrying her down. Cyrilhung far out of the window till he saw him put his foot on theground; then he seized a rung of the ladder, swung himself out on toit, and was soon down.
For a time he felt confused and bewildered, and was conscious that ifhe let go the ladder he should fall. He heard a voice say, "Bring oneof those buckets of water," and directly afterwards, "Here, lad, putyour head into this," and a handful of water was dashed into hisface. It revived him, and, turning round, he plunged his head into abucket that a man held up for him. Then he took a long breath or two,pressed the water from his hair, and felt himself again. The women atthe other window had by this time been brought down. A door in thegarden wall had been broken down with axes, and the women and girlswere taken away to a neighbouring house.
"There is nothing more to do here," the gentlemen said. "Now, men,you are to enter the houses round about. Wherever a door is fastened,break it in. Go out on to the roofs with buckets, put out the sparksas fast as they fall. I will send some more men to help you at once."He then put his hand on Cyril's shoulder, and walked back with him tothe open space.
"We have saved them all," he said to the other gentleman who had nowcome up, "but it has been a close touch, and it was only by thegallantry of this young gentleman and another with him that the livesof three girls and a woman were rescued. I think all the men that canbe spared had better go round to the houses in that direction. Yousee, the wind is setting that way, and the only hope of stopping theprogress of the fire is to get plenty of men with buckets out on theroofs and at all the upper windows."
The other gentleman gave the necessary orders to an officer.
"Now, young sir, may I ask your name?" the other said to Cyril.
"Cyril Shenstone, sir," he replied respectfully; for he saw that thetwo men before him were persons of rank.
"Shenstone? I know the name well. Are you any relation of Sir AubreyShenstone?"
"He was my father, sir."
"A brave soldier, and a hearty companion," the other said warmly. "Herode behind me scores of times into the thick of the fight. I amPrince Rupert, lad."
Cyril doffed his hat in deep respect. His father had always spoken ofthe Prince in terms of boundless admiration, and had over and overagain lamented that he had not been able to join the Prince in hisexploits at sea.
"What has become of my old friend?" the Prince asked.
"He died six months ago, Prince."
"I am sorry to hear it. I did hear that, while I was away, he hadbeen suing at Court. I asked for him, but could get no tidings of hiswhereabouts. But we cannot speak here. Ask for me to-morrow atWhitehall. Do you know this gentleman?"
"No, sir, I have not the honour."
"This is the Duke of Albemarle, my former enemy, but now my goodfriend. You will like the lad no worse, my Lord, because his fathermore than once rode with me into the heart of your ranks."
"Certainly not," the Duke said. "It is clear that the son will be asgallant a gentleman as his father was before him, and, thank God! itis not against Englishmen that he will draw his sword. You may countme as your friend, sir, henceforth."
Cyril bowed deeply and retired, while Prince Rupert and the Dukehurried away again to see that the operations they had directed wereproperly carried out.
