Fire! Fire! (2 page)

“London's burning, Pip,” I said and he whimpered in reply.

CHAPTER
3

I went back to bed and then woke again at my usual time and got up. It was five o'clock on September 2nd and the sun had not yet risen, but there was enough light in the sky for me to dress without needing to light a candle. Master Pepys wouldn't be up for another three hours or so, but in the mornings I would help lay the fires in the kitchen and fetch and carry for the cooks and kitchen maids. Before I went down the service stairs, I stood on my bed with Pip in my arms again and gazed out of the window to where I'd seen the glow of the fire the night before. Only now it wasn't a glow. It had definitely grown and spread in the last few hours and a huge plume of smoke rose up from it like a storm cloud. A shiver of fear went through me.

I'd seen lots of fires in the streets before, but they were usually put out quickly. This one had been burning all night and was still getting bigger. I felt a strange
knotting
in my stomach as I thought of all the people who could have been trapped by the flames and burned to death. And the knot got tighter when I realized that if it spread even further the fire could even reach Master Pepys' house.

“My God, I hope they put it out soon, Pip. Otherwise we might be looking for a new home…” I paused and shivered in fear before adding: “if we're still alive that is!”

Pip gave a small yap as though he understood what I'd said. But then he started to dance around. He needed to empty his bladder as usual so I quickly opened the door and followed the sound of his skittering claws down the back service stairs. When I reached the ground floor I slipped out into the garden to make sure Pip came back in and didn't run off now that the fire was getting bigger. I couldn't bear the thought of him getting lost in the chaos of fire and smoke. I don't know what I'd do without him. As I leaned against the house and took a deep breath of the morning air I was immediately hit by the smell of burning. Master Pepys' house stands on Seething Lane; it's on a hill and looks down on most of the city north of the river, so I was able to look out over the houses south towards the
Thames
and Billingsgate where the fire was.

The billows of black smoke still rose up and the dawn sky was made much brighter by the flames I could now see raging over the roofs of the houses.

A wind moved through the old apple trees in the garden, sweeping from the south. It brought with it the distant sounds of roaring, crackling flames and what sounded like hundreds of people shouting and even screaming. Pip appeared at my feet at last, but instead of running madly in circles with his usual widemouthed panting, he snuggled up to my legs and sniffed worriedly at the smoky air.

“Come on, boy,” I said, opening the door back into the kitchens. “The fire's a long way off and it'll be out before the sun rises.”

The dog hurried inside and I followed him, glancing over my shoulder at the distant flames, not sure whether I believed my own words or not.

....................

The conversation amongst the kitchen maids and boys was all about the fire as we started the ovens and
prepared
for the day ahead. But soon deliveries began to arrive from different shops and suppliers throughout the city, and with each delivery came news about the fire. Soon we found out that the flames were spreading quickly and that overnight over three hundred houses had been destroyed. It had started in a bakery in Pudding Lane and had now spread to Fish Lane and was heading for London Bridge. Nobody knew how many people had died, or if any had at all. There were so many different stories it was impossible to know what to think. But remembering the shouts and screams that'd been carried by the wind into the garden earlier, I couldn't believe that nobody had been hurt.

....................

When the time came to get my master up for the day, I almost ran up the stairs, bursting with the news.

“Three hundred houses destroyed!” he bellowed, as I helped him on with his shirt. “Has no one put the blessed thing out yet?!”

He hopped to the window with one shoe on while I followed after with the other. “Saints and sausages!
It's
spread!” he gasped as he saw the huge billows of smoke rolling up into the sky. “The king must be told! My coat; my wig; we must be off!”

“Not without your trousers, sir,” I said quietly.

“What? Oh, no… not without my trousers,” he agreed, staring down at his bare legs. “The white silk ones, Tom. And the blue sash.”

I was so excited that I was going to see the king that I almost tripped over the trousers as I fetched them from the clothes chest. London was burning and that should have been the only thing in my thoughts, but I couldn't help it. It wasn't every day that a boy from a poor background like me got to go to a royal palace and stand before a king!

When we were finally ready, we burst out of the house and I took up the proper place of a pageboy, two paces behind Master Pepys. But as we went down the hill the streets began to fill with people and every sort of handcart and horse-drawn wagon you could think of as folk ran from the fire, taking with them as many of their belongings as they could. It was so crowded I drew level with my master and held onto his coat, not wanting us to get separated as we fought our way
through
the running crowds.

The bitter scent of smoke was much stronger now and the sounds of screaming and crackling flames wafted over us with every breath of wind. I looked south towards the fire and wondered how far away it was. Maybe not more than a couple of miles.

“Quick, Tom, to the Tower of London, that's the best place to see this fire clearly and in safety,” my master said, and we both hurried as fast as we could down towards Tower Hill and the ancient fortress that stood on the banks of the Thames.

When we arrived beneath the stone-built walls we found the streets still packed with people all hurrying about in a state of panic. We forced our way through the crowds until we got to the gates that were guarded by soldiers. Master Pepys knew the Commander of the Tower so we were soon allowed in and then up onto the walls where we looked eastwards and saw the fire raging through the city. I gasped in horror at the terrible sight and for a moment Master Pepys bowed his head as we both thought of the poor people fleeing from the flames.

We could clearly see London Bridge too and already the flames had burst through the great gateway that
defended
the road leading onto the bridge itself. We could see people, tiny as ants from this distance, running back towards the safety of the south bank where the fire hadn't reached. But others were bravely standing against it. They seemed to have formed a line and were handing buckets of water forward to throw onto the flames that had taken hold of the wooden bridge. But we could see it was hopeless. Soon there was a great creaking and groaning and as we watched a whole section of the bridge fell into the Thames with a mighty roar. Many of those fighting the fire must have fallen with it, but though I stared long and hard at the churning waters, I saw nobody swimming away.

I think I screamed aloud in horror, but my voice was lost amongst all the other cries. People were dying in this fire and nobody seemed able to stop it!

Master Pepys fell grimly silent for a moment, but then took a deep breath. “Come, Tom. We must away to the king and tell His Majesty of all we have seen.”

I thought that the king must surely have been told all about it already, but I said nothing and just nodded. Then I followed as my master hurried down the steps, heading towards the river and the palace.

....................

When we arrived at the quayside where we hoped to get a boat to take us to Whitehall Palace, the crowds were even worse. People were shoving and crying and calling out to the boatmen who made a living ferrying passengers up and down the river. The crush was so great some people were pushed into the water and some of them couldn't swim, so their cries for help and splashing added to the terrible noise. Luckily the boatmen soon picked them up and hauled them to safety.

I shouted myself hoarse trying to get a boat, but my voice was lost amongst all the others. I waved and jumped up and down as though I'd gone mad, but as everyone else was doing exactly the same this didn't make much difference either.

Eventually Master Pepys himself stepped forward, looking splendid in his fine clothes and huge wig and his stomach curving outwards like the prow of a warship. He struck his long walking cane sharply on the stonework of the quayside and drew breath, filling his
lungs
so that he swelled up like a sail bursting with the power of hurricane.

“BOATMAN! BOATMAN! TO ME! TO ME! I HAVE A JOURNEY TO MAKE TO THE KING HIMSELF!”

His voice rose up and over everything like a fanfare from a dozen trumpets and no fewer than three boats immediately headed towards us. We both hurried down the steps and jumped into the nearest one before anyone else could take our place. Soon we were powering out into the flow of the river.

Within a few strokes of the oar we were well out on the water, and looking along the riverbank we could see the fire without any buildings hiding it from view. All the streets around the road leading to London Bridge were ablaze and the wind was blowing strongly, driving the fire into more houses. It rose high up into the sky like a great forest of flames, with trunks and branches and twigs and leaves of fire. Rising up over it all was a massive, billowing cloud of black smoke that was spreading itself wide over the city – from Tower Street and then eastwards towards the distant spire of Saint Paul's Cathedral – turning the daytime to night for those beneath it.

The
stench of the burning mixed and mingled with the screams and cries of the people running from the flames, as though flocks of terrified birds sang in a fire forest. “To the Palace of Whitehall!” Master Pepys said to the boatman and the man immediately hauled on his oars, driving us quickly through the water.

CHAPTER
4

We arrived at the watergate – the entranceway that led from the river directly into the huge building of Whitehall Palace itself. This was the first time I'd come to see King Charles II, and I'm proud to say that my master was well known at the palace so no one stopped him or asked him his business as we hurried through the winding corridors up towards the place where the king held court.

For a moment I stopped and just stared at all the incredible beauty around me. But Master Pepys soon hurried me on. The contrast between the dirt and grime of the streets and the colours and richness of the palace was amazing. The bright shining gilding that covered even the wooden parts of the tables and chairs in gold reminded me for a moment of the flames that were raging through the streets of the city along the river. But I was soon distracted by the beautiful pictures that
covered
the walls of the corridors we hurried along. It was all so amazing. I thought Master Pepys's home was beautiful, but the palace was something else entirely. It was like the difference between a well-made and decorated pottery cup, and a wine glass made of the finest, clearest crystal. Some of the paintings showed scenes of faraway mountains and cities as though they were windows opening onto different worlds, and others were portraits of people who seemed to stare at us as we passed by.

Everything was so quiet too after the chaos of the fire; the roaring of the flames and screaming of the people were blocked by the thick stonework of the palace walls. In fact the only sound I could hear was the noise our hurrying feet made over the polished wooden floors. But then at last we came to a pair of huge doors where two guards stood, holding their spears across the entranceway.

My master stepped forward importantly and spoke with confidence. “Samuel Pepys Esquire, Secretary to the Navy and now bearer of bad news about the progress of a fire that is destroying parts of our city. All seen and witnessed by my good self and ready to be told
to
the king … oh, and this is Tom Hubbard, my pageboy and servant.”

I stood as straight as I could and felt in that moment almost as important as my master. The guards stamped to attention, withdrew their spears and, as if by magic, the doors opened behind them.

Before us was a huge room full of men and women dressed in colours as bright as flowers in a garden. Everyone was chattering and laughing brightly and when they finished their conversations they bowed or curtsied deeply before moving on to someone else to talk with. I couldn't help thinking of the burning streets along the river where people were dying in the flames or running in fear of their lives.

At the top of the room in the distance I could see a canopy of velvet that hung over a gilded chair where a tall man sat.

Master Pepys surged forward across the room, ignoring the questions that were flung at us, until we stood before the gilded chair. Here he bowed deeply, waving his hand before him as though cleaning dust from his shoes. I bowed too, though without the dusting, then I stood up again and found I could hardly
breathe.
I was standing before the king himself … the king! The most important man in all the land! His wig was so long the ends of it almost rested in his lap where two small spaniels sat, and his clothes glowed with gold and brilliant colours. For a moment I thought I was going to faint, but then I pulled myself together. What a fool I'd look if I collapsed in a heap in front of the king.

“Pepys,” His Majesty said quietly. “What news?”

“Of a great fire, my Lord. It spreads without stopping. London Bridge has collapsed into the Thames. When I awoke this morning over three hundred houses had been destroyed and by now many more must have been swallowed up by its fury.”

“Yes, I've been told something of a fire, but no details. Obviously it has got out of hand.” I looked at His Majesty, amazed that he seemed so calm and unworried. But then I realized that perhaps he really wasn't worried. After all, the fire would have to get much worse before it threatened the king in his palace with its high stone walls. But I did think he should have been worried for the people he ruled, people who were running from the flames even as we stood before his throne.