Zealand

10. Make Ready

After Captain and I had taken our turns in the privy closet, he opened another door and led me out onto a balcony overlooking the river and Bessy. Then along the wharf to the Billingsgate entry, a loud hubbub arose as another barge approached the dock. When the jumble of voices calmed enough that I could hear separate ones, they called, "Forty-eight, fifty, fifty-two, fifty-five..."

My listening was interrupted by Captain saying, "Come, lad. Away from money's corruption. Up to the terrace for a better view of the conflagration."

I followed him up the stairs, worrying what those without money would do, then my mind turned to the snap and crackle of the fire, which grew all the louder as we climbed. We arrived on the terrace and crossed to the rail, and with nothing to block our view from there, the conflagration lay clear before us over the neighbouring rooftops.

From Bessy, we had seen the houses on the bridge alight, and below them on the embankment, the fire spreading along the river. But from way up here, we saw it had moved up the hill well past Eastcheap, and it now raged far beyond Fish Street, its extent lost in the soaring flames.

We remained in silent awe for a long while, then Captain said, "It might well be upon us this night, lad. Best we begin packing, that we are ready to load at the top of the tide if need be."

He turned to a tangle of plants growing up the garret wall and selected four tomatoes. "But first, we must breakfast."

We descended, and Captain bade me set a fire in the hearth. Strange to be lighting one with so much of it so near, but this one was confined and controlled, unlike the one out there. By the time I had it flaming well, Captain had poured water into the kettle, so I swung it over the fire to heat for tae.

A while later, with the leaves steeping in the bowls, Captain set into the kettle the six large goose eggs, then he added two smaller ones like we had our first breakfast. After he had pushed the skiver through the other goose joint and set it above the fire, he said, "Best we cook what fresh we have, lad. Who knows when we might again have a suitable fire?"

As he rolled seven potatoes into the base of the fire, he continued, "And we will eat our big meal now while we still have this convenience. Then, if it comes to it, we have cold boiled eggs, ham and bread for this evening."

He left me at the hearth to tend the joint while he busied himself at the table in the corner. Then, after a long silence, I asked, "Where will we go, sir?"

"The fire might well draw no closer, lad. It has yet to cross Botolph Lane, but once it does, the narrowness of Love Lane is all that remains to stop it. We will watch while we ready everything for removal."

"Then load when the tide returns."

"Only if the fire advances toward us."

"So, we'll ferry more loads across."

"Nay, lad." He shook his head, a grimace filling his face. "Nay, the dock is rimmed by those with no concern for their fellow man, and the water below them swarms with boatmen eager to take their money. The needy have no hope there, and they are afoot toward the gates, leaving us no way to assist them."

After another silence, Captain pointed into the hearth. "But to matters at hand, lad. When the joint begins to smoke in that manner, it is time to turn it."

"Halfway round, sir?"

"Aye, lad. Brown one side, then the other and back, again and again, each time it smokes. It needs no flame to set it alight; the heat alone will do that."

"Like the fire out there. The next house takes fire from the heat of the others."

"Indeed. Here, we stop the heating by turning the joint, but out there, removing the houses from the path of the fire – pulling them down – is the only way. It is now far beyond being stopped with buckets of water."

He shook his head, then pointing to the skiver, he continued, "The fat dripping will slow when the joint nears done."

Later, as we ate, I asked, "How will we know if the fire advances toward us? We cannot see from down here."

"From time-to-time, while we pack and make ready, one of us will ascend to the terrace to observe its progress. We can take turns in this, that we each feel safe – and to check the other's opinion."

"You trust my opinion, sir?"

"Thus far, you have given me no reason not to, lad. To the contrary, you have shown keen observation and interpretation and that you have a sensible head on your shoulders."

"This pleases me, sir."

"And me, as well. It is rare to find one such as you – so capable and so eager."

I paused a piece of goose short of my mouth. "Did you always sail Bessy alone?"

"Nay, lad. Nay, only for a short while this time. Not yet two weeks since my last hand was taken aboard a merchantman bound for Madras."

"Madras? Where's that?"

"On the east coast of India." He pointed to the shelves of books on the wall opposite. "I will show you on a map while we ready everything for removal."

After we had finished eating, I washed what we had used while Captain ascended to the terrace to check on the fire. I was near done with raking apart the coals and char in the hearth when he returned to report, "It remains across Botolph Lane, lad, so we may take our ease with packing."

When I was done with the fire, I asked, "What might I do, sir?"

He looked up from the book shelves. "Fetch the bundle of borel[1] sacks from Bessy, lad."

"Borel sacks, sir?"

"Like the one we used when the turnip sack split open and spilt. They are under the port side deck, just aft of the leeboard. Bring the whole lot of them."

I returned to find Captain kneeling on one of the carpets with a huge book open in front of him, and he bade me kneel beside him.

He tapped the page. "We are here, lad." Then he ran his finger along the edges of the shapes as he continued, "Down the coasts of Europe and Africa, around Good Hope Cape, across the Indian Ocean to Madras – that is where young James is bound."

"Young? How old is he?"

"Sixteen. He was with me for two years before his father allowed him to leave home."

I looked at my bed in the corner, wondering. Then back to the map, which had more interest. "How far is that?"

"With favourable winds, about six months to there and the same to return."

"Oh!"

"Aye, lad. A tedious voyage, which is why I prefered destinations in the Americas."

"How long for those?"

He traced a line across the map with his finger. "Two to three months in far more pleasant conditions."

"Where did you go there?"

"Later, lad. We should make ready in case the fire turns."

Note:
[1] Borel, a coarse cloth, evolved into burlap in the 1690s.