第 35 页

if it had not been for my having to take a swim. So, you see, Captain

Dave, things were pretty equally balanced, and there is no occasion

to say anything more about them."

"We have one piece of bad news to tell you, Cyril," Mrs. Dowsett

remarked, in order to give the conversation the turn which she saw he

wished for. "We heard this morning that the Plague has come at last

into the City. Dr. Burnet was attacked yesterday."

"That is bad news indeed, Dame, though it was not to be expected that

it would spare the City. If you will take my advice, you will go away

at once, before matters get worse, for if the Plague gets a hold here

the country people will have nothing to do with Londoners, fearing

that they will bring the infection among them."

"We shall not go until you are fit to go with us, Cyril," Nellie said

indignantly.

"Then you will worry me into a fever," Cyril replied. "I am getting

on well now, and as you said, when you were talking of it before, you

should leave John in charge of the house and shop, he will be able to

do everything that is necessary for me. If you stay here, and the

Plague increases, I shall keep on worrying myself at the thought that

you are risking your lives needlessly for me, and if it should come

into the house, and any of you die, I shall charge myself all my life

with having been the cause of your death. I pray you, for my sake as

well as your own, to lose no time in going to the sister Captain Dave

spoke of, down near Gloucester."

"Do not agitate yourself," Mrs. Dowsett said gently, pressing him

quietly back on to the pillows from which he had risen in his

excitement. "We will talk it over, and see what is for the best. It

is but a solitary case yet, and may spread no further. In a few days

we shall see how matters go. Things have not come to a bad pass yet."

Cyril, however, was not to be consoled. Hitherto he had given

comparatively small thought to the Plague, but now that it was in the

City, and he felt that his presence alone prevented the family from

leaving, he worried incessantly over it.

"Your patient is not so well," the doctor said to Mrs. Dowsett, next

morning. "Yesterday he was quite free from fever--his hands were

cool; now they are dry and hard. If this goes on, I fear that we

shall have great trouble."

"He is worrying himself because we do not go out of town. We had,

indeed, made up our minds to do so, but we could not leave him here."

"Your nursing would be valuable certainly, but if he goes on as he is

he will soon be in a high fever; his wounds will grow angry and

fester. While yesterday he seemed in a fair way to recovery, I should

be sorry to give any favourable opinion as to what may happen if this

goes on. Is there no one who could take care of him if you went?"

"John Wilkes will remain behind, and could certainly be trusted to do

everything that you directed; but that is not like women, doctor."

"No, I am well aware of that; but if things go on well he will really

not need nursing, while, if fever sets in badly, the best nursing may

not save him. Moreover, wounds and all other ailments of this sort do

badly at present; the Plague in the air seems to affect all other

maladies. If you will take my advice, Dame, you will carry out your

intention, and leave at once. I hear there are several new cases of

the Plague today in the City, and those who can go should lose no

time in doing so; but, even if not for your own sakes, I should say

go for that of your patient."

"Will you speak to my husband, doctor? I am ready to do whatever is

best for your patient, whom we love dearly, and regard almost as a

son."

"If he were a son I should give the same advice. Yes, I will see

Captain Dowsett."

Half an hour later, Cyril was told what the doctor's advice had been,

and, seeing that he was bent on it, and that if they stayed they

would do him more harm than good, they resolved to start the next day

for Gloucestershire.

CHAPTER XV

THE PLAGUE

Reluctant as they were to leave Cyril, Mrs. Dowsett and her daughter

speedily saw that the doctor's advice was good. Cyril did not say

much, but an expression of restful satisfaction came over his face,

and it was not long before he fell into a quiet sleep that contrasted

strongly with the restless and fretful state in which he had passed

the night.

"You see I was right, madam," the doctor said that evening. "The

fever has not quite left him, but he is a different man to what he

was this morning; another quiet night's rest, and he will regain the

ground he has lost. I think you can go in perfect comfort so far as

he is concerned. Another week and he will be up, if nothing occurs to

throw him back again; but of course it will be weeks before he can

use his arm."

John Wilkes had been sent off as soon as it was settled that they

would go, and had bought, at Epping, a waggon and a pair of strong

horses. It had a tilt, and the ladies were to sleep in it on the

journey, as it was certain that, until they were far away from

London, they would be unable to obtain lodgings. A man was engaged to

drive them down, and a sail and two or three poles were packed in the

waggon to make a tent for him and Captain Dowsett. A store of

provisions was cooked, and a cask of beer, another of water, and a

case of wine were also placed in. Mattresses were laid down for the

ladies to sit on during the day and to sleep on at night; so they

would be practically independent during the journey. Early next

morning they started.

"It seems heartless to leave you, Cyril," Nellie said, as they came

in to say good-bye.

"Not heartless at all," Cyril replied. "I know that you are going

because I wish it."

"It is more than wishing, you tiresome boy. We are going because you

have made up your mind that you will be ill if we don't. You are too

weak to quarrel with now, but when we meet again, tremble, for I warn

you I shall scold you terribly then."

"You shall scold me as much as you please, Nellie; I shall take it

all quite patiently."

Nellie and her mother went away in tears, and Captain Dave himself

was a good deal upset. They had thought the going away from home on

such a long journey would be a great trial, but this was now quite

lost sight of in their regret at what they considered deserting

Cyril, and many were the injunctions that were given to John Wilkes

before the waggon drove off. They were somewhat consoled by seeing

that Cyril was undoubtedly better and brighter. He had slept all

night without waking, his hands were cool, and the flush had entirely

left his cheek.

"If they were starting on a voyage to the Indies they could not be in

a greater taking," John Wilkes said, on returning to Cyril's bedside.

"Why, I have seen the Captain go off on a six months' voyage and less

said about it."

"I am heartily glad they are gone, John. If the Plague grows there

will be a terrible time here. Is the shop shut?"

"Ay; the man went away two days ago, and we sent off the two

'prentices yesterday. There is naught doing. Yesterday half the

vessels in the Pool cleared out on the news of the Plague having got

into the City, and I reckon that, before long, there won't be a ship

in the port. We shall have a quiet time of it, you and I; we shall be

like men in charge of an old hulk."

Another week, and Cyril was up. All his bandages, except those on the

shoulder and head, had been thrown aside, and the doctor said that,

erelong, the former would be dispensed with. John had wanted to sit

up with him, but as Cyril would not hear of this he had moved his bed

into the same room, so that he could be up in a moment if anything

was wanted. He went out every day to bring in the news.

"There is little enough to tell, Master Cyril," he said one day. "So

far, the Plague grows but slowly in the City, though, indeed, it is

no fault of the people that it does not spread rapidly. Most of them

seem scared out of their wits; they gather together and talk, with

white faces, and one man tells of a dream that his wife has had, and

another of a voice that he says he has heard; and some have seen

ghosts. Yesterday I came upon a woman with a crowd round her; she was

staring up at a white cloud, and swore that she could plainly see an

angel with a white sword, and some of the others cried that they saw

it too. I should like to have been a gunner's mate with a stout

rattan, and to have laid it over their shoulders, to give them

something else to think about for a few hours. It is downright

pitiful to see such cowards. At the corner of one street there was a

quack, vending pills and perfumes that he warranted to keep away the

Plague, and the people ran up and bought his nostrums by the score; I

hear there are a dozen such in the City, making a fortune out of the

people's fears. I went into the tavern I always use, and had a glass

of Hollands and a talk with the landlord. He says that he does as

good a trade as ever, though in a different way. There are no sailors

there now, but neighbours come in and drink down a glass of strong

waters, which many think is the best thing against the Plague, and

then hurry off again. I saw the Gazette there, and it was half full

of advertisements of people who said they were doctors from foreign

parts, and all well accustomed to cure the Plague. They say the

magistrates are going to issue notices about shutting up houses, as

they do at St. Giles's, and to have watchmen at the doors to see none

come in or go out, and that they are going to appoint examiners in

every parish to go from house to house to search for infected

persons."

"I suppose these are proper steps to take," Cyril said, "but it will

be a difficult thing to keep people shut up in houses where one is

infected. No doubt it would be a good thing at the commencement of

the illness, but when it has once spread itself, and the very air

become infected, it seems to me that it will do but little good,

while it will assuredly cause great distress and trouble. I long to

be able to get up myself, and to see about things."

"The streets have quite an empty aspect, so many have gone away; and

what with that, and most of the shops being closed, and the dismal

aspect of the people, there is little pleasure in being out, Master

Cyril."

"I dare say, John. Still, it will be a change, and, as soon as I am

strong enough, I shall sally out with you."

Another fortnight, and Cyril was able to do so. The Plague had still

spread, but so slowly that people began to hope that the City would

be spared any great calamity, for they were well on in July, and in

another six weeks the heat of summer would be passed. Some of those

who had gone into the country returned, more shops had been opened,

and the panic had somewhat subsided.

"What do you mean to do, Master Cyril?" John Wilkes asked that

evening. "Of course you cannot join the Fleet again, for it will be,

as the doctor says, another two months before your shoulder-bone will

have knit strongly enough for you to use your arm, and at sea it is a

matter of more consequence than on land for a man to have the use of

both arms. The ship may give a sudden lurch, and one may have to make

a clutch at whatever is nearest to prevent one from rolling into the

lee scuppers; and such a wrench as that would take from a weak arm

all the good a three months' nursing had done it, and might spoil the

job of getting the bone to grow straight again altogether. I don't

say you are fit to travel yet, but you should be able before long to

start on a journey, and might travel down into Gloucestershire,

where, be sure, you will be gladly welcomed by the Captain, his dame,

and Mistress Nellie. Or, should you not care for that, you might go

aboard a ship. There are hundreds of them lying idle in the river,

and many families have taken up their homes there, so as to be free

from all risks of meeting infected persons in the streets."

"I think I shall stay here, John, and keep you company. If the Plague

dies away, well and good. If it gets bad, we can shut ourselves up.

You say that the Captain has laid in a great store of provisions, so

that you could live without laying out a penny for a year, and it is

as sure as anything can be, that when the cold weather comes on it

will die out. Besides, John, neither you nor I are afraid of the

Plague, and it is certain that it is fear that makes most people take

it. If it becomes bad, there will be terrible need for help, and

maybe we shall be able to do some good. If we are not afraid of

facing death in battle, why should we fear it by the Plague. It is as

noble a death to die helping one's fellow-countrymen in their sore

distress as in fighting for one's country."

"That is true enough, Master Cyril, if folks did but see it so. I do

not see what we could do, but if there be aught, you can depend on

me. I was in a ship in the Levant when we had a fever, which, it

seems to me, was akin to this Plague, though not like it in all its

symptoms. Half the crew died, and, as you say, I verily believe that

it was partly from the lowness of spirits into which they fell from

fear. I used to help nurse the sick, and throw overboard the dead,

and it never touched me. I don't say that I was braver than others,

but it seemed to me as it was just as easy to take things comfortable

as it was to fret over them."

Towards the end of the month the Plague spread rapidly, and all work

ceased in the parishes most affected. But, just as it had raged for

weeks in the Western parishes outside the City, so it seemed

restricted by certain invisible lines, after it had made its entry

within the walls, and while it raged in some parts others were