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fight the flames on that side. Keep by me now, and, when we decide

where to set to work, I will put you under the orders of Captain

Warncliffe, who has charge of them."

When they reached the bottom of Fleet Street, the fire was halfway

down Ludgate Hill, and it was decided to begin operations along the

bottom of the Fleet Valley. The dockyard men and sailors were brought

up, and following them were some carts laden with kegs of powder.

"Warncliffe," Lord Albemarle said, as the officer came up at the head

of them, "Sir Cyril Shenstone is anxious to help. You know him by

repute, and you can trust him in any dangerous business. You had

better tell off twenty men under him. You have only to tell him what

you want done, and you can rely upon its being done thoroughly."

The sailors were soon at work along the line of the Fleet Ditch. All

carried axes, and with these they chopped down the principal beams of

the small houses clustered by the Ditch, and so weakened them that a

small charge of powder easily brought them down. In many places they

met with fierce opposition from the owners, who, still clinging to

the faint hope that something might occur to stop the progress of the

fire before it reached their abodes, raised vain protestations

against the destruction of their houses. All day the men worked

unceasingly, but in vain. Driven by the fierce wind, the flames swept

down the opposite slope, leapt over the space strewn with rubbish and

beams, and began to climb Fleet Street and Holborn Hill and the dense

mass of houses between them.

The fight was renewed higher up. Beer and bread and cheese were

obtained from the taverns, and served out to the workmen, and these

kept at their task all night. Towards morning the wind had fallen

somewhat. The open spaces of the Temple favoured the defenders; the

houses to east of it were blown up, and, late in the afternoon, the

progress of the flames at this spot was checked. As soon as it was

felt that there was no longer any fear of its further advance here,

the exhausted men, who had, for twenty-four hours, laboured, half

suffocated by the blinding smoke and by the dust made by their own

work, threw themselves down on the grass of the Temple Gardens and

slept. At midnight they were roused by their officers, and proceeded

to assist their comrades, who had been battling with the flames on

the other side of Fleet Street. They found that these too had been

successful; the flames had swept up to Fetter Lane, but the houses on

the west side had been demolished, and although, at one or two

points, the fallen beams caught fire, they were speedily

extinguished. Halfway up Fetter Lane the houses stood on both sides

uninjured, for a large open space round St. Andrew's, Holborn, had

aided the defenders in their efforts to check the flames. North of

Holborn the fire had spread but little, and that only among the

poorer houses in Fleet Valley.

Ascending the hill, they found that, while the flames had overleapt

the City wall from Ludgate to Newgate in its progress west, the wall

had proved an effective barrier from the sharp corner behind

Christchurch up to Aldersgate and thence up to Cripplegate, which was

the farthest limit reached by the fire to the north. To the east, the

City had fared better. By the river, indeed, the destruction was

complete as far as the Tower. Mark Lane, however, stood, and north of

this the line of destruction swept westward to Leaden Hall, a massive

structure at the entrance to the street that took its name from it,

and proved a bulwark against the flames. From this point, the line of

devastated ground swept round by the eastern end of Throgmorton

Street to the northern end of Basinghall Street.

Cyril remained with the sailors for two days longer, during which

time they were kept at work beating out the embers of the fire. In

this they were aided by a heavy fall of rain, which put an end to all

fear of the flames springing up again.

"There can be no need for you to remain longer with us, Sir Cyril,"

Captain Warncliffe said, at the end of the second day. "I shall have

pleasure in reporting to the Duke of Albemarle the good services that

you have rendered. Doubtless we shall remain on duty here for some

time, for we may have, for aught I know, to aid in the clearing away

of some of the ruins; but, at any rate, there can be no occasion for

you to stay longer with us."

Cyril afterwards learnt that the sailors and dockyard men were, on

the following day, sent back to Chatham. The fire had rendered so

great a number of men homeless and without means of subsistence, that

there was an abundant force on hand for the clearing away of ruins.

Great numbers were employed by the authorities, while many of the

merchants and traders engaged parties to clear away the ruins of

their dwellings, in order to get at the cellars below, in which they

had, as soon as the danger from fire was perceived, stowed away the

main bulk of their goods. As soon as he was released from duty, Cyril

made his way to the Tower, and, hiring a boat, was rowed to the _Good

Venture_.

The shipping presented a singular appearance, their sides being

blistered, and in many places completely stripped of their paint,

while in some cases the spars were scorched, and the sails burnt

away. There was lively satisfaction at his appearance, as he stepped

on to the deck of the _Good Venture_, for, until he did so, he had

been unrecognised, so begrimed with smoke and dust was he.

"We have been wondering about you," Captain Dave said, as he shook

him by the hand, "but I can scarce say we had become uneasy. We

learnt that a large body of seamen and others were at work blowing up

houses, and as you had gone to offer your services we doubted not

that you were employed with them. Truly you must have been having a

rough time of it, for not only are you dirtier than any scavenger,

but you look utterly worn out and fatigued."

"It was up-hill work the first twenty-four hours, for we worked

unceasingly, and worked hard, too, I can assure you, and that

well-nigh smothered with smoke and dust. Since then, our work has

been more easy, but no less dirty. In the three days I have not had

twelve hours' sleep altogether."

"I will get a tub of hot water placed in your cabin," Captain Watson

said, "and should advise you, when you get out from it, to turn into

your bunk at once. No one shall go near you in the morning until you

wake of your own accord."

Cyril was, however, down to breakfast.

"Now tell us all about the fire," Nellie said, when they had finished

the meal.

"I have nothing to tell you, for I know nothing," Cyril replied. "Our

work was simply pulling down and blowing up houses. I had scarce time

so much as to look at the fire. However, as I have since been working

all round its course, I can tell you exactly how far it spread."

When he brought his story to a conclusion, he said,--

"And now, Captain Dave, what are you thinking of doing?"

"In the first place, I am going ashore to look at the old house. As

soon as I can get men, I shall clear the ground, and begin to rebuild

it. I have enough laid by to start me again. I should be like a fish

out of water with nothing to see to. I have the most valuable part of

my stock still on hand here on deck, and if the cellar has proved

staunch my loss in goods will be small indeed, for the anchors and

chains in the yard will have suffered no damage. But even if the

cellar has caved in, and its contents are destroyed, and if, when I

have rebuilt my house, I find I have not enough left to replenish my

stock, I am sure that I can get credit from the rope- and sail-makers,

and iron-masters with whom I deal."

"Do not trouble yourself about that, Captain Dave," Cyril said. "You

came to my help last time, and it will be my turn this time. I am

sure that I shall have no difficulty in getting any monies that may

be required from Mr. Goldsworthy, and there is nothing that will give

me more pleasure than to see you established again in the place that

was the first where I ever felt I had a home."

"I hope that it will not be needed, lad," Captain Dave said, shaking

his hand warmly, "but if it should, I will not hesitate to accept

your offer in the spirit in which it is made, and thus add one more

to the obligations that I am under to you."

Cyril went ashore with Captain Dave and John Wilkes. The wall of the

yard was, of course, uninjured, but the gate was burnt down. The

store-house, which was of wood, had entirely disappeared, and the

back wall of the house had fallen over it and the yard. The entrance

to the cellar, therefore, could not be seen, and, as yet, the heat

from the fallen bricks was too great to attempt to clear them away to

get at it.

That night, however, it rained heavily, and in the morning Captain

Watson took a party of sailors ashore, and these succeeded in

clearing away the rubbish sufficiently to get to the entrance of the

cellar. The door was covered by an iron plate, and although the wood

behind this was charred it had not caught fire, and on getting it

open it was found that the contents of the cellar were uninjured.

In order to prevent marauders from getting at it before preparations

could be made for rebuilding, the rubbish was again thrown in so as

to completely conceal the entrance. On returning on board there was a

consultation on the future, held in the cabin. Captain Dave at once

said that he and John Wilkes must remain in town to make arrangements

for the rebuilding and to watch the performance of the work. Cyril

warmly pressed Mrs. Dowsett and Nellie to come down with him to

Norfolk until the house was ready to receive them, but both were in

favour of remaining in London, and it was settled that, next day,

they should go down to Stepney, hire a house and store-room there,

and remove thither their goods on board the ship, and the contents of

the cellar.

There was some little difficulty in getting a house, as so many were

seeking for lodgings, but at last they came upon a widow who was

willing to let a house, upon the proviso that she was allowed to

retain one room for her own occupation. This being settled, Cyril

that evening returned to his lodging, and the next day rode down to

Norfolk. There he remained until the middle of May, when he received

a letter from Captain Dave, saying that his house was finished, and

that they should move into it in a fortnight, and that they all

earnestly hoped he would be present. As he had already been thinking

of going up to London for a time, he decided to accept the

invitation.

By this time he had made the acquaintance of all the surrounding

gentry, and felt perfectly at home at Upmead. He rode frequently into

Norwich, and, whenever he did so, paid a visit to Mr. Harvey, whose

wife had died in January, never having completely recovered from the

shock that she had received in London. Mr. Harvey himself had aged

much; he still took a great interest in the welfare of the tenants of

Upmead, and in Cyril's proposals for the improvement of their homes,

and was pleased to see how earnestly he had taken up the duties of

his new life. He spoke occasionally of his son, of whose death he

felt convinced.

"I have never been able to obtain any news of him," he often said,

"and assuredly I should have heard of him had he been alive.

"It would ease my mind to know the truth," he said, one day. "It

troubles me to think that, if alive, he is assuredly pursuing evil

courses, and that he will probably end his days on a gallows. That he

will repent, and turn to better courses, I have now no hope whatever.

Unless he be living by roguery, he would, long ere this, have

written, professing repentance, even if he did not feel it, and

begging for assistance. It troubles me much that I can find out

nothing for certain of him."

"Would it be a relief to you to know surely that he was dead?" Cyril

asked.

"I would rather know that he was dead than feel, as I do, that if

alive, he is going on sinning. One can mourn for the dead as David

mourned for Absalom, and trust that their sins may be forgiven them;

but, uncertain as I am of his death, I cannot so mourn, since it may

be that he still lives."

"Then, sir, I am in a position to set your mind at rest. I have known

for a long time that he died of the Plague, but I have kept it from

you, thinking that it was best you should still think that he might

be living. He fell dead beside me on the very day that I sickened of

the Plague, and, indeed, it was from him that I took it."

Mr. Harvey remained silent for a minute or two.

"'Tis better so," he said solemnly. "The sins of youth may be

forgiven, but, had he lived, his whole course might have been wicked.

How know you that it was he who gave you the Plague?"

"I met him in the street. He was tottering in his walk, and, as he

came up, he stumbled, and grasped me to save himself. I held him for

a moment, and then he slipped from my arms and fell on the pavement,

and died."

Mr. Harvey looked keenly at Cyril, and was about to ask a question,

but checked himself.

"He is dead," he said. "God rest his soul, and forgive him his sins!

Henceforth I shall strive to forget that he ever lived to manhood,

and seek to remember him as he was when a child."

Then he held out his hand to Cyril, to signify that he would fain be

alone.

On arriving in London, Cyril took up his abode at his former

lodgings, and the next day at twelve o'clock, the hour appointed in a

letter he found awaiting him on his arrival, he arrived in Tower

Street, having ridden through the City. An army of workmen, who had

come up from all parts of the country, were engaged in rebuilding the

town. In the main thoroughfares many of the houses were already

finished, and the shops re-opened. In other parts less progress had