Firemen and Their Exploits. F. M. Holmes

a cloud could be seen.

      "Have they the squirts at work, good-man?"

      "Aye, no doubt. 'Twill be quenched by morning, neighbour. Faith! 'tis just an old worm-eaten house ablaze, and that's the tale of it."

      But it was not "the tale of it." A strong east wind was blowing, and the hungry flames spread quickly to neighbouring buildings. These houses were old and partly decayed, and filled with combustible material, such as oil, pitch, and hemp used in shipwright's work. In a comparatively short time the ward of Billingsgate was all ablaze, and the fierce fire, roaring along Thames Street, attacked St. Magnus Church at Bridgefoot.

      Before the night was far spent, fire-bells were clashing loudly from the steeples, alarming cries of "Fire! Fire!" resounded through the streets, and numbers of people in the old narrow-laned city of London were rushing half dressed from their beds.

      It was the night of Saturday, September 2nd, 1666, a night ever memorable in the history of London. About ten o'clock, any lingerers on London Bridge—where houses were then built—might have seen a bright flame shoot upward to the north. They probably conversed as we have described, and retired to bed. But the fire spread from the baker's shop, as we have seen, and the confusion and uproar of that terrible night grew ever more apace.

      Half-dazed persons crowded the streets, encumbered with household goods, and the narrow thoroughfares soon became choked with the struggling throng. But the flames seized upon the goods, and the panic-stricken people fled for their lives before the fierce attack. The lurid light fell on their white faces, and the terrible crackling and roaring of the flames mingled with their shrieks and shouts as they hurried along. Now the night would be obscured by dense clouds of thick smoke, and anon the fire would flash forth again more luridly than ever.

      To add to the alarm, the cry would ring through the streets, or would be passed from mouth to mouth, that the pipes of the New River Company—then recently laid—were found to be dry. With the suspicion of Romanist plots prevailing, the scarcity of water and the origin of the fire were put down to fanatical incendiaries; or, as an old writer quaintly expressed it, "This doth smell of a popish design."

      When the next morning dawned, the terrible conflagration, so far from having been extinguished, was raging furiously; the little jets and bucketsful of water, if any had been used, proved of no avail; and the narrow streets became, as it were, great sheets of flame.

      But was nothing done to extinguish the fire? What appliances would the Londoners have had?

      Here, perhaps, in the early hours of the conflagration, you might have seen a group of three men at the corner of a street working a hand-squirt. This instrument was of brass, and measured about 3 feet long. Two men held it by a handle on each side; and when the nozzle had been dipped into a bucket or a cistern near, and the water had flowed in, they would raise the squirt, while the third man pushed up the piston to discharge the water. The squirt might hold about four quarts of water.

      A CITY FIRE TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

      If one man worked the squirt, he would hold it up by the handles, and push the end of the piston, which was generally guarded by a button, against his chest. But, at the best, it is obvious that the hand-squirt was a very inadequate contrivance.

      Not far distant you might also have seen a similar squirt, mounted in a wheeled reservoir or cistern, the pistons, perhaps, worked by levers; and, possibly, in yet another street you might have noticed a pump of some kind, also working in a cistern; while here and there you might have come upon lines of persons passing buckets from hand to hand, bringing water either from the wells in the city, or from the river, or actually throwing water on the fire. Such were the appliances which we gather were then used for extinguishing fires.

      But such contrivances as were then in the neighbourhood of Fish Street Hill appear to have been burnt before they could be used, and the people seem to have been too paralyzed with terror to have attempted any efforts.

      The suggestion was made to pull down houses, so as to create gaps over which the fire could not pass; and this suggestion no doubt indicates one of the methods of former days. But the method was not at first successful on this occasion.

      Thus, Pepys, in his Diary, tells us, under date of the Sunday: "At last [I] met my Lord Mayor in Canning Street, like a man spent, with a handkercher about his neck. To the King's message [to pull down houses before the fire] he cried, like a fainting woman, 'Lord! what can I do? I am spent: people will not obey me. I have been pulling down houses; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it.'" This is a graphic little picture of the bewilderment of the people; and Pepys goes on to say that, as he walked home, he saw "people all almost distracted, and no manner of means used to quench the fire."

      THE GREAT FIRE OF LONDON (FROM A CONTEMPORARY PRINT).

      In a similar manner, another famous eye-witness, John Evelyn, notes in his Diary that "some stout seamen proposed, early enough to have saved nearly the whole city," the destruction of houses to make a wide gap; "but this some tenacious and avaricious men, aldermen, etc., would not permit, because their houses must have been of the first."

      The main idea, therefore, of extinguishing the fire seems to have lain in the pulling down of houses to produce a wide gap over which the fire could not pass. But at first the civic authorities shrank from such bold measures. On Sunday, then, the flames were rushing fiercely onward, the ancient city echoing to their roaring and to the cries and shrieks of the populace. The houses by London Bridge, in Thames Street, and the neighbourhood were but heaps of smouldering ruins. The homeless people sought refuge in the fields outside the city by Islington and Highgate, and the city train-bands were placed under arms to watch for incendiaries; while, as if the horror of the terrible fire was not enough, numbers of ruffians were found engaged in the dastardly work of plunder. The clanging of the fire-bells, the crackling of the huge fire, the cries and curses of the people, made such a frightful din as can scarce be imagined; while many churches, attended on the previous Sunday by quiet worshippers, were now blazing in the fire.

      That night the scene was appalling, and yet magnificent. An immense sheet of fire rose to the sky, rendering the heavens for miles like a vast lurid dome. The conflagration flamed a whole mile in diameter, hundreds of buildings were burning, and the high wind bent the huge flames into a myriad curious shapes, and bore great flakes of fire on to the roofs of other houses, kindling fresh flames as they fell. For ten miles distant the country was illumined as at noonday, while the smoke rolled, it is said, for fifty miles.

      Evelyn describes the scene in his Diary, under date September 3rd: "I had public prayers at home. The fire continuing, after dinner I took coach with my wife and son and went to the Bankside in Southwark, where we beheld the dismal spectacle, the whole city in dreadful flames near the water-side; all the houses from the Bridge, all Thames Street, and upwards towards Cheapside, down to the Three Cranes, were now consumed: and so returned exceeding astonished what would become of the rest.

      "The fire having continued all this night (if I may call that night which was light as day for ten miles round about, after a dreadful manner) when conspiring with a fierce eastern wind in a very dry season; I went on foot to the same place, and saw the whole south part of the city burning from Cheapside to the Thames and all along Cornhill.... Here we saw the Thames covered with goods floating, all the barges and boats laden with what some had time and courage to save, as, on the other [side], the carts, etc., carrying out to the fields, which for many miles were strewed with moveables of all sorts, and tents erecting to shelter both people and what goods they could get away. Oh the miserable and calamitous spectacle! such as haply the world had not seen the like since the foundation of it, nor be outdone till the universal conflagration of it! All the sky was of a fiery aspect, like the top of a burning oven, and the light seen above forty miles round about for many nights. God grant mine eyes may never behold the like, who now saw above ten thousand houses all in one flame; the noise