When London Burned by G. A. Henty

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Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, S.R. Ellison, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.

WHEN LONDON BURNED

BY G. A. HENTY

PREFACE

We are accustomed to regard the Reign of Charles II. as one of the
most inglorious periods of English History; but this was far from
being the case. It is true that the extravagance and profligacy of
the Court were carried to a point unknown before or since,
forming,--by the indignation they excited among the people at
large,--the main cause of the overthrow of the House of Stuart. But,
on the other hand, the nation made extraordinary advances in commerce
and wealth, while the valour of our sailors was as conspicuous under
the Dukes of York and Albemarle, Prince Rupert and the Earl of
Sandwich, as it had been under Blake himself, and their victories
resulted in transferring the commercial as well as the naval
supremacy of Holland to this country. In spite of the cruel blows
inflicted on the well-being of the country, alike by the extravagance
of the Court, the badness of the Government, the Great Plague, and
the destruction of London by fire, an extraordinary extension of our
trade occurred during the reign of Charles II. Such a period,
therefore, although its brilliancy was marred by dark shadows, cannot
be considered as an inglorious epoch. It was ennobled by the bravery
of our sailors, by the fearlessness with which the coalition of
France with Holland was faced, and by the spirit of enterprise with
which our merchants and traders seized the opportunity, and, in spite
of national misfortunes, raised England in the course of a few years
to the rank of the greatest commercial power in the world.

G. A. HENTY.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. FATHERLESS

II. A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER

III. A THIEF SOMEWHERE

IV. CAPTURED

V. KIDNAPPED

VI. A NARROW ESCAPE

VII. SAVED FROM A VILLAIN

VIII. THE CAPTAIN'S YARN

IX. THE FIRE IN THE SAVOY

X. HOW JOHN WILKES FOUGHT THE DUTCH

XI. PRINCE RUPERT

XII. NEW FRIENDS

XIII. THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT

XIV. HONOURABLE SCARS

XV. THE PLAGUE

XVI. FATHER AND SON

XVII. SMITTEN DOWN

XVIII. A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE

XIX. TAKING POSSESSION

XX. THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK

XXI. LONDON IN FLAMES

XXII. AFTER THE FIRE

ILLUSTRATIONS

"WITH GREAT RAPIDITY THE FLAMES SPREAD FROM HOUSE TO HOUSE"

"DON'T CRY, LAD; YOU WILL GET ON BETTER WITHOUT ME"

"THIS IS MY PRINCE OF SCRIVENERS, MARY"

"ROBERT ASHFORD, KNIFE IN HAND, ATTACKED JOHN WILKES WITH FURY"

"CYRIL SAT UP AND DRANK OFF THE CONTENTS OF THE PANNIKIN"

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, SIR, DO NOT CAUSE TROUBLE"

"TAKE HER DOWN QUICK, JOHN, THERE ARE THREE OTHERS"

"CYRIL RAISED THE KING'S HAND TO HIS LIPS"

"A DUTCH MAN-OF-WAR RAN ALONGSIDE AND FIRED A BROADSIDE"

"FOR THE LAST TIME: WILL YOU SIGN THE DEED?"

"WELCOME BACK TO YOUR OWN AGAIN, SIR CYRIL!"

"WHAT NEWS, JAMES?" THE KING ASKED EAGERLY

WHEN LONDON BURNED

CHAPTER I

FATHERLESS

Lad stood looking out of the dormer window in a scantily furnished
attic in the high-pitched roof of a house in Holborn, in September
1664. Numbers of persons were traversing the street below, many of
them going out through the bars, fifty yards away, into the fields
beyond, where some sports were being held that morning, while country
people were coming in with their baskets from the villages of
Highgate and Hampstead, Tyburn and Bayswater. But the lad noted
nothing that was going on; his eyes were filled with tears, and his
thoughts were in the little room behind him; for here, coffined in
readiness for burial, lay the body of his father.

Sir Aubrey Shenstone had not been a good father in any sense of the
word. He had not been harsh or cruel, but he had altogether neglected
his son. Beyond the virtues of loyalty and courage, he possessed few
others. He had fought, as a young man, for Charles, and even among
the Cavaliers who rode behind Prince Rupert was noted for reckless
bravery. When, on the fatal field of Worcester, the last hopes of the
Royalists were crushed, he had effected his escape to France and
taken up his abode at Dunkirk. His estates had been forfeited; and
after spending the proceeds of his wife's jewels and those he had
carried about with him in case fortune went against the cause for
which he fought, he sank lower and lower, and had for years lived on
the scanty pension allowed by Louis to the King and his adherents.

Sir Aubrey had been one of the wild, reckless spirits whose conduct
did much towards setting the people of England against the cause of
Charles. He gambled and drank, interlarded his conversation with
oaths, and despised as well as hated the Puritans against whom he
fought. Misfortune did not improve him; he still drank when he had
money to do so, gambled for small sums in low taverns with men of his
own kind, and quarrelled and fought on the smallest provocation. Had
it not been for his son he would have taken service in the army of
some foreign Power; but he could not take the child about with him,
nor could he leave it behind.

Sir Aubrey was not altogether without good points. He would divide
his last crown with a comrade poorer than himself. In the worst of
times he was as cheerful as when money was plentiful, making a joke
of his necessities and keeping a brave face to the world.

Wholly neglected by his father, who spent the greater portion of his
time abroad, Cyril would have fared badly indeed had it not been for
the kindness of Lady Parton, the wife of a Cavalier of very different
type to Sir Aubrey. He had been an intimate friend of Lord Falkland,
and, like that nobleman, had drawn his sword with the greatest
reluctance, and only when he saw that Parliament was bent upon
overthrowing the other two estates in the realm and constituting
itself the sole authority in England. After the execution of Charles
he had retired to France, and did not take part in the later risings,
but lived a secluded life with his wife and children. The eldest of
these was of the same age as Cyril; and as the latter's mother had
been a neighbour of hers before marriage, Lady Parton promised her,
on her death-bed, to look after the child, a promise that she
faithfully kept.

Sir John Parton had always been adverse to the association of his boy
with the son of Sir Aubrey Shenstone; but he had reluctantly yielded
to his wife's wishes, and Cyril passed the greater portion of his
time at their house, sharing the lessons Harry received from an
English clergyman who had been expelled from his living by the
fanatics of Parliament. He was a good and pious man, as well as an
excellent scholar, and under his teaching, aided by the gentle
precepts of Lady Parton, and the strict but kindly rule of her
husband, Cyril received a training of a far better kind than he would
ever have been likely to obtain had he been brought up in his
father's house near Norfolk. Sir Aubrey exclaimed sometimes that the
boy was growing up a little Puritan, and had he taken more interest
in his welfare would undoubtedly have withdrawn him from the healthy
influences that were benefiting him so greatly; but, with the usual
acuteness of children, Cyril soon learnt that any allusion to his
studies or his life at Sir John Parton's was disagreeable to his
father, and therefore seldom spoke of them.

Sir Aubrey was never, even when under the influence of his potations,
unkind to Cyril. The boy bore a strong likeness to his mother, whom
his father had, in his rough way, really loved passionately. He
seldom spoke even a harsh word to him, and although he occasionally
expressed his disapproval of the teaching he was receiving, was at
heart not sorry to see the boy growing up so different from himself;
and Cyril, in spite of his father's faults, loved him. When Sir
Aubrey came back with unsteady step, late at night, and threw himself
on his pallet, Cyril would say to himself, "Poor father! How
different he would have been had it not been for his misfortunes! He
is to be pitied rather than blamed!" And so, as years went on, in
spite of the difference between their natures, there had grown up a
sort of fellowship between the two; and of an evening sometimes, when
his father's purse was so low that he could not indulge in his usual
stoup of wine at the tavern, they would sit together while Sir Aubrey
talked of his fights and adventures.

"As to the estates, Cyril," he said one day, "I don't know that
Cromwell and his Roundheads have done you much harm. I should have
run through them, lad--I should have diced them away years ago--and I
am not sure but that their forfeiture has been a benefit to you. If
the King ever gets his own, you may come to the estates; while, if I
had had the handling of them, the usurers would have had such a grip
on them that you would never have had a penny of the income."

"It doesn't matter, father," the boy replied. "I mean to be a soldier
some day, as you have been, and I shall take service with some of the
Protestant Princes of Germany; or, if I can't do that, I shall be
able to work my way somehow."

"What can you work at, lad?" his father said, contemptuously.

"I don't know yet, father; but I shall find some work to do."

Sir Aubrey was about to burst into a tirade against work, but he
checked himself. If Cyril never came into the estates he would have
to earn his living somehow.

"All right, my boy. But do you stick to your idea of earning your
living by your sword; it is a gentleman's profession, and I would
rather see you eating dry bread as a soldier of fortune than
prospering in some vile trading business."

Cyril never argued with his father, and he simply nodded an assent
and then asked some question that turned Sir Aubrey's thoughts on
other matters.

The news that Monk had declared for the King, and that Charles would
speedily return to take his place on his father's throne, caused
great excitement among the Cavaliers scattered over the Continent;
and as soon as the matter was settled, all prepared to return to
England, in the full belief that their evil days were over, and that
they would speedily be restored to their former estates, with honours
and rewards for their many sacrifices.

"I must leave you behind for a short time, Cyril," his father said to
the boy, when he came in one afternoon. "I must be in London before
the King arrives there, to join in his welcome home, and for the
moment I cannot take you; I shall be busy from morning till night. Of
course, in the pressure of things at first it will be impossible for
the King to do everything at once, and it may be a few weeks before
all these Roundheads can be turned out of the snug nests they have
made for themselves, and the rightful owners come to their own again.
As I have no friends in London, I should have nowhere to bestow you,
until I can take you down with me to Norfolk to present you to our
tenants, and you would be grievously in my way; but as soon as things
are settled I will write to you or come over myself to fetch you. In
the meantime I must think over where I had best place you. It will
not matter for so short a time, but I would that you should be as
comfortable as possible. Think it over yourself, and let me know if
you have any wishes in the matter. Sir John Parton leaves at the end
of the week, and ere another fortnight there will be scarce another
Englishman left at Dunkirk."

"Don't you think you can take me with you, father?"

"Impossible," Sir Aubrey said shortly. "Lodgings will be at a great
price in London, for the city will be full of people from all parts
coming up to welcome the King home. I can bestow myself in a garret
anywhere, but I could not leave you there all day. Besides, I shall
have to get more fitting clothes, and shall have many expenses. You
are at home here, and will not feel it dull for the short time you
have to remain behind."

Cyril said no more, but went up, with a heavy heart, for his last
day's lessons at the Partons'. Young as he was, he was accustomed to
think for himself, for it was but little guidance he received from
his father; and after his studies were over he laid the case before
his master, Mr. Felton, and asked if he could advise him. Mr. Felton
was himself in high spirits, and was hoping to be speedily reinstated
in his living. He looked grave when Cyril told his story.

"I think it is a pity that your father, Sir Aubrey, does not take you
over with him, for it will assuredly take longer to bring all these
matters into order than he seems to think. However, that is his
affair. I should think he could not do better for you than place you
with the people where I lodge. You know them, and they are a worthy
couple; the husband is, as you know, a fisherman, and you and Harry
Parton have often been out with him in his boat, so it would not be
like going among strangers. Continue your studies. I should be sorry
to think that you were forgetting all that you have learnt. I will
take you this afternoon, if you like, to my friend, the Cure of St.
Ursula. Although we differ on religion we are good friends, and
should you need advice on any matters he will give it to you, and may
be of use in arranging for a passage for you to England, should your
father not be able himself to come and fetch you."

Sir Aubrey at once assented to the plan when Cyril mentioned it to
him, and a week later sailed for England; Cyril moving, with his few
belongings, to the house of Jean Baudoin, who was the owner and
master of one of the largest fishing-boats in Dunkirk. Sir Aubrey had
paid for his board and lodgings for two months.

"I expect to be over to fetch you long before that, Cyril," he had
said, "but it is as well to be on the safe side. Here are four
crowns, which will furnish you with ample pocket-money. And I have
arranged with your fencing-master for you to have lessons regularly,
as before; it will not do for you to neglect so important an
accomplishment, for which, as he tells me, you show great aptitude."

The two months passed. Cyril had received but one letter from his
father. Although it expressed hopes of his speedy restoration to his
estates, Cyril could see, by its tone, that his father was far from
satisfied with the progress he had made in the matter. Madame Baudoin
was a good and pious woman, and was very kind to the forlorn English
boy; but when a fortnight over the two months had passed, Cyril could
see that the fisherman was becoming anxious. Regularly, on his return
from the fishing, he inquired if letters had arrived, and seemed much
put out when he heard that there was no news. One day, when Cyril was
in the garden that surrounded the cottage, he heard him say to his
wife,--

"Well, I will say nothing about it until after the next voyage, and
then if we don't hear, the boy must do something for his living. I
can take him in the boat with me; he can earn his victuals in that
way. If he won't do that, I shall wash my hands of him altogether,
and he must shift for himself. I believe his father has left him with
us for good. We were wrong in taking him only on the recommendation
of Mr. Felton. I have been inquiring about his father, and hear
little good of him."

Cyril, as soon as the fisherman had gone, stole up to his little
room. He was but twelve years old, and he threw himself down on his
bed and cried bitterly. Then a thought struck him; he went to his
box, and took out from it a sealed parcel; on it was written, "To my
son. This parcel is only to be opened should you find yourself in
great need, Your Loving Mother." He remembered how she had placed it
in his hands a few hours before her death, and had said to him,--

"Put this away, Cyril. I charge you let no one see it. Do not speak
of it to anyone--not even to your father. Keep it as a sacred gift,
and do not open it unless you are in sore need. It is for you, and
you alone. It is the sole thing that I have to leave you; use it with
discretion. I fear that hard times will come upon you."

Cyril felt that his need could hardly be sorer than it was now, and
without hesitation he broke the seals, and opened the packet. He
found first a letter directed to himself. It began,--

"MY DARLING CYRIL,--I trust that it will be many years before you
open this parcel and read these words. I have left the enclosed as a
parting gift to you. I know not how long this exile may last, or
whether you will ever be able to return to England. But whether you
do or not, it may well be that the time will arrive when you may find
yourself in sore need. Your father has been a loving husband to me,
and will, I am sure, do what he can for you; but he is not provident
in his habits, and may not, after he is left alone, be as careful in
his expenditure as I have tried to be. I fear then that the time will
come when you will be in need of money, possibly even in want of the
necessaries of life. All my other trinkets I have given to him; but
the one enclosed, which belonged to my mother, I leave to you. It is
worth a good deal of money, and this it is my desire that you shall
spend upon yourself. Use it wisely, my son. If, when you open this,
you are of age to enter the service of a foreign Prince, as is, I
know, the intention of your father, it will provide you with a
suitable outfit. If, as is possible, you may lose your father by
death or otherwise while you are still young, spend it on your
education, which is the best of all heritages. Should your father be
alive when you open this, I pray you not to inform him of it. The
money, in his hands, would last but a short time, and might, I fear,
be wasted. Think not that I am speaking or thinking hardly of him.
All men, even the best, have their faults, and his is a carelessness
as to money matters, and a certain recklessness concerning them;
therefore, I pray you to keep it secret from him, though I do not say
that you should not use the money for your common good, if it be
needful; only, in that case, I beg you will not inform him as to what
money you have in your possession, but use it carefully and prudently
for the household wants, and make it last as long as may be. My good
friend, Lady Parton, if still near you, will doubtless aid you in
disposing of the jewels to the best advantage. God bless you, my son!
This is the only secret I ever had from your father, but for your
good I have hidden this one thing from him, and I pray that this
deceit, which is practised for your advantage, may be forgiven me.
YOUR LOVING MOTHER."

It was some time before Cyril opened the parcel; it contained a
jewel-box in which was a necklace of pearls. After some consideration
he took this to the Cure of St. Ursula, and, giving him his mother's
letter to read, asked him for his advice as to its disposal.

"Your mother was a thoughtful and pious woman," the good priest said,
after he had read the letter, "and has acted wisely in your behalf.
The need she foresaw might come, has arisen, and you are surely
justified in using her gift. I will dispose of this trinket for you;
it is doubtless of considerable value. If it should be that your
father speedily sends for you, you ought to lay aside the money for
some future necessity. If he does not come for some time, as may well
be--for, from the news that comes from England, it is like to be many
months before affairs are settled--then draw from it only such
amounts as are needed for your living and education. Study hard, my
son, for so will you best be fulfilling the intentions of your
mother. If you like, I will keep the money in my hands, serving it
out to you as you need it; and in order that you may keep the matter
a secret, I will myself go to Baudoin, and tell him that he need not
be disquieted as to the cost of your maintenance, for that I have
money in hand with which to discharge your expenses, so long as you
may remain with him."

The next day the Cure informed Cyril that he had disposed of the
necklace for fifty louis. Upon this sum Cyril lived for two years.

Things had gone very hardly with Sir Aubrey Shenstone. The King had a
difficult course to steer. To have evicted all those who had obtained
possession of the forfeited estates of the Cavaliers would have been
to excite a deep feeling of resentment among the Nonconformists. In
vain Sir Aubrey pressed his claims, in season and out of season. He
had no powerful friends to aid him; his conduct had alienated the men
who could have assisted him, and, like so many other Cavaliers who
had fought and suffered for Charles I., Sir Aubrey Shenstone found
himself left altogether in the cold. For a time he was able to keep
up a fair appearance, as he obtained loans from Prince Rupert and
other Royalists whom he had known in the old days, and who had been
more fortunate than himself; but the money so obtained lasted but a
short time, and it was not long before he was again in dire straits.

Cyril had from the first but little hope that his father would
recover his estates. He had, shortly before his father left France,
heard a conversation between Sir John Parton and a gentleman who was
in the inner circle of Charles's advisers. The latter had said,--

"One of the King's great difficulties will be to satisfy the exiles.
Undoubtedly, could he consult his own inclinations only, he would on
his return at once reinstate all those who have suffered in their
estates from their loyalty to his father and himself. But this will
be impossible. It was absolutely necessary for him, in his
proclamation at Breda, to promise an amnesty for all offences,
liberty of conscience and an oblivion as to the past, and he
specially says that all questions of grants, sales and purchases of
land, and titles, shall be referred to Parliament. The Nonconformists
are at present in a majority, and although it seems that all parties
are willing to welcome the King back, you may be sure that no
Parliament will consent to anything like a general disturbance of the
possessors of estates formerly owned by Royalists. In a vast number
of cases, the persons to whom such grants were made disposed of them
by sale to others, and it would be as hard on them to be ousted as it
is upon the original proprietors to be kept out of their possession.
Truly it is a most difficult position, and one that will have to be
approached with great judgment, the more so since most of those to
whom the lands were granted were generals, officers, and soldiers of
the Parliament, and Monk would naturally oppose any steps to the
detriment of his old comrades.

"I fear there will be much bitter disappointment among the exiles,
and that the King will be charged with ingratitude by those who think
that he has only to sign an order for their reinstatement, whereas
Charles will have himself a most difficult course to steer, and will
have to govern himself most circumspectly, so as to give offence to
none of the governing parties. As to his granting estates, or
dispossessing their holders, he will have no more power to do so than
you or I. Doubtless some of the exiles will be restored to their
estates; but I fear that the great bulk are doomed to disappointment.
At any rate, for a time no extensive changes can be made, though it
may be that in the distance, when the temper of the nation at large
is better understood, the King will be able to do something for those
who suffered in the cause.

"It was all very well for Cromwell, who leant solely on the Army, to
dispense with a Parliament, and to govern far more autocratically
than James or Charles even dreamt of doing; but the Army that
supported Cromwell would certainly not support Charles. It is
composed for the most part of stern fanatics, and will be the first
to oppose any attempt of the King to override the law. No doubt it
will erelong be disbanded; but you will see that Parliament will then
recover the authority of which Cromwell deprived it; and Charles is a
far wiser man than his father, and will never set himself against the
feeling of the country. Certainly, anything like a general
reinstatement of the men who have been for the last ten years
haunting the taverns of the Continent is out of the question; they
would speedily create such a revulsion of public opinion as might
bring about another rebellion. Hyde, staunch Royalist as he is, would
never suffer the King to make so grievous an error; nor do I think
for a moment that Charles, who is shrewd and politic, and above all
things a lover of ease and quiet, would think of bringing such a nest
of hornets about his ears."

When, after his return to England, it became evident that Sir Aubrey
had but small chance of reinstatement in his lands, his former
friends began to close their purses and to refuse to grant further
loans, and he was presently reduced to straits as severe as those he
had suffered during his exile. The good spirits that had borne him up
so long failed now, and he grew morose and petulant. His loyalty to
the King was unshaken; Charles had several times granted him
audiences, and had assured him that, did it rest with him, justice
should be at once dealt to him, but that he was practically powerless
in the matter, and the knight's resentment was concentrated upon
Hyde, now Lord Clarendon, and the rest of the King's advisers. He
wrote but seldom to Cyril; he had no wish to have the boy with him
until he could take him down with him in triumph to Norfolk, and show
him to the tenants as his heir. Living from hand to mouth as he did,
he worried but little as to how Cyril was getting on.

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