William M Cullen The Printer's Vampyr (retail) (pdf)

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

grand staircase, where we hailed a driver and took off riding down
Cannon Street, enjoying the fair mid-day weather.
As we rode along we had to make our way through a crowd of
people who were coming and going from the London Bridge; so we
took Eastcheap on over to Tower Street; and after a few moments,
we arrived at the Tower of London, which is a foreboding structure of
walls and towers. But, before strolling about the grounds, and upon
removing ourselves from the carriage, we took a short walk down to the
River Thames, wanting to take in the sites. We found a place alongside a
waist-high wall and began watching the flow of traffic as ships, boats and
92 THE PRINTER S VAMPYR
skittles began making their way in and out of port as well as watch the
sea-birds as they flew about looking for their next meal; and the smell of
rotting fish was something, as well, to behold.
From our vantage point you could see a spectacular view of the
bridge, the flowing river and the various vessels moving about; plus, we
saw, and heard, two of its four water-wheels churning swiftly and noisily
in the river. The sound of the churning-water was loud but it was not so
unbearable for us to converse. As we stood there admiring the view I had
to ask Vyola if she had any concerns about being out in such a place as
this, with all these people milling about, looking as refined as she does.
She shook her head, telling me first, I have you here to protect me,
taking me by my right arm.
True, I said, placing my left hand tenderly upon her hands.
And, suddenly brandishing a six inch stiletto/dagger below my chin
from a place hidden within her dress, telling me when one grows up in a
city, such as London, one must be able to protect oneself.
Aye, I replied wide-eyed, as she slipped the blade away, placing it as
a decorative ornament amongst her bosom.
I have them built into all my dresses, she said. Tis something
father showed me when I was but a little girl; after mother had died.
I see, wondering what else she may have hidden within her dress,
and not just what nature had given her.
She retook my arm and snuggled up against it, watching what was
going on around us. Did you know that people live out there, on that
bridge?
No, I did not, looking out at bridge.
Aye, there are homes and businesses out there. They say that some of
them have been out there for generations, even living through the Great
Fire.
They did?
Aye, they fought for days in order to save it.
How did they do that?
They scrambled like mad ants over a sugar-stick, pouring bucket
after bucket of water on it, soaking the timbers, in order to save it.
And did they?
Aye, at least half of it. That s why it is such a pride to the people of
London.
WILLIAM M. CULLEN 93
You know Vyola, a friend of mine, a Mr. Wilcox, told me all about
the Great Fire one evening. Oh he did, did he; looking slightly puzzled
at me, and who is this Mr. Wilcox?
He s a local bookseller near where I used to live, in Little Britain.
I see; a man of some knowledge I presume.
Aye, I replied. I used to help him out around the store from time
to time just so I could earn a book to read; plus, it was a way to keep
myself busy while my former friend James would spend time with a
neighbor lady and her dear child.
Oh, embracing my right arm again, And what did this Mr. Wilcox
tell you about our Great Fire?
It seems, Dear Reader, this would be the appropriate juncture in which to
tell you what I had learned about the Great Fire of 1666, not only from
Mr. Wilcox and others, but from my own research as well, for it does
relate, indirectly, on the investigation. So, please, bear with me.
Earlier this year, back in the spring, when I wasn t visiting any of my
new learned friends, or reading their books, I would visit an excellent
bookstore, which was right next-door to Mr. Palmer s printing house.
There I could purchase books since my wages were increasing, which was
brought on by the lack of my former friend James Ralph and his lady
friend no longer borrowing from me. Thus, while visiting this bookshop,
I began a friendship with its owner one Mr. Wilcox who was a fine,
older, gray-haired, gentleman; and it was through him that I learned a
great deal about the Great Fire of 1666.
Every now and then I would hear references concerning the Great
Fire therefore, I thought, I would inquire of Mr. Wilcox, if he wouldn t
mind telling me, what had happened. He said he would be most happy to
if I didn t mind helping him out one evening whereby we might be able
to sit by the hearth afterwards and talk, to which I was more than happy
to oblige him. In fact, I even brought him some port that evening to pass
the time, which he accepted most graciously; and it was there, on that
cool, late spring, evening when I began learning about one of the most
horrific events in all of human history.
You see Ben, began Mr. Wilcox, igniting his pipe, the Great Fire
of 1666 was four days of pure Hell where, it seemed, the Devil and his
wretched demons were bound to destroy London, just because they
had an opportunity to do so, sitting back in his seat, puffing his pipe,
94 THE PRINTER S VAMPYR
settling in to unfold a tale unlike anything I had ever heard before, or
since.
The Great Fire had begun in the Billingsgate District, down near
the River Thames, on Pudding Lane. It was said the fire had started at
a baker s store, one that was owned by Thomas Farriner, who swore at
the inquisition that he had damped down his oven that very night
before going to bed. He further stated that the fire had started outside
his business, which was his home as well, in an adjacent close by some [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Podstrony