Fire! Fire! Read Online Free Page A

to an area where the fire had already burned away most of the houses and, though it was still mightily hot and smoke billowed around us in dense clouds, we could hurry on much more quickly.
    Then ahead I could see where the fire must have been blown around almost in a circle by the strong wind. Before we knew it we were walking through what looked like a tunnel of fire as houses on both sides of the street erupted into flames.
    Worse even than the smoke and the heat were the cries and screams of people and what must have been animals. Many of those who lived in the buildings had obviously escaped, because now these roads were empty of everything apart from the terrible choking fumes. I didn’t like to think what could be happening to those who were screaming. They must’ve been trapped in some way, but there was nothing we could do – we couldn’t have got through the heat and flames to rescue anyone. Besides, we were carrying the orders of the king himself and nothing could be allowed to delay those.
    The wind was now blowing more and more strongly and the flames roared up as though a giant blacksmith was using massive bellows to stoke up his forge, ready to melt the world away to nothing. I clung on to Master Pepys’ coat even more tightly as I tried not to panic, and noticed he was holding his wig over his face as well as his handkerchief to keep the smoke out of his lungs. Unfortunately I was too young for a wig, and they were also too expensive for a pageboy. But just as I was staring in envy at my master, he glanced back at me and, realizing I was coughing and spluttering more than him, immediately handed me the wig.
    â€œ Here, Tom, use this. It’s my second best wig so don’t get it too snotty!” He shouted over the roaring fire.
    I took it from him gratefully and held its thick curls over my mouth and nose. Then, finally, the way ahead cleared and we found ourselves on a part of the street where the flames hadn’t reached. The smoke rolled away and Saint Paul’s Cathedral loomed up before us, rising high into the sky like a mountain.
    We headed as straight for it as we could and at last emerged back onto the wider way of Fleet Street. The road led directly to the cathedral and, within a few minutes, we arrived safely. The area around the huge church was still untouched by the fire and we hurried forwards into a space that was free of smoke and flames. For a moment we paused to breathe in air that wasn’t quite as smoky and to enjoy the peace of an area that wasn’t yet in flames. Many houses to the north and west still stood untouched, but the fire was heading towards them rapidly.
    â€œThose are the buildings that must be demolished if the conflagration is to be stopped!” said Master Pepys, waving his hand at them.
    I guessed that ‘conflagration’ was another word for an enormous fire, and I looked out at the area of housing that had to be pulled down by order of the king.
    Then, almost as though we’d made it happen just by talking about it, shouting voices rose up and suddenly with a CRACK and a CRASH one of the houses fell to the ground, disappearing in a billow of dust and disturbing the strange calm that had settled over the place.
    We stood staring, our mouths hanging open. Then we saw a gang of men appear from the billowing cloud carrying long iron poles, hammers and huge spades. All of them were covered in dust, but one was wearing something that might once have been a fine coat. On his head was a wig so dirty it looked like a spaniel’s ears after it’s been rolling in mud.
    â€œLook, Tom, I do believe… yes, I think I’m right… I’m almost certain that’s Master Bloodworth, the mayor!”
    The strange dirty figure saw us, strolled over and gave a deep bow. “Do I have the pleasure of the company of Master Samuel Pepys, Secretary to His Majesty’s Navy?”
    â€œIndeed you do, sir,” my