CHAPTER X. WITHOUT THE WALLS.
Only one trifling incident befell the boys before they foundthemselves without the city gate. They were proceeding down ColemanStreet towards Moor Gate, where they knew they should have to showtheir pass, and perhaps have some slight trouble in gettingthrough, and were rehearsing such things as they had decided totell the guard at the gate, when the sound of a dismal howlingsmote upon their ears, and they paused to look about them, for thestreet was very still, and almost every house seemed deserted andempty.
The sound came again, and Joseph remarked:
"'Tis some poor dog who perchance has lost master and home. Therebe only too many such in the city they say. They throw them byscores into the river to be rid of them; but I have heard fathersay that it is an ill thing to do, and likely to spread thecontagion instead of checking it. Alive, the poor beasts do no ill;but their carcasses poison both the water and the air. Beshrew me,but he makes a doleful wailing!"
Going on cautiously through the darkness, for the moon was veiledbehind some clouds, the brothers presently saw, lying just outsidea shut-up house, a long still form wrapped in a winding sheet, putout ready for one of the many carts that passed up the street onthe way to the great pits in Bunhill and Finsbury Fields. Whetherthe corpse was that of a man or a woman the boys could not tell.They made a circuit round it to avoid passing near.
But beside the still figure squatted a little dog of the turnspitvariety, and he was awakening the echoes of the quiet street by hislugubrious howls.
Both the brothers were fond of animals, and particularly of dogs,and they paused after having passed by, and tried to get thecreature to come to them; but though he paused for a moment in hiswailing, and even wagged his tail as though in gratitude for thekind words spoken, he would not leave his post beside the corpse,and the boys had perforce to go on their way.
"The dumb brute could teach a lesson in charity to many a humanbeing," remarked Joseph, gravely; "he will not leave his deadmaster, and they too often flee away even from the living. Poorcreature, how mournful are his cries! I would that we could comforthim."
At the gate they were stopped and questioned. They told astraightforward and truthful tale; their pass was examined andfound correct; and their father's name being widely known andrespected for his untiring labours in the city at this time, theboys were treated civilly enough and wished God speed and a safereturn. They were the more quickly dismissed that the sound ofwheels rumbling up to the gate made itself heard, and the guarddarted hastily away into his shelter.
"These plague carts will be the death of us, passing continuallyall the night through with their load," he said. "Best be gonebefore it comes through, lads. It carries death in its train."
The boys were glad enough to make off, and found themselves for thetime being free of houses in the pleasant open Moor Fields, whichwere familiar to them as the favourite gathering place of shopmenand apprentices on all high days and holidays. The moon shone downbrightly again, although near her setting now; but before long thedawn would begin to lighten in the east, and the boys cared no whitfor the semi-darkness of a summer's night.
Behind them still came the rumble of wheels, and they drew aside tolet the cart pass with its dreadful cargo. Behind it ran a smallblack object, and Benjamin exclaimed:
"It is the little dog! O brother, let us follow and see whatbecomes of him!"
The strange curiosity to see the burying place, which tempted onlytoo many to their death in those perilous days, was upon Joseph atthat moment. He desired greatly to see one of those plague pits,and to watch the emptying of the cart at its mouth. Forgettingtheir father's warnings, the brothers ran quickly after the cart,which was easily kept in view, and soon saw it halt and turn roundat a spot where they could discern the outline of a great mound ofearth, and the black yawning mouth of what they knew must be thepit.
Half terrified, half fascinated, they gripped each other by thehand and crept step by step nearer. They took care to keep to thewindward of the pit, and were getting very near to it when the airwas rent by another of the doleful cries which they had heardbefore, but which sounded so strange and mournful here that theystopped short in terror at the noise. It seemed even to affect thenerves of the bearers, for one of them exclaimed:
"It is that cur again, who has left the marks of his teeth in myhand. If I could but get near him with my cudgel, he should neverhowl again."
"I thought we had rid ourselves of the brute, but he must havefollowed us. A plague upon his doleful voice! They say that itbodes ill to hear a dog's howl at night. Perchance he will leapdown into the pit after his master. We will take good care he comesnot forth again if he does that."
With these words the rough fellows turned to the cart, which wasnow at the edge of the pit, and finished the rude burial which wasall that could in those days be given to the dead. Every now andthen one of the men would aim a heavy stone at the poor dog, whosat on the edge of the pit howling dismally. The creature, however,was never hit, for he kept a respectful distance from his enemies.
Their work done, the men got into the cart and drove away, withouthaving noticed the two boys crouching beside the pile of soil inthe shadow. The dog began running backwards and forwards along theedge of the pit, which being only lately dug was still deep, thoughfilling up very fast in these terrible days of drought and heat.
The boys rose up and called to him kindly. He did not notice themat first, but finally came, and looked up in their faces withappealing eyes, as though he begged of them to give him back hismaster.
"Touch him not, Ben," said Joseph to his brother, who would havetaken the dog into his embrace, "he has been in a plague strickenhouse. Let us coax him to yon pool, and wash him there; and then,if he will go with us, we will take him and welcome. It may be hewill be a safeguard from danger; and it would be sorrowful indeedto leave him here."
The dog was divided in mind between watching the pit's mouth andgoing with the kindly-spoken boys, who coaxed and called to him;but at last it seemed as though the loneliness of the place, andthe natural instinct of the canine mind to follow something human,prevailed over the other instinct of watching for the return of hismaster from this strange resting place. Perhaps the journey in thecart and the promiscuous burial had confused the poor beast's mindas to whether indeed his master lay there at all. With many wistfulglances backwards, he still followed the boys; and when they pausedat length beside a spring of fresh water, he needed little urgingto jump in and refresh himself with a bath, emerging thence inbetter spirits and ravenously hungry, as they quickly found whenthey opened their wallet and partook of a part of the excellentprovisions packed up for them by their mother.
The young travellers were by this time both tired and sleepy, andfinding near by a soft mossy bank, they lay down and were quicklyasleep, whilst the dog curled himself up contentedly at their feetand slept also.
When the boys awoke the sun was up, although it was still earlymorning. They were bewildered for a few moments to know where theywere, but memory quickly returned to them, and with it a sense ofexhilaration at being no longer cooped up within the walls of ahouse, but out in the open country, with the world before them andthe plague-stricken city behind. Even the presence of the dog, whoproved to be a handsome and intelligent member of his race, blackand tan in colour, with appealing eyes and a quick comprehension ofwhat was spoken to him, added greatly to the pleasure of the lads.They gave their new companion the name of Fido, as a tribute to hisaffection for his dead master; but they were very well pleased thathe did not carry his fidelity to the pass of remaining behind bythe great pit when they started forth to pursue their way to theiraunt's house beyond Islington.
Fido ran backwards and forwards for a while whining and lookingpathetically sorrowful; but after the boys had coaxed and caressedhim, and had explained many times over that his master could notpossibly come back, he seemed to resign himself to the inevitable,and trotted at their heels with drooping tail, but with grati
tudein his eyes whenever they paused to caress him or give him a kindword.
And they were glad enough of his company along the road, for fromtime to time they met groups of very rough-looking men prowlingabout as though in search of plunder. Some of these fellows eyedthe wallets carried by the boys with covetous glances; but on suchoccasions Fido invariably placed himself in front of his youngmasters, and with flashing eyes and bristling back plainlyintimated that he was there to protect them, whilst the gleamingrows of shining teeth which he displayed when he curled up his lipsin a threatening snarl seemed to convince all parties that it wasbetter not to provoke him to anger.
The more open parts of the region without the walls looked verystrange to the boys as they journeyed onwards. Numbers of tentswere to be seen dotted about Finsbury and Moor Fields and wholefamilies were living there in the hope of escaping contagion.Country people from regions about came daily with their produce tosupply the needs of these nomads; and it was curious to see theprecautions taken on both sides to avoid personal contact. Thevillagers would deposit their goods upon large stones set up forthe purpose; and after they had retired to a little distance, somepersons from the tents or scattered houses would come and take theproduce, depositing payment for it in a jar of vinegar set there toreceive it. After it had thus lain a short time, the vendor wouldcome and take it thence; but some were so cautious that they wouldnot place it in purse or pocket till they had passed it through thefire of a little brazier which they had with them.
Nor was it to be wondered at that the country folks were thuscautious, for the contagion had spread throughout all thesurrounding districts, and every village had its tale of woe totell. At first the people had been kind and compassionate enough inwelcoming and harbouring apparently sound persons fleeing from thecity of destruction; but when again and again it happened that thewayfarer died that same night of the plague in the house which hadreceived him, and infected many of those who had showed himkindness, so that sometimes a whole family was swept away in two orthree days, it was no wonder that they were afraid of offeringhospitality to wayfarers, and preferred that these persons shouldencamp at a distance from them, though they were willing to supplythem with the necessaries of life at reasonable charges. It must bespoken to the credit of the country people at this time, that theydid not raise the price of provisions, as might have been expected,seeing the risk they ran in taking them to the city. There was noscarcity and hardly any advance in price throughout the dismal timeof visitation. This was doubtless due, in part, to the wise andable measures taken by the magistrates and city corporations; butit also redounds to the credit of the villagers, that they did notstrive to enrich themselves through the misfortunes of theirneighbours.
The boys were glad to purchase fruit and milk for a lightbreakfast; and their fresh open faces and tender years seemed togive them favour wherever they went. They were not shunned, as sometravellers found themselves at this time, but were admitted toseveral farm houses on their way, and regaled plentifully, whilstthey told their tale to a circle of breathless listeners.
Sometimes they were stopped upon the way by the men told off towatch the roads, and turn back any coming from the city who had notthe proper pass of health. But the boys, being duly provided withthis, were always suffered to proceed after some parley. Theybegan, however, to understand how difficult a thing it had nowbecome to escape from the infected city; and several times they sawtravellers turned back because their passes were dated a few daysback, and the guard declared it impossible to know what infectionthey had encountered since.
Very sad indeed were these poor creatures at being, as it were,sent back to their death. For it began to be rumoured all about thecity that not a living creature would escape who remained there. Itwas said that God's judgments had gone forth, and that the wholeplace would be given over to destruction, even as Sodom, and thatnone who remained in it would be left alive.
This sort of talk made the brothers very anxious and sorrowful,but, as Joseph sought to remind his brother, the people who saidthese things had nothing better to go by than the prognosticationsof old women or quacks and astrologers, whom their father hadtaught them to disbelieve. He had always taught them that God aloneknew the future and the thing that He would do, and that it wasfolly and presumption on the part of man to seek to penetrate Hiscounsels, and venture to prophesy things which He had not revealed.So they plucked up heart, these two youthful wayfarers, firmlybelieving that God would take care of their father and all thosewho were working in the cause of mercy and charity in the greatcity, and that they could leave the issues of these things in Hishands.
Since the day was very hot, and they were somewhat weary with theirlong walk and short night, they lay down at noontide in a littlewood, not more than three miles from their aunt's house inIslington, and there they slept again, with Fido at their feet,until the sun was far in the west, and they were ready to finishtheir journey in the cool freshness of the evening.
They had come by no means the nearest way, but had fetched a widecircuit, so as to avoid, as far as possible, all regions ofoutlying houses. Time was no particular object to them, so thatthey reached their destination by nightfall; and now they werequite in the open country, and delighting in the pure air and therural sights and sounds.
Yet even here all was not so happy and smiling as appeared from theface of nature. The corn was standing ripe for the sickle, but intoo many districts there were not hands enough to reap it. Onebeautiful field of wheat which the brothers passed was shedding thegolden grain from the ripened ears, and flocks of birds weregathering it up. When they passed the farmstead they saw the reasonfor this. Not a sign of life was there about the place. No cattlelowed, no dog barked; and an old crone who sat by the wayside witha bundle of ripe ears in her lap shook her head as she saw thewondering faces of the boys, and said:
"All dead and gone! all dead and gone! Alive one day--dead thenext! The plague carried them off, every one of them, harvest handsand all. They say it was the men who came to cut the corn thatbrought it. But who can tell? They got yon field in"--pointing toone where the golden stubble was to be seen short and compact--"buthalf were dead ere ever it was down; and then the sickness fellupon the house, and of those who did not fly not one remains. Lordhave mercy upon us! We be all dead men if He come not to our aid.Who knows whose turn may come next?"
Truly the shadow of death seemed everywhere. But the boys were soused to dismal tales of wholesale devastation that one more or lessdid not seem greatly to matter. Perhaps the contrast was the moresharp out here between the smiling landscape and the silent,shut-up house; but the chief fear which beset them was lest theirkind aunt should have been taken by death, in which case theyscarcely knew what would become of themselves.
They hastened their steps as they entered the familiar lane wherenestled the thatched cottage in which their aunt had her abode.Mary Harmer was their father's youngest and favourite sister. Onceshe had made one of the home party on the bridge; but that was longbefore the boys could remember. That was in the lifetime of theirgrandparents, and before the old people resigned their business tothe able hands of their son James, and came into the country tolive.
The grandfather of Joseph and Benjamin had built this cottage, andhe and his wife had lived in it from that time till the day oftheir death. Their daughter Mary remained still in the pretty,commodious place--if indeed she had not died during the time of thevisitation. The children all loved their Aunt Mary, and esteemed avisit to her house as one of the greatest of privileges.
Benjamin, who was rather delicate, had once passed six monthstogether here, and was called by Mary Harmer "her boy." He grewexcited as he marked every familiar turn in the shady lane; andwhen at last the thatched roof of the rose-covered cottage came insight, he uttered a shout of excitement and ran hastily forward.
The diamond lattice panes were shining with their accustomedcleanliness. There was no sign of neglect about the bright littlehouse. The door stood open to the su
nshine and the breeze; and atthe sound of Benjamin's cry, a figure in a neat cotton gown andlarge apron appeared suddenly in the doorway, whilst a familiarvoice exclaimed: "Now God be praised! it is my own boy. Two ofthem! Thank Heaven for so much as this!" and running down thegarden path, Mary Harmer folded both the lads in her arms, tearscoursing down her cheeks the while.
"God bless them! God bless them! How I have longed for news of youall! What news from home bring you, dear lads? I tremble almost toask, but be it what it may, two of you are alive and well; and intimes like these we must needs learn to say, 'Thy will be done!'"
"We are all alive, we are all well!" cried Joseph, hastening torelieve the worst of his aunt's fears. "Some say ours is almost theonly house in London where there be not one dead. I scarce know ifthat be true. One or two of us have been sick, and some say thatJanet and Dan have both had a touch of the distemper; but they soonwere sound again. They all go about amongst the sick. Father hasbeen one of the examiners all the time through; and though theyonly appoint them for a month, he will not give up his office. Hesays that so long as he and his family are preserved, so long willhe strive to do his duty towards his fellow men. There be many likehim--our good Lord Mayor for one; and my Lord Craven, who will notfly, as almost all the great ones have done, but stays to help togovern the city wisely, and to see that the alms are distributedaright to the poor at this season.
"But there was naught for us to do. We were too young to be bearersor searchers, and boys cannot tend the sick. So we grew weary pastbearing of the shut-up house, and yestereve our father gave usleave to sally forth and seek news of thee, good aunt. And oh, weare right glad to find ourselves out of the city and safe withthee!"
Joseph spoke on, because Mary Harmer was weeping so plenteouslywith joy and gratitude that she had no words in which to answerhim. She had not dared to hope that she should see again any of thedear faces of her kinsfolk. True, the distemper was yet ragingfiercely, and none could say when the end would come; but it wasmuch to know that they had lived in safety through these manyweeks. It seemed to the pious woman as though God had given her asort of pledge of His special mercy to her and hers, and that Hewould not now fail them.
She led the boys into her pretty, cheerful cottage, and set themdown to the table, where she quickly had a plentiful meal setbefore them. Fido's pathetic story was told, and he was caressedand fed in a fashion that altogether won his heart. He made themall laugh at his method of showing gratitude; for he walked up tothe fire before which a bit of meat was cooking, and plainlyintimated his desire to be allowed to turn the spit if they wouldgive him the needful convenience. This being done by the handyBenjamin, he set to his task with the greatest readiness, and theboys quite forgot all their sorrowful thoughts in the entertainmentof watching Fido turn the spit.
Long did they sit at table, eating with the healthy appetite ofgrowing lads, and answering their aunt's minute questions as to thewelfare of every member of the household. Greatly was sheinterested in the home for desolate children provided by LadyScrope, and ordered by her nieces and Gertrude. She told the boysthat her house had often been used to shelter homeless anddestitute persons, whom charity forbade her to send away. Just nowshe was alone; but even then she was not idle, for all round in theopen fields and woods persons of all conditions were livingencamped, and some of these had hardly the necessaries of life. Outof her own modest abundance, Mary Harmer supplied food and clothingto numbers of poor creatures, who might otherwise be in danger ofperishing; and she bid the boys be ready to help her in her labourof love, because she had ofttimes more to do than one pair of handscould accomplish, and her little serving girl had run off in alarmthe very first time she opened her door to a poor sick lady with aninfant in her arms, who had escaped from the city only to die outin the country. It was not the plague that carried her off, butlung disease of long standing, and the infant did not survive itsmother many days.
"But it frightened Sally away, poor child, just as if it had beenthe sickness; and I have since heard that she was taken with it amonth ago in her own home, and that every one there died withinthree days. These be terrible times! But we know they are sent byGod, and that He will help us through them; and surely, I think, itcannot be His will that we turn a deaf ear to the plaints of theafflicted, and think of naught but our own safety. I have work andenough to do, and will find you enough to fill your hands, boys. Itwas a happy thought indeed which sent you two hither to me."