Julius had no scruples about risking this favourite home child. If he thought about it at all, it was to rejoice that Mrs. Bowater was safely gone, for he had passed unscathed through scenes at St. Awdry’s that would have made his mother tremble, and he had little fear of contagion, with reasonable care. Of course the doctors had the usual debate whether the fever were infectious or epidemic, but it made little difference. The local ones, as well as an authority from London, had an inspection previous to the meeting, which took place in the school, whose scholars were dispersed in the panic. No ladies were admitted. “We have had enough of them,” quoted Worshipful Mayor Truelove. Mr. Briggs, the ex-mayor, was at the bedside of his son, and there were hardly enough present to make decisions.
The focus of the disease was in Pettitt’s well. The water, though cold, clear, and sparkling, was affected by noxious gases from the drains, and had become little better than poison; the air was not much better, and as several neighbouring houses, some swarming with lodgers, used this water, the evil was accounted for. The ‘Three Pigeons’ had been an attraction to the servants waiting with their ladies’ carriages during the entertainments, and though they had not meddled much with the simple element, spirits had not neutralized the mischief. Thence too had come water for the tea and iced beverages used at the bazaar and ball. Odours there had been in plenty from the untouched drainage of the other houses, and these, no doubt, enhanced the evil; but every one agreed that the bad management of the drains on Mr. Pettitt’s property had been the main agency in the present outbreak.
The poor little perfumer had tears of grief and indignation in his eyes, but he defended his cause and shielded the ladies with chivalry worthy of his French ancestry. He said he had striven to do his duty as a proprietor, and if other gentlemen had done the same, and the channels could have had a free outlet, this misfortune would never have occurred. He found himself backed up by Mr. Julius Charnock, who rose to declare that what Mr. Pettitt had said was just what his brother, Mr. Charnock Poynsett, had desired should be stated as his own opinion, namely, that the responsibility rested, not with those who had done all within their power or knowledge for the welfare of their tenants, but with those whose indifference on the score of health had led them to neglect all sanitary measures.
“He desires me to say,” added Julius, “that being concerned both in the neglect and in the unfortunate consequences, he is desirous to impress his opinion on all concerned.”
Future prevention was no longer in the hands of the Town Council, for a sanitary commission would take that in hand; but in the meantime it was a time of plague and sickness, and measures must be taken for the general relief. Mr. Moy, to whom most of the houses belonged, was inquired for; but it appeared that he had carried off his wife and daughter on Saturday in terror when one of his servants had fallen ill, and even his clerks would not know where to write to him till he should telegraph. The man Gadley was meantime driving an active trade at the ‘Three Pigeons,’ whither the poor, possessed with the notion that spirits kept out the infection, were resorting more than ever, and he set at defiance all the preventives which doctors, overseer, and relieving officer were trying to enforce, with sullen oaths against interference.
Two deaths yesterday, one to-day, three hourly apprehended; doctors incessantly occupied, nurses, however unfit, not to be procured by any exertion of the half-maddened relieving-officer; bread-winners prostrated; food, wine, bedding, everything lacking. Such was the state of things around the new town-hall of Wil’sbro’, and the gentry around were absorbed by cases of the same epidemic in their own families.
To telegraph for nurses from a hospital, to set on foot a subscription, appoint a committee of management, and name a treasurer and dispenser of supplies, were the most urgent steps. Julius suggested applying to a Nursing Sisterhood, but Mr. Truelove, without imputing any motives to the reverend gentleman, was unwilling to insert the thin end of the wedge; so the telegram was sent to a London Hospital, and Mr. Whitlock, the mayor-elect, undertook to be treasurer, and to print and circulate an appeal for supplies of all sorts. Those present resolved themselves into a committee, and consulted about a fever hospital, since people could hardly be expected to recover in the present condition of Water Lane; but nothing was at present ready, and the question was adjourned to the next day. As Julius parted with Mr. Whitlock he met Herbert Bowater returning from the cemetery in search of him, with tidings of some cases where he was especially needed. As they walked on together Mrs. Duncombe overtook them with a basket on her arm. She held out her hand with an imploring gesture.
“Mr. Charnock, it can’t be true, can it?—they only say so out of ignorance—that it was Pettitt’s well, I mean?”
In a few words Julius made it clear what the evil had been and how it arose.
She did not dispute it, she merely grew sallower and said: