“I did try, but you shut me up,” said Martin.
“So I did. I was wrong. I own it; dash my sleepy head! Never you sleep your brains away, my lad. Them brass boxes, now. There’s no telling what mischief’s in them boxes. Still, what you can’t help, make the best of, and I say no more for the present. When the Fire’s over maybe I’ll look into things a bit: I’ve no time for it now—indeed, I must get back to my duty.”
He went out hurriedly, before Martin had related what had happened to the old Frenchman. Susan and Lucy, when that story was told, were both indignant at the crowd’s treatment of their friend, and nothing would satisfy the girl but that she must take him a bowl of syllabub to comfort him, as she said.
Martin was too restless to remain indoors. The fascination of the Fire drew him again into the streets, which were now still more congested, the stream of fugitives hurrying to the fields meeting a stream of countrymen whom the prospect of making money by hiring out their carts had drawn to the City. The roar of the flames, the crash of falling houses, the cries and oaths of the people struggling to save their goods, the smells from burning oil and spices, the blazing flakes fantastically whirling in the wind, made up a series of vivid impressions that remained in Martin’s memory for many a day.
Towards evening he found himself again in the neighbourhood of Mr. Slocum’s house. He had not gone there of set purpose, but had been drawn there unconsciously, perhaps, by a vague recollection of Dick Gollop’s remarks.
Going down the lane towards the back entrance, he was brought to a halt by the sight of a large hand-truck at the door. The three ’prentices, in their shirt sleeves, were loading it with boxes under the direction of Mr. Slocum.
“He’s scared at last,” thought Martin. “But what a strange time to choose for going away.”
He remained in a shady corner, watching. It was certainly high time that the goldsmith’s valuables were removed, for the Fire had reached the foot of the streets leading up to Cheapside.
The loading was finished a few minutes after Martin’s arrival, and the ’prentices put on their coats.
“Am I not to come, sir?” Martin heard Hopton say.