“That Slocum’s a wretch,” said Susan. “I always said so. Now, what are you going to do, Gollop?”
“Do! What can I do?”
“There’s a man for you! Just as bad as the Lord Mayor. What can you do, indeed! Why, just set off after that barge this very minute and stop it before it’s too late.”
“Spoken like a woman,” responded Gollop. “You don’t understand the law, Sue. Before that barge can be stopped there must be a warrant drawn up proper, saying as how Richard Gollop, constable——”
“Fiddle-diddle!” Susan broke in scornfully. “Go out and get your warrant, then, instead of talking about it.”
“I’d get never a magistrate to listen to me; they can’t think of nothing but the Fire. But I’ll tell you what I will do: I’ll go down to the river and see this vessel, Santa something or other; there’s plenty of time, for they’ve got to unload the barge. I’ll ask a question or two along the riverside, and if what I hear bears out the lad’s tale——”
“There! Get along with you,” cried his wife. “It’s a mercy the world isn’t all made of men.”
“What you can’t help, make the best of,” said Gollop, as he hurried away.
Susan quickly prepared a meal for the famished boys. While she did so she continued the conversation with Mounseer which Martin’s entrance had interrupted. It appeared that the Frenchman was becoming anxious about the safety of the house. On returning home about midnight the constable had reported that there were signs of the Fire’s working back against the wind. Already several houses eastward of Pudding Lane had been consumed by the flames, and although the danger was as yet not imminent, there was a risk that if the wind lulled or changed, the area of destruction would extend to the Tower and the adjacent streets.
“Keep your mind easy, Mounseer,” said Susan with comfortable assurance. “The neighbours will give us good warning if so be the Fire comes nigh, and you’ll have time to collect your belongings; not that you’ve got much to lose, so far as I know.”