"You had better come with us, Delarry," he said; "you have a steady head, and we may need your services." And so Delarry went down on the king's barge to Thames Street, where they landed. And the king and the Duke of York behaved splendidly, encouraging the men, speaking cheerfully and with authority to the distracted people; their presence did much to control the populace.
Almost as soon as they had landed, the king had said to Delarry, "Go back and bring soldiers and gunpowder; we must stop it even if we blow up half the town." And Delarry had gone.
He came back with a score of men, and it was done as the king desired.
Suddenly there came running into the very midst of this scene of destruction a tall, fair man in the dress of a naval officer, and with him a dozen or more blue-jackets with axes in their hands; they looked like men who had both the will and the power to do good work. A cry went up from the crowd:
"Hurrah for the 'blue-jackets'!" And the men answered the greeting with a shout and a wild hurrah. The Duke of York, who had taken his part in the Dutch wars, left the king's side, and, riding forward, greeted the young officer, who paused in his running, and by a word of command drew up his men in front of the duke.
"You've come in the very nick of time, Commander Newbolt," he said; "I wish we had more men like you."
"Others are following, your highness," answered Newbolt. "My ship, the Orient, anchored in Harwich this morning, and the news reached us that London was burning, so I got permission from Prince Rupert to come on and see if we could help, if help were needed."
"It is needed," said the duke, "and badly; go to work. Do not spare the houses; it is the king's order. The fire must be cut off, but above all things save as many lives as you can. Away with you!"
No second bidding was needed; from that moment Reginald Newbolt and his blue-jackets did such strenuous work that he and Delarry together were the heroes of the day. Many were the women and the children whom they carried out of danger; many were the poor wretches, sick, and halt, and maimed, whom they took to places of refuge.
It is impossible to relate here the agony of that first day of the fire, a Sabbath day never to be forgotten, the Lord's day as it was called then. The river was crowded to excess with lighters and boats taking in goods of every description. The water itself was thick with baskets, boxes, anything that would float, and above in the air there was the screaming of birds, of pigeons which would not leave their houses, and which hovered about the windows and balconies licked by the flames, until they burnt their wings and fell down.