St. Paul's was under repair as has been said, and the scaffolding helped to set the cathedral on fire. The great stones of which it was built were calcined.
Patience, Jessie, and Ann watched the scene with terror. They had only Mr. Ewan, Peter, and the house steward with them, along with one bargeman. Martha and one or two maid-servants had followed them.
We have already said that the heat was so fierce, the shower of fire-drops so continuous, that but for the water which surrounded the barge they would of necessity have been burnt up. The water in the river was almost boiling, and hissed and bubbled as the red-hot drops fell into it. At last, overcome with fatigue and fear, Patience became unconscious. Heavy drops of perspiration were pouring down the faces of all; it was intolerable.
"Cannot you steer the barge across to the other side?" asked Mr. Ewan of the bargeman.
It was late in the afternoon when he made this proposition.
"I will try," he answered, "but you can see for yourself, sir, the river is covered with craft and with floating bales; it is not easy."
Mr. Ewan had been an oarsman when he was a student at Oxford, and with his assistance at steering they succeeded in crossing the river and reaching the Surrey side, which put them comparatively out of danger. It was called "the Bank side" in those days.
"I know of a little ale-house where, if not overcrowded, they would take us in," said Peter.
"Then for God's sake guide us there," said Mr. Ewan, as he lifted Patience in his arms and carried her out of the barge on to land.
The refugees swarmed along the river front, but, guided by Peter, the little party found its way at last to the ale-house, which stood back in a garden of its own.