And then an event occurred, which not only thrilled London with horror, but probably led to one of the most remarkable developments in the efforts for fire extinction that England had known. CHAPTER VII. THE THAMES ON FIRE. THE DEATH OF BRAIDWOOD. About half-past four o'clock in the afternoon of June 22nd, 1861, an alarm of fire reached the Watling Street station. The firemen turned out to the call; but little did they think, as they hurried along, that the fire to which they were summoned would burn for a whole month, and would become known as one of the most serious in the history of London. The call came from Tooley Street, on the south side of London Bridge. Some jute in the upper part of a warehouse had been discovered smouldering, and bucketsful of water had been thrown upon it; but the smoke became so thick and overwhelming, that the men were compelled to desist, and the flames grew rapidly. By this time the alarm had been sent to Watling Street. Quickly the fire-engines arrived on the spot, and the men found dense masses of smoke pouring from buildings at Cotton's Wharf. A number of tall warehouses, rising up to six stories high, and filled with inflammable goods, stood here and near by, among the goods being oil, tallow, tar, cotton, saltpetre, bales of silk, and chests of tea. In spite of all efforts, the fire burned steadily on, and dense volumes of smoke poured forth. Mr. Braidwood had speedily arrived, and two large floating-engines, in addition to others, were got to work. He stationed his men wisely, and huge jets of water were speedily playing on the fire. Great excitement soon rose in the neighbourhood. Surging crowds of eager people thronged the streets approaching the wharf, and a dense assemblage pressed together on London Bridge. Even the thoroughfares on the opposite side were blocked. But the spectators could see little just then, except thick clouds of smoke and great jets of water. On the river, vessels struggled to escape from the proximity of the burning building; while on land, the police forced back the people from the surrounding streets, so as to give greater freedom to the firemen. [Illustration: JAMES BRAIDWOOD.] Then, about an hour after the alarm had been given, a loud explosion startled the people; a bright tongue of flame shot upward through the smoke, and seemed to strike downward also to the ground, while the whole building became a sheet of fire. The neighbouring buildings became involved; rivers of fire burst out of windows, ran down walls, and actually flowed along the streets. It even poured on to the waters of the Thames itself. Melted tallow and oil flowed along as they burned, like liquid fire. No wonder the conflagration spread rapidly. Less than two hours after the call had been received--that is, at about six o'clock--the fire had extended to eight large warehouses.