Disasters -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
By midday business was at a standstill. There was not a water cart to
be seen from Kensington to the Mansion House. Every cart and tank that
could be raked together had been despatched into the New River and Kent
Water area with instructions to convey a supply as speedily as possible
to the congested districts East and South-east of the Thames. By lunch
time the City presented a strange spectacle. Well-dressed business men
could be seen proceeding in cabs to the favoured area with buckets and
water cans with the avowed object of taking a supply forthwith. Cabmen
were commanding their own prices.
Fairly early in the morning came the announcement that mineral waters
had gone up two hundred per cent. in price. By midday the supply for
the time being had ceased. Men of means with an eye to the future
had bought up the whole stock. The streets were crowded with people
anxiously waiting developments.
For the time being the scare was kept well in hand. What men were most
anxious to know, though they dared hardly whisper the question, was
whether any disease had broken out as yet. It was a little after two
o'clock that the _Evening Flashlight_ settled the question. A boy came
yelling down the Strand with a flapping of papers on his shoulders.
"The plague broke out," he cried; "two cases of bubonic fever at
Limehouse. Dr. Longdale's analysis. Speshull."
There was a rush for the lad and his papers were gone in a twinkling of
an eye. He looked down dazed at the pile of silver and coppers in the
palm of his grimy hand.
Yes, there it was right enough. Two cases of bubonic plague had been
located in a crowded corner of Limehouse, and Dr. Longdale had been
called in to verify them. He had not the slightest hesitation in so
doing. Perhaps if the readers of the _Flashlight_ had known these two
cases were renegades from the Santa Anna, the panic might have been
allayed. But nobody knew.
There was terror in the mere suggestion of the plague. Doubtless,
people said, these two poor fellows had drunk of the polluted flood and
paid the penalty. But no fever breaks out quite so soon as that and
within a few hours nine-tenths of the white-face multitude had drunk of
the same stream. Man turned to friend and stranger to stranger with the
same dread question in his eye. It might be the turn of any one of them
next. There were those who shrugged their shoulders stolidly, others
that crept in bars and restaurants and asked furtively for brandy.
The streets were still packed with people waiting for fresh
information. By this time there was something like method in the
conveyance of water to the affected parts. But after all the New River
and Kent companies could not do everything. At the utmost they could
supply no more than 60,000,000 gallons per day and now they were
suddenly called upon for water for the whole of London. Just enough to
drink and keep body and soul together was all that could be expected.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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