The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 1692 - 58: The Parliament Is Gone, Not Dissolved by the King, But Burned Down

Chapter 1692: Chapter 58: The Parliament Is Gone, Not Dissolved by the King, But Burned Down

The insurance company firefighting teams, though the name sounds like a business, were actually the most experienced and reliable force within the 19th-century London fire emergency response system.

In those times, there was far from being any government-established firefighting system. Even the so-called London Fire Department was actually funded by multiple insurance companies, specifically to protect insured buildings from fire damage in this private sector.

They were not under government control, but the binding power of insurance contracts over them was evidently much greater than Whitehall’s administrative orders over Scotland Yard.

These professional firefighting teams were exceedingly loyal to the insured properties, and once these guys equipped with various firefighting apparatus were deployed, it meant that a truly professional team had entered the battle.

Moreover, unlike the bewildering mix of officers at Scotland Yard, these professional firefighting teams, directly funded by insurance companies, well-trained and equipped with advanced gear, mostly consisted of technical craftsmen familiar with construction and engineering, such as plumbers, blacksmiths, stonemasons, and carpenters. As for their leaders, they were uniformly from architectural backgrounds. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Although London’s firefighting teams were not government public departments, due to the specific nature of their work, they would generally also devise detailed training programs and duty schedules.

Within their ranks, there were even operational protocols similar to Scotland Yard’s various police manuals, the most famous of which was "The Internal Structure of Firefighting Equipment and Devices, and Firefighter Training and Fire Response Methods," published in 1830 by Mr. James Breaserton, the Chief of the London Fire Department.

The fire brigade charged down High Street at full speed, horse hooves kicking up dust, and the metallic clanging of the copper-cast water pumps mixed with the rumbling of the wagon wheels on cobblestones, creating a rust-flavored frenzy.

The fire engines, emblazoned with "Gibson and Son Insurance Company" and "Insure Now for 30% Discount," were leading the charge. The firefighters on board wore tin-plated leather helmets, leather jackets, with water bags, axes, and hoses dangling from their waists.

When they turned into the corner of Westminster, they were hit by a wave of heat.

The fire lit up half the sky; the entire Westminster Palace was like a burning beast, roaring in the gale. The collapsed spires on the towers had given way, with orange-red flames surging out from the stone windows and arches. Blocks of masonry, losing their support, fell like melting sugar cubes, kicking up countless embers and ashes from the burning wooden beams, swirling in the night sky like black snow.

A massive crowd blocked the streets, with screams, gasps, and cries of panic and confusion echoing nonstop.

Some people opened street pumps, filling wooden buckets, desperately trying to douse the fire with water, while others pushed and fled in fright.

Of course, as a London characteristic, in a city where plagues, fires, and succession of the throne are discussed as after-dinner topics, most of the surrounding crowd were merely there to watch the spectacle.

In the triangular section where Whitehall Street and Parliament Street met, Londoners had gathered in layers, with the frontmost ones being mostly local street folk and workshop apprentices.

They squeezed on the low street walls, with some standing on the roofs of carriages, and others simply climbing up lampposts, one foot on the gas lamp cover, and not forgetting to leisurely take a few puffs from their pipes retrieved from their pockets.

Further in the distance, a few young people had climbed onto rooftops, sitting in small groups, with a cloth laid out before them with beer mugs and ham, almost like a picnic.

"This is more exhilarating than the circus at Borough Market," a young hatter apprentice marveled. "Do you think if we painted this and sold it to the French, we could make a fortune?"

Some went further, hoisting children onto their shoulders, pointing at the blazing tower top as they critiqued to those nearby: "Look at that timber over there, wasn’t it repaired only a few years ago? I remember Jackson brothers worked on it, truly not sturdy at all."

The old man living on the third floor knew that his balcony offered a prime viewing position, so he energetically set up a small table and shouted downwards: "One penny for the front row, two pennies with a chair, three pennies includes a telescope, and for five pennies, I’ll tell you how the Argyle Theatre fire on Regent Street burned!"

"Do you think there’s anyone inside the palace who didn’t get out?"

"There shouldn’t be anyone inside, right? Parliament’s been dissolved; at most, there might be a few tourists visiting."

"Shh! Don’t speak, let me concentrate on that beam, it just wobbled! Look, look! It’s about to fall!"

As the crowd was about to completely overrun the barriers, several rapid hoofbeats echoed from the direction of Whitehall Street, causing slight tremors in the gaps between the pavement stones.

Arthur led the way, riding a shiny black horse, with a deep blue frock coat under his cloak, which at a glance in the night could almost be mistaken for Scotland Yard officer uniforms.

"Make way! Scotland Yard is taking charge of the scene!"

Arthur raised his whip high, and behind him, were several Scotland Yard mounted police he had temporarily recruited on his return from requesting aid in the Financial City.

Though not numerous, the mounted police force was arranged in a wedge-shaped formation according to the "Royal Greater London Police Department Cavalry Manual," seemingly ready to charge through the streets at any moment.

"Make way! Scotland Yard mounted police!" a helmeted officer, arm wrapped with blue and white sashes, urged his steed to disperse the crowd, followed closely by a dozen mounted police forging a path for the fire engines behind.