There were whispers. I did not believe plague had crossed the sea until we beheld the bodies floating down the Thames. We watched from the opened edges of the London Bridge, hundreds of us; the shops over the water had nearly emptied themselves of patrons and proprietors in the rumour of this macabre sight.
They floated lifelessly, clumping into dead masses of tattering clothing and flesh. We watched with a profound sense of helplessness, and I heard women and children crying until we were hastened away by the guard. There were boats in the water by then, pulling corpses over the gunwales or simply towing them away for lack of space. Most that they could capture were pulled ashore near Billingsgate, the rest were left to float away with the currents.