Bob's confusion at this circumstance created laughter to his two friends, which however he could not exactly enjoy with the same relish; nor did he perfectly recover himself till they were safely landed at Tower Stairs.
“Now,” said Tom, “I propose a peep at the interior of this place, a row down to Greenwich to dinner, and then a touch at the rowing match; what say you—agreed on all hands.”
“Then,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “wait for us here old boy, and you shall be our conveyancer.”
“I don't know nothing of you, gentlemen; and you understand me, I'm not a going to be done—I'm too old a hand to be catch'd in that there fashion; but if so be you engages me for the day, you can take the number of my boat—but then you must tip.”
“Right,” said Sparkle, “who knows whether we shall escape the Lions, and then how is old rough and tough to get paid.”
“You'll excuse me, gentlemen, I don't mean no affront upon my soul; but I have stood the nonsense before now, and been flung—but I von't be sarved out in that there way any more. I am up to the gossip, and expects you'll come down with the rag.”
“Certainly,” said Tom Dashall with a smile; “I am aware of the hint, which by the way is pretty broadly conveyed, therefore be satisfied; “and giving him a sovereign, they proceeded into the Tower.
The entrance to the Tower from the wharf is by a drawbridge, near to which is a cut connecting the river with the ditch, having a water gate, called Traitor's Gate; state prisoners having been formerly conveyed by this passage from the Tower to Westminster for trial; and over this gate is the water-works which supply the fortress.
Having passed the drawbridge, Bob looked around him, almost conceiving himself in a new world; he saw houses and streets, of which he had formed no conception.
“Zounds,” said he, “this Tower seems almost to contain a City.”