“I didn’t know there was another station. I suppose the ferry is the shortest way? I’m not a good sailor, and—”
Mr. Dobb’s eyes glinted.
“Oh, you’ll be all right!” he declared, and led the other man by devious paths away from the neighbourhood of the High Street and down to the harbour. To avoid questions which might be thorny to answer, Mr. Dobb walked swiftly and a little in advance of his companion, who, evidently deeming Mr. Dobb something of a roisterous blade, seemed relieved by this arrangement. Arrived at the quay, Mr. Dobb perceived the lounging form of Mr. Samuel Clark, and led the stranger up to him.
“This gent wants you to row ’im over to near the ’Igh Street, ferryman,” said Mr. Dobb. “Oh, and be as quick over it as you can,” he added, holding Mr. Clark’s gaze; “because ’e says ’e’s not a very good sailor.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” promised Mr. Clark; “but there’s a pretty strong tide running, sir, don’t forget.”
“There’s no risk I suppose?” asked the visitor, smiling a little anxiously.
“Bless you, no, sir,” declared Mr. Clark, cosily. “You’ll be as safe as ’ouses with me!”
With a courteous exchange of compliments, Mr. Dobb parted from his new acquaintance. A minute later Mr. Clark had begun to convey his passenger across the river, and Mr. Dobb was returning homeward with the mien of one whose morning has been well spent.
“The current seems quite strong,” remarked the gentleman from London.
“It are,” agreed Mr. Clark, straining at his sculls. “The current’s always pretty strong ’ere when the tide’s running out. Like a mill-stream sometimes, and the worst of it is that you don’t know it till you get well out on it.”