“But why should he lower them down in the dark, if they are his own property?”
“Jack, I don’t ask whose property it is; all I know is that I come by it honestly. I don’t steal it, and I can’t prove that the man does. Why, Jack, if one is to be so nice as that, you can’t go into a grocer’s shop to buy sugar, or coffee, or pepper, or indeed into almost any shop, if you first want to know whether the people have come by the goods honestly before you buy of them.”
“Still, it is so plain that the man must have stolen them.”
“Suppose it is; how are so many poor people to find their livelihood and support their families, if they refuse to get a shilling or two when it is offered? If we were only to live upon what we get honestly, why, we should starve; the rich take good care of that by grinding us down so close. Why, Jack, how many thousands get their living on this river! and do you think they could all get their living honestly, as you call it? No; we all plunder one another in this world. (These remarks of Grumble were, at the time, perfectly correct; it was before the Wet Docks or the River Police was established. Previously to the West India, London, St. Katharine’s, and other docks having been made, all ships unloaded in the river, and the depredations were so enormous that Mr Colquhoun, in his work, has estimated them at half a million sterling annually. At present, the river may be said to be comparatively honest; the police is strict, and the temptations are removed.) You asked me who were Light Horsemen?—that’s a name for one set of people who live by plunder:— that lighter will have a good slice of her cargo out to-night; for those who cut her adrift know what’s on board of her. Then we have the Heavy Horsemen—they do their work in the daytime, when they go on board as lumpers to clear the ships. And then we’ve the Coopers and Bum-boat men, and the Ratcatchers and the Scuffle Hunters, and the River Pirates; and, last of all, we have the Mudlarkers: all different professions, Jack; never interfering with each other, and all living by their wits. I’m too old now; I was a flash pirate once, but I’m now nearly eighty, and am only fit for a mudlarker.”
“But,” exclaimed I, with astonishment, “are they not discovered and punished?”
“That’s very seldom, Jack; for you see we have receivers all down the river; some of them great men, and dining with the mayor and common council; others in a small way—all sorts, Jack: and then we have what we call Jew Carts, always ready to take goods inland, where they will not be looked after. Old Nanny was a receiver and fence in a large way once.”
“Then the only honest people on the river are the watermen.”
Here old Grumble chuckled. “Why, Jack, they be the worst of all, for they be both receivers and thieves. Do you think the watermen live by their fares? If you do, just wait on the steps one night, and you’ll find that their night work is worth more than the day work is. We all must live, Jack; and now I’ve shown you a way by which you can earn more money in a night than you can in a fortnight by asking for halfpence. Here’s five shillings for you, my boy; and when I want you again I’ll let you know.”
Alas! the five shillings, so easily and so unexpectedly earned, did, for the time, satisfy all my scruples: so easily are we bribed into what is wrong. I wished Old Grumble a good night and left him. As I returned home, I thought of what he had said about night work, and, instead of making my way to Fisher’s Alley, I returned to the landing-steps, resolving to watch for a time and see what occurred.
I thought of what had passed. I was not satisfied with myself. I thought of what Anderson would say, and I felt that I had done wrong. And then I attempted to exculpate myself: I could not prove that the things were stolen. I did not go with any intent to help in such a business. Old Grumble had only paid me for my work; but then, why did he pay me so much money? My conscience told me that it was because the dealings were unfair. I could not persuade myself that I was right. I looked up at the heavens—for it was a clear night, and there was a very bright star just above me; and as I looked at it it appeared as if it were an eye beaming down upon me, and piercing into my breast. I turned away from it, and then looked at it again—still it had the same appearance: I thought it was the eye of God—I trembled, and I resolved to reveal the whole to Anderson the next day, when I heard the sound of oars. I looked in the direction, and perceived a wherry with two men pulling in: I was down on the steps, under the shadow of the wall, and they did not see me. They landed, and handed out of the wherry three large and full canvas bags. “It’s more than we can carry,” said the voice of a waterman I well knew; “we must leave one in the boat; and be quick, for they are on our scent. Hollo! who’s that? what are you doing here? Poor Jack, I declare.”