“Don’t you know me again, Jack?”
He stared hard at me for some moments, took his pipe out of his mouth again, spat once more in the water, said surlily, “No!” and bent down slowly to his work.
“Don’t you remember my going up to London with you nine years ago this summer?”
He assumed the perpendicular at once, stared, scowled, took his pipe out of his mouth with his left hand, and then, as a great smile gradually dawned all over his brown face, he gave one leg a smart slap with a great palm, and seemed to shake himself from his shoulders to his heels, which I found was his way of having a hearty laugh.
“Why, so it is!” he cried, in a sort of good-humoured growl. “Missus, lash that there tiller and come ashore. Here’s that there young chap.”
To Tom’s great amusement, Jack came ashore at the lock, and was followed by his round-faced partner, for whom he showed his affection by giving her a tremendous slap on the shoulder, to which she responded by driving her elbow into his side, and saying, “Adone, Jack. Don’t be a fool!” and ending by staring at us hard.
“I didn’t know yer agen,” growled Jack. “Lor’ ain’t you growed!”
“Why, so have you, Jack,” I exclaimed, shaking hands with him; and then with the lady, for he joined our hands together, taking up hers and placing it in mine, as if he were performing a marriage ceremony.
“Well, I s’pose I have,” he said in his slow, cumbersome way. “This here’s my missus. We was only married larst week. This here’s our boat. She was born aboard one on ’em.”
“I’m glad to see you again, Jack,” I said, as the recollection of our journey up recurred to me, strengthened by our meeting.