Hopkins stared at him fixedly, as though waiting. “Well, is that all? But I suppose it is. You came out, and here you are. That’s how it’s done. Not in my time, though. Not when I was alive.”
“Have you been here long, sir?”
“Me? I’ve been here too long. Seen too much for some of them. I’m old Hopkins—but what’s the good of talking to you? You just came, and here you are.” Mr. Hopkins rubbed his bare ribs plaintively. “The ships I knew couldn’t just come and go.” He leaned forward with one of his sly chuckles, and looked round furtively while secretly enjoying a recollection. “I was in the Nellie Bligh.” He nodded his head at Bennett, and watched for the full effect of his news.
Bennett smiled awkwardly, but nodded back to his companion appreciatively. It was better to keep him in a good humor.
“Yes. You don’t know what ships are like, not you fellers. Nor men. No Billy Ringbolts now.” Mr. Hopkins began to shake in silent laughter over something that had occurred to him.
“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Hopkins. I’ve heard about the clippers, and Whampoa, and Java Head. But I never saw a sailing ship during all the voyage out. Not one. And yet I know the East India Dock Road, too.”
Mr. Hopkins looked startled for a moment. “Poplar,” he mumbled. “You say you know the Dock Road! And not a sailing ship.” His beard about his mouth continued to move, as though he were talking to himself.
“The Nellie Bligh came out from Poplar,” mused Mr. Hopkins. “So did I. But not in her. She found me in Java because—well, because I was there.” The old man looked very artful and amused.
“She picked me up at Sourabaya. She was in the coolie trade to the Chinca Islands then, and her skipper was a Chilean. She was going to China to take in coolies. Ever heard of the trade? You were paid for what you delivered. So it was no good taking in just enough to fill the ship. Some died.”
Bennett smiled politely at this little joke. “Some died, did they?”