“But how in the world have you managed it?”
“Well, you see, when Annie’s letter arrived, you had already left home, and for a while I was more than a little puzzled as to what was best to be done. But there was no time to spare, and I soon had to come to a decision. Had I come to fetch either of you to go to Millwall, we should have been too late, and had I thought of intercepting either of the Stavangers on the way, my efforts would have been futile. There was but one course open to me, and I adopted it without delay. You and I, John, are about the same size. It being already nightfall, and it being, moreover, very essential that I should not be noticed much myself, I took a liberty with your wardrobe that you must excuse. I haven’t seen much of dock life, as you know, but I have an idea, which has proved to be correct, that women, at least respectable women, don’t hang about the dock gates at night unless they are on the look out for some particular ship. I am not one to stick at trifles, but I did not want to be mistaken for somebody who wasn’t respectable, and I did want to be as unnoticed as possible. So I just got dressed in one of your suits, put my hair out of the way—there isn’t much of it—donned a long top-coat and took an old hat, and set off for Millwall. I took the Underground, and changed at Mark Lane. At Fenchurch Street I just caught a train starting for the docks. If I had had to wait there I should have had a fruitless errand, for I lost a little time at the other end hunting about the dock gates, and I was afraid to attract attention to myself by asking my way. Perhaps you think that I ought to have known it, as I was down there with you last summer to look over one of the ships in which you are a shareholder. But things look very different in the bright sunshine, when you have a lot of friends with you, all bent upon pleasure, from what they do at night, when you are alone and nervous, and fearful alike of being seen yourself or of failing to see those of whom you are in search.
“I am thankful, however, to say that I overcame all obstacles, and I was luckier in my mission than I could have dreamed of, for I had barely got up to the dock gates, when a cab stopped for a moment to put down two men, whom I had little difficulty in recognising as Mr. David Stavanger and his son Hugh. I almost betrayed myself by trying to get too near them, as they questioned the watchman, but I suppose they thought themselves quite safe in that out-of-the-way region, and did not even trouble themselves to speak low, or to notice who stood near them.
“‘Do you know where the “Merry Maid” is lying?’ asked Mr. Stavanger.
“‘Yes, sir, she’s lying over there, sir, in that basin; but she’s not easy to get at. She’s been shifted into the middle of the dock, sir. She was to have sailed this tide, but the bo’sun was telling my mate, a bit since, that none of her stores have come aboard, through the steward not ordering them, and telling the skipper that he had. There’s been a jolly row, and the steward had to clear in a hurry to-night, although he had signed articles.’
“‘Then I suppose everybody all around is in a tear about it?’ put in Hugh Stavanger.
“‘Not a bit of it, sir,’ was the watchman’s reply. ‘Why should anybody be vexed except the owners? They are the only losers, having to pay a day’s expenses for nothing. The men are nearly all ashore, enjoying themselves a bit longer.’
“‘But how are we to get on board, if the ship is in the middle of the dock?’
“‘Oh, that’s easily managed, sir, when you know how to go about it. Hallo, Jim, just show the gents the way on board the “Merry Maid.”’
“‘Right you are,’ said the individual addressed as Jim. ‘Come along, sirs.’