“We are entering the Nore, now Sir,” remarked the captain.
“The derivation of the word is exceedingly puzzling,” remarked the professor, “and I have met with no explanation that has satisfied me. Some antiquarians trace it to Noah, but they bring forward nothing which can be relied on in proof of this idea. I must say it is my opinion that Noah was never in this part of the world. Others ascribe it to the frequent use of the words ‘Know her,’—as parties of pleasure used frequently to start in steam-boats from the metropolis to this place, and then return; and intimacies between the young males and the young females who had never met previously, used to spring up during this excursion, and the former used to reply when they were asked if they knew an individual of the other sex, ‘Know her? we met going towards the sea,’ and the words at last became so common that it gave name to the place.”
“You’re wrong again, don’t you see!” exclaimed the doctor. “But I’ll tell you how the place came by the name. In very ancient times a company of individuals created a joint-stock association to work a copper mine of great value which they said had been discovered on the neighbouring coast, and the people, deluded by the great anticipations held out by the schemers, invested large sums in the affair. The shaft was sunk and the mine worked, and the anxious citizens were every day coming down in crowds to learn the progress of the mine, but they invariably met with one answer to all their queries, which was ‘No Ore;’ and this lasted till the bubble burst. Since then the place was called ‘No Ore,’ which ultimately dwindled into ‘Nore.’”
“Preposterous!” cried Fortyfolios. “I wonder you can repeat such a ridiculous conception.”
“I’m positive that my ‘No ore’ is as good as your ‘Noah’ or ‘Know her,’ don’t you see,” replied the doctor, good humouredly.
“Nothing of the kind, Dr. Tourniquet,” said the other very gravely. “My derivations are founded on well ascertained facts.”
“And my derivation is founded on better ascertained facts,” added the surgeon.
“The coast here seems quite deserted,” observed Oriel Porphyry. “I do not see a habitation—nor a human creature—nor any species of vessel—nor any sign of life whatever.”
“Possibly the natives have deserted this part of the coast from its liability to be visited by the Irish pirates,” replied the professor. “But what a change there must have been in the appearance of this neighbourhood a few centuries back! Then vessels of every size and nation might have been seen sailing in almost countless numbers down the river to the Port of London, which was the mart of the world. Merchant ships and ships of war, colliers, fishing-vessels, passage-boats and pleasure-yachts were passing and re-passing each other at all hours of the day. Then these masses of ruins which you are passing on each side of the river, were filled with busy inhabitants engaged in the various labours of traffic. Here ships were built, fitted out, victualled, and stored, and when manned with a gallant crew, set sail to visit every quarter of the globe, to dispose of their cargoes and to bring home the produce of other countries. There was a battery to prevent the passage of the enemy’s ships in time of war. A little further on we come to a fashionable watering place, in which the tired citizens forgot the toils of business in the pursuit of pleasure. Towns and villages existed on either side; some of considerable importance, with a numerous population engaged in every species of manufacture and of laborious employment.”
“The country possesses a most desolate appearance,” remarked Zabra.