‘When do you weigh anchor?’ asked the detective.
‘At daybreak,’ answered the sailor.
‘Ah! a little sea-air won’t be amiss,’ remarked Fenwick, looking about him thoughtfully.—‘Now, let me see.’ He peered into the faces with his quick keen eyes, leaning his chin the while upon the knob of his stick. Presently he cocked an eye at Tiltcroft, and said: ‘See any one you recognise?’
Walter threw a swift glance around him. Most of the faces were thin and pale, and there were several eyes staring at him and his companion; but many eyes were closed in sleep; among these he saw a half-hidden face which he seemed to know, yet for the moment could not recall; but the recollection quickly flashed upon him.
The detective, watching his expression, saw the change; and following the direction in which Walter was staring in blank surprise, perceived that the object in which he appeared to take such a sudden interest was a large, muscular person, wrapped in a thick pea-jacket, with his head upon his arm, and his arm resting upon a sea-chest, which was corded with a thick rope. The man was fast asleep, and on his head was a mangy-looking skin-cap, pulled down to his eyebrows.
‘Well,’ said the detective, glancing from this man into Walter’s face; ‘who is he?’
‘Joe Grimrood!’ cried Walter.
It would seem as though the man had heard the mention of his name; for, as Walter pronounced it, he frowned, and opening his eyes slowly, looked up askance, like an angry dog.
‘Get up!’ said the detective, giving the man a playful thrust in the ribs; ‘you’re wanted.’
Joe Grimrood showed his teeth, and started, as though about to spring upon Fenwick. But on reflection, he appeared to think better of it, and simply growled.