It was tricky sort of work, with fine possibilities of spraining one's ankle about it, but by dint of "going delicately," like Agag, I managed to reach the end of my journey without disaster. As I rounded the bend I saw the Betty lying out in mid-stream, bathed in a most becoming flood of moonlight. A closer observation showed me the head and shoulders of Mr. Gow protruding from the fo'c's'le hatch.
He responded to my hail by scrambling up on deck and lowering himself into the dinghy, which with a few vigorous jerks he brought to the shore.
"I've come to have supper with you, Mr. Gow," I observed. "Have you got anything to eat?"
He touched his cap and nodded. "I says to meself it must be you, sir, d'rectly I heard you comin' round the crick. There ain't much comp'ny 'bout here at night-time."
"Nor in the daytime either," I added, pushing the boat off from the bank.
"And that's a fact, sir," he remarked, settling down to the oars. "There was one gent round here this morning askin' his way, but except for him we bin remarkable quiet."
"What sort of a gent?" I demanded with interest.
"Smallish, 'e was, sir, an' very civil spoken. Wanted to get to
Tilbury."
"Did he ask who the boat belonged to, by any chance?"
Mr. Gow reflected for a moment. "Now you come to mention it, sir, I b'lieve 'e did. Not as I should have told 'im anything, even if I'd known. I don't hold with answerin' questions."