“The next thing is to slip ashore at Wapping, Jack,” he said, after he had finished his meal; “the whar’ll be closed by the time we get there.”
“The watchman’s nearly sure to be asleep,” said Fraser, “and you can easily climb the gate. If he’s not, I must try and get him out of the way somehow.”
The skipper’s forebodings proved to be correct. It was past twelve by the time they reached Wapping, but the watchman was wide awake and, with much bustle, helped them to berth their craft. He received the news of the skipper’s untimely end with well-bred sorrow, and at once excited the wrath of the sensitive Joe by saying that he was not surprised.
“I ’ad a warning,” he said solemnly, in reply to the indignant seaman. “Larst night exactly as Big Ben struck ten o’clock the gate-bell was pulled three times.”
“I’ve pulled it fifty times myself before now,” said Joe, scathingly, “and then had to climb over the gate and wake you up.”
“I went to the gate at once,” continued George, addressing himself to the cook; “sometimes when I’m shifting a barge, or doing any little job o’ that sort, I do ’ave to keep a man waiting, and, if he’s drunk, two minutes seems like ages to ’im.”
“You ought to know wot it seems like,” muttered Joe.
“When I got to the gate an’ opened it there was nobody there,” continued the watchman, impressively, “and while I was standing there I saw the bell-pull go up an’ down without ’ands and the bell rung agin three times.”
The cook shivered. “Wasn’t you frightened, George?” he asked, sympathetically.
“I knew it was a warning,” continued the vivacious George. “W’y’e should come to me I don’t know. One thing is I think ’e always ’ad a bit of a fancy for me.”