“In the river?” asked the mystified Mrs. Bunker.
“On the banks,” said the captain; “the trees, by Sheppey, and all round there. Now, why don’t you say the word, and come? There’s a cabin like a new pin ready for you to sit in—for cleanness, I mean—and every accommodation you could require. Sleep like a humming-top you will, if you come.”
“Humming-top?” queried Mrs. Bunker archly.
“Any top,” said the captain. “Come, make up your mind. We shan’t sail afore nine.”
“It don’t look right,” said the lady, who was sorely tempted. “But the missus says I may go if I like, so I’ll just go and get my box ready. I’ll be down on the jetty at nine.”
“Ay, ay,” said the skipper, smiling, “me and Bill’ll just have a snooze till then. So long.”
“So long,” said Matilda.
“So long,” repeated the amorous skipper, and turning round to bestow another ardent glance upon the fair one at the door, crashed into the waggon.
The neighbouring clocks were just striking nine in a sort of yelping chorus to the heavy boom of Big Ben, which came floating down the river, as Mrs. Bunker and the night watchman, staggering under a load of luggage, slowly made their way on to the jetty. The barge, for such was the craft in question, was almost level with the planks, while the figures of two men darted to and fro in all the bustle of getting under way.
“Bill,” said the watchman, addressing the mate, “bear a hand with this box, and be careful, it’s got the wedding clothes inside.”