“And one to send on a guinea’s worth of errand—on a job I needn’t explain to you here. Now bear a hand, or I shall lose my ship.”
On this, he blew out the rushlight by which he had been sitting, shut the door of the old cabin, and moved slowly and somewhat staggeringly over the shingle up into Beach Street, along which we walked for, I daresay, fifty yards. He then turned into a sort of alley, and pausing before the door of a little house, lifted his arm as though in search of the knocker, then bade me knock for myself, and knock loud.
I knocked heartily, but all remained silent for some minutes. I continued to knock, and then a window just over the doorway was thrown up, and a woman put her head out. A crazy old lamp, burning a dull flame of oil, stood at the corner of the alley or side street and enabled me to obtain a view of the woman.
“Who are ye?” said she, in a voice of alarm, “and what d’ye want?”
“Is Dick in?” quavered old Martin, looking up at her.
“Why, it’s old Tom!” exclaimed the woman. “Who’s that along with ye?”
“Capt’n Round’s nevvy, Master Billy Fielding, as we used to call him. His ship’s in the Downs, there’s a slant o’ air out of the south, and he wants to be set aboard. Is Dick in, I ask ye?”
“What’s that to do with you?” answered the woman, drawing her head in with a movement of misgiving, and putting her hands upon the window as though to bring it down. “No, he aint in, so there; neither him nor Tom, so there. You go on. I don’t like the looks of your friend Mr. Billy Fielding; a merchantman with hepaulets, is it? And what’s an old man like you a-doing out of his bed at this hour? Garn home, Tom, garn home;” and down went the window.
“Is that woman mad?” cried I. “What does she take me to be? And does she suppose that you, whom she must have known all her life—— I’ll tell you what, Tom Martin, I’m not going to lose my ship for the want of a boat. If I can’t find a waterman soon I shall seize the first small punt I can launch with mine own hands. Hark!”
I heard footsteps; a sound of the tread of feet came from Beach Street. I walked up the alley to the entrance of it, not for a moment doubting that the fellows coming along were Deal boatmen, fresh from doing business out at sea. Old Tom Martin called after me; I did not catch what he said; in fact I had no chance to hear; for when I reached the entrance of the alley, a body of ten or twelve men came right upon me, and in a breath I was collared, to a deep roaring cry of “Here’s a good sailor!”