At the imminent risk of bursting, or going mad, the skipper stopped short, and the mate, addressing a remark to the cook, who was not present, went up on deck. He found the key by tea-time, and, his triumph having made him generous, passed the skipper in a large hunk of the cold beef with his tea. The skipper took it and eyed him wanly, having found an empty stomach very conducive to accurate thinking. “The next thing is to slip ashore at Wapping, Jack,” he said, after he had finished his meal; “the wharf’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 veracious 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.” “He ’ad,” said Joe; “everybody wot sees you loves you, George. They can’t help theirselves.” “And I ’ave ’ad them two ladies down agin asking for Mr. Robinson, and also for poor Cap’n Flower,” said the watchman; “they asked me some questions about ’im, and I told ’em the lies wot you told me to tell ’em, Joe; p’r’aps that’s w’y I ’ad the warning.” Joe turned away with a growl and went below, and Tim and the cook after greedily waiting for some time to give the watchman’s imagination a further chance, followed his example. George left to himself took his old seat on the post at the end of the jetty, being, if the truth must be told, somewhat alarmed by his own fertile inventions. Three times did the mate, in response to the frenzied commands of the skipper, come stealthily up the companion-way and look at him. Time was passing and action of some kind was imperative.