Mr. Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fire-side, and informed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint; whereupon Mr. Pugh, who, as well as the carpenter, was a descendant of Cadwallader, waxed extremely wrath; gave utterance to a number of fierce-sounding imprecations in the Welsh tongue; and was just beginning to express the greatest anxiety to catch some of the rascals at the Trumpeter, when Mr. Wood cut him short by stating his intention of crossing the river as soon as possible in order to avoid the storm. “A storm!” exclaimed the landlord. “Gadzooks! I thought something was coming on; for when I looked at the weather-glass an hour ago, it had sunk lower than I ever remember it.” “We shall have a durty night on it, to a sartinty, landlord,” observed an old one-eyed sailor, who sat smoking his pipe by the fire-side. “The glass never sinks in that way, d'ye see, without a hurricane follerin', I've knowed it often do so in the West Injees. Moreover, a souple o' porpusses came up with the tide this mornin', and ha' bin flounderin' about i' the Thames abuv Lunnun Bridge all day long; and them say-monsters, you know, always proves sure fore runners of a gale.” “Then the sooner I'm off the better,” cried Wood; “what's to pay, David?” “Don't affront me, Owen, by asking such a question,” returned the landlord; “hadn't you better stop and finish the bottle?” “Not a drop more,” replied Wood. “Enough's as good as a feast. Good night!” “Well, if you won't be persuaded, and must have a boat, Owen,” observed the landlord, “there's a waterman asleep on that bench will help you to as tidy a craft as any on the Thames. Halloa, Ben!” cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,--“scullers wanted.” “Holloa! my hearty!” cried Ben, starting to his feet. “This gentleman wants a pair of oars,” said the landlord. “Where to, master?” asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. “Arundel Stairs,” replied Wood, “the nearest point to Wych Street.” “Come along, master,” said the waterman. “Hark 'ee, Ben,” said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; “you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night.” “And why not, old saltwater?” inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth. “'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater,” replied the tar. “It must look sharp then, or I shall give it the slip,” laughed Ben: “the gale never yet blowed as could perwent my crossing the Thames. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it.” “May be not,” replied the old sailor, drily; “but you'll find it too stiff for you to-night, anyhow. Howsomdever, if you _should_ reach t'other side, take an old feller's advice, and don't be foolhardy enough to venter back again.”