“Get up, you old loonatic!” snarled the waterman, extricating himself with difficulty, and forcing the other towards the side. “Now, up you go!” Aided by the shoulders of the waterman and the hands of his superior officers, Sam went up, and then the waterman turned his attention to the remainder of his fares, who were snoring contentedly in the bottom of the boat. “Now, then!” he cried; “look alive with you! D’ye hear? Wake up! Wake up! Kick ’em, Bill!” “I can’t kick no ’arder,” grumbled the other waterman. “What the devil’s the matter with ’em?” stormed the master of the _Thistle_. “Chuck a pail of water over ’em, Joe!” Joe obeyed with gusto; and, as he never had much of a head for details, bestowed most of it upon the watermen. Through the row which ensued the _Thistle’s_ crew snored peacefully, and at last were handed up over the sides like sacks of potatoes, and the indignant watermen pulled back to the stairs. “Here’s a nice crew to win a race with!” wailed the skipper, almost crying with rage. “Chuck the water over ’em, Joe! Chuck the water over ’em!” Joe obeyed willingly, until at length, to the skipper’s great relief, one man stirred, and, sitting up on the deck, sleepily expressed his firm conviction that it was raining. For a moment they both had hopes of him, but as Joe went to the side for another bucketful, he evidently came to the conclusion that he had been dreaming, and, lying down again, resumed his nap. As he did so the first stroke of Big Ben came booming down the river. “Eleven o’clock!” shouted the excited skipper. It was too true. Before Big Ben had finished, the neighbouring church clocks commenced striking with feverish haste, and hurrying feet and hoarse cries were heard proceeding from the deck of the _Good Intent_. “Loose the sails!” yelled the furious Tucker. “Loose the sails! Damme, we’ll get under way by ourselves!” He ran forward, and, assisted by the mate, hoisted the jibs, and then, running back, cast off from the brig, and began to hoist the mainsail. As they disengaged themselves from the tier, there was just sufficient sail for them to advance against the tide; while in front of them the _Good Intent_, shaking out sail after sail, stood boldly down the river.