I struck my hands together, and said: ‘I wish I’d known she was in the Thames. I’m interested in that vessel. They charged her captain with scuttling her. Not the worst villain in any of those hulks yonder is capable of a fouler lie.’ I checked myself, on observing the manner in which the man was regarding me; and, happening then to glance up the river, I espied the towering fabric of a big ship that was magnified by the haze into the proportions of the masts and yards of a line-of-battle ship looming astern of a little tug whose smoke blew black and scattering upon the level of the yellow water. ‘That’ll be the convict ship,’ said the man at my side. I gave him a shilling, and walked some distance to be alone, and stood watching the ship. She floated stately and grand in tow of the tug; the Government stores in her were a comparatively light lading, and she sat tall, presenting a frigate-like height of side. She was massive aloft in her sea-going trim, sails bent, running rigging rove, royal yards across. A small red ensign at her peak stood with the wind like a painted board there. It was ebb-tide, somewhat slack, and she came along on the languid stream of it, head to the breeze, with white water spitting at the bight of the hawser betwixt her and the tug. As she glided abreast I stared at her with devouring eyes. Oh, she was the _Childe Harold_, right enough! I was a sailor’s child, and knew a ship after seeing her once as you would know a face. Was Will aboard? I would have given my left hand then for five minutes’ use of a telescope to make sure. I saw a few figures on the poop and three or four red-coats of soldiers on the forecastle, but she was far too distant for the sight to distinguish the people. I stood watching until the tug had floated her abreast of the _Warrior_, by which time I heard a clock strike nine. I then walked quickly toward my lodgings, half frozen with having stood for about an hour and a half in that bitter morning wind and in the atmosphere of the November yellow river. Though without appetite, I forced myself to make what would be called a good breakfast. The sitting-room adjoined the bedroom; I rang the bell and toasted myself before the fire whilst I waited until the maid had cleared away the breakfast things. I then went into my bedroom, unclothed and dressed myself in the sailor-dress. This done, I mixed some soot and rouge, and lightly rubbed the compound into parts of my face. The effect was good; you would have supposed I was fresh from the ocean. The clothes I had taken off I made into a parcel and addressed it thus: ‘To the care of the Commander, ‘Government Transport _Childe Harold_, ‘Off Woolwich.’