Adventure stories; Boys -- Fiction; East End (London, England) -- Fiction; Grandfathers -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
But of these enough. Faint by contrast with the vivid scenes of the
night, divers disconnected impressions of the next morning remain with
me: all the fainter for the sleep that clutched at my eyelids, spite of
my anxious resolution to see all to the very end. Of a coarse, draggled
woman of streaming face and exceeding bitter cry, who sat inconsolable
while men raked the ruins for a thing unrecognisable when it was found.
Of the pale man, who came staring and choking, and paler than ever,
gasping piteously of his long and honest service, and sitting down on
the curb at last, to meditate on my grandfather's promise that he should
not want, if he would work. And of Mr. Cripps, at first blank and
speechless, and then mighty loquacious in the matter of insurance. For
works of art would be included, of course, up to twenty pounds apiece;
at which amount of proceeds--with a discount to Captain Kemp--he would
cheerfully undertake to replace the lot, and throw the signboard in.
Mrs. Grimes was heard of, though not seen; but this was later. She was
long understood to have some bitter grievance against the police, whom
she charged with plots and conspiracies to defeat the ends of justice;
and I think she ended with a savage assault on a plain-clothes
constable's very large whiskers, and twenty-one days' imprisonment.
The Hole in the Wall was rebuilt in brick, with another name, as I think
you may see it still; or could, till lately. There was also another
landlord. For Captain Nat Kemp turned to enlarging and improving his
wharf, and he bought lighters, and Wapping saw him no more. As for me, I
went to school at last.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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