"Well—p'rhaps them fellows have got a reg'lar man too," said Wicks. "But let 'em be what and who they will, my idea is, that they've taken to the same line as ourselves." "We must find that out, Jack," observed the Resurrection Man. "If they're what you think, they will of course be respected: if they don't belong to the same class, we must ascertain what they've got on board, and then make up our minds whether any of their cargo will suit us." "Well said," returned the Buffer. "But in any case you must be the person to learn all this," continued the Resurrection Man. "You see, I'm so well known to a lot of different people that would show me no mercy if they got hold of me, that I'm compelled to keep myself as quiet as possible. There's Markham—there's Crankey Jem—there's the gipsies—and there's the Rattlesnake: why—if I was only to be twigged by one of them I should have to make myself scarce in a minute." "I know all this, Tony," cried the Buffer, impatiently; "and therefore the less you're seen about, the better. In the day time always keep below, as you have been doing; but at night, when one can't distinguish particular faces, you can take the air;—or on such occasions as to-morrow will be, for instance,—when we run down the river, and get away from London——" "Yes, yes," interrupted Tidkins: "don't think that I shall throw away a chance. Those lubbers have managed to make their lighter fast to the chalk barge now: just step across and try and find out what you can about them." The Buffer immediately proceeded to obey this order. He walked across the barges, which, as we before stated, were so closely moored together that they formed one vast floating pier; and approaching as close as possible to the _Blossom_, without setting foot upon it, he said, "Holloa, friend, there! You mustn't think that we meant any thing by telling you not to lay alongside of us: 'twas only 'cause we expect to be off to-morrow or next day." "No offence is taken where none's intended," answered the man who had before spoken. The Buffer now perceived that the other individual on board the _Blossom_, and who had charge of the helm, was a Black, of tall form, and dressed in the rough garb of a sailor. "You seem well laden," said the Buffer, after a pause. "Yes—pretty deep," answered the first speaker. "Do you discharge here, at Mossop's?" "Don't know yet," was the laconic reply. "And what may be your freight?" "Bales of cotton," returned the man. "Then I suppose you're the master of that lighter?" continued the Buffer. "Yes," was the brief answer. "Well, it's a pleasant life," observed Wicks. "Have you been at it long?" "I've only just begun it," replied the master. "And that sable gentleman there," said the Buffer, with a laugh,—"I should think he's not a Johnny Raw on the water?" "Not quite," returned the master. "Poor fellow! he's deaf and dumb!"