At the back of the house there was a garden of potherbs. It
sloped down to the river-bank, where there were stairs to the
water. The stairs were covered in, so as to form a boat-house, in
which (as I learned afterwards) my uncle's skiffs were kept. You
may be sure that I lost no time in getting down to the water,
after I had breakfasted with my uncle, on the morning after my
arrival.
A low stone parapet, topped by iron rails, shut off the garden
from the beach. Just beyond the parapet, within slingshot, as I
soon proved, was the famous Pool of London, full of ships of all
sorts, some with flags flying. The mild spring sun (it was early
in April) made the sight glorious. There must have been a hundred
ships there, all marshalled in ranks, at double-moorings, head to
flood. Boats full of merchandise were pulling to the wharves by
the Custom House. Men were working aloft on the yards, bending or
unbending sails. In some ships the sails hung loose, drying in
the sun. In others, the men were singing out as they walked round
the capstan, hoisting goods from the hold. One of the ships close
to me was a beautiful little Spanish schooner, with her name La
Reina in big gold letters on her transom. She was evidently one
of those very fast fruit boats, from the Canary Islands, of which
I had heard the seamen at Oulton speak. She was discharging
oranges into a lighter, when I first saw her. The sweet, heavy
smell of the bruised peels scented the river for many yards.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25