The String of Pearls (1850), p. 679

it would every penny-piece of it have been duly paid to her at the Treasury, if she could but have managed to lock him in a room until the officers of justice could be sent for, to pounce upon him and load him with irons, and take him off to prison.
But poor Mrs. Hardman had really no idea of how near she was to fortune; and when the street-door closed upon Todd, she little suspected that she shut out such a sum as one thousand pounds sterling along with him.
"That is managed so far," said Todd, as he shrank and cowed before the storm-laden gale that dashed in his face the rain, as he reached the corner of the street.
There Todd paused, for a new fear came across him. It was that no waterman would venture upon the river with him on such a night; and yet, after reasoning with himself a little time, he said—
"Watermen are human, and they love gold as much as any one else. After all, it only resolves itself into a question of how much I will pay."
Full of this idea, which, in its way, was a tolerably just one, he sneaked down the Strand until he got right to Charing Cross. He had thought of going down one of the quiet streets near that place, and taking a boat there; but now he considered that he would have a much better chance by going as far as Westminster Bridge; and, accordingly, despite the rain and the wind, he made his way along Whitehall, and reached the bridge.
A few watermen were lounging about at the head of the stairs. They had little enough expectation of getting a fare at such a time, and upon such a day. One of them, however, seeing Todd pause, went up to him, and spoke—
"You didn't want a boat, did you, sir?"
"Why, yes," said Todd, "I did; but, I suppose, you are all afraid to earn a couple of guineas."
"A couple of guineas?"
"Yes, or three, for the matter of that; one more or less don't matter to me; but it may to you."
"Indeed, it does, sir. You are right enough there. But where do you want to go to sir? Up or down?"
"To Greenwich."
Todd thought if he mentioned Gravesend, he might frighten the man at once.
"Greenwich? Whew !" The waterman perpetrated a long whistle; and then, shaking his head, he said—"I'm very much afraid, sir, that it isn't a question of guineas that will settle that; but I will speak to my mate. Hilloa, Jack!—Jack! I say, old boy, where are you?"
"Here you are," said an old weather-beaten man coming up the steps. "I've only been making the little craft fast. What is the row now, Harry—eh?"
"No row, old mate; but this here gentleman offers a matter of three guineas for a cruise to Greenwich."
"Ay, and why not, Harry ?"
"Why not? Don't you hear how it's blowing?"
"Yes, I do, Harry; but it won't blow long. I've seen more gales than you have, lad, and I tell you that this one is all but over. The rain, in another quarter of an hour, will beat it all down. It's fast going now. It will be a wet night, and a dark night; but it won't blow, nor it won't be cold."
"If you say as much as that, Jack," said the younger waterman, "I will swear to it."
The old man smiled, as he added—
"Ah, dear, yes, and so you may, Harry. I haven't been so long out of doors that I don't know the fancies of the weather. I can tell you a most what it's a going to do beforehand, better than it knows itself. There, don't you hear how it's coming in puffs, now, the wind, and each one is a bit fainter nor the one as comed afore it? Lord bless you, it's nothing! We shall get a wet jacket, that's all; and if so be, sir, as you really do want a cruise down to Greenwich, come on, and Harry and me will soon manage it for you."