Stories with a Vengeance — page 116: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

112 THE SPECTRE OF THE STRAND. the mighty cauldron which boils all things down to gold! Haw hideously gleams the shivering red lamp that hangs at the rear of the steam- boat-pier adjoming Blackfriars Bridge! The clanking of chains, the creaking of timbers, the asthmatical cough of the watchman as he paces the wet planks, invest the scene with an indescribable horror. One half hour more! The tide has gone upon its mission to the sea; and its message apparently has not been one of peace, for quick flashes of lightning rend the sky, and low auueauee of thunder roll sullenly west- ward. ‘* oS A boat can be perceived coming slowly in the direction of the bridge. Bending to the oars are four officers of the Thames Police. | Following in the wake of the small craft, fastened to the thumbcleat by a rope, is an object which closer investigation discovers to be the corpse of a female. . The faceis black and bruised; the cover- ing has been torn from the breast, and the long hair floats upwards.as if appealing for justice. .* - The men’s faces, through the pervading darkness, seem stricken with a startling and unnatural pallor. “Well, it’s five bob for you, at any rate, Bill!” said one of the policemen to his mate by his side, glancing at the body and nodding to it unconcernedly. “ And expenses for attending the in- quest,” replied the other. ~ © A good deal better than if you’d picked her up alive.” —_. | | “Rayther! Though it’s many a one that I ’ave snatched from a watery grave, though I don’t boast about it. Still, I do consider, Joe, as the Lord Mayor, or the Common Council, or some of the Lords of the Treasury ought to give a chap some’at for bringing ’em out alive, the same as if they was dead: _’Cos why? , I know a bargeman as ’as swore he'll let the next chap drown and pick ’im up arterwards.” _ “The monster !” , “So he are. But ain’t the authorities worse than him for putting a price on dead bodies? Wot’s to prevent the river-bank pirates from pitching a poor cove—or a rich one, too, for the matter of that—into the river, and finding the body arter- wards. Those who lose people like this may easy find ’em; an’ they gets their five bob and very few questions asked.” “ Wot’s the Queen adoing to let such things go on ?” “Ha, ha! Well, she might have sent a pound or two to that brave fellow who Google jumped arter a poor woman down at Wool- wich the other day, and saved her life in the sight of hundreds of people. Never seed such a bit of pluck in my life. She wor right under the paddle-wheels, and it was death to approach her. Well, when my bold hero comes to look for his Sunda coat and wesket—this was last Bank Hoh. day—he found someone had prigged ’em. There was a fine state for a working man on a pleasure tour to bein! He goes to the magistrate at the nearest police-court and relates his misfortune ;-but-as he had only saved the woman’s life, and lost his a clothes, no relief could be given him. ere’s no reward in this country now- a-days, Joe, only for dead body finders.” “Curse the money! Id freely give my five bob to buy that brave fellow a wesket !” cried-the man in charge of the boat, draw. ing the body nearer and twisting the loosened rope ‘two turns more round the “ Ay, the poor give to the poor. There’s many of ’em houseless in Londoh, Joe, ‘this blessed night !” : ihe ag? The boat with its speechless burden neared the narrow wooden bridge leadi from the bank to the pier, aut throug which steamboat passengers throng during the day to boats plying between Chelsea and Woolwich. a - se The wind and rain still swept along the river in broad, sprayful clouds. Steam- boats had ceased running since dark, “See! What’s that P” crie@ Bill, rising hurriedly from his seat, and poimting ex- citedly through the gloom over the praw ot the boat. | ; ae «¢ Where P—where ?” @ @a, “On the bridge! That white thing! Look! It moves! Is it making for. the water P” a “Quick! Turn her round! There! Look out!” : | The figure of an old man with bare head and grey locks, fluttering in wet masses around his uncovered neck—his broad, massive forehead, intelligent eyes, weather- beaten face, and Jong, flowing, grey beard, topping a tall, shghtly bent, though much attenuated frame, stands out strongly de- fined in the darkness. His long bony hands clutch the balustrades of the bridge as he darts a yearning glance down the river. , His left hand grips some news sheets. A contents bill for the Echo newspaper, satu- rated with rain, clings to his dripping arments. A more perfect picture of WOE in the midst of DESOLATION could hardly be imagined! _ Yet the features of this strange-looking object—poor and wretchedly clad as he is > a NOC) S CO)