The rain, which had been falling heavily
for hours, still fell steadily on to the sloppy pavements and roads, and
joining forces in the gutter, rushed impetuously to the nearest sewer.
The two or three streets which had wedged themselves in between the
docks and the river, and which, as a matter of fact, really comprise the
beginning and end of Wapping, were deserted, except for a belated van
crashing over the granite roads, or the chance form of a dock-labourer
plodding doggedly along, with head bent in distaste for the rain, and
hands sunk in trouser-pockets.
"Beastly night," said Captain Bing, as he rolled out of the private bar
of the "Sailor's Friend," and, ignoring the presence of the step, took a
little hurried run across the pavement. "Not fit for a dog to be out
in."
He kicked, as he spoke, at a shivering cur which was looking in at the
crack of the bar-door, with a hazy view of calling its attention to the
matter, and then, pulling up the collar of his rough pea-jacket, stepped
boldly out into the rain. Three or four minutes' walk, or rather roll,
brought him to a dark narrow passage, which ran between two houses to
the water-side. By a slight tack to starboard at a critical moment he
struck the channel safely, and followed it until it ended in a flight of
old stone steps, half of which were under water.
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