, that will do," said I, drawing a
shilling from the bag, for the thought of the herrings made me
ravenous, and I wanted her to go. She returned quickly with the bread,
and herrings. The "fourpenny" proved to be beer. She gave me
sixpence-half-penny in change, which puzzled my calculations.

"You said _fourpenny_," said I, indicating the beer.

"Yes, sir, but it's a pint," was the reply; and it was only when in
after-years I learned that beer at fourpence a quart is known to some
people as "fourpenny" that I got that part of the reckoning of the
canvas bag straight in my own mind.

The room had an unwholesome smell about it, which the odour from our
fried herrings soon pleasantly overpowered. The bread was good, and
the beer did us no harm. Fred picked up his spirits again; when Mr.
Rowe's old mate came home he found us very cheerful and chatty. Fred
asked him about the son who was at sea, but I had some more important
questions to put, and I managed so to do, and with a sufficiently
careless air.

"I suppose there are lots of ships at London?" said I.

"In the Docks, sir, plenty," said our host.

"And where are the Docks?" I inquired. "Are they far from you?"

"Well, you see, sir, there's a many docks. There's the East India
Docks, St. Katharine's Docks, and the Commercial Docks, and Victoria
Dock, and lots more."

I pondered. Ships in the East India Dock probably went only to India.
St. Katharine conveyed nothing to my mind. I did not fancy Commercial
Docks. I felt a loyal inclination towards the Victoria Dock.

"How do people get from here to Victoria Dock now, if they want to?" I
asked.

"Well, of course, sir, you can go down the river, or part that way and
then by rail from Fenchurch Street."

"Where is Fenchurch Street, Mr. Smith?" said I, becoming a good deal
ashamed of my pertinacity.

"In the city, sir," said Mr. Smith.

The city! Now I never heard of any one in any story going out into the
world to seek his fortune, and coming to a city, who did not go into
it to see what was to be seen. Leaving the king's only daughter and
those kinds of things, which belong to story-books, out of the
question, I do not believe the captain would have passed a new city
without looking into it.

"You go down the river to Fenchurch Street--in a barge?" I suggested.

"Bless ye, no, sir!" said Mr. Smith, getting the smoke of his pipe
down his throat the wrong way with laughing, till I thought his
coughing-fit w