oreigners that came on shore there; but I found them generally empty
of things of value, except what was in their portmanteaux and Dutch
hampers, which were generally guarded by footmen; however, I fairly got
one of their portmanteaux one evening out of the chamber where the
gentleman lay, the footman being fast asleep on the bed, and I suppose
very drunk.

The room in which I lodged lay next to the Dutchman's, and having
dragged the heavy thing with much ado out of the chamber into mine, I
went out into the street, to see if I could find any possibility of
carrying it off. I walked about a great while, but could see no
probability either of getting out the thing, or of conveying away the
goods that were in it if I had opened it, the town being so small, and
I a perfect stranger in it; so I was returning with a resolution to
carry it back again, and leave it where I found it. Just in that very
moment I heard a man make a noise to some people to make haste, for the
boat was going to put off, and the tide would be spent. I called to
the fellow, 'What boat is it, friend,' says I, 'that you belong to?'
'The Ipswich wherry, madam,' says he. 'When do you go off?' says I.
'This moment, madam,' says he; 'do you want to go thither?' 'Yes,'
said I, 'if you can stay till I fetch my things.' 'Where are your
things, madam?' says he. 'At such an inn,' said I. 'Well, I'll go
with you, madam,' says he, very civilly, 'and bring them for you.'
'Come away, then,' says I, and takes him with me.

The people of the inn were in a great hurry, the packet-boat from
Holland being just come in, and two coaches just come also with
passengers from London, for another packet-boat that was going off for
Holland, which coaches were to go back next day with the passengers
that were just landed. In this hurry it was not much minded that I
came to the bar and paid my reckoning, telling my landlady I had gotten
my passage by sea in a wherry.

These wherries are large vessels, with good accommodation for carrying
passengers from Harwich to London; and though they are called wherries,
which is a word used in the Thames for a small boat rowed with one or
two men, yet these are vessels able to carry twenty passengers, and ten
or fifteen tons of goods, and fitted to bear the sea. All this I had
found out by inquiring the night before into the several ways of going
to London.

My landlady was very courteous, took my money for my reckoning, but was