He was a surly old fellow, his sharp nose and chin nearly meeting, and he usually went by the name of Old Grumble.  I had occasionally assisted him with his boat, but without receiving money, or indeed thanks, for my pains, but for this I cared little.  He was a very old man, and when he came on shore and went up to old Nanny with the few things he had collected during the day, I almost wondered how he could manage to subsist, and thought myself infinitely better off than he was.

One evening he said to me, “Jack, I’m going up the river, I wish you’d come in the boat and help me, and if I make anything I will give you something for your trouble, but if I don’t you can’t expect it.”

As he was very infirm I went with him, more out of charity than with any hopes of profit.  We pulled with the tide till we arrived a little above Deptford, where several ships were lying, and he went close to one and lowered down his grapnels.  He dragged for a short time.

“Just you make a little further off, old fellow,” cried the mate of the vessel.

“Won’t allow a poor old man to earn a few pence, I suppose,” replied Old Grumble, hauling up his grapnel and directing me to pull under the bows, where he dropped it down again.  I now perceived, as I thought, some signs passing between him and one of the men in the head; but if so, they were soon over, and Old Grumble continued his avocation till the sun set.

“How long do you intend to remain here?” inquired I.

“Oh, not much longer, but I must wait a bit.”

At last it was quite dark, and then Grumble pulled up his grapnel and dropped down nearer to the cutwater of the vessel.  I soon distinguished a tinkling, as it were, of metal; and Old Grumble, holding up his hands, received some sheets of copper, which were lowered down by a rope-yarn.  As soon as they were quietly landed in the stern of the boat, down came a bag, which he cast off and laid beside the copper.  I was all astonishment, but still more so when a large bag of something weighing very heavy was lowered down by a rope after the small bag.  A low whistle was then given, and the words “Monday night” pronounced in a whisper.  Grumble whistled in return, and then, hauling up the grapnel, he told me to put out the oars and pull, while he took his grapnel on board.  We then pulled down the river again, for the tide had turned, and as soon as we were clear of the shipping I began to interrogate him.

“Who gave you all these things?”

“Who?  Why, that man.”

“But what did he give them you for?”

“Why, out of charity, to be sure!  But I can’t talk now, I’ve no breath to spare.  Let’s pull ashore, and then I’ll talk to you.”

As we pulled down I observed that a lighter had broken adrift from her moorings, and was sweeping down the river with the ebb tide.

“There’s a lighter adrift,” said I.

“Yes,” replied Grumble.  “I’m too old for that work now; time was.  There’ll be pretty pickings as soon as she gets down a little lower.  The Light Horsemen have cut her adrift.”