"That's a lime barge, sir," said Mr. Rowe; "all lime barges is marked
that way."

She was homeward bound, and empty, and soon passed us, but we went at
a pretty good pace ourselves. The wind kept favourable, a matter in
which Fred and I took the deepest interest. We licked our fingers, and
held them up to see which side got cooled by the breeze, and whenever
this experiment convinced me that it was still behind us, I could not
help running back to Fred to say with triumph, "The wind's dead aft,"
as if he knew nothing about it.

At last this seemed to annoy him, so I went to contain myself by
sitting on the potato-tub and watching the shore.

We got into the Thames earlier than usual, thanks to the fair wind.

The world is certainly a very beautiful place. I suppose when I get
right out into it, and go to sea, and to other countries, I shall
think nothing of England and the Thames, but it was all new and
wonderful to Fred and me then. The green slopes and fine trees, and
the houses with gardens down to the river, and boats rocking by the
steps, the osier islands, which Mr. Rowe called "Aits," and the
bridges where the mast had to be lowered, all the craft on the
water--the red-sailed barges with one man on board--the steamers with
crowded decks and gay awnings--the schooners, yachts, and pleasure
boats--and all the people on shore, the fishers, and the people with
water-dogs and sticks, the ladies with fine dresses and parasols, and
the ragged boys who cheered us as we went by--everything we saw and
heard delighted us, and the only sore place in my heart was where I
longed for Rupert and Henrietta to enjoy it too.

Later on we saw London. It was in the moonlight that we passed
Chelsea. Mr. Rowe pointed out the Hospital, in which the pensioners
must have been asleep, for not a wooden leg was stirring. In less than
half-an-hour afterwards we were at the end of our voyage.

The first thing which struck me about Nine Elms was that they were not
to be seen. I had thought of those elms more than once under the
burning sun of the first day. I had imagined that we should land at
last on some green bank, where the shelter of a majestic grove might
tempt Mr. Rowe to sleep, while Fred and I should steal gently away to
the neighbouring city, and begin a quite independent search for
adventures. But I think I must have mixed up with my expectations a
story of one of the captain's escapes--from a savage chief in a
mango-grove.