n. He swore at
the fog, with a fine relish for the colour of sounds. He swore at things
that were in no way responsible for his misfortune. Somewhere, he
conjectured, in warmth and safety, Henry Wiggin, the copper's nark, was
perfectly enjoying his supper of fried fish and 'taters and stout.

And then, over the sad, yellow night, faint and sweet and far away, as
the memory of childhood, came a still small voice--

"No, but 'e 'ad a rummy 'at on, eh?"

A DOWN-STREAM NIGHT

BLACKWALL

_WEST INDIA DOCK ROAD_

_Black man--white man--brown man--yellow man--
All the lousy Orient loafing on the quay:
Hindoo, Dago, Jap, Malay, and Chinaman
Dipping into London from the great green sea!_

_Black man--white man--brown man--yellow man--
Pennyfields and Poplar and Chinatown for me!
Stately-moving cut-throats and many-coloured mysteries,
Never were such lusty things for London lads to see!_

_On the evil twilight--rose and star and silver--
Steals a song that long ago in Singapore they sang:
Fragrant of spices, of incense and opium,
Cinnamon and aconite, the betel and the bhang._

_Three miles straight lies lily-clad Belgravia,
Thin-lipped ladies and padded men and pale.
But here are turbaned princes and velvet-glancing gentlemen,
Tom-tom and sharp knife and salt-caked sail._

_Then get you down to Limehouse, by riggings, wharf, and smoke-stack,
Glamour, dirt, and perfume, and dusky men and gold;
For down in lurking Limehouse there's the blue moon of the Orient--
Lamps for young Aladdins, and bowies for the bold!_

A DOWN-STREAM NIGHT

BLACKWALL

Tide was at flood, and below Limehouse Hole the waters thrashed the
wharves with malice. The hour was late, but life ran high in those
parts. Against the savage purple of the night a few wisps of rigging and
some gruff funnels stood up in East and West India Docks.

Sheer above the walls of East India Dock rose the deck of the _Cawdor
Castle_, as splendidly correct as a cathedral. The leaping lines of her
seemed lost in the high skies, and she stood out sharply, almost
ecstatically. Against such superb forces of man, the forces of Nature
seemed dwarfed. It was a lyric in steel and iron. Men hurried from the
landing-stage, up the plank, vanishing into the sly glooms of the huge
port-holes. Chains rang and rattled. Lascars of every kind f