VENICE IN THE EAST END. 247 



bowsprit. It would be quite possible to walk by and 

 never see it because of its size, as one walks by bridges 

 or travels over a viaduct without a thought. 



The vessel lies with her bowsprit projecting over 

 the quay, moored as a boat run ashore on the quiet 

 sandy beach of a lake, not as a ship is generally placed 

 with her broadside to the quay wall or to the pier. 

 Her stern is yonder — far out in the waters of the 

 dock, too far to concern us much as we look from the 

 verge of the wall. Access to the ship is obtained by 

 a wooden staging running out at the side ; instead of 

 the ship lying beside the pier, a pier has been built 

 out to fit to the ship. This plan, contrary to pre- 

 conceived ideas, is evidently founded on good reason, 

 for if such a vessel were moored broadside to the quay 

 how much space would she take up ? There would be, 

 first, the hull itself, say eighty yards, and then the 

 immense bowsprit. Two or three such ships would, 

 as it were, fill a whole field of water ; they would fill 

 a whole dock ; it would not require many to cover a 

 mile. By placing each stem to the quay they only 

 occupy a space equal to their breadth instead of to 

 their length. This arrangement, again, tends to 

 deceive the eye ; you might pass by, and, seeing only 

 the bow, casually think there was nothing particular 

 in it. Everything here is on so grand a scale that the 

 largest component part is diminished ; the quay, 

 broad enough to build several streets abreast; the 

 square, open stretches of gloomy water ; and beyond 

 these the wide river. The wind blows across these 

 open spaces in a broad way — not as it comes in sudden 

 gusts around a street corner, but in a broad open way, 



