CHAPTER XIX 



NORTH SEA TRAMPS 



HARD by the Tower Bridge is always a fleet of grimy 

 little steamers, many of them black-hulled, black,- funnelled, 

 and blue-boated, and named after birds. You marvel at 

 their number, and wonder whence they come and where 

 they go. They are a fleet in themselves, yet these are 

 merely the ships that have come in from neighbouring 

 waters, making ready for sea again, discharging or taking 

 in cargo from wharf and lighter. 



These are the tramps of the North Sea, the small, 

 stout vessels which are for ever running between the 

 Thames and foreign ports, and some of which occasion- 

 ally distinguish themselves by taking as long to cross 

 the North Sea as a slow liner takes to bridge the Western 

 Ocean. They spend much of their lives, which are long, 

 laborious, unromantic existences for the most part, in 

 Hamburg, Antwerp, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, and the 

 ports on the borders of the Biscay and the Mediter- 

 ranean. Sometimes they are invested with an air of 

 dignity and importance. That is when they are con- 

 veying Royal furniture for use during a Royal sojourn 

 abroad. 



If you look the steamers up in Lloyd's you will find 



their official tonnage and horse-power, and will get an 



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