2$o NORTH SEA FISHERS AND FIGHTERS 



If one's spirits sink at times when imagination pictures 

 what might happen if the only boiler collapses, what 

 of that again ; for has not this very single boiler 

 driven the tramp for twenty-five years, and wet or 

 fine, rain or snow, fog or sunshine, heavy sea or 

 oily calm, brought her safely home again to London 

 River ? 



Hire your wherry at some weeping stairs by Tower 

 Bridge and go on board as the only passenger. The 

 Blue Peter is flying on the foremast, signal of departure. 

 The last lighter is alongside, with a cargo varying from 

 empty fruit baskets to sultanas, drums of oil, barrels of 

 petroleum, and iron water-tanks. The Customs officer 

 is present, seeing that the laws of his Department are 

 obeyed ; and the pilot, blue-coated, somewhat brass- 

 bound, is ready to take the bridge when the landsman- 

 looking person who navigates as far as Gravesend has 

 been dropped, for the blue-coated man is foreign, and 

 pilots the ship across the North Sea, where another 

 foreigner relieves him. It is a costly but necessary 

 business. 



The captain is at large, with watchful eye, and the 

 steward is stowing his stores in secret corners and 

 mysterious underground holes. Let him be blessed, 

 here and now, with a hearty blessing, for he is a good 

 steward, an honest steward, and the kind, strong face of 

 him assures you that he will not fail in case of need to 

 administer the simple curative methods of the tramp, 

 the chief of which is that you should be laid on a 

 shelf and left to Nature and a large bottle of cholera 

 mixture. 



The steward arranges and contracts to maintain you, 



