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"The usual lot: Nick Jones, master, Stee Jenkin, Bobby Poole, and Mr. Ferrars. A perfect Jonah that man is, and disaster follows wherever he goes," said Oily Dave, with a melancholy shake of his head. "What do you mean?" demanded Miles, with a stare of surprise. "What I say," retorted Oily Dave. "Mr.
I'm not so sure that he would not have had me there, for I'm not half so sharp about money as I ought to be, but Stee Jenkin called out to me to keep my eyes open, and then I soon found out there was something on hand, so I made the old rascal pay up in honest coin."
"Oh, up at the weir? yes. But I'm out of love with weirs at present. I shudder every time I think of that one up the Thames." "It wasn't pleasant, certainly," said Wraysford. "Pleasant! Old man, if you hadn't been there it would have been a good deal worse than unpleasant. Poor Stee!" "Pull your left, Greenfield senior, or you'll be into the bank!" sung out Paul.
"The Mary had two boats, and one might easily have got adrift through accident. I laughed in his face when he told about the water jar and the bag of biscuit. Nick Jones and Stee always keep water and biscuit in the little boats when they are hoping for a whale, for sometimes it is a long chase, and then the men get just about worn out."
"Yes, ma'am, I have been fighting, and for my life too, which is a very different thing from a round of fisticuffs with your neighbour," growled Stee Jenkin in a shaken tone, and the hand with which he tried to lift the steaming coffee to his lips shook so violently that he spilled the hot liquid on his clothes.
"I suppose so; I was almost in hopes he wouldn't keep it up." "Never mind, it will all be over on Monday; that's a comfort! Come along, old man. Suppose we get young Stee to cox us up to the lock and back." Hue and cry was forthwith made for Stephen, but he was not to be found. He was out, Paul said; at the post, or somewhere.
He found his brother in what were now his usual cheerful spirits. For after the first week or so of his being sent to Coventry, Oliver, in his own study at least, kept up a cheerful appearance. "Hullo, Stee," said he as the young brother entered. "You're just in time. Here's a letter from mother." "Is there? How jolly! Read it out, Noll." So Oliver read it out.
'Duke Radford had heavy shipments in this vessel, and for a few days Katherine left the outside customers to their own devices, spending busy hours in checking invoices and helping to stow away the merchandise which Stee Jenkin and Miles brought up river in boatloads from the steamer.
"I think he's a fool just now," said Oliver, "but well, he fished you out of the Thames, Stee; you oughtn't to call him a blackguard." "I wish he'd left me in the Thames," said Stephen, nearly breaking down. "I've been miserable enough this term for half a dozen." Oliver looked hard and long at his young brother.
Now, this third and last time, matters is a deal more serious still. Nick Jones leaves a widow, though she don't much count. Stee Jenkin leaves a widow, nice little woman too. Then there's the children, poor things, orphans afore they are big enough to earn a penny for themselves. Bobby Poole hadn't a wife certainly, but he would have had by and by, most likely. It is a bad business altogether.
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