Todd himself had had his suspicions that the passage of old London
Bridge would be one of no ordinary difficulty on such a night as that,
but he knew that if the tide was at that point which the old man
mentioned, that it might be passed with the most perfect safety, and it
was a matter of no small gratification to him to hear from such a
competent authority that such was the fact just then. "Let us go at once," he said. "All's right, sir. Our wherry is just at the foot of the stairs, here. I
will pull her in, Harry." The old man ran down the slippery stairs with the activity of a boy, and
as Todd and Harry followed him, the latter said, in quite a confidential
tone of voice--

[Illustration: Todd Encounters Great Perils On The River Thames.] "Ah, sir, you may trust to his judgment on anything that has anything to
do with the river." "I am glad to hear it." "Yes, sir, and so am I. Now I thought I knew something, and I shouldn't
have ventured to take you, or if I had, it would have been with rather a
faint heart; but now that the old man, sir, says it's all right, I feel
as comfortable as needs be in the matter." By this time they had reached the foot of the steps, which was being
laved by the tide, and there the old man had the boat safely in hand. "Now for it, sir," he said. "Jump in." Todd did so, and the younger waterman followed him. He and his aged
companion immediately took their places, and Todd stretched himself in
the stern of the little craft. The rain now came down in absolute torrents as the boat was pushed off
by the two watermen into the middle of the stream. CHAPTER CLX. THE POLICE-GALLEY ON THE THAMES. What an anxious and protracted glance Todd cast around him when he found
that he was fairly upon the river. How his eyes, with fox-like cunning,
glistening like two lead-coloured stars, were here, and there, and
everywhere, in the course of a few moments. Then he contrived to speak,
as he thought, craftily enough. "There are but few boats on the river." "No, sir," said the young waterman. "It isn't everybody that cares to
come on the water in such weather as this." "No--no. But I have business." "Exactly so, sir. That's it." "Yes," added Todd, in quite a contemplative tone of voice, "the fact is,
that I have just heard that at Gravesend there resides a family, with
whom I was once intimate, but had lost sight of. They have, as I hear,
dropped into poverty, amounting to destitution, and I could not rest
until I had gone after them to relieve them." "Did you say Gravesend?" said the old man. "Why, yes; but I don't ask you to go so far. I will try and find a
conveyance on land at Greenwich; but--if--you like to pull all the way
to Gravesend, I don't mind paying, for I prefer the water." "Couldn't do it," said the old man. "Certainly not," said the young one. Todd felt mortified that his plan of getting to Gravesend, by the aid of
the boat, was thus put an end to; but he could not help feeling how very
impolitic it would be to show any amount of chagrin upon such a subject,
so he spoke as cheerfully as he could, merely saying--

"Well, of course, I don't want you to do it; I merely offer you the job,
as I am so fond of a little boating, that I would not mind a few guineas
more upon such an account." "No use trying it," said the old man, sententiously. "There's several
turns in the river, and we should be down one at this time before we
could get there. Gravesend is quite another thing." "So it is," said Todd. He felt perfectly certain by the tone and the manner of the old man,
that it would be of no use urging the matter any further; and the great
dread he had of exciting suspicion that he was a fugitive, had the
effect of making him as cautious as possible regarding what he said. In
stern and moody silence, then, he reclined in the stern of the boat,
while it cleaved through the black water; and, as the old boatman
prophesied, the wind each moment went down until it left nothing but a
freshness upon the surface of the water, which, although it was bitterly
cold, in no way effected the progress of the boat. But a slight rain now began to fall, and every moment the night got
darker and darker still, until the lights upon the banks of the river
looked like little stars afar off; and it was only when they got quite
close to it, that they became aware of the proximity of Blackfriars
Bridge. It was Todd that saw it first appearing like some gigantic
object rising up out of the water to destroy them. He could not resist
uttering an exclamation of terror, and then he added--

"What is it? Oh, what is it?" "What--what?" said the young waterman, shipping his oars and looking
rather terrified. The old man gave his head a slight jerk as he said--

"I fancy it's Blackfriars." "Oh, yes, yes," said Todd, with a feeling of great relief. "It's the
bridge, of course--it's the bridge; but in the darkness of the night, it
looked awful and strange; and as we approached it, it had all the effect
as if it were something big enough to crush the world rising up out of
the water. "Ay--ay," said the old man. "I have seen it on all sorts of nights, and
was looking out for it. It's all right. Easy with your larboard over
there. That will do--there we go." The boat shot under one of the arches of the old bridge, and for a
moment, the effect was like going into some deep and horrible cavern,
the lower part of which was a sea of ink. Todd shuddered, but he did not say anything. He thought that after his
affected raptures at sailing, that if he made any sort of remark
indicative of his terrors at the passage of the bridge, they would sound
rather inconsistent. It was quite a relief when they had shot through the dim and dusky arch,
and emerged again upon the broad open water; and owing to the terrible
darkness that was beneath that arch, the night upon the river, after
they had passed through it, did not seem to be nearly so black as it had
been before, thus showing that, after all, most of our sensations are
those of comparison, even including those dependant upon the physical
changes of nature. "This is cheering," said Todd. "It is lighter now upon the river. Don't
you think it is?" "Why," said the old man, "perhaps it is just a cloud or two lighter; but
it's after coming through the arch that it makes the principal
difference, I take it." "Yes," said the other, "that's it; and the rain, to my thinking, will be
a lasting one, for it comes down straight, and with a good will to
continue. Don't you think so?" The question was addressed to the old man, who answered it slowly and
sententiously, keeping time with his words to the oars as they made a
slight noise jerking in the rollocks. "If it don't rain till sun-rise, just ask me to eat the old boat, and
I'll do it!" "That's settled," said the young waterman. The weather, in so far as rain or not rain was concerned, was not to
Todd a matter of much concern.