“’Ow are you likin’ life afloat, Ned? Better’n t’ work’ouse?”
Nodding enthusiastically, Ned affirmed his feelings. “Yes, sir, much better.” He wrinkled his nose. “Air smells funny though.”
The skipper chuckled. “Aye, lad. Lunnon stinks, it does. Out here, we gets the clean air, see.” He eased the helm. “Ease t’ sheets on the jib, lad, an’ then the main. Winds fair for Sarf End an’ the Maplin channel now, an’ it’ll rise wi’ t’ tide.”
The knock on the door startled him, but like a cat, he recovered quickly. Moving silently, he turned the key, opening the door a crack.
“Mister Hewlett? It’s me, Joe. I done t’ job.”
Opening the door wider, Hewlett said, “Get inside, Joe, an’ not so loud.” As soon as the man entered, he shut the door and locked it. “Did yer get it?”
“Nah. ’E ’ad loads a p
