“It is used by the government,” said Mr. George, “as a sort of strong box, to keep curiosities, treasures, and valuables of all sorts in, and any thing else, in fact, which they wish to have in safe and secure custody. They keep what are called state prisoners there.”
“Can we go in the Tower,” said Rollo, “and see all these things?”
“Yes,” said Mr. George, “we can see the treasures and curiosities; but I believe there are no prisoners there now.”
Just then Rollo heard a rapping sound upon the stone of the sidewalk near him. He looked round to see what it was. There was a blind man coming along. He had a stick in his hand, which seemed to be armed at the lower end with a little ferule of iron. With this iron the blind man kept up a continual rapping on the flagstones as he slowly advanced. The iron produced a sharp and ringing sound, which easily made itself heard above the thundering din of the carriages and vans that were rolling incessantly over the bridge, and served as a warning to the foot passengers on the sidewalk that a blind man was coming. Every one hearing this rapping looked up to see what it meant; and, perceiving that it was a blind man, they moved to one side and the other to make way for him. Thus, though the sidewalk was so crowded that a person with eyes could scarcely get along, the blind man, though he moved very slowly, had always vacant space before him, and advanced without any difficulty or danger.[B]
“Think of a blind man in such a crowd as this!” said Rollo.
“Yes,” said Mr. George.
“And he gets along better than any of the rest of us,” said Rollo.
“Yes,” said Mr. George, “so it seems.”
“The next time I wish to go through a crowd,” said Rollo, “I mean to get a cane, and then shut my eyes and rap with it, and every body will make room for me.”
“Look round here a minute more,” said Mr. George; “there is something else that I wish to explain to you. You see there are no bridges below this, though there are a great many above.”
“Yes,” said Rollo; “and how do they get across the river below here? Are there ferry boats?”
“I think it likely there are ferry boats down below,” said Mr. George. “At any rate, there are plenty of small boats which any body can hire. They are rowed by men called watermen.
“’Bound ‘prentice to a waterman, I learned a bit to row.’”
“What poetry is that?” said Rollo.
“It is part of some old song,” said Mr. George. “Look down the river and you can see these boats cruising about among the shipping.”
“Is that the way they get across the river below here?” said Rollo.
“Yes,” said Mr. George; “and then there is the Tunnel besides. They can go under the river through the Tunnel if they please, about a mile and a half below here.”
“Is that the reason why they made the Tunnel,” said Rollo, “because they could not have any bridge?”
“Yes,” said Mr. George. “It would have been a great deal cheaper and better to have made a bridge; but a bridge would have interfered with the shipping, and so they made a tunnel underneath.”
“I never knew before,” said Rollo, “why they made the Tunnel.”
“Yes,” said Mr. George, “that is the reason. It was a very difficult and expensive work; but I believe it proved a failure. Very few people use it for crossing the river, though a great many go to see it. It is a curious place to see. But now let us go across the bridge and see what is on the other side.”
Mr. George and Rollo had to stand several minutes on the curbstone of the sidewalk before they could find openings, in the trains of vehicles which were moving to and fro over the bridge, wide enough to allow them, to pass through to the other side. At length, however, they succeeded in getting across; and, after walking along on the upper side of the bridge for some distance farther, until they had nearly reached the London end of it, they stopped and looked over the parapet down to the water.
Of course their faces were now turned up the river, and the view which presented itself was entirely different from that which had been seen below. Immediately beneath where they were standing, and close in to the shore of the river, they witnessed a most extraordinary spectacle, which was formed by a group of small and smoky-looking steamers, that were hovering in apparent confusion about a platform landing there. The decks of the steamers were all crowded with passengers. Some of the boats were just coming to the land, some just leaving it, and others were moored to the platform, and streams of passengers were embarking or disembarking from them. The landing consisted of a floating platform, that was built over great flat-bottomed boats, that were moored at a little distance from the bank, so as to rise and fall with the tide. There was a strong railing along the outer edge of the platform, with openings here and there through it for passage ways to the boats. Behind, the platforms were connected with the shore by long bridges, having a little toll house at the outer end of each of them, with the words, “Pay Here,” inscribed on a sign over the window. The passengers, as they came down from the shore, stopped at these toll houses to pay the fare for the places to which they wished to go. The decks of the steamers, the platforms, and all the bridges were thronged with people, going and coming in all directions, and crowding their way to and from the boats; and every two or three minutes a steamer, having received its load, would push off from the platform, and paddle its way swiftly up the river among a multitude of others that were shooting swiftly along, in all directions, over the water.
The volumes of dense, black smoke which rolled up from the funnels of the steamers made the atmosphere very thick and murky; and the whole scene, as Mr. George and Rollo looked down upon it from the parapet above, for a time seemed almost to bewilder them.
“Let us go down and take a sail in one of those steamers,” said Mr. George.
“Where do they go to?” said Rollo.
“I don’t know,” said Mr. George.
“Well,” said Rollo, “let us go.”
So saying, Mr. George and Rollo walked on towards the end of the bridge. Here they found a broad stone staircase, which turned off from the great thoroughfare, at a place near the corner of a large stone building. The staircase was very broad and massive, and was covered with people going up and coming down.
“This must be a way down to the landing,” said Mr. George.
So our two travellers began to descend; and, after turning several square corners in the staircase, they came out into the street which led along the margin of the river, at a level of twenty or thirty feet below the bridge. This street passed through under one of the dry arches of the bridge, as they are called; that is, one built on the sloping margin of the shore, where no water flows. They passed across this street, and then entered a broad passage way which led down towards the floating platforms. There were a great many people coming and going. They stopped at the toll house on one of the little bridges to pay the fare.
“How much is to pay?” said Mr. George to the tollman, taking out his purse.
“Where do you wish to go?” said the tollman.
“I don’t know,” said Mr. George, looking at Rollo; “about a mile or two up the river.”
“To Hungerford landing?” asked the tollman.
“Yes,” said Mr. George.
“Or Westminster?” said the tollman.
“Yes,” said Mr. George, “we will go to Westminster.”
“Twopence each,” said the tollman.
So Mr. George and Rollo each laid down two pennies on the little counter in the window sill, and the man giving them each a little paper ticket, they passed on.
“Now the question is,” said Mr. George,