Low Water

It was a calm, clear evening in late summer as the Elizabeth Ann, of Pembray, scorning the expensive aid of a tug, threaded her way down the London river under canvas. The crew were busy forward, and the master and part-owner–a fussy little man, deeply imbued with a sense of his own importance and cleverness–was at the wheel chatting with the mate. While waiting for a portion of his cargo,

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