guard the streets and waterfront and take charge of the public security, as well as to give information on the weather.
Nine o'clock , Garrick thought. He'd arrived fifteen minutes early for his meeting. Even so he hurried to the appointed spot, anxious to meet with the merchant, perhaps have one ale at the nearby tavern, and then be on his way. Since it was summer, it wouldn’t get dangerously dark for another hour, but nevertheless, he was fidgety. He wanted to be about his business and then return home. Already he could feel the dampness of the approaching fog, mingling with the brisk sea air. The Thames was crowded with barges and ships, all laden with goods from far away places.
Gazing out over the water, Garrick remembered his own sea-going adventures. For a time he'd even toyed with the idea of being a sailor, but common sense had rescued him. Still, whenever he smelled the salt in a breeze or caught sight of the white billowing sails, he was touched by his boyhood dream. Gliding about like swans on a lake, the ships were an inspiring sight. The farther down the river his eyes scanned, the more closely packed were the vessels on either side, a visible sign of how quickly London was growing.
Taking out his pocketwatch, he noted the time. The merchant was late. Trying to calm himself, he gazed out at the forest of masts that loomed on the horizon. A stray flag fluttered in the breeze, a sailor hung on the spars of a ship, another sailor, agile as monkey, sky-larked on the topmost cross-trees of a vessel anchored at port. Sailors strolled the docks, making their way to the tavern. One entertained Garrick with a sailor's hornpipe and a "double monkey" somersault before moving along. Even so, Garrick's annoyance increased with each passing minute. As the shadows lengthened, he instinctively clutched his leather case closer and secured his pocketwatch in an upper coat pocket. Each moment that ticked by increased his frustration. He always made it a point to be prompt; why couldn't others? Watching the fog drift in, he breathed a sigh, wishing he had not been quite so accommodating to Oliver. Well, at least he was enjoying the evening. Garrick hoped that when at last this night was over, he could say the same.
Chapter Five
It was a dull, murky evening. A light fog now covered London in a wispy shroud. The streets swarmed with hackney coaches and carriages. Silk lined, leather Sedan chairs transported splendidly dressed men and women to various destinations; theatres, taverns, cozily lighted inns or more intimate rendezvous. The nobs , Dawn thought, and among such as these she was to find a likely pigeon.
Leaning against a large rain barrel, hiding in the shadows as she tried to gather her courage, Dawn peered anxiously at the throng of people who rode and walked about the cobbled streets. Nabbing hankies was her special lay , and she had no liking for this new task. None whatsoever. Dealing with the swells always brought a body close to trouble. Black John's greed and Robbie's overconfidence were sure to be their undoing. Hopefully it would not be hers as well.
"All we'll get for this is a one waiy journey to new South Wailes," she mumbled beneath her breath to Robbie and Black John who followed close behind. "Or a necktie maide o' twine."
She felt devastatingly self-conscious in her high-waisted, low-cut gown, which showed much more of her bosom than she thought proper, though her careful stitchery had made it more decent than had been originally planned. The satin gown with a matching train attached to the back of her shoulders had once been pearl colored but had lost its original luster. Still, it was a far more beautiful dress than she had ever hoped to wear. And still stylish too, she thought. Grecian some called it. The low bodice and short sleeves were bordered with narrow net frilling of gold that matched the
Nine o'clock , Garrick thought. He'd arrived fifteen minutes early for his meeting. Even so he hurried to the appointed spot, anxious to meet with the merchant, perhaps have one ale at the nearby tavern, and then be on his way. Since it was summer, it wouldn’t get dangerously dark for another hour, but nevertheless, he was fidgety. He wanted to be about his business and then return home. Already he could feel the dampness of the approaching fog, mingling with the brisk sea air. The Thames was crowded with barges and ships, all laden with goods from far away places.
Gazing out over the water, Garrick remembered his own sea-going adventures. For a time he'd even toyed with the idea of being a sailor, but common sense had rescued him. Still, whenever he smelled the salt in a breeze or caught sight of the white billowing sails, he was touched by his boyhood dream. Gliding about like swans on a lake, the ships were an inspiring sight. The farther down the river his eyes scanned, the more closely packed were the vessels on either side, a visible sign of how quickly London was growing.
Taking out his pocketwatch, he noted the time. The merchant was late. Trying to calm himself, he gazed out at the forest of masts that loomed on the horizon. A stray flag fluttered in the breeze, a sailor hung on the spars of a ship, another sailor, agile as monkey, sky-larked on the topmost cross-trees of a vessel anchored at port. Sailors strolled the docks, making their way to the tavern. One entertained Garrick with a sailor's hornpipe and a "double monkey" somersault before moving along. Even so, Garrick's annoyance increased with each passing minute. As the shadows lengthened, he instinctively clutched his leather case closer and secured his pocketwatch in an upper coat pocket. Each moment that ticked by increased his frustration. He always made it a point to be prompt; why couldn't others? Watching the fog drift in, he breathed a sigh, wishing he had not been quite so accommodating to Oliver. Well, at least he was enjoying the evening. Garrick hoped that when at last this night was over, he could say the same.
Chapter Five
It was a dull, murky evening. A light fog now covered London in a wispy shroud. The streets swarmed with hackney coaches and carriages. Silk lined, leather Sedan chairs transported splendidly dressed men and women to various destinations; theatres, taverns, cozily lighted inns or more intimate rendezvous. The nobs , Dawn thought, and among such as these she was to find a likely pigeon.
Leaning against a large rain barrel, hiding in the shadows as she tried to gather her courage, Dawn peered anxiously at the throng of people who rode and walked about the cobbled streets. Nabbing hankies was her special lay , and she had no liking for this new task. None whatsoever. Dealing with the swells always brought a body close to trouble. Black John's greed and Robbie's overconfidence were sure to be their undoing. Hopefully it would not be hers as well.
"All we'll get for this is a one waiy journey to new South Wailes," she mumbled beneath her breath to Robbie and Black John who followed close behind. "Or a necktie maide o' twine."
She felt devastatingly self-conscious in her high-waisted, low-cut gown, which showed much more of her bosom than she thought proper, though her careful stitchery had made it more decent than had been originally planned. The satin gown with a matching train attached to the back of her shoulders had once been pearl colored but had lost its original luster. Still, it was a far more beautiful dress than she had ever hoped to wear. And still stylish too, she thought. Grecian some called it. The low bodice and short sleeves were bordered with narrow net frilling of gold that matched the
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