EMERGENCIES AND POLICEMEN—FENCHURCH STREET STATION—THIRD CLASS TO CUSTOM HOUSE—A SHIP FOREST.  
Policemen are very useful people. I do not know how we should have got from the London Bridge Pier to the Fenchurch Street Station if it had not been that Fred told me he knew one could ask policemen the way to places. There is nothing to pay, which I was very glad of, as the canvas bag was getting empty.
 
Once or twice they helped us through emergencies. We had to go from one footpath to another, straight across the street, and the street was so full of carts and cabs and drays and omnibuses, that one could see that it was quite an impossibility. We did it, however, for the policeman made us. I said, "Hadn't we better wait till the crowd has gone?" But the policeman laughed, and said then we had better take [112]lodgings close by and wait at the window. So we did it. Fred said the captain once ran in a little cutter between two big ships that were firing into him, but I do not think that can have been much worse than running between a backing dray, full of rolling barrels, and a hansom cab pulled up and ramping like a rocking-horse at the lowest point of the rockers.
 
When we were safely on the other pavement we thanked the policeman very much, and then went on, asking our way till we got to Fenchurch Street.
 
If anything could smell nastier than John's berth in Nine Elms it is Fenchurch Street Station. And I think it is worse in this way; John's berth smelt horrible, but it was warm and weather-tight. You never swallow a drop of pure air in Fenchurch Street Station, and yet you cannot find a corner in which you can get out of the draughts.
 
With one gale blowing on my right from an open door, and another gale blowing on my left down some steps, and nasty smells blowing from every point of the compass, I stood at a dirty little hole in a dirty wooden wall and took our tickets. I had to stand on tiptoe to make the young man see me.
 
"What is the cheapest kind of tickets you have, if you please?" I [113]inquired, with the canvas bag in my hand.
 
"Third class," said the young man, staring very hard at me, which I thought rather rude. "Except working men's tickets, and they're not for this train."
 
"Two third-class tickets for Victoria Dock, then, if you please," said I.
 
"Single or return?" said he.
 
"I beg your pardon?" I said, for I was puzzled.
 
"Are you coming back to-day?" he inquired.
 
"Oh dear, no!" said I, for some of the captain's voyages had lasted for years; but the question made me anxious, as I knew nothing of railway rules, and I added, "Does it matter?"
 
"Not by no means," replied the young man smartly, and he began to whistle, but stopped himself to ask, "Custom House or Tidal Basin?"
 
I had no alternative but to repeat "I beg your pardon?"
 
He put his face right through the hole and looked at me. "Will you take your ticket for Custom House or Tidal Basin?" he repeated; "either will do for Victoria Docks."
 
"Then whichever you please," said I, as politely as I could.
 
The young man took out two tickets and snapped them impatiently in something; and as a fat woman was squeezing me from behind, I was glad [114]to take what I could get and go back to Fred.
 
He was taking care of our two bundles and the empty pie-dish.
 
That pie-dish was a good deal in our way. Fred wanted to get rid of it, and said he was sure his mother would not want us to be bothered with it............