“Them’s her lights, Miss Abbey, wot you see a-blinking yonder,” cried another.

“She’s a-blowing off her steam, Miss Abbey, and that’s what makes the fog and the noise worse, don’t you see?” explained another.

Boats were putting off, torches were lighting up, people were rushing tumultuously to the water’s edge. Some man fell in with a splash, and was pulled out again with a roar of laughter. The drags were called for. A cry for the life-buoy passed from mouth to mouth. It was impossible to make out what was going on upon the river, for every boat that put off sculled into the fog and was lost to view at a boat’s length. Nothing was clear but that the unpopular steamer was assailed with reproaches on all sides. She was the Murderer , bound for Gallows Bay; she was the Manslaughterer