Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side.
Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint.

Into one of these the waterman jumped, and, having assisted Mr.Wood to a seat within it, immediately pushed from land.

Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank.

A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head.
"Boat there!" cried a voice, which Mr.Wood fancied he recognised.
"You'll find a waterman asleep under his tilt in one of them ere craft, if you look about, Sir," replied Ben, backing water as he spoke.
"Can't you take me with you ?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while.

I've a child here whom I wish to convey across the water without loss of time." "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell.