He was worn and haggard when it was time to rise, and Jarvis called for brandy.

It was vile stuff, and Vane swallowed scarcely a mouthful.
The bill paid, they got into a boat moored off the bank opposite the tavern.
It was only just daylight.

A slight mist hung upon the river, and the marshy land on the south side and the scattered houses leading to Chelsea on the north side looked dreary enough.

The only sound was the plash of the waterman's sculls and the grinding of the rowlocks.

At last they came upon Battersea Fields.
"The pollard oaks, waterman," said Jarvis.