That's what I spoke ye for, just now.
Mind you, I don't propose no gallivantin'; but there's safety in numbers, and if you've a mind for it, I've the boat ready by the Broad Slip." "But what foolishness!" "Ay," Mr.Tamblyn assented.

"That's what I said to the Doctor when he first mentioned it.

'What foolishness,' I said, 'at _her_ time o' life!' But then we never reckoned on the whole town goin' crazed." "The Doctor ?" queried Miss Marty, with a glance down the dark street.
"He thinks of everything," she murmured.
There was a pause, during which Mr.Tamblyn somewhat ostentatiously tested the lock of his musket.
"You are not going to frighten me, Cai." "No, miss." "I--I think an expedition up the river would be very pleasant.

If, as you say, Miss Pescod has gone--" "Yes, miss." "I must bring Scipio." "Very well, miss.

If the French come, they _might_ think o' looking under the stairs." Twenty minutes later Miss Marty--escorted by Scipio, who bore a lantern--tiptoed down the street to the Broad Slip, fearful even of her own light footstep on the cobbles.
The Broad Slip--it has since been filled in--was in those days a sort of dock, inset between the waterside houses and running up so close to the street that the vessels it berthed were forced to take in their bowsprits to allow the pack-horse traffic to pass.