Swift the Thames flows to the sea
Flow sweet river flow,
Bearing ships and part of me,
Sweet Thames flows softly.
"Crew! We're putting in at Victoria Dock, London!" Growltiger strode up the barge, shouting out commands as the wide, black sailing-barge moved towards the docks. "Drop the mainsail and come in on the jib. Heave to!" Tumblebrutus and the rest of the few crew left worked hard, lowering the large mainsail and manoeuvring the unwieldy craft into the docks. As they drew slowly alongside the dock, Tumblebrutus jumped ashore with one of his startlingly graceful leaps, landing easily beside the mooring post. He caught the halyard as Bluepoint threw it over and wound it round the mooring post. Swiftly he ran alongside the barge and caught the next halyard as it came flying towards him, securing this one too. With a creak, the barge stopped, its weight straining for a short while on the ropes before settling. His job wasn't over though – the crew had become painfully small in the last year or so, now totalling five, and he had to do the jobs three Cats would usually do, all at once! He leapt back onto the barge and rushed to help Ocicat with the jib, while Bluepoint lowered the cork fenders which would keep the barge from banging against the dock. They were safely moored. Now they could relax a little, although there was still a lot of work to be done. Tumble went to join Bluepoint folding the mainsail and stowing it away. He opened the locker and helped Bluepoint shove the sail in. It wouldn't fit properly.
"It's gone an' got caught on somm't," Bluepoint sighed. "Fix that, 'k Tumble? I've gotta check the fenders again, the dratted ropes keep fraying." Tumble nodded and Bluepoint strode away. Tumble started pulling the mainsail out of the locker again. He lay the heavy canvas on the deck and leaned his head and shoulders into the locker, spotting a large splinter of wood that had come loose and stopped the sail going in the whole way. He pushed it back, hoping to slot it back into place, when a paler, new part of wood caught his eye. It looked like writing. He peered closer, just able to make out the single word, written in a childish scrawl in the semi-darkness.
Jessny.
Tumble withdrew his head, staring at nothing as he remembered his friend. Jessny had loved crawling into the mainsail locker when she had a spare ten minutes. She was the only Cat on the barge his age, and they had become very close. Although she had been gone a few months now, he still missed her painfully, and without her life on the barge was very lonely. Then a rough voice interrupted his memories.
"Get a move on, Tumblebrutus! We 'aint got all day!" Growltiger glared at the young Cat, before moving on to the others. Tumble shook his head clear and went for a hammer and nail, to fix that splinter.