We ran around to the other side

We ran around to the other side. I was the last to arrive on the scene, and when I did, there stood Lestrade holding two great orbs, with candles in the bottom, and the two policemen had each hold of a young boy, by the shoulders. Both were protesting and kicking at their shins.

"Lestrade! Put those down!" shouted Holmes.

"What?" said Lestrade.

"Holmes crossed to him in a flash, and blew out both candles before setting them to the ground.

"The material is quite explosive, Lestrade."

"I cannot imagine the exploding of a piece of glass," said Lestrade.

"Nor can I, but glass it is not," said Holmes.
"What is it then?"

"I am not certain," said Holmes.
"It is Parkesine, gentlemen," said a man whose head emerged from the platform at the bottom of the quay."
"Indeed," said Holmes.

"Holmes?" I enquired.

"I believe it is a new type of material; a synthetic ivory that can be made to be transparent," said Holmes.

"Indeed," said the man, who now joined us on the quay. "May I ask what you want? And please unhand my boys." He was quite grey, and had a seaman's beard and wore ship's boots.
Lestrade shook his head. "I am afraid I shall have to arrest you."

"You can't take the boatswain!" said one of the boys, kicking at the policeman, who winced.

"I have committed no crime," said the old man. "What is the charge?" He spoke with great confidence, as if well used to dealing with the police. "Sam? What are you doing here?"
Wiggins spoke. "I didn't bring them, Sir, I didn't!"

I did not even know Wiggins' first name.

"I know, Sam. Do not worry. Now again, Sirs, what is the charge?"

"Murder!" piped Lestrade.

"I have murdered no-one."

Lestrade looked at Holmes.

"Indeed, I believe he has not."

A boy's voice echoed up from the same platform that the man had risen from.

"Time!" he cried. The boatswain leaned over the edge and pulled sharply at a small string tied to one of the mooring rings.

Almost at once two large orbs emerged from the surface of the water, and the man and his boy began hauling on a rope. Two millstones were thus dragged out onto the quay, and two boys emerged, soaking. Each was carrying a length of pipe. The boatswain wrapped them in blankets.

"Come with me, gentlemen, I shall make no attempt to escape."

He spoke with immense confidence, and whether it was this, the cold or a genuine interest, we followed the boatswain and his boys to a nearby storehouse. The fellow limped on both his legs which led him to walk as if he were dancing; his heels did not fully touch the ground. Wiggins, cold and silent, followed also.

Inside we the man was greeted as a father by a son, by around twelve other young boys, and one or two a little older; perhaps thirteen or fourteen. They gathered around the two freezing, wet lads, and hurried them over to a roaring fire.

"Brandy and bread for today's grafters!" said the boatswain.

"What did you get?" asked one of the boys.

"Lead! And plenty of it!" said one of the frozen through chattering teeth.

"Great! How much?" Several of the boys enquired after the old man.

"I should say a florin for the two," he said.

"A shilling each!" The boys were elated; even those who had found no lead seemed to be celebrating.

"What is going on here, Mr-?" Lestrade asked of the man.

"My name is Conroy. They call me the boatswain."

"A sailor, of some experience, though it is some years since you have put to sea." said Holmes.

"Indeed."

"Merchant fleet?"

"Indeed." Conroy was interested, and waited for Holmes to provide him with more details about his own life.

"Travel to Australia?"
"How could you know this?" he asked, smiling.

"Your hand," said Holmes.

The man held up his hand, which seemed to be tinged with green and black flecks.

"An aboriginal design," said Holmes. "This was done by a tribesman in the colony. I observe that you must have been at least once to Australia, and it would be an unusual thing in the merchant fleet to make only one scheduled journey. Therefore you have been several times. And you have not been at sea for some time; the colour and state of your complexion and beard are not those of a man recently returned from sea. Your skill with the needle and thread tells me that you are a skilled sailmaker, a talent no longer sought by our great fleet."
"You are an astute man, Sir," he said, sitting down in a low armchair. He began to remove his boots. "You must forgive me; I am troubled by my feet."

"The manner in which you walk suggests that you have suffered an injury, some time ago. Perhaps it is this which has kept you on dry land."

The man finished taking off his footwear. It revealed that he had no toes, and the skin was gnarled and twisted, as having been severely burned.

"My last ship was called the Bospatrick."

"Good Lord! I did not know there had been any survivors." I was surprised; this was a famous vessel, for all the wrong reasons.

"Survival is an unusual word for it, Sir."

The Bospatrick was a Blackwall Frigate bound for New Zealand. It was destroyed 15 years ago by fire off the Cape of Good Hope. The survivors were found drifted over 500 miles away, ten days later. This poor creature must have lived, horribly burned, at the mercy of the seas for ten days. Even now, the condition of his wounds must have been agonising. I felt a great sorrow for him. But I also recalled that the fire was reportedly started in the boatswain's store, and that many of the crew were carrying family members with them.

"You know of my old ship, I see," said Conroy, seeing recognition in Holmes' eyes. "Nought for a crippled sailor, robbed of his family and accused of a crime, wrongly I might add, but to become a beggar. So in London I have made a life for myself."

Lestrade interjected. "You have not explained yourself, Mr Conroy. You must accompany me."
Holmes shot him an accusing look. He did not appreciate being interrupted, and Lestrade seemed to heed him. Conroy continued.

"I have found it difficult to make ends meet, but have always found some employment or other. But in the last couple of years I have found it more and more difficult to work for myself. And I saw some street Arabs loose with no watcher, and hungry, and I took them in. They were the mudlarks, not I. They gave me the thought. Climbing into rivers is well beyond me, though I'd go if I could. But I know the metals, I know where to find them and I know where to sell them."
"You are responsible for the deaths of five children, Conroy!" said Lestrade.

"I'm not responsible for anything. I puts a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. I make sure they get a fair price for what they find. If they need healing, I heal them. I keep them warm and dry. I teach them the scriptures on Sundays. If it weren't for me there'd be more than five of them dead."

I was still angry with the man but I could not help thinking that he was probably right.