Nowhere can not find - At midnight 09 29

Kirkwood slapped a shilling down on the ticket-window ledge. He stumbled after Kirkwood, groaning with exhaustion. The boat sheered at midnight 09 29 out on the river, then shot in, arrow-like, to the pier beneath Waterloo Bridge. The deck was crowded and additional passengers embarked at every stop. They found seats on the forward deck and rested there in grim silence, both fretting under the enforced restraint, while the boat darted, like some illuminated and exceptionally active water insect, from pier to pier. Sweet name for a locality unsavory beyond credence. As they emerged on the street level and turned west on Bermondsey Wall, Kirkwood was fain to tug his top-coat over his chest and button it tight, to hide his linen. Here and there dreary and cheerless public houses appeared, at midnight 09 29 lighted windows conspicuous in a lightless waste.