They turned on their heels into opposite streets without further words,
with no thanks given for service rendered, with no exchange of
congratulations for the danger they had just escaped. That parting
proved them hardened knights of the road which leads across the world
and never turns back home.

Harrigan strode on full of thought. His uncertain course brought him at
last to the waterfront, and he idled along the black, odorous docks
until he came to a pier where a ship was under steam, making ready to
put out to sea. The spur touched the heart of Harrigan. The urge never
failed to prick him when he heard the scream of a steamer's horn as it
put to sea. It brought the thoughts of far lands and distant cities.

He strolled out to the pier and watched the last ropes cast loose. The
ship was not large, and even in the dark it seemed dingy and
dilapidated. He guessed that, big or small, this boat would carry her
crew to some distant quarter of the world, and therefore to a place to
be desired.

A strong voice gave an order from the deck--a hard voice with a ring in
it like the striking of iron against iron. Harrigan glanced up with a
start of recognition, and by the light of a swinging lantern he saw
McTee. If he were in command, this ship was certainly going to a far
port. Black water showed between the dock and the ship. In a moment
more it would be beyond reach, and that thought decided Harrigan. He
made a few paces back, noted the aperture in the rail of the ship where
the gangplank was being drawn in, then ran at full speed and leaped
high in the air.