"Meantime we followed my sea-chest which was being carried down a sort of
deep narrow lane, separating two high warehouses, between honest Ted and
his little devil of a pal who had to keep up a trot to the other's
stride. The skirt of his soldier's coat floating behind him nearly swept
the ground so that he seemed to be running on castors. At the corner of
the gloomy passage a rigged jib boom with a dolphin-striker ending in an
arrow-head stuck out of the night close to a cast iron lamp-post. It was
the quay side. They set down their load in the light and honest Ted
asked hoarsely: "Where's your ship, guv'nor?"
"I didn't know. The constable was interested at my ignorance.
"Don't know where your ship is?" he asked with curiosity. "And you the
second officer! Haven't you been working on board of her?"
"I couldn't explain that the only work connected with my appointment was
the work of chance. I told him briefly that I didn't know her at all. At
this he remarked: "So I see. Here she is, right before you. That's her."
"At once the head-gear in the gas light inspired me with interest and
respect; the spars were big, the chains and ropes stout and the whole
thing looked powerful and trustworthy. Barely touched by the light her
bows rose faintly alongside the narrow strip of the quay; the rest of her
was a black smudge in the darkness. Here I was face to face with my
start in life. We walked in a body a few steps on a greasy pavement
between her side and the towering wall of a warehouse and I hit my shins
cruelly against the end of the gangway. The constable hailed her quietly
in a bass undertone 'Ferndale there!' A feeble and dismal sound,
something in the nature of a buzzing groan, answered from behind the
bulwarks.
"I distinguished vaguely an irregular round knob, of wood, perhaps,
resting on the rail. It did not move in the least; but as another broken-
down buzz like a still fainter echo of the first dismal sound proceeded
from it I concluded it must be the head of the ship-keeper. The stalwart
constable jeered in a mock-official manner.
"Second officer coming to join. Move yourself a bit."
"The truth of the statement touched me in the pit of the stomach (you
know that's the spot where emotion gets home on a man) for it was borne
upon me that really and truly I was nothing but a second officer of a
ship just like any other second officer, to that constable. I was moved
by this solid evidence of my new dignity. Only his tone offended me.
Nevertheless I gave him the tip he was looking for. Thereupon he lost
all interest in me, humorous or otherwise, and walked away driving
sternly before him the honest Ted, who went off grumbling to himself like
a hungry ogre, and his horrible dumb little pal in the soldier's coat,
who, from first to last, never emitted the slightest sound.