Once beyond the gate he hesitated, looked up and down, turned to the right and then to the left, as if in doubt, and lunged forward in the direction of the tavern.
It was Sunday night, and the lounging room was full.

One of the inmates rose and offered him a chair--he was much respected in the village, especially among the rougher class, some of whom had sailed with him--but he only waved his hand in thanks.
"I don't want to sit down; I'm looking for Bart.

Has he been here ?" The sound came as if from between closed teeth.
"Not as I know of, cap'n," answered the landlord; "not since sundown, nohow." "Do any of you know where he is ?" The look in the captain's eyes and the sharp, cutting tones of his voice began to be noticed.
"Do ye want him bad ?" asked a man tilted back in a chair against the wall.
"Yes." "Well, I kin tell ye where to find him," "Where ?" "Down on the beach in the Refuge shanty.

He and the boys have a deck there Sunday nights.

Been at it all fall--thought ye knowed it." Out into the night again, and without a word of thanks, down the road and across the causeway to the hard beach, drenched with the ceaseless thrash of the rising sea.