A knot of men stood alongside with clothes-bags and wooden chests at their feet.

Others were coming down the lane between tall, blind walls, surrounding a hand-cart loaded with more bags and boxes.

It was the crew of the _Ferndale_.

They began to come on board.
He scanned their faces as they passed forward filling the roomy deck with the shuffle of their footsteps and the murmur of voices, like the awakening to life of a world about to be launched into space.
Far away down the clear glassy stretch in the middle of the long dock Mr.
Powell watched the tugs coming in quietly through the open gates.

A subdued firm voice behind him interrupted this contemplation.