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.