I knew enough of their tactics to feel sure that instead of taking passage in the steamer this man (who could only be a subordinate to that master in cunning who had shot me) must perforce await his chief's arrival.
Nevertheless, I bade the man drive as quickly as the vile pavement would allow, thinking to board the steamer at all events and scrutinise the faces of her passengers.

We rattled through the narrow and tortuous streets, reaching the port in time to see the last rope cast off from the great vessel as she swung round to seaward.

I hurried to the pierhead, and reached the extremity of the port before the _Principe Amadeo_, which had to move with circumspection amid the shipping.
The passengers were assembled on deck, taking what many of them doubtless knew to be a last look at their native land.

The lowering sun cast a glow over city and harbour, while a great silence hovered over all.

The steamer came quite close to the pierhead.