ran from the building to Washington street. Here he found a
cab.

"Five dollars," he panted, "if you get me to Pier 7, East Boston, at
four o'clock."

He jumped in and had hardly closed the door before the cabby had
brought his whip across the flanks of the dozing horse. The animal
came to life and tore down Washington Street at a pace that threatened
to wreck the vehicle. The wheels skimmed sides of electric cars and
brushed the noses of passing teams. A policeman shouted, but the cabby
took a chance and kept on. Down Atlantic Avenue the light cab swayed
from side to side, swerving to within a hair's distance of the
elevated structure. They wasted five precious minutes at the Ferry.
From here the distance was short. At one end of the wharf Wilson
sprang through the small group of stevedores who, their work done,
were watching the receding steamer. He was too late by five minutes.
But he pushed on to the very tip of the wharf in his endeavor to get
as near as possible to the boat. The deck looked deserted save for the
bustling sailors. Then Fate favored him with one glance of her. She
had come up from below, evidently for a last look at the wharf. He saw
her--saw her start--saw her hesitate, and then saw her impulsively
throw out her arms to him. He felt a lump in his throat as, with his
whole heart in the action, he in his turn reached towards her.

CHAPTER X

Strange Fishing

Yes, her arms were extended towards him. The fact made the world swim
before his eyes. Then he thought of Sorez and--it was well Sorez was
not within reach of him. Slowly the barrier widened between Wilson and
his Comrade--slowly she faded from sight, even while his eyes strained
to hold the last glimpse of her. It seemed as though the big ship were
dragging the heart out of him. On it went, slowly, majestically,
inevitably, tugging, straining until it was difficult for him to catch
his breath. She was taking away not only her own sweet self, but the
joy and life from everything about him; the color from the sky, the
gold from the sunbeams, the savor from the breezes. To others the sky
was blue, the sun warm, and the salt-laden winds came in from over the
sea with pungent keenness. To others the waters were sprinkled with
joyous colors--the white sails of yachts, the weather-beaten sails of
the fishermen, and the gaudy funnels of the liners. But to him it was
all gray, gray--a dull, sodden gray.

He felt a tug at his sleeve and h