“We don’t like pierhead jumps on the Nancy II” said the blunt little officer. Then he looked Rio over. “Have you seen the delegate? Is your gear handy?”
“Yeah.”
“Bring it aboard. See the bos’n—Good Jesus, lad!” the mate yelled to an ordinary seaman who was scrubbing the whitework. “Soo-gee that bulkhead! Don’t kiss it!”
Rio was forward when they cast off the lines. After the ship was made ready for sea he sat down on a bitt and watched the higher lights of Manhattan fade in the twilight.
CHAPTER XI
Martin left Rio’s hotel and walked slowly along Fourteenth Street. His mind was blended with the darkness about him, for the street seemed to rest after the petty trading and rush of the day. He passed the cheap little shops and solitary stragglers, unconsciously accepting them in their place; nor did he turn his head to glance at the thin blue lights of a tiny cinema across the way. But a girl, in passing, brushed his shoulder lightly and asked him for a cigarette. He stopped, felt in his pockets and pulled out a package which he offered her.
“Mentholated, ain’t they?” she said, pleased at her good luck. “Gee, I like mentholated.” She took one of the cigarettes and handed back the package.