They were hustled up a steamer’s gangway and taken to the after end of the deck, where their conductor turned his back on them for a few minutes while he spoke to a mate.
“Now’s your time,” said Kemp, “if you feel you want to quit.”
Dick looked about. The spar-deck, on which the boats were stowed, covered the spot where he stood, and the passage beneath the stanchions was dark. There was nobody at the top of the gangway under the big cargo-lamp, and its illumination did not carry far across the wharf. If he could reach the latter, he would soon be lost in the gloom, and he was sensible of a curious impulse that urged him to flight. It almost amounted to panic, and he imagined that the other men’s desertion must have daunted him. For a few moments he struggled with the feeling and then conquered it.
“No,” he said firmly; “I’ll see the thing through.”
Kemp nodded. “Well, I guess it’s too late now.”
Two seamen, sent by the mate, went to the top of the gangway, and the fellow who had brought the party from the station stood on guard near. Dick afterward realized that much depended on the choice he swiftly made and wondered whether it was quite by chance he did so.
“You were pretty near going,” his companion resumed.
“Yes,” said Dick, thoughtfully; “I believe I was. As a matter of fact, I don’t know why I stopped.”
The other smiled. “I’ve felt like that about risky jobs I took. Sometimes I lit out, and sometimes I didn’t, but found out afterward I was right either way. If you feel you have to go, the best thing you can do is to get a move on.”
Dick agreed with this. He did not understand it, but knew that while he had still had time to escape down the gangway and felt strongly tempted to do so, it was impressed upon him that he must remain.