They went down to the harbor. “Can’t you come on board with me and say how d’ye-do to the old man?” said Per. “But of course, he’s ashore to- night. I saw him go over the side about the time we knocked off—rigged out for chasing the girls.”
“I don’t know him at all,” said Pelle; “he was at sea already when I was still a youngster. Anyhow, I’ve got to go home to bed now—I get to work early in the mornings.”
They stood on the quay, taking leave of one another. Per Kofod promised to look Pelle up next time he was in port. While they were talking the door of the after-cabin rattled. Howling Peter drew Pelle behind a stack of coal. A powerful, bearded man came out, leading a young girl by the hand. She went slowly, and appeared to resist. He set her ceremoniously ashore, turned back to the cabin, and locked the door behind him. The girl stood still for a moment. A low ’plaint escaped her lips. She stretched her arms pleadingly toward the cabin. Then she turned and went mournfully along the quay.
“That was the old man,” whispered Per Kofod. “That’s how he treats them all—and yet they don’t want to give him up.”
Pelle could not utter a word; he stood there cowering, oppressed as by some terrible burden. Suddenly he pulled himself together, pressed his comrade’s hand, and set off quickly between the coal-stacks.
After a time he turned aside and followed the young girl at a little distance. Like a sleep-walker, she staggered along the quay and went over the long bridge. He feared she would throw herself in the water, so strangely did she behave.
On the bridge she stood gazing across at the ship, with a frozen look on her face. Pelle stood still; turned to ice by the thought that she might see him. He could not have borne to speak to her just then—much less look into her eyes.
But then she moved on. Her bearing was broken; from behind she looked like one of those elderly, shipwrecked females from the “Ark,” who shuffled along by the house-walls in trodden-down men’s shoes, and always boasted a dubious past. “Good God!” thought Pelle, “is her dream over already? Good God!”
He followed her at a short distance down the narrow street, and as soon as he knew that she must have reached her dwelling he entered the tunnel.