He roused himself, just as the friendly official who had
been his guide turned round with outstretched hand.
"I think you have seen it all now," he said, "and as the boat from New
York is just pulling in, you'll have plenty of time to board her."
Hamilton thanked his conductor warmly, and with a final look at the
group about to be deported, the last few stragglers of whom were making
their way toward the barge, he started along the wharf in the direction
of the New York boat. He was on the opposite side of the ship and had to
walk round, but, as his friend had said, there was plenty of time. He
had a good view of the boat as she landed.
The minute the bow touched the quay, before the mooring chains were on,
a middle-aged man who had been standing in the front of the boat, leaped
the light chain that runs waist high across the bow, and started on a
dead run up the bridge to the shore. One of the inspectors tried to stop
him, but he cried, as he went past:
"I'm going to the Commissioner's office. Don't stop me. I'm in a hurry."
Hamilton could just hear him, and it struck the boy as unnecessary for
the man to say he was in a hurry, for he showed it clearly enough.
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