Harrigan | Page 4

fell away to a murmur
behind them, and they swung out onto the narrow, dark street which led
back toward the heart of Honolulu. For ten minutes they strode along
without a word. Under the light of a street lamp they stopped of one
accord.
"I'm McTee."
"I'm Harrigan."
The gripping of the hands was more than fellowship; it was like a test
of strength which left each uncertain of the other's resources. They
were exactly opposite types. McTee was long of face, with an arched,
cruel nose, gleaming eyes, heavy, straight brows which pointed up and
gave a touch of the Mephistophelian to his expression, a narrow, jutting
chin, and lips habitually compressed to a thin line. It was a handsome
face, in a way, but it showed such a brutal dominance that it inspired
fear first and admiration afterward.
Such a man must command. He might be only the boss of a gang of
laborers, or he might be a financier, but never in any case an underling.
Altogether he combined physical and intellectual strength to such a
degree that both men and women would have stopped to look at him,
and once seen he would be remembered.
On the other hand, in Harrigan one felt only force, not directed and
controlled as in McTee, but impulsive, irregular, irresponsible,
uncompassed. He carried a contradiction in his face. The heavy,
hard-cut jaw, the massive cheekbones, the stiff, straight upper lip
indicated merely brutal endurance and energy, but these qualities were
tempered by possibilities of tenderness about the lips and by the
singular lights forever changing in the blue eyes. He would be hard for
the shrewdest judge to understand, for the simple reason that he did not

know himself.
In looking at McTee, one asked: "What is he?" In looking at Harrigan,
the question was: "What will he become?"
"Stayin' in town long?" asked Harrigan, and his voice was a little
wistful.
"I'm bound out tonight."
"So long, then."
"So long."
They turned on their heels into opposite streets without further words,
with no thanks given for service rendered, with no exchange of
congratulations for the danger they had just escaped. That parting
proved them hardened knights of the road which leads across the world
and never turns back home.
Harrigan strode on full of thought. His uncertain course brought him at
last to the waterfront, and he idled along the black, odorous docks until
he came to a pier where a ship was under steam, making ready to put
out to sea. The spur touched the heart of Harrigan. The urge never
failed to prick him when he heard the scream of a steamer's horn as it
put to sea. It brought the thoughts of far lands and distant cities.
He strolled out to the pier and watched the last ropes cast loose. The
ship was not large, and even in the dark it seemed dingy and
dilapidated. He guessed that, big or small, this boat would carry her
crew to some distant quarter of the world, and therefore to a place to be
desired.
A strong voice gave an order from the deck--a hard voice with a ring in
it like the striking of iron against iron. Harrigan glanced up with a start
of recognition, and by the light of a swinging lantern he saw McTee. If
he were in command, this ship was certainly going to a far port. Black
water showed between the dock and the ship. In a moment more it

would be beyond reach, and that thought decided Harrigan. He made a
few paces back, noted the aperture in the rail of the ship where the
gangplank was being drawn in, then ran at full speed and leaped high in
the air.
The three sailors at the rail shouted their astonishment as Harrigan
struck the edge of the gangplank, reeled, and then pitched forward to
his knees. He rose and shook himself like a cat that has dropped from a
high fence to the ground.
"What're you?"
"I'm the extra hand."
And Harrigan ran up the steps to the bridge. There he found McTee
with the first and second mates.
"McTee," he said, "I came on your ship by chance an' saw you. If you
can use an extra hand, let me stay. I'm footfree an' I need to be movin'
on."
Even through the gloom he caught the glint of the Scotchman's eye.
"Get off the bridge!" thundered McTee.
"But I'm Harrigan, and--"
McTee turned to his first and second mates.
"Throw that man off the bridge!" he ordered.
Harrigan didn't wait. He retreated down the steps to the deck and went
to the rail. A wide gap of swarthy water now extended between the ship
and the dock, but he placed his knee