They got the boat afloat with the four Chinks in her, and, the tow rope having been fixed, Candon got into her, having cast off the mooring ropes. Hank took the wheel of the schooner. George, standing silent beside Hank, heard the creak and splash of the oars. Then came the chug and groan of the tow-rope tightening, then slowly, almost imperceptibly the bowsprit of the _Wear Jack_ began to veer away from the wharf. And now to port and starboard lay the glittering harbour water and astern the long line of the wharves began to show with the electrics blazing here and there where they were working cargo overtime. As the wharves receded, they stole into a world of new sounds and lights. San Francisco began to show her jewelry, glittering ribbons of electrics, crusts of gems; on the port bow the lights of Oakland, far across the water, answered to the lights of San Francisco, and across the scattered silver ferry boats showed like running jewels. The wind from the north west came steady and filled with the breath of the unseen sea.
“Lord!” said Hank, “how much further is he taking us? Seems like as if he were making for Oakland.”
“He knows what he is doing,” said George.
A Chinese junk passed, with her lateen sail bellying to the wind, and then came along a yacht, lighted and riotous as a casino, with a jazz band playing “Suwanee.” It passed and the great quietude of the night resumed. Still the tow kept on.
Then came a voice from alongside. Candon had cast off the rope and was coming on board.
To George, just in that moment, the whole scene and circumstance came as an impression never to be forgotten; the silence following the casting off of the rope, the vast harbour surface, glittering like a ball-room floor, where the helpless _Wear Jack_ lay adrift, the lights of ’Frisco and the lights of Oakland and the secrecy and necessity for despatch lest, drifting as they were, they should be side-swiped by some Bay boat in a hurry. But he had little time for thought. Candon was on board, the boat was got in and the slack of the tow-rope, and Candon at the wheel began to give his orders with speed but without hurry.
The mainsail rose slatting against the stars, then the foresail; a Chink cast the gaskets off the jib, whilst the _Wear Jack_, trembling like an undecided and frightened thing, seemed to calm down and take heart. The slatting of the canvas ceased. They were under way.
