The main street was ablaze with lights. Cafés, saloons, music halls, catch-penny places--in fact, every device known to separate sailors from their wages was in operation. The sidewalks were crowded with men, jabbering madly in the different dialects of their home provinces (for many come here from France yearly).
"Queer lot, these frog-eaters," said Pete, going into the street so as to avoid a thick, pushing crowd.
"Yes, they would come to a knifing over a count of fish and yet give their schooners to a friend in trouble. Too bad they ain't better fishermen."
Among Canadians and Americans the Frenchmen are held in contempt on account of their hooks, which are of soft metal and can be rebent and used again. The fish often get away with them, however, and these hidden hooks slit many a finger in dressing down.
The two comrades loitered along, watching the changing crowds, gay with their colored caps and scarfs. Some men were already in liquor, and all seemed to be headed in that general direction. Suddenly, as Code was about to urge Pete along, he gave an exclamation and stopped short.
"I wonder where he is now?" Code's eyes were searching the crowd. "I saw him right over there."
"'Arry Duncan, the traitor that ruined our bait. I'd have sworn I saw him. It came all of a sudden and went away again. But I guess it couldn't have been anything but a close resemblance." He laughed nervously. "Gave me the creeps for a minute, though."
"Lor-rd!" shivered Pete, who had all the superstitions of the sea at his fingers' ends. "Mebbe he's chasin' us around fer wrongly accusin' him. They do that sometimes, you know. He's probably dead an' that's his sperrit, ha'ntin' us."
"Oh, rot, Pete!" growled Code in his most forcible manner. "Come along now or you'll be sidling into one of these doors and the _Lass_ won't get out of port for a week."
"My soul an' body! Look at that Frenchy. Biggest I ever saw, Code."
They had returned to the sidewalk, and Pete forgot that he himself rose fully as high above the crowds as this stranger. In fact, nearly every one turned to take a look at the huge islander, who, in reality, stood six feet four, barefoot.
They were pushing down-street against the tide and making rather heavy going of it. Code maneuvered so as to pass well to leeward of the big man who, he could see plainly, was just tipsy. But somehow the eyes of the two giants met, and the Frenchman seemed to crush his way through the crowd in Ellinwood's direction.