wild bird beats against a
cage.... He could hardly hold her body so much was her tortured
sobbing.... So much did what was within wheel and beat, beat and wheel,
in unendurable panic. Her voice murmured in his wet shoulder:

"_Pauvre vielle sote!_ O Shane, Shane ... _pauvre vielle sote!"_ ...

Section 12

Above him, to starboard, he could hear the churning of the tug that was
to take them from the docks to the open sea. Overhead the pilot was
stamping impatiently. Forward the mate was roaring like a bull:

"Where is that damned apprentice? Tell him to lay aft and bear a hand
with the warps."

In a minute or so he would have to go on the poop and give orders to let
go and haul in. The tug was blowing, "Hurry up...." He ought to be on
deck now.... He hated to go up ... he hated to see the last of
Marseilles ... he would never see Marseilles again....

Was all ready? Yes, all was ready. Cargo, supplies, sea-chest,
everything for the long voyage he had decided--had to decide--on at the
last minute. Forward across the Atlantic to where the sou'east trades
blew, and then south'ard reaching under all sail--the fleecy clouds, the
bright constellations of the alien pole, the strange fish-like birds,
the flying-fish, the bonita, the albacore; the chill gust from the River
Plate; the roar of the gales of the forties; the tremendous fight around
the Horn, with a glimpse of land now and then as they fought for
easting--the bleak rocks of Diego Ramirez and the Iledefonsos, and
perhaps the blue ridge of Cape Horn, or of the False Cape; then,
northward to Callao ... anywhere, everywhere ... new seas, new lands,
new cities ... but never again Marseilles....

And he would never see her again, _La Mielleuse_--couldn't if he wanted
to ... never again ... irrevocable.... On that pillow she had laid her
head, her dark darling head!... And last night he had seen it for the
last time, dark, smiling in sleep, on a snowy pillow.... He remembered
as he might remember a strange pantomime.... His going to his coat
for--what he had there ... the silent tiptoe ... the gentle raising of
her left arm, as she smiled in her sleep ... the sudden weakness at her
soft warm beauty ... the decision.... Of course he had done right!... Of
course!... Of course!...

Overhead the pilot stamped on the deck in a flurry of impatience. The
tug wailed in irritation. He must get on deck....

He threw one last glance around.... He had everything he needed fo