The black water reflected the red and green serpents from the lights on the boats.

A transatlantic liner was prolonging its loading operations by the light of its electric reflectors, standing forth out of the darkness with the gayety of a Venetian fiesta.
From time to time a man of slow step would come within the circle of the street lamp, the muzzle of his gun gleaming.

Others were lying in ambush among the mountains of cargo.

They were custom-house men and guardians of the port.
Suddenly the captain felt an instinctive warning.

They were following him....