Oppositethewharftherewasstuckinthewidegableofatwo-storiedbuildingalanternwhich，flickering，diffusedbutadull，anaemiclightfromitsdirtypanes，whileoverthelongstripofthebrokensignboardofthebuildingtherecouldbeseenstraggling，andexecutedinlargeyellowletters，thewords，“Tavernand-“Nomoreofthelegendthanthiswasvisible。
Lanternswerehangingintwoorthreeotherspotsinthedrowsylittletown；andwherevertheirmurkystainsoflighthungsuspendedintheairtherestoodoutinreliefamedleyofgables，drab-tintedtrees，andfalsewindowsinwhitepaint，onwallsofadullslatecolour。
SomehowIfoundcontemplationofthescenedepressing。
Meanwhilethevesselcontinuedtoemitsteamassherockedtoandfrowithacreakingofwood，aslap-slappingofwater，andascrubbingofhersidesagainstthewharf。Atlengthsomeoneejaculatedsurlily:
“Fool，youmustbeasleep！Thewinch，yousay？Why，thewinchisatthestern，damnyou！“