Alf, chagrined and angry, stood up to step ashore.  But the old fellow laid a detaining hand on his sleeve.  “You give shirt now.  I take you ’Merican schooner,” he proposed.

Then it was that all of Alf’s American independence flamed up in his breast.  The Anglo-Saxon has a born dislike of being imposed upon, and to Alf this was sheer robbery!  Ten sen was equivalent to six American cents, while his shirt, which was of good quality and was new, had cost him two dollars.

He turned his back on the man without a word, and went out to the end of the pier, the crowd, laughing with great gusto, following at his heels.  The majority of them were heavy-set, muscular fellows, and the July night being one of sweltering heat, they were clad in the least possible raiment.  The water-people of any race are rough and turbulent, and it struck Alf that to be out at midnight on a pier-end with such a crowd of wharfmen, in a big Japanese city, was not as safe as it might be.

One burly fellow, with a shock of black hair and ferocious eyes, came up.  The rest shoved in after him to take part in the discussion.

“Give me shoes,” the man said.  “Give me shoes now.  I take you ’Merican schooner.”

Alf shook his head, whereat the crowd clamored that he accept the proposal.  Now the Anglo-Saxon is so constituted that to browbeat or bully him is the last way under the sun of getting him to do any certain thing.  He will dare willingly, but he will not permit himself to be driven.  So this attempt of the boatmen to force Alf only aroused all the dogged stubbornness of his race.  The same qualities were in him that are in men who lead forlorn hopes; and there, under the stars, on the lonely pier, encircled by the jostling and shouldering gang, he resolved that he would die rather than submit to the indignity of being robbed of a single stitch of clothing.  Not value, but principle, was at stake.

Then somebody thrust roughly against him from behind.  He whirled about with flashing eyes, and the circle involuntarily gave ground.  But the crowd was growing more boisterous.  Each and every article of clothing he had on was demanded by one or another, and these demands were shouted simultaneously at the tops of very healthy lungs.

Alf had long since ceased to say anything, but he knew that the situation was getting dangerous, and that the only thing left to him was to get away.  His face was set doggedly, his eyes glinted like points of steel, and his body was firmly and confidently poised.  This air of determination sufficiently impressed the boatmen to make them give way before him when he started to walk toward the shore-end of the pier.  But they trooped along beside him and behind him, shouting and laughing more noisily than ever.  One of the youngsters, about Alf’s size and build, impudently snatched his cap from his head; but before he could put it on his own head, Alf struck out from the shoulder, and sent the fellow rolling on the stones.