The cap flew out of his hand and disappeared among the many legs.  Alf did some quick thinking; his sailor pride would not permit him to leave the cap in their hands.  He followed in the direction it had sped, and soon found it under the bare foot of a stalwart fellow, who kept his weight stolidly upon it.  Alf tried to get the cap out by a sudden jerk, but failed.  He shoved against the man’s leg, but the man only grunted.  It was challenge direct, and Alf accepted it.  Like a flash one leg was behind the man and Alf had thrust strongly with his shoulder against the fellow’s chest.  Nothing could save the man from the fierce vigorousness of the trick, and he was hurled over and backward.

Next, the cap was on Alf’s head and his fists were up before him.  Then he whirled about to prevent attack from behind, and all those in that quarter fled precipitately.  This was what he wanted.  None remained between him and the shore end.  The pier was narrow.  Facing them and threatening with his fist those who attempted to pass him on either side, he continued his retreat.  It was exciting work, walking backward and at the same time checking that surging mass of men.  But the dark-skinned peoples, the world over, have learned to respect the white man’s fist; and it was the battles fought by many sailors, more than his own warlike front, that gave Alf the victory.

Where the pier adjoins the shore was the station of the harbor police, and Alf backed into the electric-lighted office, very much to the amusement of the dapper lieutenant in charge.  The sampan men, grown quiet and orderly, clustered like flies by the open door, through which they could see and hear what passed.

Alf explained his difficulty in few words, and demanded, as the privilege of a stranger in a strange land, that the lieutenant put him aboard in the police-boat.  The lieutenant, in turn, who knew all the “rules and regulations” by heart, explained that the harbor police were not ferrymen, and that the police-boats had other functions to perform than that of transporting belated and penniless sailor-men to their ships.  He also said he knew the sampan men to be natural-born robbers, but that so long as they robbed within the law he was powerless.  It was their right to collect fares in advance, and who was he to command them to take a passenger and collect fare at the journey’s end?  Alf acknowledged the justice of his remarks, but suggested that while he could not command he might persuade.  The lieutenant was willing to oblige, and went to the door, from where he delivered a speech to the crowd.  But they, too, knew their rights, and, when the officer had finished, shouted in chorus their abominable “Ten sen!  You pay now!  You pay now!”

“You see, I can do nothing,” said the lieutenant, who, by the way, spoke perfect English.  “But I have warned them not to harm or molest you, so you will be safe, at least.  The night is warm and half over.  Lie down somewhere and go to sleep.  I would permit you to sleep here in the office, were it not against the rules and regulations.”