“The boat is waiting.  Now, Old Steadfast—­Senor Nobody—­”

“Old Saracen, we used to say that we’d go one day to India—­”

“Yes—­”

“Well, let us go!”

“Us—­”

“Why not?”

They stood with the table between them.  Alexander’s hands moved toward Ian’s.  They took hands; there followed a strong, a convulsive pressure.

“We sin in differing ways and at differing times,” said Alexander, “but we all sin.  And we all struggle with it and through it and onward!  And there must be some kind of star upon our heights.  Well, let us work toward it together, Old Saracen!”

They went out of the cabin and upon the deck.  The boat that had brought them was gone.  They saw it in the moonlight, half-way back to the quay.  On the Seawing, sailors were lifting anchor.  They stood and watched.  The moon was paling; there came the scent of morning; far upon the shore a cock crew.  The Seawing’s crew were making sail.  Out and up went her pinions, filled with a steady and favoring wind.  She thrilled; she moved; she left the harbor for a new voyage, fresh wonder of the eternal world.