noon
The roar of the docks surged through dull and confused , a medley of clanking hatch-covers , complaining tackle , deep-throated protests of donkey-engines , outlandish commands from stevedores , and the yelps of high-strung little tugs bossing the lighters . Vanderzee pottered at his books behind the bar , smoking a china pipe . His watchful eye was on his Chinese boy polishing the brasswork of the taps . The last of the noon idlers had gone , and the door leading to the Mole was shut against the hot breeze lifting from the sun 's glare on the river . Then a beam of light whipped across the floor with a shuffle of feet on the stone steps outside . Captain Dinshaw tottered in , gasping for breath and shaking with excitement . `` Van ! ''