He had forgotten about the time and was surprised when the whistles all
over the town began to blow for noon. In an instant Vandover was hungry
again. It was all one that he chewed the little pulp of cocoanut rind
more vigorously than ever, swallowed great draughts of water at the
public fountains; the little gnawing just between his chest and his
stomach began to persist. He got up and began to walk. He left the Plaza
behind him, crossed Kearney Street and went on down Clay Street till he
reached the water front. For a time he found a certain diversion among
the shipping and especially in watching a gang of caulkers knocking away
at the seams of an immense coal steamer. He sat upon a great iron
clamped pile, spitting into the yellow water below. The air was full of
the smell of bilge and oakum and fish; the thousands of masts made a
gray maze against the sky; occasionally an empty truck trundled over the
hollow docks with a sound of distant cannon. A weakness, a little
trembling that seemed to come from the pit of his stomach, began upon
Vandover.
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