We groped through the empty passageway, and down the basement-stair.
The thick cobwebs swept my face. I noted them with joy, for I thought
they proved that the house had been deserted for some time, and so
perhaps it might not be infected.

We descended into a room which seemed to have been the kitchen.
There was a stove dimly visible at one side, and an old broken
kettle on the floor, over which we stumbled. The back door was
locked. But it swung outward as I broke it open. We stood upon a
narrow, dingy beach, where the small waves were lapping.

By this time the "little day" had begun to whiten the eastern sky;
a pallid light was diffused; I could see westward down to the main
harbor, beside the heart of the city. The sails and smoke-stacks
of great ships were visible, all passing out to sea. I wished that
we were there.

Here in front of us the water seemed shallower. It was probably only
a tributary or backwater of the main stream. But it was sprinkled
with smaller vessels--sloops, and yawls, and luggers--all filled
with people and slowly creeping seaward.

There was one little boat, quite near to us, which seemed to be
waiting for some one. There were some people on it, but it was not
crowded.

"Come," I said, "this is for us. We must wade out to it."

So I took my wife by the hand, and the child in the other arm,