Blow the Man Down - A Romance of the Coast

He had gone to sleep thrilling with the earnest hope that he would be

called to take her out. But when he looked out into that morning, saw

the draping curtains of the stalking mists, heard the frantic squallings

of craft in the harbor, frenzied howls of alarm, hoarse hootings of

protests and warnings, he was suddenly and pointedy anxious to have

his elevation to the pilot-house of the Montana deferred. Better the

smoky, cramped office of the little hotel where he had been chafing in

dismal waiting. He was perfectly willing to sit there and study

over again the advertising chromos on the walls and gaze out on the

everlasting procession of rumbling drays. But at eight o'clock the

telephone summoned him.

"This is General-Manager Fogg," the voice informed him, though he did

not require the information; he knew those crisp tones. "I am speaking

from my apartments. Please proceed at once to the Montana. I'll come

aboard within an hour."

"Do you expect me to take command--to--take her out to-day?" faltered

Mayo.

"Certainly. Captain Jacobs will transfer command as soon as I get down."

Mayo had just been rejoicing in his heart because Jacobs would be

obliged to bear the responsibility of that day's sailing; he had been

perfectly sure that a new man would not be summoned under the conditions

which prevailed. He wanted to suggest to Manager Fogg that making

the change just then would be inadvisable. He cleared his throat and

searched his soul for words. But a sharp and decisive click told him

that Mr. Fogg considered the matter settled. He came away from the

telephone, dizzy and troubled, and he was not comforted when he

recollected how Manager Fogg had received meek suggestions in the past.

He paid his modest account, took his traveling-bag, and started for the

Vose line pier.

When he saw her looming in the fog--his ship at last--he felt like

running away from her incontinently, instead of running toward her.

Mayo had all of a young man's zeal and ambition and courage--but he had

in full measure a sailor's caution and knowledge of conditions; he had

been trained by that master of caution, Captain Zoradus Wass. He was

really frightened as he stared up at the towering bow, the mighty

flanks, the graceful sweep of superstructure, and realized that he must

guide this giant and her freightage of human beings into the white

void of the fog. In his honesty he acknowledged to himself that he was

frightened.

The whole great fabric fairly shouted responsibility at him.

He was confident of his ability. As chief mate he had mastered the

problems of courses and manoeuvers in the fog along that same route

which he must now take. But until then the supreme responsibility had

devolved upon another.