Several vessels were on the stocks in the shipyards, and the sound of hammering could be heard, while crews of men were seen busily working about them.
The harbor was filled with shipping. Lying at her wharf, taking on freight and passengers, was the Boston boat, City of Bangor, bound for the “Hub.”
“Where will you anchor, Frank?” asked Bart Hodge, approaching Merry.
“Beyond the steamboat wharf where that fleet of small boats and yachts are anchored.”
Clang-clang! clang-clang! The bell on the steamer suddenly rang, and Frank knew what the signal meant.
“She is going to swing off from the wharf,” he said. “It is high water, so I will hold inshore and let her go outside.”
The steamer’s paddle wheels began to revolve, and she swung round at the southern end of the wharf, straining at the huge cable that held and turned her. It took some time for her to turn, but a sudden toot from her whistle told that at last she was ready to go ahead. Then the cable was flung off and the great boat glided down the harbor.
A stream of teams and human beings were leaving the wharf and climbing the hill into the city, but on the wharf remained a group of young men and boys, all dressed in bicycle suits. They seemed to be watching the White Wings with remarkable interest.
“Wonder why those cyclists are watching us?” said Diamond.
“I was wondering about the same thing,” admitted Frank.