"Drowned!" shrieked the father.
The young clerk was silent and appalled.
"Oh, curse that harbor! Curse that harbor!" the old man groaned.
"Perhaps, sir," faltered the clerk, "Mr. Bodine can—"
"Bodine! Bodine! what in hell had he to do with it?"
"I could not learn the particulars beyond that Mr. George was—was—in saving Mr. Bodine, his daughter, and two other ladies—"
"Now may all the infernal powers blast that rebel!" and the old man rushed down the stairway.
The frightened clerk and waiter followed hastily, and restrained him as he was opening the front door.
"Sir, dear sir, be patient—"
"Now, Marse Houghton, wot you gwine ter do?" cried the negro.