Ramsey's beckon, however, was to Hugh. Her bright smile did not hide her mental pain, which drew him to her swiftly despite the twins' deepening frown. The two brothers heard the question she asked him when he was but half-way; perhaps she meant they should. "Can you call through Mr. Watson's speaking-tube to mom-a—and the commodore?"
"Certainly."
"Tell them"—tears suddenly belied her brightness—"to come up to the bishop, quick. I'm 'fraid—afraid——"
A word or two more Hugh failed to hear, but even the twins, at their distance, read them on her lips:
"The bishop's going to die."
She sprang to Gilmore. His arm was about Basile; he was trying his pulse. The twins would have followed but in between came senator—general—all that company, moved by physical foreknowledge of an invitation whose drawing power outweighed whatever else land, water, sky, or man could offer. Suddenly it pealed in their midst:
"Ringading tingalingaty, ringadang ding——"
The captain stayed by his chair. "Cast off," he said to the mate beneath, and to Watson above: "Back your starboard."
A jingle sounded below. The steam roared from one scape and widened aloft like a magic white tree—twice—thrice. "Stop her." It ceased. She swung. "Go ahead on both." Two white trees shot up together and trembling she went. Down in the quivering cabin, round the shining board, every one's spirit rose with the rising speed.
"Senator, 'twas I sent you them hot rolls, suh."