At this request, real embarrassment descended upon the skipper. After scratching his head reflectively, he went aft to the engine room, or, more accurately, climbed across to the rear barge and entered into conference with Sim. After a period of argument and persuasion, that young man took a slice bar and pounded at the lever of the whistle. A great cloud of steam hissed forth, from the midst of which came a thin wailing note very like in volume those advertising the presence of hot roasted peanuts.
Above the noise came a cry of “Whoa, hold on.” Kelly, followed by Mr. Jones, gallantly guarding Miss Knight, lest she inadvertently plunge headlong into the waves below, descended from the bridge. The stenographer was fittingly garbed for the occasion in flannel trousers, silk shirt, serge coat and yachting cap.
“We can go now, Mr. Quince,” cried Virginia, making herself heard with difficulty above the roar of escaping steam.
“We hain’t a goin’ yet awhile,” bellowed the commander of the Nancy Jane. “The durned old whistle is stuck and a lettin’ all the steam out of the old biler.”
Dr. Jackson and Kelly repaired to the engine room to inspect conditions. In a moment the medical man returned, and, procuring his surgical case, hurried back towards the hissing boiler.
“It’s de fust time ah evah seed er Doctor called fo’ er enjine,” Ike told Serena. “Maybe it got de pip.”
“It soun’ mo’e lak de croup,” chuckled Serena.
With characteristic energy, the doctor applied a bandage to the whistle which so confined the steam that Sim was able, with sundry taps of a wrench, to abate “the hemorrhage of vapor,” as the medical man termed it.
There followed a pleasant period for friendly conversation, disturbed only by the cries of infants, the scrape of the shovel, and the clang of the furnace door.
During this time, the skipper sat on a box and pensively viewed the slow movement of the needle of the steam gauge. Finally he became energetic. Climbing upon the bank, he cast off the forward hawser of the Nancy Jane. Noting the eyes of the passengers to be upon him, he assumed a care free air tinged with a certain dignity, as if the handling of the Nancy Jane, a perplexing problem to others, was a trifling matter to him. Likewise, he entered into explanations, ostensibly for Sim’s benefit. “I’ve cast off the bow line. I’m agoin’ to let the current swing er out, then we’ll start ahead and you cast off that stern line.”