“Heigh, there!” shouted Jim, furiously, to the man he saw grinning from the pilot house, “don’t you start until I get on with these presents!”
Jim’s father tried to prevent his son from springing on board the yacht where all hands were hastening to cast off, but Jim had not become an expert football player on Yale’s team for nothing.
In a few giant leaps he was on board and in a few more strides he joined the young people. Naturally the young contingent congratulated him upon arriving just in time, and the elders laughed tolerantly.
“Think I was going to chase all over the West Side for decent candies and flowers and then get left at the last moment?” demanded Jim, mopping his perspiring face with his handkerchief.
“You’re just in time to say goodby and get off again,” hinted his brother Tom, who felt that his temperamental younger brother might interrupt his planned tête-à-têtes with Polly that evening.
“Leave nothing!” retorted Jim. “I’ll get off where you do.” His hearers laughed.
“I’m sailing with them as far as Florida,” remarked Tom, coolly.
“Yeh! Then so am I!” was all Jim said, as he turned away to look for Mr. Dalken.
A last and final shriek from the whistle sounded, and at the same time a voice bawled out orders. The Captain was seen watching the group of young friends, but his face looked like a black thunder-cloud. It was evident to all that not only the Captain, but the owner of the yacht, as well, were in no good humor at the behavior of the pilot. But the pilot cared nothing for friendship or lovers, and he did care for his capacity to earn dollars.
Paul shouted to his companions to run for the gang-plank, when he saw two sailors stand ready to cast off. Before Paul could warn his friends of the need of haste, a loud voice bawled: “Stand ready to cast off lines!” Then quickly followed the command: “Cast off!”