“Yes, I know,” Clarence said, taking them; adding, without stopping his hurried walking, “Retty, I am going. Tell them at home I got three telegrams calling me to San Francisco.”
“But you haven't read them,” urged Everett, trying to follow him.
“But I know what they are; I have another in my pocket.”
Lifting his arm with the telegrams in his hand, he said to the captain:
“Captain, one moment. I must go north. Please take me.”
The captain did not hear him, and at the same time called out:
“Let go that hawser! Do you want it to snap?”
The crowd ran off, giving a wide berth to the heavy rope, which now, by its own tension, made it impossible to be slipped off the pile, although many pairs of hands were tugging at it manfully.
The stern expression of the captain's face softened as he saw Clarence standing on the brink of the wharf.
“Step back, Mr. Darrell, quickly, the rope might part,” said he; but noticing that Clarence desired to speak to him, motioned to the first officer to take his place, and ran down to hear what Clarence said.