"The slide is about two miles in length, lady," replied one of the conductors.
"Don't take our picture now with our hair flying wildly," exclaimed an occupant of a sled just arriving, to a friend with a camera.
"Your request comes too late," he answered. "I have pressed the button."
"I hope it will not be a good one," she wished, but it was.
When we returned to the Moltke many row-boats were clustered around the vessel. Some of these had brought visitors who desired to inspect the ship. Some contained Portuguese merchants, who, with cargoes of embroidery, wicker chairs, straw goods, fruits, photographs, and curios, had been patiently awaiting our return. When they were permitted to come on board they displayed their wares upon the deck and made many sales. Other small craft contained half-naked boys who shouted to us to test their skill as divers by throwing pennies into the clear but deep emerald water, claiming that they could secure the money before it reached the bottom of the bay. We complied with the boys' request and exhausted the ship's supply of pennies in putting their dexterity to the proof. When the money was thrown into the sea the young experts, diving like beavers and successful in securing the money, rose to the surface and clambered into the boats holding the coins in their mouths. One youth more daring than the others mounted to the upper deck of our steamer and offered, if a shilling instead of a penny was thrown into the water, to plunge from his high perch to the sea fifty feet below and get the silver. And he won much applause by successfully accomplishing the feat.
THE TUG CARRIED US TO THE MOLTKE.
Toward evening the whistle of the steamer sounded warning notes. The time for sailing was at hand. The tourists who had been loitering on the shore hastened to return. The peddlers on the deck reluctantly packed their unsold wares and with their bundles descended the ship's ladder. The visitors, after courteously bidding adieu to the officials who had been entertaining them, took their departure. But the trained swimmers whose antics in the water were giving so much amusement tarried until ordered away. Then while our band played a farewell air, Sousa's "Hands Across the Sea," the Moltke slowly steamed out of the harbor.