Already the Anne had begun to stagger. At the end of the towing hawser the tug was nosing into the half-spent rollers that got in between the piers, and was tossing the spray up into the wind.
One of the life-saving crew, in shining oilskins, was walking the pier; he paused and looked at them—even called out some words that the wind took from his lips and mockingly swept away. Roche looked at him with dull eyes; saw his lips moving behind his hollowed hands; looked out again at the muddy streaks and the whirling mist, out beyond at the two barges laboring on the horizon, gazed at the white and yellow surf. Then his eye lighted a little, and he made his way back to the wheel.
“Don't be a fool, Dick,” he shouted. “Just look a' that and tell me you can make it. I know better. I'm an old friend, Dick, and I like you better'n anybody, but you mustn't be a dam' fool. Ain't no use bein' a dam' fool.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Lemme blow the horn, Dick.'Taint too late to stop 'em. We can get back all right—start in the mornin'. Don't you see, Dick—”
Smiley's eyes were fixed keenly on him for a moment; then they swept to the windward pier. He snatched the horn from Roche's hand and blew a blast.
The sailors up forward heard it, and shouted and waved their arms. A tug hand, seeing the commotion, though he heard nothing, finally was made to understand, and Captain Peters slowed his engines. Smiley, meanwhile, was steering up close to the windward pier.
“Tumble off there, Pete,” he ordered. “Quick, now.”
“What you going to do to me? Ain't goin' to put me off there, are you?”
“Get a move on, or I 'll throw you off. There's no room for you here.”