There could be no harm in calling up Mrs. Thomas' boarding-house in Prytania Street, telling Townsend they were off and saying good-by. A word of that kind with Townsend would prove reassuring.
The idea was no sooner conceived than it was carried out. But Matt was destined to disappointment. He was informed by "central" that the wire was busy, and, as it was already five minutes of ten, he had no time to wait.
Throwing the receiver back on the hooks, he left the hotel and ran toward the Fruit Company's dock. The warning bell of the Santa Maria was ringing, and deck hands were preparing to haul in the gang plank as he rushed across it.
"Py chiminy, aber dot vas some glose connections!" cried Carl, who, with Dick, was waiting and watching for Matt.
"A miss is as good as a mile," Matt replied. "Have you seen Miss Harris?"
"She's forward, matey," said Dick.
"We'll stow the luggage somewhere," went on Matt, "and then go forward ourselves and see the boat get away."
The baggage was piled in the cabin, and when the three boys reappeared and made their way toward the forward part of the main deck the Santa Maria was shivering from stem to stern under the impetus of her powerful engines and drawing away from the dock and into the channel.
There were a dozen or more people on the dock waving hats and handkerchiefs, while a dozen or more were clustered at the steamer's rail returning the parting salutes.
"Dere iss nopody dere to vave goot-py ad us," remarked Carl, "not efen Downsent!"