A bell clanged and an officer cried:
"All ashore that's going ashore!"
There were hasty good-byes, a scramble on the part of those who had come to bid friends farewell, and preparations were made to haul in the gangplank.
Just as the tugs were slowly pushing against the Bellaconda to get her in motion to move her away from the wharf, there was a shout down the pier and a taxicab, driven at reckless speed, dashed up.
"Wait a minute! Hold that gangway. I have a passenger for you!" cried the chauffeur.
He pulled up with a screeching of brakes, and a man with a heavy black beard fairly leaped from the vehicle, running toward the plank which was all but cast off.
"My fare! My fare!" yelled the taxicab driver.
"Take it out of that! Keep the change!" cried the bearded man over his shoulder, tossing a crumpled bill to the chauffeur. And then, clutching his valise in a firm hand, the belated passenger rushed up the gangplank just in time to board the steamer which was moving away from the dock.
"Close shave—that," observed Tom.
"That's right," assented Mr. Titus.