The unseen ferry-boat was blowing blast after blast, and the mouth-
blown horn was tooting in terror-stricken fashion.

"And now they're payin' their respects to each other and tryin' to
get clear," the red-faced man went on, as the hurried whistling
ceased.

His face was shining, his eyes flashing with excitement as he
translated into articulate language the speech of the horns and
sirens. "That's a steam-siren a-goin' it over there to the left.
And you hear that fellow with a frog in his throat--a steam
schooner as near as I can judge, crawlin' in from the Heads against
the tide."

A shrill little whistle, piping as if gone mad, came from directly
ahead and from very near at hand. Gongs sounded on the Martinez.
Our paddle-wheels stopped, their pulsing beat died away, and then
they started again. The shrill little whistle, like the chirping
of a cricket amid the cries of great beasts, shot through the fog
from more to the side and swiftly grew faint and fainter. I looked
to my companion for enlightenment.

"One of them dare-devil launches," he said. "I almost wish we'd
sunk him, the little rip! They're the cause of more trouble. And
what good are they? Any jackass gets aboard one and runs it from
hell to breakfast, blowin' his whistle to beat the band and tellin'
the rest of the world to look out for him, because he's comin' and
can't look out for himself! Because he's comin'! And you've got
to look out, too! Right of way! Common decency! They don't know
the meanin' of it!"