Blow the Man Down - A Romance of the Coast - Page 165/334

"That's the way to talk; but we've got to have hustle and dash, and

young men can give us what we're after. It doesn't mean that you've got

to take reckless chances."

"I hope not, Mr. Fogg. My training with Captain Wass has been the other

way. And if you could only give him--"

"Captain, you've got your own row to hoe. Keep your eye on it," advised

the general manager, sharply. "I'm picking captains for the Vose boats,

and I think I understand my business. Now what I want to know is, do you

have confidence in me? Are you going to be loyal to me?"

"Yes, sir!" affirmed Mayo, impressed by his superior's brisk, brusque

business demeanor.

"Exactly! And the only talk I want you to turn loose is to the effect

that you believe I'm doing my best to make this line worth something to

the stockholders. Where are you stopping?"

Mayo named a little hotel around the corner.

"I'll put you aboard the Montana just as soon as I can arrange the

details of transfer. I may let Jacobs make another trip or so. Report

here each morning at nine. For the rest of the time keep within reach of

the hotel telephone."

Mayo saluted and went out.

Fogg called the observer at the weather bureau on the telephone and

asked some questions. He was informed that the wind had swung into the

northwest and that the long-prevailing fog had been blown off the coast.

Mr. Fogg appeared to feel somewhat peevish over this sudden departure

of the weather phenomenon which bore his family name. He slammed the

receiver on to the hook and said a naughty word. A person overhearing

might have wondered a bit, for here was a steamboat manager cursing the

absence of the fog instead of preserving his profanity to expend on the

presence of the demoralizing mists. But the reign of the north wind in

late summer is never long; three days later the breeze shifted, and the

gray banks of the fog marched in from the open sea.

Mayo was awakened early by the clamor of the whistles of river craft,

for the little hotel was near the water-front. He saw the fog drifting

in shredded masses against the high buildings, shrouding the towers.

He had been waiting his call to duty with much impatience, finding the

confinement of the hotel irksome in the crisp days of sunlight, eager to

be out and about this splendid new duty which promised so much.

It was the Montana's sailing-day from the New York end.