omed like a specter from
the smother of fog. The size was greatly enlarged as seen through the
veil of mist, and the dense smoke that poured from her funnel settled
around her like a pall, adding greatly to its weird appearance.

Our captain was on the watch for just such an occurrence, and three
short, sharp blasts from our whistle notified the oncoming boat that
we had stopped our engines. But the tide was running strong, and we
drew closer and closer together, until we involuntarily held our
breath, and nerves were strung to the highest tension. The great
screws churned the water into foam as we slowly backed away from each
other, like gladiators testing each other's strength, and the Southern
Pacific boat vanished into the fog like a ghost, swallowed up, as if
wiped from the face of the waters, sending back its deep bellowing
whistle as if bidding an angry defiance to the elements.

Slowly we moved forward, feeling every inch of the way, like one
groping in the dark, passing boat after boat without accident. One, a
three-masted schooner, loaded with lumber, came so near that we could
toss a stone on board, and a woman who stood in the bow waved a large
tin horn at us, and then applied herself to blowing it most
industriously.

At last the bells on the piers at the ferry came floating across the
waters, faint at first, but growing louder as we advanced, and never
did bells sound sweeter or more welcome I imagine they were thrice
welcome to our captain, for they gave him the direct course to our
anchorage. Slower and yet slower we moved, our screw scarcely making a
ripple on the water, for many other boats were cautiously feeling
their way to their respective berths, and we must use all our caution
not to run foul of them.

At last came the cry from some one, "There's the light," and flashing
out from the pier, its electric rays cutting its way through the wall
of fog, shone that intermittent flame, and we knew that only a few
feet away was the dock and safety.

As the crowd hurried from the boat, anxious to reach their several
places of business without further delay, many turned and looked up at
the wheelhouse, to see the man whose nerve and faithfulness to duty
had piloted us safe to port. In that blue-uniformed figure, still
standing with hand upon the wheel, we saw a person boyish in
appearance, but every inch a man.

[Illustration]

Meiggs' Wharf

North from the ferry building, and near the fo