e rail. Two for the
port engine, two for the starboard, and the _Montana_ began to back into
the gray pall which shrouded the river.

Captain Mayo saw the lines of faces on the pier, husbands and wives,
mothers and sweethearts, bidding good-by to those who waved farewell
from the steamer's decks. He gathered himself with supreme grip of
resolve. It was up to him! He almost spoke it aloud.

Tremors of doubt did not agitate him any longer. It was unthinking
faith, nevertheless it was implicit confidence, that all those folks
placed in him. They were intrusting themselves to his vessel with the
blind assurance of travelers who pursue a regular route, not caring how
the destination is reached as long as they come to their journey's end.

The hoarse, long, warning blast which announced to all in the river that
the steamer was leaving her dock drowned out the shouts of farewell and
the strains of the gay air the orchestra was playing.

"See you later," said General-Manager Fogg. "I think I'll have an early
dinner."

Captain Mayo climbed the short ladder and entered his pilot-house.

It was up to him!

XX ~ TESTING OUT A MAN

Now the first land we made is call-ed The Deadman,
The Ramhead off Plymouth, Start, Portland and Wight.
We sail-ed by Beachy,
By Fairlee and Dungeness,
Until we came abreast of the South Foreland Light.
--Farewell and Adieu.

With starboard engine clawing her backward, and the port engine driving
her ahead, the Montana swung her huge bulk when she was free of the
penning piers. The churning propellers, offsetting, turned her in her
tracks. Then she began to feel her way out of the maze of the traffic.

The grim, silent men of the pilot-houses do not talk much even when they
are at liberty on shore. They are taciturn when on duty. They do not
relate their sensations when they are elbowing their way through the
East River in a fog; they haven't the language to do so.

A psychologist might make much out of the subject by discussing
concentration sublimated, human senses coordinating sight and sound
on the instant, a sort of sixth sense which must be passed on into the
limbos of guesswork as instinct.

The man in the pilot-house would not in the least understand a word of
what the psychologist was talking about.

The steamboat officer merely understands that he must be on his job!

The _Montana_ added her voice to the bedlam