my companion

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my companionI looked ro my companion for enlightenment. 'One of them dare-devil launches," he said. *1 almost wish we'd sunk him, (he little rip! They're (he cause of more (rouble. And what good are (hey? Any jackass gets aboard one and runs it from hdl to breakfast, blowin' his whisde (o beat (he band and (cllin* (he rest of (he world to look out for him, because he's comin' and can't look ou( for himself! Because he's comin'! And you've got to look ou(, (oo! Right of way! Common decency! They don't know (he meanin' of it!" I felt quite amused at his unwarranted choler, and while he stumped indignantly up and down I fell to dwelling upon the romance of the fog. And romantic it cettainly was—the fog, like the grey shadow of infinite mystery, brooding over the whirling speck of earth; and men, mere motes of light Beats By Dr Dre and sparkle, cursed with an insane relish for work, riding their steeds of wood and steel through the heart of the mystery, groping tlieir way blindly dtrough the Unseen, and damouring and danging in confident speech the while thdr hearts are heavy with incertitude and fear. The voice of my companion brought me back to mysdf with a laugh. I too had been groping and floundering, the while I thought I rode dear-eyed through the mystery, "Hdlo! somebody comin' our way," he was saying. "And d'ye hear that? He's comin' fast. Walking right along. Guess he don't hear us yet. Wind's in wrong direction.* The fresh breeze was blowing right down upon us, and I could hear the whistle plainly, off to one side and a little ahead. "Feny-boat?" I asked. He nodded, then added, "Or he wotddn'r be keepin' up such a dip." He gave a short chuckle. "They're gettin' anxious up there." I glanced up. The captain had thrust his head and shoulders Beats By Dre out of the pilot-house, and was staring intently into the fog as though by sheer force of will he could penetrate it His face was anxious, as was the face of my companion, who Dr Dre Headphones had stumped over to the rail and was gazing with a like intentness in the direction of the invisible danger. Then everything happened, and with inconceivable rapidity. The fog seemed to break away as though split by a wedge, and die bow of a steamboat emerged, trailing fog-wreaths on cither side like seaweed on the snout of Leviathan. I could see the pilot-house and a white-bearded man leaning partly out of it, on his elbows. He was clad in a blue uniform, and I remember noting how trim and quiet he was. His quietness, under the circumstances, was terrible. He accepted Destiny, marched hand in hand with it, and coolly measured the stroke. As he leaned there, he ran a calm and speculative eye over us, as though to determine the precise point of the collision, and took no notice whatever when our pilot, white with rage, shouted, "Now you've done it!" On looking back,