In she backed, a foot at a time, and Captain Murphy, up on the
topgallant fo'castle, was within easy conversational distance of Matt
Peasley, standing on the grating at the stern of the Sea Fox.
"Better grab this heaving line, Mike," Matt suggested.
"Come aboard and have a drink, Matt, but leave your line behind you,"
Murphy answered hospitably.
The Sea Fox drifted down fifteen or twenty feet, swung slowly, headed
out to sea, and then backed gingerly in until her stern was within a
few feet of the side of the Retriever.
"Hey, you! What d'ye mean to do? Back into her?" yelled Matt Peasley
to his mate. "Full speed ahead! Quick!"
A bell jangled in the bowels of the Sea Fox, her great screw churned
the water and she shot out from the Retriever.
"That's right! Go clear over to China, and expect me to haggle with
this man through the megaphone, eh?" Matt roared. "Back up again!"
"I tell you, Matt, there isn't the slightest use hanging round for
us," Murphy warned the towboat skipper. "I wouldn't let the ship be
held up by anybody, least of all a towboat man."
"Well, when the lookout on Point Reyes telephoned into our office that
the Retriever was inside the Point, I made up my mind I'd come out and
get her, and I don't purpose being disappointed," Matt replied
jokingly.
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