Then as a small, quiet hand pulled a lever, I felt a leap of power
beneath me, the boat careened as she turned, then righted, there was a
second pull on the lever, another surging leap of speed, and as we
rushed out on the river now up rose her bow higher and higher, a huge
white wave on either side. The spray dashed in our faces. Everyone began
talking excitedly. Only the Buttons kept his monkey eyes fixed anxiously
on his captain's face while he clasped the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, Buttons, don't be such a coward," she said. "I tell you it's smooth
and you won't be sick! Go out there and stop being silly!"

Slowly and with elaborate caution the monkey crept forward over the
cabin. For a moment up at the bow he paused, a ridiculous little
dark-jacketed figure between the two white crests of our waves. Then
with a spring he was up to his place on the top of the light, and there
with gay gesticulations he greeted every vessel we passed.

I had taken a seat by Eleanore's side. She was driving her boat with
eyes straight ahead. Now and then she would close them, draw in a deep
breath of the rough salt air, and smile contentedly to herself. After a
time I heard her voice, low and intimate as before:

"Finished up that hideous harbor of yours?"

"No," I answered hungrily, "I think I've just begun." I caught a gleam
in her eyes.

"You'll be out of your rut in a moment," she said.

"What do you mean, my rut?" I demanded.

"The East River, Stupid--wait and see."

From the little East River corner I'd lived in, we sped far out on the
Upper Bay, a rushing black speck on a dim expanse, with dark, empty
fields of water around us, long, luminous paths stretching off to the
shores, where the lights twinkled low for miles and miles and there were
sudden bursts of flame from distant blast furnace fires.

"Tell me what you've been writing about this hideous place," she said.

"Who said it was hideous at night? Of course if you wrap it all up in
the dark, so that you can see none of its sea hogs----"

"What's a sea hog?"

"A sea hog is a wallowing boat with a long, black, heavy snout." And
mustering all that was left of my hatred I plunged into my picture. "The
whole place is like that," I ended. "Full of smoke and dirt and
disorder, everything rushing and jamming together. That's how it looks
to me in the daytime!"

"Are you sure it does--still?"

"I am," I answered firmly. "And I'm going to write it just as it look