tle heed to the hullabaloo. He was too thoroughly absorbed in
his own troubles to feel special interest in what his neighbors were
doing. He did not even note that a fog-sodden breeze had begun to puff
spasmodically from the east and that the mists were shredding overhead.

However, all of a sudden, a sound forced itself on his attention; he
heard the chuckling of sheaves and knew that a sail was being hoisted.
The low-lying stratum of fog was still thick, and he could not perceive
the identity of the craft which proposed to take advantage of the
sluggish breeze. The "ruckle-ruckle" of the blocks sounded at quick
intervals and indicated haste; there was a suggestion of vicious
determination on the part of the men who were tugging at the halyards.
Then Captain Mayo heard the steady clanking of capstan pawls. He knew
the methods of the Apple-treers, their cautiousness, and their leisurely
habits, and he could scarcely believe that a coasting skipper was
intending to leave the harbor that night. But the capstan pawls began to
click in staccato, showing that the anchor had been broken out.

Protesting shouts from all about in the gloom greeted that signal.

There was no mistaking the hoarse voice of Captain Candage when it was
raised in reply; his tones had become familiar after that evening of
malediction.

"Dingdam ye, I know of a way of getting shet of the bunch of ye!"

"Don't try to shift your anchorage!"

"Anchorage be hossified! I'm going to sea!" bellowed the master of the
_Polly_.

"Down with that hook of yours! You'll rake this whole yacht fleet with
your old dumpcart!"

"You have driv' me to it! Now you can take your chances!"

The next moment Mayo heard the ripping of tackle and a crash.

"There go two tenders and our boat-boom! Confound it, man, drop your
hook!"

But from that moment Captain Candage, as far as his mouth was concerned,
preserved ominous silence. The splintery speech of havoc was more
eloquent.

Mayo could not see, but he understood in detail what damage was wrought
upon the delicate fabric of yachts by that unwieldy old tub of a
schooner. Here, another boat-boom carried away, as she sluggishly thrust
her bulk out through the fleet; there an enameled hull raked by her
rusty chain-plate bolts. Now a tender smashed on the outjutting davits,
next a wreck of spidery head-rigging, a jib-boom splintered and a
foretopmast dragged down. If Captain Mayo had been in any doubt as to
the detai