one summoned him.

"This is General-Manager Fogg," the voice informed him, though he did
not require the information; he knew those crisp tones. "I am speaking
from my apartments. Please proceed at once to the _Montana_. I'll come
aboard within an hour."

"Do you expect me to take command--to--take her out to-day?" faltered
Mayo.

"Certainly. Captain Jacobs will transfer command as soon as I get down."

Mayo had just been rejoicing in his heart because Jacobs would be
obliged to bear the responsibility of that day's sailing; he had been
perfectly sure that a new man would not be summoned under the conditions
which prevailed. He wanted to suggest to Manager Fogg that making
the change just then would be inadvisable. He cleared his throat and
searched his soul for words. But a sharp and decisive click told him
that Mr. Fogg considered the matter settled. He came away from the
telephone, dizzy and troubled, and he was not comforted when he
recollected how Manager Fogg had received meek suggestions in the past.
He paid his modest account, took his traveling-bag, and started for the
Vose line pier.

When he saw her looming in the fog--his ship at last--he felt like
running away from her incontinently, instead of running toward her.

Mayo had all of a young man's zeal and ambition and courage--but he had
in full measure a sailor's caution and knowledge of conditions; he had
been trained by that master of caution, Captain Zoradus Wass. He was
really frightened as he stared up at the towering bow, the mighty
flanks, the graceful sweep of superstructure, and realized that he must
guide this giant and her freightage of human beings into the white
void of the fog. In his honesty he acknowledged to himself that he was
frightened.

The whole great fabric fairly shouted responsibility at him.

He was confident of his ability. As chief mate he had mastered the
problems of courses and manoeuvers in the fog along that same route
which he must now take. But until then the supreme responsibility had
devolved upon another.

Men were rushing freight aboard on rattling trucks--parallel lines of
stevedores were working. There were many trunks, avant couriers of the
passengers.

He went aboard by the freight entrance and found his way to the row of
officers' staterooms. He recognized the gray-bearded veteran who was
pacing the alley outside the pilot-house, though the man was not in
uniform; it was the deposed master.

"Good mor