Straightdownthewaterfrontweboomed，Charleyedgingintillamancouldalmostleapashore。WhenhegavethesignalItossedthemarlinspike。Itstrucktheplankingofthewharfaresoundingsmash，bouncedalongfifteenortwentyfeet，andwaspounceduponbytheamazedonlookers。
Itallhappenedinaflash，forthenextminuteAntiochwasbehindandwewereheelingituptheSanJoaquintowardMerryweather，sixmilesaway。Theriverstraightenedouthereintoitsgeneraleasterlycourse，andwesquaredawaybeforethewind，wing—and—wingoncemore，theforesailbellyingouttostarboard。
OleEricsenseemedsunkintoastateofstoliddespair。Charleyandthetwosailorswerelookinghopeful，astheyhadgoodreasontobe。Merryweatherwasacoal—miningtown，and，itbeingSunday，itwasreasonabletoexpectthementobeintown。Further，thecoal—minershadneverlostanylovefortheGreekfishermen，andwereprettycertaintorenderusheartyassistance。
Westrainedoureyesforaglimpseofthetown，andthefirstsightwecaughtofitgaveusimmenserelief。Thewharveswereblackwithmen。Aswecamecloser，wecouldseethemstillarriving，stringingdownthemainstreet，gunsintheirhandsandontherun。
Charleyglancedasternatthefishermenwithalookofownershipinhiseyewhichtillthenhadbeenmissing。TheGreekswereplainlyoverawedbythedisplayofarmedstrengthandwereputtingtheirownriflesaway。