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Updated: June 14, 2025
Now it may strike ye, gents, that I am not much of a sailor neither, to be driftin' about here at night in this fog instead of anchorin' and tootin' a foghorn; but ye see, I did anchor in the fore part of the night, and after Abner had gone to his bunk we don't keep regular watches, but kinder divide the night between us, when we are out on the bay, which isn't common, for we like to tie up at night, and do our sailin' in the daytime it struck me that as the tide was runnin' out we might as well let it take us to Simpson's Bar, which, if ye don't know this bay, is a big shallow place, where there is always water enough for us, bein' a good deal on the flat-bottomed order, but where almost any steamin' craft at low tide would stick in the mud before they could run into us.
Not a house nor a hut anywhere, not a trace of the presence of man, not even so it chanced another sail upon the sea! It is close upon sunset, the foresail is backed, the pilot's signal is flying, and the foghorn sounding, and soon we shall see if there is any life or not in this weird new land.
His voice, strongly resembling a foghorn, arose in threat and expostulation unceasingly, and the miners, who evidently knew him well, and perhaps had previously tested the weight of his fist, were lamb-like and obedient to his control. "They'll be quiet enough fer a while, leftenant," he managed to whisper hoarsely to me.
Shall I get a foghorn and let you have it that way?" "Then, look here, Cotton. If you didn't send it, your underscoring of my name on the house list because I couldn't subscribe was the act of an arrant cad." Cotton winced at Gus's concise definition, but he said, "Oh, get out, you fool!"
And deepmoved all, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben Dollard, in right good cheer. You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell said. Miss Douce composed her rose to wait. Ben machree, said Mr Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Fit as a fiddle only he has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his person. Rrrrrrrsss.
Knowing full well that a halt of a single minute would mean a general mustering of the population, and an importuning rabble following me through the unridable mud, I ignore the old melon-man's foghorn efforts to arrest my onward progress; but he proves a most vociferous and persistent specimen of his class.
The boys for their part waved with all their might and Billy blew a blast on the foghorn. "Aft there aft and dip your colors!" shouted Bluewater Bill. Ben Stubbs scrambled to the stern and dipped the flag again and again as the big black craft rushed on, without, however, noticing the courtesy of the small boat. As she sped by the boys spied her name, Brazos, in big gilt letters on her stern.
The planking creaked as the strangers tip-toed inside. There appeared to be several of them. A sloshing of water as they boarded the big launch, then the first fitful rustlings of the engine as it was turned over. Soon its loud staccatto rose above the wail of the foghorn. Had the house been robbed? Phil dismissed this idea at once.
Moments dragged by with agonizing slowness. Tom felt as if his last ounce of breath were being squeezed out by the viselike pressure. Suddenly a gravelly Western voice reached him, singing "Home on the Range." It drew closer, swelling into a foghorn drone as the lab door swung open. "Good old Chow!" Tom thought. "Thank heavens!"
Some sort of a ah steam whistle, isn't it?" "Foghorn over to the light," replied Raish, briskly. "Well, sir, here you be." The car rolled up to the side of the road and stopped. "Here you be, Mr. Bangs," repeated Mr. Pulcifer. "Here's where Hall lives, right here." Mr. Bangs seemed somewhat astonished. "Right here?" he asked. "Dear me, is it possible!"
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