The river pilot boarded us below Gravesend, and the first words I heard him say were: &lsquo;You may just as well take your port anchor inboard at once, Mr. Mate.&rsquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;This had been done when I went forward. I saw Maggie on the forecastle head enjoying the bustle and I begged her to go aft, but she took no notice of me, of course. Then Charley, who was very busy with the head gear, caught sight of her and shouted in his biggest voice: &lsquo;Get off the forecastle head, Maggie. You&rsquo;re in the way here.&rsquo; For all answer she made a funny face at him, and I saw poor Charley turn away, hiding a smile. She was flushed with the excitement of getting home again, and her blue eyes seemed to snap electric sparks as she looked at the river. A collier brig had gone round just ahead of us, and our tug had to stop her engines in a hurry to avoid running into her. </p> <p> &ldquo;In a moment, as is usually the case, all the shipping in the reach seemed to get into a hopeless tangle. A schooner and a ketch got up a small collision all to themselves right in the middle of the river. It was exciting to watch, and, meantime, our tug remained stopped. Any other ship than that brute could have been coaxed to keep straight for a couple of minutes&mdash;but not she! Her head fell off at once, and she began to drift down, taking her tug along with her. I noticed a cluster of coasters at anchor within a quarter of a mile of us, and I thought I had better speak to the pilot. &lsquo;If you let her get amongst that lot,&rsquo; I said, quietly, &lsquo;she will grind some of them to bits before we get her out again.&rsquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;&lsquo;Don&rsquo;t I know her!&rsquo; cries he, stamping his foot in a perfect fury. And he out with his whistle to make that bothered tug get the ship&rsquo;s head up again as quick as possible. He blew like mad, waving his arm to port, and presently we could see that the tug&rsquo;s engines had been set going ahead. Her paddles churned the water, but it was as if she had been trying to tow a rock&mdash;she couldn&rsquo;t get an inch out of that ship. Again the pilot blew his whistle, and waved his arm to port. We could see the tug&rsquo;s paddles turning faster and faster away, broad on our bow. </p> <p> &ldquo;For a moment tug and ship hung motionless in a crowd of moving shipping, and then the terrific strain that evil, stony-hearted brute would always put on everything, tore the towing-chock clean out. The tow-rope surged over, snapping the iron stanchions of the head-rail one after another as if they had been sticks of sealing-wax. It was only then I noticed that in order to have a better view over our heads, Maggie had stepped upon the