As they neared the dock something seemed suddenly to occur to the freckled man. "Great heavens," he murmured. He stared at the approaching shore. "My, what a plight, Tommy," he quavered. "Do you think so?" spoke up the tall man, "Why, I really thought you liked it." He laughed in a hard voice. "Lord, what a figure you'll cut." This laugh jarred the freckled man's soul. He became mad. "Thunderation, turn the boat around," he roared. "Turn 'er round, quick. Man alive, we can't--turn 'er round, d'ye hear." The tall man in the stern gazed at his companion with glowing eyes. "Certainly not," he said. "We're going on. You insisted upon it." He began to prod his companion with words. The freckled man stood up and waved his arms. "Sit down," said the tall man. "You'll tip the boat over." The other man began to shout. "Sit down," said the tall man again. Words bubbled from the freckled man's mouth. There was a little torrent of sentences that almost choked him. And he protested passionately with his hands. But the boat went on to the shadow of the docks. The tall man was intent upon balancing it as it rocked dangerously during his comrade's oration. "Sit down," he continually repeated. "I won't," raged the freckled man. "I won't do anything." The boat wobbled with these words. "Say," he continued, addressing the oarsman, "just turn this boat round, will you. Where in the thunder are you taking us to, anyhow?" The oarsman looked at the sky and thought. Finally he spoke. "I'm doin' what the cap'n sed." "Well, what in th' blazes do I care what the cap'n sed?" demanded the freckled man. He took a violent step. "You just turn this round or--" The small craft reeled. Over one side water came flashing in. The freckled man cried out in fear, and gave a jump to the other side. The tall man roared orders, and the oarsman made efforts. The boat acted for a moment like an animal on a slackened wire. Then it upset. "Sit down," said the tall man, in a final roar as he was plunged into the water. The oarsman dropped his oars to grapple with the gunwale. He went down saying unknown words. The freckled man's explanation or apology was strangled by the water. Two or three tugs let off whistles of astonishment, and continued on their paths. A man dosing on a dock aroused and began to caper. The passengers of a ferry-boat all ran to the near railing. A miraculous person in a small boat was bobbing on the waves near the piers. He sculled hastily toward the scene. It was a swirl of waters in the midst of which the dark bottom of the boat appeared, whale-like. Two heads suddenly came up. "839," said the freckled man, chokingly. "That's it! 839!" "What is?" said the tall man. "That's the number of that feller on Park Place. I just remembered." "You're the bloomingest--" the tall man said.