"[...]clear," the red-faced man went on, as the hurried whistling ceased. His face was shining, his eyes flashing with excitement as he translated into articulate language the speech of the horns and sirens. "That's a steam-siren a-goin' it over there to the left. And you hear that fellow with a frog in his throat-a steam schooner as near as I can judge, crawlin' in from the Heads against the tide." A shrill little whistle, piping as if gone mad, came from directly ahead and from very near at hand. Gongs sounded on the ...
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"[...]clear," the red-faced man went on, as the hurried whistling ceased. His face was shining, his eyes flashing with excitement as he translated into articulate language the speech of the horns and sirens. "That's a steam-siren a-goin' it over there to the left. And you hear that fellow with a frog in his throat-a steam schooner as near as I can judge, crawlin' in from the Heads against the tide." A shrill little whistle, piping as if gone mad, came from directly ahead and from very near at hand. Gongs sounded on the Martinez. Our paddle-wheels stopped, their pulsing beat died away, and then they started again. The shrill little whistle, like the chirping of a cricket amid the cries of great beasts, shot through the fog from more to the side and swiftly grew faint and fainter. I looked to my [...]."
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