early boat catches the plane. It happened that we had arranged for a mooring of our own to which we wished to be directed. But each local optimist felt that if he contrived to get us in tow first he could take the prize to his own mooring and reap appropriate reward.
Poised in the bows of the launches each maritime cowboy whirled aloft a coil of rope, attempting to cast it at us. Slim, out on the pontoon, was doing his best to keep clear and yelled frantically to ward them off. The noise of the idling motors, augmented by the racket of the small boats, made hearing difficult. I was convulsed with laughter. In the cockpit, Bill, I fear, was talking to God about it. What concerned him most was the risk of ropes becoming entangled in the propellers, and especially the danger to the visitors themselves in getting too close to whirling props. At the height of the excitement enthusiasm completely overcame one would-be welcomer. He hurled his rope and
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