Frontier Boys on the Coast Part 17

Juarez lay down quickly as though asleep. Then the man reached down and caught hold of Tom's foot and Juarez's and gave them a rough yank. "So you are here, you young brats. You had better make a move or the Cap'n will finish you."

Juarez was fairly sizzling with rage especially as Tom was really frightened by being wakened in such rough fashion and after all Tom was but a boy and it pained Juarez to see him so scared, but he was helpless, and all he could do was to add one more black mark to the score he was charging up to the free-booters.

Instead of moving away, the man sat on a capstan a few feet distant from the boys' den, watching for the slightest move on their part, a marlin spike dangling playfully in his hands. Juarez had not taken the crafty and keen sighted Captain Broom into account.

From the Bridge, that worthy, although he was watching the launching of the boat, had chanced to catch sight out of the tail of his eye of a dark shadow flitting back to the forecastle. He was not sure it was one of the boys, but he was taking no chances, for he had a real respect for their prowess and audacity as he might well have.

So he had sent one of his crew to guard this young lions' den, while the ship was so close in sh.o.r.e. He did not intend to stay longer than was necessary right at this point, and he waited with some anxiety for the return of the mate and Pete in the boat.

It was now two o'clock in the morning and Captain Broom wanted to be out at sea a good safe distance before the light broke. The mate's boat had now been gone over a half-hour, and the Captain stood at the end of the Bridge looking towards the sh.o.r.e. There was not a light upon the vessel to show her position. She lay silent and black upon the dark waters.

Then the Captain straightened up. He saw a moving body approaching the ship and heard the slight dip of oars. Then the boat was alongside and instead of two men, there were three in the boat. The Captain went down to the main deck to meet them.

CHAPTER XIX

THE Pa.s.sENGER

They met without any formality. The new pa.s.senger was a tall, slightly stooped man, with long hair falling down to his shoulders. Juarez was exceedingly anxious to see him, but could make out only a dark form moving along the deck.

"Come to the cabin, Jeems," called the Captain. "I've got something to tell ye."

They were soon seated in the Captain's cabin. This was a good-sized room, panelled in light wood and very neatly kept. There was quite a broad table of the same wood as the walls and a swivel chair in front of it. The Captain seated himself in this chair and whirled to talk to the visitor from the sh.o.r.e.

It was evident that he was not a temporary visitor for scarcely had they seated themselves in the cabin than the Sea Eagle slowly and gently turned and they felt the pulsation of her engines as she headed once more for sea. The man was seated on a sea chest opposite the Captain.

He wore long cowhide boots, with jeans pants thrust into their tops, flannel shirt of a nondescript color and a corduroy jacket. His hat was of a battered gray. The face was smooth-shaven, deeply lined and burnt to a dull brown. The hair which came down to his shoulders had that peculiar sun-burnt weathered tinge that comes from continual exposure to the weather. He was not an old man, probably on the sunny side of forty.

"Well, Jeems, what is your news?" inquired the Captain.

"The government boat is in the harbor, that's all." The Captain gave a low, peculiar whistle.

"When did she show up?" he asked.

"Two days ago, Cap'n," he replied.

"Come from the South?"

"Yes," replied the man. "Put in for coal, I reckon."

"Then put out for us," said the Captain briefly.

"Any 'baccy, Cap'n? Been out two days," remarked Jeems.

"Lift your lanky frame off that chest," replied the Captain, "and I'll git you some."

The man sprang up with remarkable alacrity, and as he unfolded length after length of his long figure, it seemed as if his head would touch the ceiling of the cabin. In fact, he did not miss it by many inches.

It was a comical contrast between the short stooping figure of the Captain and the tall stranger.

"Waal, Jeems, I wouldn't advise you to grow any more, or I'll have to raise the roof of my cabin."

"That's what, Cap'n," replied Jeems imperturbably. "That's what happens when you grow up in Californy. You grow all the year around, and not like in New England where the winters makes you stubby."

Then the native philosopher seated himself on the chest again and took long and delightful pulls at his recently staked pipe.

"Hum!" he said. "This tastes right. Did yer ever know what it war to be starved for yer 'baccy, Cap'n?"

"No," replied the Captain, "I can't say that I ever did."

"Well, I want to tell you, Cap'n, that it is worse than going without water and I know what that is. Been on a desert till my tongue was as thick as a cow's, and hung out between my teeth, black."

"How long have you been away?" inquired the Captain.

"Three weeks, Cap'n."

"How are the sheep lookin'?"

"Pretty fair, Cap'n," he replied. "I think that they had a whiff of rain over there a few days ago."

"It won't be long till we git the rains," suggested the Captain.

"I don't know, Cap'n," remarked the lanky one. "The climate of Californy is a curious proposition. It's built on the bias down at this end."

"How's that?" asked the Captain curiously. He had a certain interest in this particular courier's theories, however he might laugh at their peculiarities. For there was apt to be a basis of reason in them.

"Well, it's this way, Cap'n," said James Howell, to give him his correct name, thrusting one lanky hand deep into his jeans pocket and bending forward awkwardly. "It's this way. You see the storms come down from the North to the Tehatchipei mountains, where there isn't any way for them to get through to the south. Then the clouds shift around to Arizony, and if the wind is right they are blown through the pa.s.ses of the Sierra Madre into Southern Californy, then we get the rain. That's why I said, Cap'n, that this dazzling climate is built on the bias."

"Waal, Jeems, as a weather prophet you can't be beat," said the Skipper.

"In my business I get plenty of time to think, Cap'n," he remarked, "and as they ain't much to see except climate I think about that."

"Waal, I have a good sight more than that to consider," replied the Skipper. "I'm thinking right now about that government boat. I'm going on deck. You can turn in."

The Captain showed him to an empty cabin and the lanky stranger proceeded to make himself comfortable for the balance of the night, while the Captain went up on the Bridge.

"Where are you heading this boat to?" he asked gruffly of the man at the wheel.

Then he took the helm himself and immediately the Sea Eagle's prow pointed to the Westward as if she were heading directly for j.a.pan.

However, she held this course for only an hour and a half when the Skipper swung her bow once more to the South.

Long before the morning broke, Tom and Juarez, hauled out of their resting place, were set to scrubbing the decks and rubbing them down with holy-stone. They waited eagerly for the first break of day to see where they were.

Then the light came slowly through the fog-covered sky, showing a glossy sea with a slight swell and not a sign of land anywhere. The boys'

hearts sank within them and they felt sure that they would not see their native land again.