THE CRUISE OF THE DAZZLER

by

JACK LONDON

1902

FOREWORD

Tempting boys to be what they should be--giving them in wholesome formwhat they want--that is the purpose and power of Scouting. To help parentsand leaders of youth secure _books boys like best_ that are also best forboys, the Boy Scouts of America organized EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY. The booksincluded, formerly sold at prices ranging from $1. 50 to $2. 00 but, byspecial arrangement with the several publishers interested, are now soldin the EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY Edition at $1. 00 per volume. 

The books of EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY were selected by the Library Commissionof the Boy Scouts of America, consisting of George F. Bowerman, Librarian, Public Library of the District of Columbia; Harrison W. Craver, Director, Engineering Societies Library, New York City; Claude G. Leland, Superintendent, Bureau of Libraries, Board of Education, New York City;Edward F. Stevens, Librarian, Pratt Institute Free Library, Brooklyn, N. Y. , and Franklin K. Mathiews, Chief Scout Librarian. Only such books werechosen by the Commission as proved to be, by _a nation wide canvas_, mostin demand by the boys themselves. Their popularity is further attested bythe fact that in the EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY Edition, more than a million anda quarter copies of these books have already been sold. 

We know so well, are reminded so often of the worth of the good book andgreat, that too often we fail to observe or understand the influence forgood of a boy's recreational reading. Such books may influence him forgood or ill as profoundly as his play activities, of which they are avital part. The needful thing is to find stories in which the heroes havethe characteristics boys so much admire--unquenchable courage, immenseresourcefulness, absolute fidelity, conspicuous greatness. We believe thebooks of EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY measurably well meet this challenge. 

BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA, James E. West

Chief Scout Executive. 

CONTENTS

 I BROTHER AND SISTER

 II "THE DRACONIAN REFORMS"

 III "BRICK, " "SORREL-TOP, " AND "REDDY"

 IV THE BITER BITTEN

 V HOME AGAIN

 VI EXAMINATION DAY

 VII FATHER AND SON

 VIII 'FRISCO KID AND THE NEW BOY

 IX ABOARD THE DAZZLER

 X WITH THE BAY PIRATES

 XI CAPTAIN AND CREW

 XII JOE TRIES TO TAKE FRENCH LEAVE

 XIII BEFRIENDING EACH OTHER

 XIV AMONG THE OYSTER-BEDS

 XV GOOD SAILORS IN A WILD ANCHORAGE

 XVI 'FRISCO KID'S DITTY-BOX

 XVII 'FRISCO KID TELLS HIS STORY

 XVIII A NEW RESPONSIBILITY FOR JOE

 XIX THE BOYS PLAN AN ESCAPE

 XX PERILOUS HOURS

 XXI JOE AND HIS FATHER

PART I

CHAPTER I

BROTHER AND SISTER

They ran across the shining sand, the Pacific thundering its long surgeat their backs, and when they gained the roadway leaped upon bicycles anddived at faster pace into the green avenues of the park. There were threeof them, three boys, in as many bright-colored sweaters, and they"scorched" along the cycle-path as dangerously near the speed-limit as isthe custom of boys in bright-colored sweaters to go. They may have exceededthe speed-limit. A mounted park policeman thought so, but was not sure, and contented himself with cautioning them as they flashed by. Theyacknowledged the warning promptly, and on the next turn of the path aspromptly forgot it, which is also a custom of boys in bright-coloredsweaters. 

Shooting out through the entrance to Golden Gate Park, they turned intoSan Francisco, and took the long sweep of the descending hills at a ratethat caused pedestrians to turn and watch them anxiously. Through thecity streets the bright sweaters flew, turning and twisting to escapeclimbing the steeper hills, and, when the steep hills were unavoidable, doing stunts to see which would first gain the top. 

The boy who more often hit up the pace, led the scorching, and institutedthe stunts was called Joe by his companions. It was "follow the leader, "and he led, the merriest and boldest in the bunch. But as they pedaledinto the Western Addition, among the large and comfortable residences, his laughter became less loud and frequent, and he unconsciously laggedin the rear. At Laguna and Vallejo streets his companions turned off tothe right. 

"So long, Fred, " he called as he turned his wheel to the left. "So long, Charley. "

"See you to-night!" they called back. 

"No--I can't come, " he answered. 

"Aw, come on, " they begged. 

"No, I've got to dig. --So long!"

As he went on alone, his face grew grave and a vague worry came into hiseyes. He began resolutely to whistle, but this dwindled away till it wasa thin and very subdued little sound, which ceased altogether as he rodeup the driveway to a large two-storied house. 

"Oh, Joe!"

He hesitated before the door to the library. Bessie was there, he knew, studiously working up her lessons. She must be nearly through with them, too, for she was always done before dinner, and dinner could not be manyminutes away. As for his lessons, they were as yet untouched. The thoughtmade him angry. It was bad enough to have one's sister--and two yearsyounger at that--in the same grade, but to have her continually head andshoulders above him in scholarship was a most intolerable thing. Not thathe was dull. No one knew better than himself that he was not dull. Butsomehow--he did not quite know how--his mind was on other things and hewas usually unprepared. 

"Joe--please come here. " There was the slightest possible plaintive notein her voice this time. 

"Well?" he said, thrusting aside the portière with an impetuous movement. 

He said it gruffly, but he was half sorry for it the next instant when hesaw a slender little girl regarding him with wistful eyes across the bigreading-table heaped with books. She was curled up, with pencil and pad, in an easy-chair of such generous dimensions that it made her seem moredelicate and fragile than she really was. 

"What is it, Sis?" he asked more gently, crossing over to her side. 

She took his hand in hers and pressed it against her cheek, and as hestood beside her came closer to him with a nestling movement. 

"What is the matter, Joe dear?" she asked softly. "Won't you tell me?"

He remained silent. It struck him as ridiculous to confess his troublesto a little sister, even if her reports _were_ higher than his. And thelittle sister struck him as ridiculous to demand his troubles of him. "What a soft cheek she has!" he thought as she pressed her face gentlyagainst his hand. If he could but tear himself away--it was all sofoolish! Only he might hurt her feelings, and, in his experience, girls'feelings were very easily hurt. 

She opened his fingers and kissed the palm of his hand. It was like arose-leaf falling; it was also her way of asking her question over again. 

"Nothing 's the matter, " he said decisively. And then, quiteinconsistently, he blurted out, "Father!"

His worry was now in her eyes. "But father is so good and kind, Joe, " shebegan. "Why don't you try to please him? He does n't ask much of you, andit 's all for your own good. It 's not as though you were a fool, like someboys. If you would only study a little bit--"

"That 's it! Lecturing!" he exploded, tearing his hand roughly away. "Evenyou are beginning to lecture me now. I suppose the cook and the stable-boywill be at it next. "

He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked forward into a melancholyand desolate future filled with interminable lectures and lecturersinnumerable. 

"Was that what you wanted me for?" he demanded, turning to go. 

She caught at his hand again. "No, it wasn't; only you looked so worriedthat I thought--I--" Her voice broke, and she began again freshly. "WhatI wanted to tell you was that we're planning a trip across the bay toOakland, next Saturday, for a tramp in the hills. "

"Who 's going?"

"Myrtle Hayes--"

"What! That little softy?" he interrupted. 

"I don't think she is a softy, " Bessie answered with spirit. "She 's oneof the sweetest girls I know. "

"Which is n't saying much, considering the girls you know. But go on. Whoare the others?"

"Pearl Sayther, and her sister Alice, and Jessie Hilborn, and Sadie French, and Edna Crothers. That 's all the girls. "

Joe sniffed disdainfully. "Who are the fellows, then?"

"Maurice and Felix Clement, Dick Schofield, Burt Layton, and--"

"That 's enough. Milk-and-water chaps, all of them. "

"I--I wanted to ask you and Fred and Charley, " she said in a quaveringvoice. "That 's what I called you in for--to ask you to come. "

"And what are you going to do?" he asked. 

"Walk, gather wild flowers, --the poppies are all out now, --eat luncheonat some nice place, and--and--"

"Come home, " he finished for her. 

Bessie nodded her head. Joe put his hands in his pockets again, andwalked up and down. 

"A sissy outfit, that 's what it is, " he said abruptly; "and a sissyprogram. None of it in mine, please. "

She tightened her trembling lips and struggled on bravely. "What wouldyou rather do?" she asked. 

"I 'd sooner take Fred and Charley and go off somewhere and dosomething--well, anything. "

He paused and looked at her. She was waiting patiently for him to proceed. He was aware of his inability to express in words what he felt and wanted, and all his trouble and general dissatisfaction rose up and gripped holdof him. 

"Oh, you can't understand!" he burst out. "You can't understand. You 'rea girl. You like to be prim and neat, and to be good in deportment andahead in your studies. You don't care for danger and adventure and suchthings, and you don't care for boys who are rough, and have life and goin them, and all that. You like good little boys in white collars, withclothes always clean and hair always combed, who like to stay in atrecess and be petted by the teacher and told how they're always up intheir studies; nice little boys who never get into scrapes--who are toobusy walking around and picking flowers and eating lunches with girls, to get into scrapes. Oh, I know the kind--afraid of their own shadows, and no more spunk in them than in so many sheep. That 's what theyare--sheep. Well, I 'm not a sheep, and there 's no more to be said. And I don't want to go on your picnic, and, what 's more, I 'm not going. "

The tears welled up in Bessie's brown eyes, and her lips were trembling. This angered him unreasonably. What were girls good for, anyway?--alwaysblubbering, and interfering, and carrying on. There was no sense in them. 

"A fellow can't say anything without making you cry, " he began, trying toappease her. "Why, I did n't mean anything, Sis. I did n't, sure. I--"

He paused helplessly and looked down at her. She was sobbing, and at thesame time shaking with the effort to control her sobs, while big tearswere rolling down her cheeks. 

"Oh, you--you girls!" he cried, and strode wrathfully out of the room. 

CHAPTER II

"THE DRACONIAN REFORMS"

A few minutes later, and still wrathful, Joe went in to dinner. He atesilently, though his father and mother and Bessie kept up a genial flowof conversation. There she was, he communed savagely with his plate, crying one minute, and the next all smiles and laughter. Now that wasn't his way. If _he_ had anything sufficiently important to cry about, rest assured he would n't get over it for days. Girls were hypocrites, that was all there was to it. They did n't feel one hundredth part of allthat they said when they cried. It stood to reason that they did n't. Itmust be that they just carried on because they enjoyed it. It made themfeel good to make other people miserable, especially boys. That was whythey were always interfering. 

Thus reflecting sagely, he kept his eyes on his plate and did justiceto the fare; for one cannot scorch from the Cliff House to the WesternAddition via the park without being guilty of a healthy appetite. 

Now and then his father directed a glance at him in a certain mildlyanxious way. Joe did not see these glances, but Bessie saw them, everyone. Mr. Bronson was a middle-aged man, well developed and of heavybuild, though not fat. His was a rugged face, square-jawed andstern-featured, though his eyes were kindly and there were lines aboutthe mouth that betokened laughter rather than severity. A closeexamination was not required to discover the resemblance between himand Joe. The same broad forehead and strong jaw characterized them both, and the eyes, taking into consideration the difference of age, were aslike as peas from one pod. 

"How are you getting on, Joe?" Mr. Bronson asked finally. Dinner wasover and they were about to leave the table. 

"Oh, I don't know, " Joe answered carelessly, and then added: "We haveexaminations to-morrow. I'll know then. "

"Whither bound?" his mother questioned, as he turned to leave the room. She was a slender, willowy woman, whose brown eyes Bessie's were, andlikewise her tender ways. 

"To my room, " Joe answered. "To work, " he supplemented. 

She rumpled his hair affectionately, and bent and kissed him. Mr. Bronsonsmiled approval at him as he went out, and he hurried up the stairs, resolved to dig hard and pass the examinations of the coming day. 

Entering his room, he locked the door and sat down at a desk mostcomfortably arranged for a boy's study. He ran his eye over histext-books. The history examination came the first thing in the morning, so he would begin on that. He opened the book where a page was turneddown, and began to read:

 Shortly after the Draconian reforms, a war broke out between Athens and Megara respecting the island of Salamis, to which both cities laid claim. 

That was easy; but what were the Draconian reforms? He must look them up. He felt quite studious as he ran over the back pages, till he chanced toraise his eyes above the top of the book and saw on a chair a baseballmask and a catcher's glove. They should n't have lost that game lastSaturday, he thought, and they would n't have, either, if it had n't beenfor Fred. He wished Fred would n't fumble so. He could hold a hundreddifficult balls in succession, but when a critical point came, he 'd letgo of even a dewdrop. He 'd have to send him out in the field and bringin Jones to first base. Only Jones was so excitable. He could hold anykind of a ball, no matter how critical the play was, but there was notelling what he would do with the ball after he got it. 

Joe came to himself with a start. A pretty way of studying history! Heburied his head in his book and began:

 Shortly after the Draconian reforms--

He read the sentence through three times, and then recollected that hehad not looked up the Draconian reforms. 

A knock came at the door. He turned the pages over with a noisy flutter, but made no answer. 

The knock was repeated, and Bessie's "Joe, dear" came to his ears. 

"What do you want?" he demanded. But before she could answer he hurriedon: "No admittance. I 'm busy. "

"I came to see if I could help you, " she pleaded. "I 'm all done, and Ithought--"

"Of course you 're all done!" he shouted. "You always are!"

He held his head in both his hands to keep his eyes on the book. Butthe baseball mask bothered him. The more he attempted to keep his mindon the history the more in his mind's eye he saw the mask resting on thechair and all the games in which it had played its part. 

This would never do. He deliberately placed the book face downward on thedesk and walked over to the chair. With a swift sweep he sent both maskand glove hurtling under the bed, and so violently that he heard the maskrebound from the wall. 

 Shortly after the Draconian reforms, a war broke out between Athens and Megara--

The mask had rolled back from the wall. He wondered if it had rolled backfar enough for him to see it. No, he would n't look. What did it matter ifit had rolled out? That was n't history. He wondered--

He peered over the top of the book, and there was the mask peeping out athim from under the edge of the bed. This was not to be borne. There wasno use attempting to study while that mask was around. He went over andfished it out, crossed the room to the closet, and tossed it inside, thenlocked the door. That was settled, thank goodness! Now he could do somework. 

He sat down again. 

 Shortly after the Draconian reforms, a war broke out between Athens and Megara respecting the island of Salamis, to which, both cities laid claim. 

Which was all very well, if he had only found out what the Draconianreforms were. A soft glow pervaded the room, and he suddenly becameaware of it. What could cause it? He looked out of the window. Thesetting sun was slanting its long rays against low-hanging masses ofsummer clouds, turning them to warm scarlet and rosy red; and it wasfrom them that the red light, mellow and glowing, was flung earthward. 

His gaze dropped from the clouds to the bay beneath. The sea-breeze wasdying down with the day, and off Fort Point a fishing-boat was creepinginto port before the last light breeze. A little beyond, a tug wassending up a twisted pillar of smoke as it towed a three-masted schoonerto sea. His eyes wandered over toward the Marin County shore. The linewhere land and water met was already in darkness, and long shadows werecreeping up the hills toward Mount Tamalpais, which was sharplysilhouetted against the western sky. 

Oh, if he, Joe Bronson, were only on that fishing-boat and sailing inwith a deep-sea catch! Or if he were on that schooner, heading out intothe sunset, into the world! That was life, that was living, doingsomething and being something in the world. And, instead, here he was, pent up in a close room, racking his brains about people dead and gonethousands of years before he was born. 

He jerked himself away from the window as though held there by somephysical force, and resolutely carried his chair and history into thefarthest corner of the room, where he sat down with his back to thewindow. 

An instant later, so it seemed to him, he found himself again staringout of the window and dreaming. How he had got there he did not know. His last recollection was the finding of a subheading on a page on theright-hand side of the book which read: "The Laws and Constitution ofDraco. " And then, evidently like walking in one's sleep, he had cometo the window. How long had he been there? he wondered. The fishing-boatwhich he had seen off Fort Point was now crawling into Meiggs's Wharf. This denoted nearly an hour's lapse of time. The sun had long since set;a solemn grayness was brooding over the water, and the first faint starswere beginning to twinkle over the crest of Mount Tamalpais. 

He turned, with a sigh, to go back into his corner, when a long whistle, shrill and piercing, came to his ears. That was Fred. He sighed again. The whistle repeated itself. Then another whistle joined it. That wasCharley. They were waiting on the corner--lucky fellows!

Well, they would n't see him this night. Both whistles arose in duet. Hewrithed in his chair and groaned. No, they would n't see him this night, he reiterated, at the same time rising to his feet. It was certainlyimpossible for him to join them when he had not yet learned about theDraconian reforms. The same force which had held him to the window nowseemed drawing him across the room to the desk. It made him put thehistory on top of his school-books, and he had the door unlocked andwas half-way into the hall before he realized it. He started to return, but the thought came to him that he could go out for a little while andthen come back and do his work. 

A very little while, he promised himself, as he went down-stairs. Hewent down faster and faster, till at the bottom he was going threesteps at a time. He popped his cap on his head and went out of theside entrance in a rush; and ere he reached the corner the reforms ofDraco were as far away in the past as Draco himself, while the examinationson the morrow were equally far away in the future. 

CHAPTER III

"BRICK, " "SORREL-TOP, " AND "REDDY"

"What 's up?" Joe asked, as he joined Fred and Charley. 

"Kites, " Charley answered. "Come on. We 're tired out waiting for you. "

The three set off down the street to the brow of the hill, where theylooked down upon Union Street, far below and almost under their feet. This they called the Pit, and it was well named. Themselves they calledthe Hill-dwellers, and a descent into the Pit by the Hill-dwellers waslooked upon by them as a great adventure. 

Scientific kite-flying was one of the keenest pleasures of these threeparticular Hill-dwellers, and six or eight kites strung out on a mileof twine and soaring into the clouds was an ordinary achievement forthem. They were compelled to replenish their kite-supply often; forwhenever an accident occurred, and the string broke, or a ducking kitedragged down the rest, or the wind suddenly died out, their kites fellinto the Pit, from which place they were unrecoverable. The reason forthis was the young people of the Pit were a piratical and robber racewith peculiar ideas of ownership and property rights. 

On a day following an accident to a kite of one of the Hill-dwellers, the self-same kite could be seen riding the air attached to a stringwhich led down into the Pit to the lairs of the Pit People. So it cameabout that the Pit People, who were a poor folk and unable to affordscientific kite-flying, developed great proficiency in the art whentheir neighbors the Hill-dwellers took it up. 

There was also an old sailorman who profited by this recreation of theHill-dwellers; for he was learned in sails and air-currents, and beingdeft of hand and cunning, he fashioned the best-flying kites that couldbe obtained. He lived in a rattletrap shanty close to the water, wherehe could still watch with dim eyes the ebb and flow of the tide, and theships pass out and in, and where he could revive old memories of the dayswhen he, too, went down to the sea in ships. 

To reach his shanty from the Hill one had to pass through the Pit, andthither the three boys were bound. They had often gone for kites in thedaytime, but this was their first trip after dark, and they felt it tobe, as it indeed was, a hazardous adventure. 

In simple words, the Pit was merely the cramped and narrow quartersof the poor, where many nationalities crowded together in cosmopolitanconfusion, and lived as best they could, amid much dirt and squalor. It was still early evening when the boys passed through on their wayto the sailorman's shanty, and no mishap befell them, though some ofthe Pit boys stared at them savagely and hurled a taunting remark afterthem, now and then. 

The sailorman made kites which were not only splendid fliers but whichfolded up and were very convenient to carry. Each of the boys bought afew, and, with them wrapped in compact bundles and under their arms, started back on the return journey. 

"Keep a sharp lookout for the b'ys, " the kite-maker cautioned them. "They 're like to be cruisin' round after dark. "

"We 're not afraid, " Charley assured him; "and we know how to take careof ourselves. "

Used to the broad and quiet streets of the Hill, the boys were shockedand stunned by the life that teemed in the close-packed quarter. Itseemed some thick and monstrous growth of vegetation, and that theywere wading through it. They shrank closely together in the tangle ofnarrow streets as though for protection, conscious of the strangenessof it all, and how unrelated they were to it. 

Children and babies sprawled on the sidewalk and under their feet. Bareheaded and unkempt women gossiped in the doorways or passed backand forth with scant marketings in their arms. There was a generalodor of decaying fruit and fish, a smell of staleness and putridity. Big hulking men slouched by, and ragged little girls walked gingerlythrough the confusion with foaming buckets of beer in their hands. There was a clatter and garble of foreign tongues and brogues, shrillcries, quarrels and wrangles, and the Pit pulsed with a great andsteady murmur, like the hum of the human hive that it was. 

"Phew! I 'll be glad when we 're out of it, " Fred said. 

He spoke in a whisper, and Joe and Charley nodded grimly that they agreedwith him. They were not inclined to speech, and they walked as rapidly asthe crowd permitted, with much the same feelings as those of travelers ina dangerous and hostile jungle. 

And danger and hostility stalked in the Pit. The inhabitants seemed toresent the presence of these strangers from the Hill. Dirty little urchinsabused them as they passed, snarling with assumed bravery, and preparedto run away at the first sign of attack. And still other little urchinsformed a noisy parade at the heels of the boys, and grew bolder withincreasing numbers. 

"Don't mind them, " Joe cautioned. "Take no notice, but keep right on. We 'll soon be out of it. "

"No; we 're in for it, " said Fred, in an undertone. "Look there!"

On the corner they were approaching, four or five boys of about theirown age were standing. The light from a street-lamp fell upon them anddisclosed one with vivid red hair. It could be no other than "Brick"Simpson, the redoubtable leader of a redoubtable gang. Twice withintheir memory he had led his gang up the Hill and spread panic andterror among the Hill-dwelling young folk, who fled wildly to theirhomes, while their fathers and mothers hurriedly telephoned for thepolice. 

At sight of the group on the corner, the rabble at the heels of thethree boys melted away on the instant with like manifestations offear. This but increased the anxiety of the boys, though they heldboldly on their way. 

The red-haired boy detached himself from the group, and stepped beforethem, blocking their path. They essayed to go around him, but he stretchedout his arm. 

"Wot yer doin' here?" he snarled. "Why don't yer stay where yer b'long?"

"We 're just going home, " Fred said mildly. 

Brick looked at Joe. "Wot yer got under yer arm?" he demanded. 

Joe contained himself and took no heed of him. "Come on, " he said to Fredand Charley, at the same time starting to brush past the gang-leader. 

But with a quick blow Brick Simpson struck him in the face, and withequal quickness snatched the bundle of kites from under his arm. 

Joe uttered an inarticulate cry of rage, and, all caution flung to thewinds, sprang at his assailant. 

This was evidently a surprise to the gang-leader, who expected least ofall to be attacked in his own territory. He retreated backward, stillclutching the kites, and divided between desire to fight and desire toretain his capture. 

The latter desire dominated him, and he turned and fled swiftly downthe narrow side-street into a labyrinth of streets and alleys. Joe knewthat he was plunging into the wilderness of the enemy's country, buthis sense of both property and pride had been offended, and he took upthe pursuit hot-footed. 

Fred and Charley followed after, though he outdistanced them, and behindcame the three other members of the gang, emitting a whistling call whilethey ran which was evidently intended for the assembling of the rest ofthe band. As the chase proceeded, these whistles were answered from manydifferent directions, and soon a score of dark figures were tagging atthe heels of Fred and Charley, who, in turn, were straining every muscleto keep the swifter-footed Joe in sight. 

Brick Simpson darted into a vacant lot, aiming for a "slip, " as suchthings are called which are prearranged passages through fences andover sheds and houses and around dark holes and corners, where theunfamiliar pursuer must go more carefully and where the chances aremany that he will soon lose the track. 

But Joe caught Brick before he could attain his end, and together theyrolled over and over in the dirt, locked in each other's arms. By thetime Fred and Charley and the gang had come up, they were on their feet, facing each other. 

"Wot d' ye want, eh?" the red-headed gang-leader was saying in a bullyingtone. "Wot d' ye want? That 's wot I wanter know. "

"I want my kites, " Joe answered. 

Brick Simpson's eyes sparkled at the intelligence. Kites were somethinghe stood in need of himself. 

"Then you 've got to fight fer 'em, " he announced. 

"Why should I fight for them?" Joe demanded indignantly. "They 're mine. "Which went to show how ignorant he was of the ideas of ownership andproperty rights which obtained among the People of the Pit. 

A chorus of jeers and catcalls went up from the gang, which clusteredbehind its leader like a pack of wolves. 

"Why should I fight for them?" Joe reiterated. 

"'Cos I say so, " Simpson replied. "An' wot I say goes. Understand?"

But Joe did not understand. He refused to understand that Brick Simpson'sword was law in San Francisco, or any part of San Francisco. His love ofhonesty and right dealing was offended, and all his fighting blood was up. 

"You give those kites to me, right here and now, " he threatened, reachingout his hand for them. 

But Simpson jerked them away. "D' ye know who I am?" he demanded. "I'm Brick Simpson, an' I don't 'low no one to talk to me in that toneof voice. "

"Better leave him alone, " Charley whispered in Joe's ear. "What are afew kites? Leave him alone and let 's get out of this. "

"They 're my kites, " Joe said slowly in a dogged manner. "They 're mykites, and I 'm going to have them. "

"You can't fight the crowd, " Fred interfered; "and if you do get thebest of him they 'll all pile on you. "

The gang, observing this whispered colloquy, and mistaking it forhesitancy on the part of Joe, set up its wolf-like howling again. 

"Afraid! afraid!" the young roughs jeered and taunted. "He 's toohigh-toned, he is! Mebbe he 'll spoil his nice clean shirt, and thenwhat 'll mama say?"

"Shut up!" their leader snapped authoritatively, and the noise obedientlydied away. 

"Will you give me those kites?" Joe demanded, advancing determinedly. 

"Will you fight for 'em?" was Simpson's counter-demand. 

"Yes, " Joe answered. 

"Fight! fight!" the gang began to howl again. 

"And it 's me that 'll see fair play, " said a man's heavy voice. 

All eyes were instantly turned upon the man who had approached unseen andmade this announcement. By the electric light, shining brightly on themfrom the corner, they made him out to be a big, muscular fellow, clad ina working-man's garments. His feet were incased in heavy brogans, a narrowstrap of black leather held his overalls about his waist, and a black andgreasy cap was on his head. His face was grimed with coal-dust, and acoarse blue shirt, open at the neck, revealed a wide throat and massivechest. 

"An' who 're you?" Simpson snarled, angry at the interruption. 

"None of yer business, " the newcomer retorted tartly. "But, if it 'lldo you any good, I 'm a fireman on the China steamers, and, as I said, I 'm goin' to see fair play. That 's my business. Your business is togive fair play. So pitch in, and don't be all night about it. "

The three boys were as pleased by the appearance of the fireman as Simpsonand his followers were displeased. They conferred together for severalminutes, when Simpson deposited the bundle of kites in the arms of oneof his gang and stepped forward. 

"Come on, then, " he said, at the same time pulling off his coat. 

Joe handed his to Fred, and sprang toward Brick. They put up their fistsand faced each other. Almost instantly Simpson drove in a fierce blow andducked cleverly away and out of reach of the blow which Joe returned. Joefelt a sudden respect for the abilities of his antagonist, but the onlyeffect upon him was to arouse all the doggedness of his nature and makehim utterly determined to win. 

Awed by the presence of the fireman, Simpson's followers confinedthemselves to cheering Brick and jeering Joe. The two boys circledround and round, attacking, feinting, and guarding, and now one andthen the other getting in a telling blow. Their positions were in markedcontrast. Joe stood erect, planted solidly on his feet, with legs wideapart and head up. On the other hand, Simpson crouched till his head wasnearly lost between his shoulders, and all the while he was in constantmotion, leaping and springing and manoeuvering in the execution of ascore or more of tricks quite new and strange to Joe. 

At the end of a quarter of an hour, both were very tired, though Joe wasmuch fresher. Tobacco, ill food, and unhealthy living were telling onthe gang-leader, who was panting and sobbing for breath. Though at first(and because of superior skill) he had severely punished Joe, he was nowweak and his blows were without force. Growing desperate, he adoptedwhat might be called not an unfair but a mean method of attack: he wouldmanoeuver, leap in and strike swiftly, and then, ducking forward, fallto the ground at Joe's feet. Joe could not strike him while he was down, and so would step back until he could get on his feet again, when thething would be repeated. 

But Joe grew tired of this, and prepared for him. Timing his blow withSimpson's attack, he delivered it just as Simpson was ducking forwardto fall. Simpson fell, but he fell over on one side, whither he hadbeen driven by the impact of Joe's fist upon his head. He rolled overand got half-way to his feet, where he remained, crying and gasping. His followers called upon him to get up, and he tried once or twice, but was too exhausted and stunned. 

"I give in, " he said. "I 'm licked. "

The gang had become silent and depressed at its leader's defeat. 

Joe stepped forward. 

"I 'll trouble you for those kites, " he said to the boy who washolding them. 

"Oh, I dunno, " said another member of the gang, shoving in betweenJoe and his property. His hair was also a vivid red. "You 've gotto lick me before you kin have 'em. "

"I don't see that, " Joe said bluntly. "I 've fought and I 've won, and there 's nothing more to it. "

"Oh, yes, there is, " said the other. "I 'm 'Sorrel-top' Simpson. Brick 's my brother. See?"

And so, in this fashion, Joe learned another custom of the Pit Peopleof which he had been ignorant. 

"All right, " he said, his fighting blood more fully aroused than everby the unjustness of the proceeding. "Come on. "

Sorrel-top Simpson, a year younger than his brother, proved to be amost unfair fighter, and the good-natured fireman was compelled tointerfere several times before the second of the Simpson clan lay onthe ground and acknowledged defeat. 

This time Joe reached for his kites without the slightest doubt thathe was to get them. But still another lad stepped in between him andhis property. The telltale hair, vividly red, sprouted likewise onthis lad's head, and Joe knew him at once for what he was, anothermember of the Simpson clan. He was a younger edition of his brothers, somewhat less heavily built, with a face covered with a vast quantityof freckles, which showed plainly under the electric light. 

"You don't git them there kites till you git me, " he challenged ina piping little voice. "I 'm 'Reddy' Simpson, an' you ain't lickedthe fambly till you 've licked me. "

The gang cheered admiringly, and Reddy stripped a tattered jacketpreparatory for the fray. 

"Git ready, " he said to Joe. 

Joe's knuckles were torn, his nose was bleeding, his lip was cut andswollen, while his shirt had been ripped down from throat to waist. Further, he was tired, and breathing hard. 

"How many more are there of you Simpsons?" he asked. "I 've got toget home, and if your family 's much larger this thing is liableto keep on all night. "

"I 'm the last an' the best, " Reddy replied. "You gits me an' yougits the kites. Sure. "

"All right, " Joe sighed. "Come on. "

While the youngest of the clan lacked the strength and skill of hiselders, he made up for it by a wildcat manner of fighting that taxedJoe severely. Time and again it seemed to him that he must give into the little whirlwind; but each time he pulled himself togetherand went doggedly on. For he felt that he was fighting for principle, as his forefathers had fought for principle; also, it seemed to him thatthe honor of the Hill was at stake, and that he, as its representative, could do nothing less than his very best. 

So he held on and managed to endure his opponent's swift and continuousrushes till that young and less experienced person at last wore himselfout with his own exertions, and from the ground confessed that, for thefirst time in its history, the "Simpson fambly was beat. "

CHAPTER IV

THE BITER BITTEN

But life in the Pit at best was a precarious affair, as the threeHill-dwellers were quickly to learn. Before Joe could even possesshimself of his kites, his astonished eyes were greeted with thespectacle of all his enemies, the fireman included, taking to theirheels in wild flight. As the little girls and urchins had melted awaybefore the Simpson gang, so was melting away the Simpson gang beforesome new and correspondingly awe-inspiring group of predatory creatures. 

Joe heard terrified cries of "Fish gang!" "Fish gang!" from those whofled, and he would have fled himself from this new danger, only he wasbreathless from his last encounter, and knew the impossibility ofescaping whatever threatened. Fred and Charley felt mighty longingsto run away from a danger great enough to frighten the redoubtableSimpson gang and the valorous fireman, but they could not deserttheir comrade. 

Dark forms broke into the vacant lot, some surrounding the boys andothers dashing after the fugitives. That the laggards were overtakenwas evidenced by the cries of distress that went up, and when laterthe pursuers returned, they brought with them the luckless and snarlingBrick, still clinging fast to the bundle of kites. 

Joe looked curiously at this latest band of marauders. They were youngmen of from seventeen and eighteen to twenty-three and -four years ofage, and bore the unmistakable stamp of the hoodlum class. There werevicious faces among them--faces so vicious as to make Joe's flesh creepas he looked at them. A couple grasped him tightly by the arms, andFred and Charley were similarly held captive. 

"Look here, you, " said one who spoke with the authority of leader, "we 've got to inquire into this. Wot 's be'n goin' on here? Wot 'reyou up to, Red-head? Wot you be'n doin'?"

"Ain't be'n doin' nothin', " Simpson whined. 

"Looks like it. " The leader turned up Brick's face to the electriclight. "Who 's been paintin' you up like that?" he demanded. 

Brick pointed at Joe, who was forthwith dragged to the front. 

"Wot was you scrappin' about?"

"Kites--my kites, " Joe spoke up boldly. "That fellow tried to take themaway from me. He 's got them under his arm now. "

"Oh, he has, has he? Look here, you Brick, we don't put up with stealin'in this territory. See? You never rightly owned nothin'. Come, fork overthe kites. Last call. "

The leader tightened his grasp threateningly, and Simpson, weeping tearsof rage, surrendered the plunder. 

"Wot yer got under yer arm?" the leader demanded abruptly of Fred, at thesame time jerking out the bundle. "More kites, eh? Reg'lar kite-factorygone and got itself lost, " he remarked finally, when he had appropriatedCharley's bundle. "Now, wot I wants to know is wot we 're goin' to do toyou t'ree chaps?" he continued in a judicial tone. 

"What for?" Joe demanded hotly. "For being robbed of our kites?"

"Not at all, not at all, " the leader responded politely; "but for luggin'kites round these quarters an' causin' all this unseemly disturbance. It 's disgraceful; that 's wot it is--disgraceful. "

At this juncture, when the Hill-dwellers were the center of attraction, Brick suddenly wormed out of his jacket, squirmed away from his captors, and dashed across the lot to the slip for which he had been originallyheaded when overtaken by Joe. Two or three of the gang shot over thefence after him in noisy pursuit. There was much barking and howling ofback-yard dogs and clattering of shoes over sheds and boxes. Then therecame a splashing of water, as though a barrel of it had been precipitatedto the ground. Several minutes later the pursuers returned, very sheepishand very wet from the deluge presented them by the wily Brick, whosevoice, high up in the air from some friendly housetop, could be hearddefiantly jeering them. 

This event apparently disconcerted the leader of the gang, and just ashe turned to Joe and Fred and Charley, a long and peculiar whistle cameto their ears from the street--the warning signal, evidently, of a scoutposted to keep a lookout. The next moment the scout himself came flyingback to the main body, which was already beginning to retreat. 

"Cops!" he panted. 

Joe looked, and he saw two helmeted policemen approaching, with brightstars shining on their breasts. 

"Let 's get out of this, " he whispered to Fred and Charley. 

The gang had already taken to flight, and they blocked the boys' retreatin one quarter, and in another they saw the policemen advancing. So theytook to their heels in the direction of Brick Simpson's slip, the policemenhot after them and yelling bravely for them to halt. 

But young feet are nimble, and young feet when frightened become somethingmore than nimble, and the boys were first over the fence and plungingwildly through a maze of back yards. They soon found that the policemenwere discreet. Evidently they had had experiences in slips, and they weresatisfied to give over the chase at the first fence. 

No street-lamps shed their light here, and the boys blundered alongthrough the blackness with their hearts in their mouths. In one yard, filled with mountains of crates and fruit-boxes, they were lost for aquarter of an hour. Feel and quest about as they would, they encounterednothing but endless heaps of boxes. From this wilderness they finallyemerged by way of a shed roof, only to fall into another yard, cumberedwith countless empty chicken-coops. 

Farther on they came upon the contrivance which had soaked Brick Simpson'spursuers with water. It was a cunning arrangement. Where the slip ledthrough a fence with a board missing, a long slat was so arranged thatthe ignorant wayfarer could not fail to strike against it. This slatwas the spring of the trap. A light touch upon it was sufficient todisconnect a heavy stone from a barrel perched overhead and nicelybalanced. The disconnecting of the stone permitted the barrel to turnover and spill its contents on the one beneath who touched the slat. 

The boys examined the arrangement with keen appreciation. Luckily forthem, the barrel was overturned, or they too would have received aducking, for Joe, who was in advance, had blundered against the slat. 

"I wonder if this is Simpson's back yard?" he queried softly. 

"It must be, " Fred concluded, "or else the back yard of some memberof his gang. "

Charley put his hands warningly on both their arms. 

"Hist! What 's that?" he whispered. 

They crouched down on the ground. Not far away was the sound of someone moving about. Then they heard a noise of falling water, as froma faucet into a bucket. This was followed by steps boldly approaching. They crouched lower, breathless with apprehension. 

A dark form passed by within arm's reach and mounted on a box to thefence. It was Brick himself, resetting the trap. They heard him arrangethe slat and stone, then right the barrel and empty into it a couple ofbuckets of water. As he came down from the box to go after more water, Joe sprang upon him, tripped him up, and held him to the ground. 

"Don't make any noise, " he said. "I want you to listen to me. "

"Oh, it 's you, is it?" Simpson replied, with such obvious relief inhis voice as to make them feel relieved also. "Wot d' ye want here?"

"We want to get out of here, " Joe said, "and the shortest way 's thebest. There 's three of us, and you 're only one--"

"That 's all right, that 's all right, " the gang-leader interrupted. "I 'd just as soon show you the way out as not. I ain't got nothin''gainst you. Come on an' follow me, an' don't step to the side, an'I 'll have you out in no time. "

Several minutes later they dropped from the top of a high fence intoa dark alley. 

"Follow this to the street, " Simpson directed; "turn to the right twoblocks, turn to the right again for three, an' yer on Union. Tra-la-loo. "

They said good-by, and as they started down the alley received thefollowing advice:

"Nex' time you bring kites along, you 'd best leave 'em to home. "

CHAPTER V

HOME AGAIN

Following Brick Simpson's directions, they came into Union Street, andwithout further mishap gained the Hill. From the brow they looked downinto the Pit, whence arose that steady, indefinable hum which comesfrom crowded human places. 

"I 'll never go down there again, not as long as I live, " Fred saidwith a great deal of savagery in his voice. "I wonder what became ofthe fireman. "

"We 're lucky to get back with whole skins, " Joe cheered themphilosophically. 

"I guess we left our share, and you more than yours, " laughed Charley. 

"Yes, " Joe answered. "And I 've got more trouble to face when I gethome. Good night, fellows. "

As he expected, the door on the side porch was locked, and he wentaround to the dining-room and entered like a burglar through a window. As he crossed the wide hall, walking softly toward the stairs, hisfather came out of the library. The surprise was mutual, and eachhalted aghast. 

Joe felt a hysterical desire to laugh, for he thought that he knewprecisely how he looked. In reality he looked far worse than heimagined. What Mr. Bronson saw was a boy with hat and coat coveredwith dirt, his whole face smeared with the stains of conflict, and, in particular, a badly swollen nose, a bruised eyebrow, a cut andswollen lip, a scratched cheek, knuckles still bleeding, and a shirttorn open from throat to waist. 

"What does this mean, sir?" Mr. Bronson finally managed to articulate. 

Joe stood speechless. How could he tell, in one brief sentence, allthe whole night's happenings?--for all that must be included in theexplanation of what his luckless disarray meant. 

"Have you lost your tongue?" Mr. Bronson demanded with an appearanceof impatience. 

"I 've--I 've--"

"Yes, yes, " his father encouraged. 

"I 've--well, I 've been down in the Pit, " Joe succeeded in blurting out. 

"I must confess that you look like it--very much like it indeed. "Mr. Bronson spoke severely, but if ever by great effort he conquereda smile, that was the time. "I presume, " he went on, "that you do notrefer to the abiding-place of sinners, but rather to some definitelocality in San Francisco. Am I right?"

Joe swept his arm in a descending gesture toward Union Street, and said:"Down there, sir. "

"And who gave it that name?"

"I did, " Joe answered, as though confessing to a specified crime. 

"It 's most appropriate, I 'm sure, and denotes imagination. It could n'treally be bettered. You must do well at school, sir, with your English. "

This did not increase Joe's happiness, for English was the only study ofwhich he did not have to feel ashamed. 

And, while he stood thus a silent picture of misery and disgrace, Mr. Bronson looked upon him through the eyes of his own boyhood withan understanding which Joe could not have believed possible. 

"However, what you need just now is not a discourse, but a bath andcourt-plaster and witch-hazel and cold-water bandages, " Mr. Bronsonsaid; "so to bed with you. You 'll need all the sleep you can get, and you 'll feel stiff and sore to-morrow morning, I promise you. "

The clock struck one as Joe pulled the bedclothes around him; and thenext he knew he was being worried by a soft, insistent rapping, whichseemed to continue through several centuries, until at last, unable toendure it longer, he opened his eyes and sat up. 

The day was streaming in through the window--bright and sunshiny day. He stretched his arms to yawn; but a shooting pain darted through allthe muscles, and his arms came down more rapidly than they had gone up. He looked at them with a bewildered stare, till suddenly the events ofthe night rushed in upon him, and he groaned. 

The rapping still persisted, and he cried: "Yes, I hear. What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock, " Bessie's voice came to him through the door. "Eighto'clock, and you 'll have to hurry if you don't want to be late forschool. "

"Goodness!" He sprang out of bed precipitately, groaned with the painfrom all his stiff muscles, and collapsed slowly and carefully on achair. "Why did n't you call me sooner?" he growled. 

"Father said to let you sleep. "

Joe groaned again, in another fashion Then his history-book caught hiseye, and he groaned yet again and in still another fashion. 

"All right, " he called. "Go on. I 'll be down in a jiffy. "

He did come down in fairly brief order; but if Bessie had watched himdescend the stairs she would have been astounded at the remarkablecaution he observed and at the twinges of pain that every now and thencontorted his face. As it was, when she came upon him in the dining-roomshe uttered a frightened cry and ran over to him. 

"What 's the matter, Joe?" she asked tremulously. "What has happened?"

"Nothing, " he grunted, putting sugar on his porridge. 

"But surely--" she began. 

"Please don't bother me, " he interrupted. "I 'm late, and I want toeat my breakfast. "

And just then Mrs. Bronson caught Bessie's eye, and that young lady, still mystified, made haste to withdraw herself. 

Joe was thankful to his mother for that, and thankful that she refrainedfrom remarking upon his appearance. Father had told her; that was onething sure. He could trust her not to worry him; it was never her way. 

And, meditating in this way, he hurried through with his solitarybreakfast, vaguely conscious in an uncomfortable way that his motherwas fluttering anxiously about him. Tender as she always was, he noticedthat she kissed him with unusual tenderness as he started out with hisbooks swinging at the end of a strap; and he also noticed, as he turnedthe corner, that she was still looking after him through the window. 

But of more vital importance than that, to him, was his stiffness andsoreness. As he walked along, each step was an effort and a torment. Severely as the reflected sunlight from the cement sidewalk hurt hisbruised eye, and severely as his various wounds pained him, still moreseverely did he suffer from his muscles and joints. He had never imaginedsuch stiffness. Each individual muscle in his whole body protested whencalled upon to move. His fingers were badly swollen, and it was agony toclasp and unclasp them; while his arms were sore from wrist to elbow. This, he said to himself, was caused by the many blows which he hadwarded off from his face and body. He wondered if Brick Simpson was insimilar plight, and the thought of their mutual misery made him feel acertain kinship for that redoubtable young ruffian. 

When he entered the school-yard he quickly became aware that he wasthe center of attraction for all eyes. The boys crowded around in anawe-stricken way, and even his classmates and those with whom he waswell acquainted looked at him with a certain respect he had neverseen before. 

CHAPTER VI

EXAMINATION DAY

It was plain that Fred and Charley had spread the news of their descentinto the Pit, and of their battle with the Simpson clan and the Fishes. He heard the nine-o'clock bell with feelings of relief, and passed intothe school, a mark for admiring glances from all the boys. The girls, too, looked at him in a timid and fearful way--as they might have lookedat Daniel when he came out of the lions' den, Joe thought, or at Davidafter his battle with Goliath. It made him uncomfortable and painfullyself-conscious, this hero-worshiping, and he wished heartily that theywould look in some other direction for a change. 

Soon they did look in another direction. While big sheets of foolscapwere being distributed to every desk, Miss Wilson, the teacher (anaustere-looking young woman who went through the world as though itwere a refrigerator, and who, even on the warmest days in the classroom, was to be found with a shawl or cape about her shoulders), arose, andon the blackboard where all could see wrote the Roman numeral "I. " Everyeye, and there were fifty pairs of them, hung with expectancy upon herhand, and in the pause that followed the room was quiet as the grave. 

Underneath the Roman numeral "I" she wrote: "_(a) What were the lawsof Draco? (b) Why did an Athenian orator say that they were written'not in ink, but in blood'?_"

Forty-nine heads bent down and forty-nine pens scratched lustily acrossas many sheets of foolscap. Joe's head alone remained up, and he regardedthe blackboard with so blank a stare that Miss Wilson, glancing over hershoulder after having written "II, " stopped to look at him. Then shewrote:

"_(a) How did the war between Athens and Megara, respecting the islandof Salamis, bring about the reforms of Solon? (b) In what way did theydiffer from the laws of Draco?_"

She turned to look at Joe again. He was staring as blankly as ever. 

"What is the matter, Joe?" she asked. "Have you no paper?"

"Yes, I have, thank you, " he answered, and began moodily to sharpena lead-pencil. 

He made a fine point to it. Then he made a very fine point. Then, andwith infinite patience, he proceeded to make it very much finer. Severalof his classmates raised their heads inquiringly at the noise. But hedid not notice. He was too absorbed in his pencil-sharpening and inthinking thoughts far away from both pencil-sharpening and Greek history. 

"Of course you all understand that the examination papers are to bewritten with ink. "

Miss Wilson addressed the class in general, but her eyes rested on Joe. 

Just as it was about as fine as it could possibly be the point broke, and Joe began over again. 

"I am afraid, Joe, that you annoy the class, " Miss Wilson said in finaldesperation. 

He put the pencil down, closed the knife with a snap, and returned tohis blank staring at the blackboard. What did he know about Draco? orSolon? or the rest of the Greeks? It was a flunk, and that was all therewas to it. No need for him to look at the rest of the questions, and evenif he did know the answers to two or three, there was no use in writingthem down. It would not prevent the flunk. Besides, his arm hurt him toomuch to write. It hurt his eyes to look at the blackboard, and his eyeshurt even when they were closed; and it seemed positively to hurt himto think. 

So the forty-nine pens scratched on in a race after Miss Wilson, who wascovering the blackboard with question after question; and he listened tothe scratching, and watched the questions growing under her chalk, andwas very miserable indeed. His head seemed whirling around. It achedinside and was sore outside, and he did not seem to have any controlof it at all. 

He was beset with memories of the Pit, like scenes from some monstrousnightmare, and, try as he would, he could not dispel them. He would fixhis mind and eyes on Miss Wilson's face, who was now sitting at her desk, and even as he looked at her the face of Brick Simpson, impudent andpugnacious, would arise before him. It was of no use. He felt sick andsore and tired and worthless. There was nothing to be done but flunk. And when, after an age of waiting, the papers were collected, his wentin a blank, save for his name, the name of the examination, and the date, which were written across the top. 

After a brief interval, more papers were given out, and the examinationin arithmetic began. He did not trouble himself to look at the questions. Ordinarily he might have pulled through such an examination, but in hispresent state of mind and body he knew it was impossible. He contentedhimself with burying his face in his hands and hoping for the noon hour. Once, lifting his eyes to the clock, he caught Bessie looking anxiously athim across the room from the girls' side. This but added to his discomfort. Why was she bothering him? No need for her to trouble. She was bound topass. Then why could n't she leave him alone? So he gave her a particularlyglowering look and buried his face in his hands again. Nor did he lift ittill the twelve-o'clock gong rang, when he handed in a second blank paperand passed out with the boys. 

Fred and Charley and he usually ate lunch in a corner of the yard whichthey had arrogated to themselves; but this day, by some remarkablecoincidence, a score of other boys had elected to eat their lunches onthe same spot. Joe surveyed them with disgust. In his present conditionhe did not feel inclined to receive hero-worship. His head ached toomuch, and he was troubled over his failure in the examinations; andthere were more to come in the afternoon. 

He was angry with Fred and Charley. They were chattering like magpiesover the adventures of the night (in which, however, they did not failto give him chief credit), and they conducted themselves in quite apatronizing fashion toward their awed and admiring schoolmates. Butevery attempt to make Joe talk was a failure. He grunted and gave shortanswers, and said "yes" and "no" to questions asked with the intentionof drawing him out. 

He was longing to get away somewhere by himself, to throw himself downsome place on the green grass and forget his aches and pains and troubles. He got up to go and find such a place, and found half a dozen of hisfollowing tagging after him. He wanted to turn around and scream at themto leave him alone, but his pride restrained him. A great wave of disgustand despair swept over him, and then an idea flashed through his mind. Since he was sure to flunk in his examinations, why endure the afternoon'storture, which could not but be worse than the morning's? And on theimpulse of the moment he made up his mind. 

He walked straight on to the schoolyard gate and passed out. Here hisworshipers halted in wonderment, but he kept on to the corner and out ofsight. For some time he wandered along aimlessly, till he came to thetracks of a cable road. A down-town car happening to stop to let offpassengers, he stepped aboard and ensconced himself in an outside cornerseat. The next thing he was aware of, the car was swinging around on itsturn-table and he was hastily scrambling off. The big ferry building stoodbefore him. Seeing and hearing nothing, he had been carried through theheart of the business section of San Francisco. 

He glanced up at the tower clock on top of the ferry building. It wasten minutes after one--time enough to catch the quarter-past-one boat. That decided him, and without the least idea in the world as to where hewas going, he paid ten cents for a ticket, passed through the gate, andwas soon speeding across the bay to the pretty city of Oakland. 

In the same aimless and unwitting fashion, he found himself, an hourlater, sitting on the string-piece of the Oakland city wharf and leaninghis aching head against a friendly timber. From where he sat he couldlook down upon the decks of a number of small sailing-craft. Quite acrowd of curious idlers had collected to look at them, and Joe foundhimself growing interested. 

There were four boats, and from where he sat he could make out theirnames. The one directly beneath him had the name _Ghost_ painted in largegreen letters on its stern. The other three, which lay beyond, were calledrespectively _La Caprice_, the _Oyster Queen_, and the _Flying Dutchman_. 

Each of these boats had cabins built amidships, with short stovepipesprojecting through the roofs, and from the pipe of the _Ghost_ smokewas ascending. The cabin doors were open and the roof-slide pulledback, so that Joe could look inside and observe the inmate, a youngfellow of nineteen or twenty who was engaged just then in cooking. Hewas clad in long sea-boots which reached the hips, blue overalls, anddark woolen shirt. The sleeves, rolled back to the elbows, disclosedsturdy, sun-bronzed arms, and when the young fellow looked up his faceproved to be equally bronzed and tanned. 

The aroma of coffee arose to Joe's nose, and from a light iron pot camethe unmistakable smell of beans nearly done. The cook placed a frying-panon the stove, wiped it around with a piece of suet when it had heated, and tossed in a thick chunk of beefsteak. While he worked he talked witha companion on deck, who was busily engaged in filling a bucket oversideand flinging the salt water over heaps of oysters that lay on the deck. This completed, he covered the oysters with wet sacks, and went into thecabin, where a place was set for him on a tiny table, and where the cookserved the dinner and joined him in eating it. 

All the romance of Joe's nature stirred at the sight. That was life. Theywere living, and gaining their living, out in the free open, under the sunand sky, with the sea rocking beneath them, and the wind blowing on them, or the rain falling on them, as the chance might be. Each day and everyday he sat in a room, pent up with fifty more of his kind, racking hisbrains and cramming dry husks of knowledge, while they were doing allthis, living glad and careless and happy, rowing boats and sailing, andcooking their own food, and certainly meeting with adventures such as oneonly dreams of in the crowded school-room. 

Joe sighed. He felt that he was made for this sort of life and not forthe life of a scholar. As a scholar he was undeniably a failure. He hadflunked in his examinations, while at that very moment, he knew, Bessiewas going triumphantly home, her last examination over and done, and withcredit. Oh, it was not to be borne! His father was wrong in sending himto school. That might be well enough for boys who were inclined to study, but it was manifest that he was not so inclined. There were more careersin life than that of the schools. Men had gone down to the sea in thelowest capacity, and risen in greatness, and owned great fleets, and donegreat deeds, and left their names on the pages of time. And why not he, Joe Bronson?

He closed his eyes and felt immensely sorry for himself; and when heopened his eyes again he found that he had been asleep, and that thesun was sinking fast. 

It was after dark when he arrived home, and he went straight to his roomand to bed without meeting any one. He sank down between the cool sheetswith a sigh of satisfaction at the thought that, come what would, he needno longer worry about his history. Then another and unwelcome thoughtobtruded itself, and he knew that the next school term would come, andthat six months thereafter, another examination in the same historyawaited him. 

CHAPTER VII

FATHER AND SON

On the following morning, after breakfast, Joe was summoned to thelibrary by his father, and he went in almost with a feeling of gladnessthat the suspense of waiting was over. Mr. Bronson was standing by thewindow. A great chattering of sparrows outside seemed to have attractedhis attention. Joe joined him in looking out, and saw a fledgeling sparrowon the grass, tumbling ridiculously about in its efforts to stand on itsfeeble baby legs. It had fallen from the nest in the rose-bush that climbedover the window, and the two parent sparrows were wild with anxiety overits plight. 

"It 's a way young birds have, " Mr. Bronson remarked, turning to Joewith a serious smile; "and I dare say you are on the verge of a somewhatsimilar predicament, my boy, " he went on. "I am afraid things havereached a crisis, Joe. I have watched it coming on for a year now--yourpoor scholarship, your carelessness and inattention, your constantdesire to be out of the house and away in search of adventures of onesort or another. "

He paused, as though expecting a reply; but Joe remained silent. 

"I have given you plenty of liberty. I believe in liberty. The finestsouls grow in such soil. So I have not hedged you in with endless rulesand irksome restrictions. I have asked little of you, and you have comeand gone pretty much as you pleased. In a way, I have put you on yourhonor, made you largely your own master, trusting to your sense of rightto restrain you from going wrong and at least to keep you up in yourstudies. And you have failed me. What do you want me to do? Set youcertain bounds and time-limits? Keep a watch over you? Compel you bymain strength to go through your books?

"I have here a note, " Mr. Bronson said after another pause, in which hepicked up an envelop from the table and drew forth a written sheet. 

Joe recognized the stiff and uncompromising scrawl of Miss Wilson, andhis heart sank. 

His father began to read:

 "Listlessness and carelessness have characterized his term's work, so that when the examinations came he was wholly unprepared. In neither history nor arithmetic did he attempt to answer a question, passing in his papers perfectly blank. These examinations took place in the morning. In the afternoon he did not take the trouble even to appear for the remainder. "

Mr. Bronson ceased reading and looked up. 

"Where were you in the afternoon?" he asked. 

"I went across on the ferry to Oakland, " Joe answered, not caring to offerhis aching head and body in extenuation. 

"That is what is called 'playing hooky, ' is it not?"

"Yes, sir, " Joe answered. 

"The night before the examinations, instead of studying, you saw fit towander away and involve yourself in a disgraceful fight with hoodlums. I did not say anything at the time. In my heart I think I might almosthave forgiven you that, if you had done well in your school-work. "

Joe had nothing to say. He knew that there was his side to the story, buthe felt that his father did not understand, and that there was little useof telling him. 

"The trouble with you, Joe, is carelessness and lack of concentration. What you need is what I have not given you, and that is rigid discipline. I have been debating for some time upon the advisability of sending youto some military school, where your tasks will be set for you, and whatyou do every moment in the twenty-four hours will be determined for you--"

"Oh, father, you don't understand, you can't understand!" Joe broke forthat last. "I try to study--I honestly try to study; but somehow--I don'tknow how--I can't study. Perhaps I am a failure. Perhaps I am not madefor study. I want to go out into the world. I want to see life--to live. I don't want any military academy; I 'd sooner go to sea--anywhere whereI can do something and be something. "

Mr. Bronson looked at him kindly. "It is only through study that you canhope to do something and be something in the world, " he said. 

Joe threw up his hand with a gesture of despair. 

"I know how you feel about it, " Mr. Bronson went on; "but you are only aboy, very much like that young sparrow we were watching. If at home youhave not sufficient control over yourself to study, then away from home, out in the world which you think is calling to you, you will likewisenot have sufficient control over yourself to do the work of that world. 

"But I am willing, Joe, I am willing, after you have finished high schooland before you go into the university, to let you out into the world fora time. "

"Let me go now?" Joe asked impulsively. 

"No; it is too early. You have n't your wings yet. You are too unformed, and your ideals and standards are not yet thoroughly fixed. "

"But I shall not be able to study, " Joe threatened. "I know I shall notbe able to study. "

Mr. Bronson consulted his watch and arose to go. "I have not made up mymind yet, " he said. "I do not know what I shall do--whether I shall giveyou another trial at the public school or send you to a military academy. "

He stopped a moment at the door and looked back. "But remember this, Joe, "he said. "I am not angry with you; I am more grieved and hurt. Think itover, and tell me this evening what you intend to do. "

His father passed out, and Joe heard the front door close after him. Heleaned back in the big easy-chair and closed his eyes. A military school!He feared such an institution as the animal fears a trap. No, he wouldcertainly never go to such a place. And as for public school--He sigheddeeply at the thought of it. He was given till evening to make up hismind as to what he intended to do. Well, he knew what he would do, andhe did not have to wait till evening to find it out. 

He got up with a determined look on his face, put on his hat, and wentout the front door. He would show his father that he could do his shareof the world's work, he thought as he walked along--he would show him. 

By the time he reached the school he had his whole plan worked outdefinitely. Nothing remained but to put it through. It was the noonhour, and he passed in to his room and packed up his books unnoticed. Coming out through the yard, he encountered Fred and Charley. 

"What 's up?" Charley asked. 

"Nothing, " Joe grunted. 

"What are you doing there?"

"Taking my books home, of course. What did you suppose I was doing?"

"Come, come, " Fred interposed. "Don't be so mysterious. I don't see whyyou can't tell us what has happened. "

"You 'll find out soon enough, " Joe said significantly--more significantlythan he had intended. 

And, for fear that he might say more, he turned his back on his astonishedchums and hurried away. He went straight home and to his room, where hebusied himself at once with putting everything in order. His clotheshe hung carefully away, changing the suit he had on for an older one. From his bureau he selected a couple of changes of underclothing, acouple of cotton shirts, and half a dozen pairs of socks. To these headded as many handkerchiefs, a comb, and a tooth-brush. 

When he had bound the bundle in stout wrapping-paper he contemplated itwith satisfaction. Then he went over to his desk and took from a smallinner compartment his savings for some months, which amounted to severaldollars. This sum he had been keeping for the Fourth of July, but he thrustit into his pocket with hardly a regret. Then he pulled a writing-pad overto him, sat down and wrote:

 Don't look for me. I am a failure and I am going away to sea. Don't worry about me. I am all right and able to take care of myself. I shall come back some day, and then you will all be proud of me. Good-by, papa, and mama, and Bessie. JOE. 

This he left lying on his desk where it could easily be seen. He tuckedthe bundle under his arm, and, with a last farewell look at the room, stole out. 

PART II

CHAPTER VIII

'FRISCO KID AND THE NEW BOY

'Frisco Kid was discontented--discontented and disgusted. This would haveseemed impossible to the boys who fished from the dock above and enviedhim greatly. True, they wore cleaner and better clothes, and were blessedwith fathers and mothers; but his was the free floating life of the bay, the domain of moving adventure, and the companionship of men--theirs therigid discipline and dreary sameness of home life. They did not dream that'Frisco Kid ever looked up at them from the cockpit of the _Dazzler_and in turn envied them just those things which sometimes were the mostdistasteful to them and from which they suffered to repletion. Just as theromance of adventure sang its siren song in their ears and whispered vaguemessages of strange lands and lusty deeds, so the delicious mysteries ofhome enticed 'Frisco Kid's roving fancies, and his brightest day-dreamswere of the thing's he knew not--brothers, sisters, a father's counsel, a mother's kiss. 

He frowned, got up from where he had been sunning himself on top ofthe _Dazzler's_ cabin, and kicked off his heavy rubber boots. Thenhe stretched himself on the narrow side-deck and dangled his feet inthe cool salt water. 

"Now that 's freedom, " thought the boys who watched him. Besides, thoselong sea-boots, reaching to the hips and buckled to the leather strapabout the waist, held a strange and wonderful fascination for them. Theydid not know that 'Frisco Kid did not possess such things as shoes--thatthe boots were an old pair of Pete Le Maire's and were three sizes toolarge for him. Nor could they guess how uncomfortable they were to wearon a hot summer day. 

The cause of 'Frisco Kid's discontent was those very boys who sat onthe string-piece and admired him; but his disgust was the result ofquite another event. The _Dazzler_ was short one in its crew, and hehad to do more work than was justly his share. He did not mind thecooking, nor the washing down of the decks and the pumping; but whenit came to the paint-scrubbing and dishwashing he rebelled. He feltthat he had earned the right to be exempt from such scullion work. That was all the green boys were fit for, while he could make or takein sail, lift anchor, steer, and make landings. 

"Stan' from un'er!" Pete Le Maire or "French Pete, " captain of the_Dazzler_ and lord and master of 'Frisco Kid, threw a bundle into thecockpit and came aboard by the starboard rigging. 

"Come! Queeck!" he shouted to the boy who owned the bundle and who nowhesitated on the dock. It was a good fifteen feet to the deck of thesloop, and he could not reach the steel stay by which he must descend. 

"Now! One, two, three!" the Frenchman counted good-naturedly, after themanner of captains when their crews are short-handed. 

The boy swung his body into space and gripped the rigging. A moment laterhe struck the deck, his hands tingling warmly from the friction. 

"Kid, dis is ze new sailor. I make your acquaintance. " French Petesmirked and bowed, and stood aside. "Mistaire Sho Bronson, " he addedas an afterthought. 

The two boys regarded each other silently for a moment. They were evidentlyabout the same age, though the stranger looked the heartier and strongerof the two. 'Frisco Kid put out his hand, and they shook. 

"So you 're thinking of tackling the water, eh?" he said. 

Joe Bronson nodded and glanced curiously about him before answering:"Yes; I think the bay life will suit me for a while, and then, when I 'vegot used to it, I 'm going to sea in the forecastle. "

"In the what?"

"In the forecastle--the place where the sailors live, " he explained, flushing and feeling doubtful of his pronunciation. 

"Oh, the fo'c'sle. Know anything about going to sea?"

"Yes--no; that is, except what I 've read. "

'Frisco Kid whistled, turned on his heel in a lordly manner, and wentinto the cabin. 

"Going to sea, " he chuckled to himself as he built the fire and set aboutcooking supper; "in the 'forecastle, ' too; and thinks he 'll like it. "

In the meanwhile French Pete was showing the newcomer about the sloopas though he were a guest. Such affability and charm did he displaythat 'Frisco Kid, popping his head up through the scuttle to call themto supper, nearly choked in his effort to suppress a grin. 

Joe Bronson enjoyed that supper. The food was rough but good, and thesmack of the salt air and the sea-fittings around him gave zest to hisappetite. The cabin was clean and snug, and, though not large, theaccommodations surprised him. Every bit of space was utilized. The tableswung to the centerboard-case on hinges, so that when not in use itactually occupied no room at all. On either side and partly under thedeck were two bunks. The blankets were rolled back, and the boys sat onthe well-scrubbed bunk boards while they ate. A swinging sea-lamp ofbrightly polished brass gave them light, which in the daytime could beobtained through the four deadeyes, or small round panes of heavy glasswhich were fitted into the walls of the cabin. On one side of the doorwas the stove and wood-box, on the other the cupboard. The front endof the cabin was ornamented with a couple of rifles and a shot-gun, while exposed by the rolled-back blankets of French Pete's bunk was acartridge-lined belt carrying a brace of revolvers. 

It all seemed like a dream to Joe. Countless times he had imagined scenessomewhat similar to this; but here he was right in the midst of it, andalready it seemed as though he had known his two companions for years. French Pete was smiling genially at him across the board. It really was avillainous countenance, but to Joe it seemed only weather-beaten. 'FriscoKid was describing to him, between mouthfuls, the last sou'easter the_Dazzler_ had weathered, and Joe experienced an increasing awe for thisboy who had lived so long upon the water and knew so much about it. 

The captain, however, drank a glass of wine, and topped it off with asecond and a third, and then, a vicious flush lighting his swarthy face, stretched out on top of his blankets, where he soon was snoring loudly. 

"Better turn in and get a couple of hours' sleep, " 'Frisco Kid saidkindly, pointing Joe's bunk out to him. "We 'll most likely be up therest of the night. "

Joe obeyed, but he could not fall asleep so readily as the others. Helay with his eyes wide open, watching the hands of the alarm-clock thathung in the cabin, and thinking how quickly event had followed event inthe last twelve hours. Only that very morning he had been a school-boy, and now he was a sailor, shipped on the _Dazzler_ and bound he knew notwhither. His fifteen years increased to twenty at the thought of it, andhe felt every inch a man--a sailorman at that. He wished Charley andFred could see him now. Well, they would hear of it soon enough. He couldsee them talking it over, and the other boys crowding around. "Who?" "Oh, Joe Bronson; he 's gone to sea. Used to chum with us. "

Joe pictured the scene proudly. Then he softened at the thought of hismother worrying, but hardened again at the recollection of his father. Not that his father was not good and kind; but he did not understand boys, Joe thought. That was where the trouble lay. Only that morning he hadsaid that the world was n't a play-ground, and that the boys who thoughtit was were liable to make sore mistakes and be glad to get home again. Well, _he_ knew that there was plenty of hard work and rough experiencein the world; but _he_ also thought boys had some rights. He 'd show himhe could take care of himself; and, anyway, he could write home after hegot settled down to his new life. 

CHAPTER IX

ABOARD THE DAZZLER

A skiff grazed the side of the _Dazzler_ softly and interrupted Joe'sreveries. He wondered why he had not heard the sound of the oars inthe rowlocks. Then two men jumped over the cockpit-rail and came intothe cabin. 

"Bli' me, if 'ere they ain't snoozin', " said the first of the newcomers, deftly rolling 'Frisco Kid out of his blankets with one hand and reachingfor the wine-bottle with the other. 

French Pete put his head up on the other side of the centerboard, his eyesheavy with sleep, and made them welcome. 

"'Oo 's this?" asked the Cockney, as he was called, smacking his lips overthe wine and rolling Joe out upon the floor. "Passenger?"

"No, no, " French Pete made haste to answer. "Ze new sailorman. Vairegood boy. "

"Good boy or not, he 's got to keep his tongue atween his teeth, " growledthe second newcomer, who had not yet spoken, glaring fiercely at Joe. 

"I say, " queried the other man, "'ow does 'e whack up on the loot? I 'opeas me and Bill 'ave a square deal. "

"Ze _Dazzler_ she take one share--what you call--one third; den we splitze rest in five shares. Five men, five shares. Vaire good. "

French Pete insisted in excited gibberish that the _Dazzler_ had theright to have three men in its crew, and appealed to 'Frisco Kid tobear him out. But the latter left them to fight it over by themselves, and proceeded to make hot coffee. 

It was all Greek to Joe, except he knew that he was in some way the causeof the quarrel. In the end French Pete had his way, and the newcomers gavein after much grumbling. After they had drunk their coffee, all hands wenton deck. 

"Just stay in the cockpit and keep out of their way, " 'Frisco Kid whisperedto Joe. "I 'll teach you about the ropes and everything when we ain't in ahurry. "

Joe's heart went out to him in sudden gratitude, for the strange feelingcame to him that of those on board, to 'Frisco Kid, and to 'Frisco Kidonly, could he look for help in time of need. Already a dislike forFrench Pete was growing up within him. Why, he could not say; he justsimply felt it. 

A creaking of blocks for'ard, and the huge mainsail loomed above himin the night. Bill cast off the bowline, the Cockney followed suit withthe stern, 'Frisco Kid gave her the jib as French Pete jammed up thetiller, and the _Dazzler_ caught the breeze, heeling over for mid-channel. Joe heard talk of not putting up the side-lights, and of keeping a sharplookout, though all he could comprehend was that some law of navigationwas being violated. 

The water-front lights of Oakland began to slip past. Soon the stretchesof docks and the shadowy ships began to be broken by dim sweeps ofmarshland, and Joe knew that they were heading out for San Francisco Bay. The wind was blowing from the north in mild squalls, and the _Dazzler_ cutnoiselessly through the landlocked water. 

"Where are we going?" Joe asked the Cockney, in an endeavor to be friendlyand at the same time satisfy his curiosity. 

"Oh, my pardner 'ere, Bill, we 're goin' to take a cargo from 'is factory, "that worthy airily replied. 

Joe thought he was rather a funny-looking individual to own a factory;but, conscious that even stranger things might be found in this newworld he was entering, he said nothing. He had already exposed himselfto 'Frisco Kid in the matter of his pronunciation of "fo'c'sle, " andhe had no desire further to advertise his ignorance. 

A little after that he was sent in to blow out the cabin lamp. The_Dazzler_ tacked about and began to work in toward the north shore. Everybody kept silent, save for occasional whispered questions andanswers which passed between Bill and the captain. Finally the sloopwas run into the wind, and the jib and mainsail lowered cautiously. 

"Short hawse, " French Pete whispered to 'Frisco Kid, who went for'ardand dropped the anchor, paying out the slightest quantity of slack. 

The _Dazzler's_ skiff was brought alongside, as was also the small boatin which the two strangers had come aboard. 

"See that that cub don't make a fuss, " Bill commanded in an undertone, as he joined his partner in his own boat. 

"Can you row?" 'Frisco Kid asked as they got into the other boat. 

Joe nodded his head. 

"Then take these oars, and don't make a racket. "

'Frisco Kid took the second pair, while French Pete steered. Joe noticedthat the oars were muffled with sennit, and that even the rowlock socketswere protected with leather. It was impossible to make a noise except bya mis-stroke, and Joe had learned to row on Lake Merrit well enough toavoid that. They followed in the wake of the first boat, and, glancingaside, he saw they were running along the length of a pier which juttedout from the land. A couple of ships, with riding-lanterns burningbrightly, were moored to it, but they kept just beyond the edge of thelight. He stopped rowing at the whispered command of 'Frisco Kid. Thenthe boats grounded like ghosts on a tiny beach, and they clambered out. 

Joe followed the men, who picked their way carefully up a twenty-footbank. At the top he found himself on a narrow railway track which ranbetween huge piles of rusty scrap-iron. These piles, separated by tracks, extended in every direction he could not tell how far, though in thedistance he could see the vague outlines of some great factory-likebuilding. The men began to carry loads of the iron down to the beach, and French Pete, gripping him by the arm and again warning him not tomake any noise, told him to do likewise. At the beach they turned theirburdens over to 'Frisco Kid, who loaded them, first in the one skiff andthen in the other. As the boats settled under the weight, he kept pushingthem farther and farther out, in order that they should keep clear ofthe bottom. 

Joe worked away steadily, though he could not help marveling at thequeerness of the whole business. Why should there be such a mysteryabout it? and why such care taken to maintain silence? He had justbegun to ask himself these questions, and a horrible suspicion wasforming itself in his mind, when he heard the hoot of an owl from thedirection of the beach. Wondering at an owl being in so unlikely aplace, he stooped to gather a fresh load of iron. But suddenly a mansprang out of the gloom, flashing a dark lantern full upon him. Blindedby the light, he staggered back. Then a revolver in the man's hand wentoff like the roar of a cannon. All Joe realized was that he was beingshot at, while his legs manifested an overwhelming desire to get away. Even if he had so wished, he could not very well have stayed to explainto the excited man with the smoking revolver. So he took to his heelsfor the beach, colliding with another man with a dark lantern who camerunning around the end of one of the piles of iron. This second manquickly regained his feet, and peppered away at Joe as he flew downthe bank. 

He dashed out into the water for the boat. French Pete at the bow-oars and'Frisco Kid at the stroke had the skiff's nose pointed seaward and werecalmly awaiting his arrival. They had their oars ready for the start, butthey held them quietly at rest, for all that both men on the bank had begunto fire at them. The other skiff lay closer inshore, partially aground. Bill was trying to shove it off, and was calling on the Cockney to lend ahand; but that gentleman had lost his head completely, and came flounderingthrough the water hard after Joe. No sooner had Joe climbed in over thestern than he followed him. This extra weight on the stern of the heavilyloaded craft nearly swamped them. As it was, a dangerous quantity of waterwas shipped. In the meantime the men on the bank had reloaded their pistolsand opened fire again, this time with better aim. The alarm had spread. Voices and cries could be heard from the ships on the pier, along whichmen were running. In the distance a police whistle was being franticallyblown. 

"Get out!" 'Frisco Kid shouted. "You ain't a-going to sink us if I knowit. Go and help your pardner. "

But the Cockney's teeth were chattering with fright, and he was toounnerved to move or speak. 

"T'row ze crazy man out!" French Pete ordered from the bow. At this momenta bullet shattered an oar in his hand, and he coolly proceeded to ship aspare one. 

"Give us a hand, Joe, " 'Frisco Kid commanded. 

Joe understood, and together they seized the terror-stricken creatureand flung him overboard. Two or three bullets splashed about him as hecame to the surface, just in time to be picked up by Bill, who had atlast succeeded in getting clear. 

"Now!" French Pete called, and a few strokes into the darkness quicklytook them out of the zone of fire. 

So much water had been shipped that the light skiff was in danger ofsinking at any moment. While the other two rowed, and by the Frenchman'sorders, Joe began to throw out the iron. This saved them for the timebeing. But just as they swept alongside the _Dazzler_ the skiff lurched, shoved a side under, and turned turtle, sending the remainder of the ironto bottom. Joe and 'Frisco Kid came up side by side, and together theyclambered aboard with the skiff's painter in tow. French Pete had alreadyarrived, and now helped them out. 

By the time they had canted the water out of the swamped boat, Bill andhis partner appeared on the scene. All hands worked rapidly, and, almostbefore Joe could realize, the mainsail and jib had been hoisted, theanchor broken out, and the _Dazzler_ was leaping down the channel. Offa bleak piece of marshland Bill and the Cockney said good-by and castloose in their skiff. French Pete, in the cabin, bewailed their bad luckin various languages, and sought consolation in the wine-bottle. 

CHAPTER X

WITH THE BAY PIRATES

The wind freshened as they got clear of the land, and soon the _Dazzler_was heeling it with her lee deck buried and the water churning by, half-way up the cockpit-rail. Side-lights had been hung out. 'FriscoKid was steering, and by his side sat Joe, pondering over the eventsof the night. 

He could no longer blind himself to the facts. His mind was in a whirlof apprehension. If he had done wrong, he reasoned, he had done itthrough ignorance; and he did not feel shame for the past so much ashe did fear for the future. His companions were thieves and robbers--thebay pirates, of whose wild deeds he had heard vague tales. And here hewas, right in the midst of them, already possessing information whichcould send them to State's prison. This very fact, he knew, would forcethem to keep a sharp watch upon him and so lessen his chances of escape. But escape he would, at the very first opportunity. 

At this point his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp squall, whichhurled the _Dazzler_ over till the sea rushed inboard. 'Frisco Kidluffed quickly, at the same time slacking off the main-sheet. Then, single-handed, --for French Pete remained below, --and with Joe lookingidly on, he proceeded to reef down. 

The squall which had so nearly capsized the _Dazzler_ was of shortduration, but it marked the rising of the wind, and soon puff afterpuff was shrieking down upon them out of the north. The mainsail wasspilling the wind, and slapping and thrashing about till it seemed itwould tear itself to pieces. The sloop was rolling wildly in the quicksea which had come up. Everything was in confusion; but even Joe'suntrained eye showed him that it was an orderly confusion. He couldsee that 'Frisco Kid knew just what to do and just how to do it. Ashe watched him he learned a lesson, the lack of which has made failuresof the lives of many men--_the value of knowledge of one's own capacities_. 'Frisco Kid knew what he was able to do, and because of this he hadconfidence in himself. He was cool and self-possessed, working hurriedlybut not carelessly. There was no bungling. Every reef-point was drawndown to stay. Other accidents might occur, but the next squall, or thenext forty squalls, would not carry one of those reef-knots away. 

He called Joe for'ard to help stretch the mainsail by means of swingingon the peak and throat-halyards. To lay out on the long bowsprit and puta single reef in the jib was a slight task compared with what had beenalready accomplished; so a few moments later they were again in thecockpit. Under the other lad's directions, Joe flattened down thejib-sheet, and, going into the cabin, let down a foot or so of centerboard. The excitement of the struggle had chased all unpleasant thoughts fromhis mind. Patterning after the other boy, he had retained his coolness. He had executed his orders without fumbling, and at the same time withoutundue slowness. Together they had exerted their puny strength in the faceof violent nature, and together they had outwitted her. 

He came back to where his companion stood at the tiller steering, and hefelt proud of him and of himself; and when he read the unspoken praisein 'Frisco Kid's eyes he blushed like a girl at her first compliment. Butthe next instant the thought flashed across him that this boy was a thief, a common thief; and he instinctively recoiled. His whole life had beensheltered from the harsher things of the world. His reading, which hadbeen of the best, had laid a premium upon honesty and uprightness, and hehad learned to look with abhorrence upon the criminal classes. So he drewa little away from 'Frisco Kid and remained silent. But 'Frisco Kid, devoting all his energies to the handling of the sloop, had no time inwhich to remark this sudden change of feeling on the part of his companion. 

But there was one thing Joe found in himself that surprised him. While thethought of 'Frisco Kid being a thief was repulsive to him, 'Frisco Kidhimself was not. Instead of feeling an honest desire to shun him, he feltdrawn toward him. He could not help liking him, though he knew not why. Had he been a little older he would have understood that it was the lad'sgood qualities which appealed to him--his coolness and self-reliance, hismanliness and bravery, and a certain kindliness and sympathy in his nature. As it was, he thought it his own natural badness which prevented him fromdisliking 'Frisco Kid; but, while he felt shame at his own weakness, hecould not smother the warm regard which he felt growing up for thisparticular bay pirate. 

"Take in two or three feet on the skiff's painter, " commanded 'Frisco Kid, who had an eye for everything. 

The skiff was towing with too long a painter, and was behaving very badly. Every once in a while it would hold back till the tow-rope tautened, thencome leaping ahead and sheering and dropping slack till it threatened toshove its nose under the huge whitecaps which roared so hungrily on everyhand. Joe climbed over the cockpit-rail to the slippery after-deck, andmade his way to the bitt to which the skiff was fastened. 

"Be careful, " 'Frisco Kid warned, as a heavy puff struck the _Dazzler_and careened her dangerously over on her side. "Keep one turn round thebitt, and heave in on it when the painter slacks. "

It was ticklish work for a greenhorn. Joe threw off all the turns savethe last, which he held with one hand, while with the other he attemptedto bring in on the painter. But at that instant it tightened with atremendous jerk, the boat sheering sharply into the crest of a heavysea. The rope slipped from his hands and began to fly out over the stern. He clutched it frantically, and was dragged after it over the sloping deck. 

"Let her go! Let her go!" 'Frisco Kid shouted. 

Joe let go just as he was on the verge of going overboard, and the skiffdropped rapidly astern. He glanced in a shamefaced way at his companion, expecting to be sharply reprimanded for his awkwardness. But 'Frisco Kidsmiled good-naturedly. 

"That 's all right, " he said. "No bones broke and nobody overboard. Better to lose a boat than a man any day; that 's what I say. Besides, I should n't have sent you out there. And there 's no harm done. We canpick it up all right. Go in and drop some more centerboard, --a couple offeet, --and then come out and do what I tell you. But don't be in a hurry. Take it easy and sure. "

Joe dropped the centerboard and returned, to be stationed at the jib-sheet. 

"Hard a-lee!" 'Frisco Kid cried, throwing the tiller down, and followingit with his body. "Cast off! That 's right. Now lend a hand on themain-sheet!"

Together, hand over hand, they came in on the reefed mainsail. Joe beganto warm up with the work. The _Dazzler_ turned on her heel like arace-horse, and swept into the wind, her canvas snarling and her sheetsslatting like hail. 

"Draw down the jib-sheet!"

Joe obeyed, and, the head-sail filling, forced her off on the other tack. This manoeuver had turned French Pete's bunk from the lee to the weatherside, and rolled him out on the cabin floor, where he lay in a drunkenstupor. 

'Frisco Kid, with his back against the tiller and holding the sloop offthat it might cover their previous course, looked at him with an expressionof disgust, and muttered: "The dog! We could well go to the bottom, forall he 'd care or do!"

Twice they tacked, trying to go over the same ground; and then Joediscovered the skiff bobbing to windward in the star-lit darkness. 

"Plenty of time, " 'Frisco Kid cautioned, shooting the _Dazzler_ into thewind toward it and gradually losing headway. "Now!"

Joe leaned over the side, grasped the trailing painter, and made it fastto the bitt. Then they tacked ship again and started on their way. Joestill felt ashamed for the trouble he had caused; but 'Frisco Kid quicklyput him at ease. 

"Oh, that 's nothing, " he said. "Everybody does that when they 'rebeginning. Now some men forget all about the trouble they had inlearning, and get mad when a greeny makes a mistake. I never do. Why, I remember--"

And then he told Joe of many of the mishaps which fell to him when, asa little lad, he first went on the water, and of some of the severepunishments for the same which were measured out to him. He had passedthe running end of a lanyard over the tiller-neck, and as they talkedthey sat side by side and close against each other in the shelter ofthe cockpit. 

"What place is that?" Joe asked, as they flew by a lighthouse blinkingfrom a rocky headland. 

"Goat Island. They 've got a naval training station for boys over onthe other side, and a torpedo-magazine. There 's jolly good fishing, too--rock-cod. We 'll pass to the lee of it, and make across, andanchor in the shelter of Angel Island. There 's a quarantine stationthere. Then when French Pete gets sober we 'll know where he wants togo. You can turn in now and get some sleep. I can manage all right. "

Joe shook his head. There had been too much excitement for him to feelin the least like sleeping. He could not bear to think of it with the_Dazzler_ leaping and surging along and shattering the seas into cloudsof spray on her weather bow. His clothes had half dried already, and hepreferred to stay on deck and enjoy it. 

The lights of Oakland had dwindled till they made only a hazy flareagainst the sky; but to the south the San Francisco lights, toppinghills and sinking into valleys, stretched miles upon miles. Startingfrom the great ferry building, and passing on to Telegraph Hill, Joewas soon able to locate the principal places of the city. Somewhereover in that maze of light and shadow was the home of his father, andperhaps even now they were thinking and worrying about him; and overthere Bessie was sleeping cozily, to wake up in the morning and wonderwhy her brother Joe did not come down to breakfast. Joe shivered. Itwas almost morning. Then slowly his head dropped over on 'Frisco Kid'sshoulder and he was fast asleep. 

CHAPTER XI

CAPTAIN AND CREW

"Come! Wake up! We 're going into anchor. "

Joe roused with a start, bewildered at the unusual scene; for sleep hadbanished his troubles for the time being, and he knew not where he was. Then he remembered. The wind had dropped with the night. Beyond, theheavy after-sea was still rolling; but the _Dazzler_ was creeping up inthe shelter of a rocky island. The sky was clear, and the air had thesnap and vigor of early morning about it. The rippling water was laughingin the rays of the sun just shouldering above the eastern sky-line. Tothe south lay Alcatraz Island, and from its gun-crowned heights a flourishof trumpets saluted the day. In the west the Golden Gate yawned betweenthe Pacific Ocean and San Francisco Bay. A full-rigged ship, with herlightest canvas, even to the sky-sails, set, was coming slowly in on theflood-tide. 

It was a pretty sight. Joe rubbed the sleep from his eyes and drank inthe glory of it till 'Frisco Kid told him to go for'ard and make readyfor dropping the anchor. 

"Overhaul about fifty fathoms of chain, " he ordered, "and then stand by. "He eased the sloop gently into the wind, at the same time casting offthe jib-sheet. "Let go the jib-halyards and come in on the downhaul!"

Joe had seen the manoeuver performed the previous night, and so was ableto carry it out with fair success. 

"Now! Over with the mud-hook! Watch out for turns! Lively, now!"

The chain flew out with startling rapidity and brought the _Dazzler_to rest. 'Frisco Kid went for'ard to help, and together they loweredthe mainsail, furled it in shipshape manner and made all fast with thegaskets, and put the crutches under the main-boom. 

"Here 's a bucket, " said 'Frisco Kid, as he passed him the article inquestion. "Wash down the decks, and don't be afraid of the water, norof the dirt either. Here 's a broom. Give it what for, and have everythingshining. When you get that done bail out the skiff. She opened her seamsa little last night. I 'm going below to cook breakfast. "

The water was soon slushing merrily over the deck, while the smoke pouringfrom the cabin stove carried a promise of good things to come. Time andagain Joe lifted his head from his task to take in the scene. It was oneto appeal to any healthy boy, and he was no exception. The romance of itstirred him strangely, and his happiness would have been complete couldhe have escaped remembering who and what his companions were. The thoughtof this, and of French Pete in his bleary sleep below, marred the beautyof the day. He had been unused to such things and was shocked at the harshreality of life. But instead of hurting him, as it might a lad of weakernature, it had the opposite effect. It strengthened his desire to be cleanand strong, and to not be ashamed of himself in his own eyes. He glancedabout him and sighed. Why could not men be honest and true? It seemed toobad that he must go away and leave all this; but the events of the nightwere strong upon him, and he knew that in order to be true to himselfhe must escape. 

At this juncture he was called to breakfast. He discovered that 'FriscoKid was as good a cook as he was a sailor, and made haste to do justiceto the fare. There were mush and condensed milk, beefsteak and friedpotatoes, and all topped off with good French bread, butter, and coffee. French Pete did not join them, though 'Frisco Kid attempted a couple oftimes to rouse him. He mumbled and grunted, half opened his bleared eyes, then fell to snoring again. 

"Can't tell when he 's going to get those spells, " 'Frisco Kid explained, when Joe, having finished washing dishes, came on deck. "Sometimes hewon't get that way for a month, and others he won't be decent for aweek at a stretch. Sometimes he 's good-natured, and sometimes he 'sdangerous; so the best thing to do is to let him alone and keep out ofhis way; and don't cross him, for if you do there 's liable to be trouble. 

"Come on; let 's take a swim, " he added, abruptly changing the subjectto one more agreeable. "Can you swim?"

Joe nodded. 

"What 's that place?" he asked, as he poised before diving, pointing towarda sheltered beach on the island where there were several buildings and alarge number of tents. 

"Quarantine station. Lots of smallpox coming in now on the China steamers, and they make them go there till the doctors say they 're safe to land. Itell you, they 're strict about it, too. Why--"

Splash! Had 'Frisco Kid finished his sentence just then, instead of divingoverboard, much trouble might have been saved to Joe. But he did not finishit, and Joe dived after him. 

"I 'll tell you what, " 'Frisco Kid suggested half an hour later, while theyclung to the bobstay preparatory to climbing out. "Let 's catch a mess offish for dinner, and then turn in and make up for the sleep we lost lastnight. What d' you say?"

They made a race to clamber aboard, but Joe was shoved over the side again. When he finally did arrive, the other lad had brought to light a pair ofheavily leaded, large-hooked lines and a mackerel-keg of salt sardines. 

"Bait, " he said. "Just shove a whole one on. They 're not a bit partic'lar. Swallow the bait, hook and all, and go--that 's their caper. The fellowthat does n't catch the first fish has to clean 'em. "

Both sinkers started on their long descent together, and seventy feet ofline whizzed out before they came to rest. But at the instant his sinkertouched the bottom Joe felt the struggling jerks of a hooked fish. Ashe began to haul in he glanced at 'Frisco Kid and saw that he too hadevidently captured a finny prize. The race between them was exciting. Hand over hand the wet lines flashed inboard. But 'Frisco Kid was moreexpert, and his fish tumbled into the cockpit first. Joe's followed aninstant later--a three-pound rock-cod. He was wild with joy. It wasmagnificent--the largest fish he had ever landed or ever seen landed. Over went the lines again, and up they came with two mates of the onesalready captured. It was sport royal. Joe would certainly have continuedtill he had fished the bay empty, had not 'Frisco Kid persuaded himto stop. 

"We 've got enough for three meals now, " he said, "so there 's no use inhaving them spoil. Besides, the more you catch the more you clean, andyou 'd better start in right away. I 'm going to bed. "

CHAPTER XII

JOE TRIES TO TAKE FRENCH LEAVE

Joe did not mind. In fact, he was glad he had not caught the first fish, for it helped out a little plan which had come to him while swimming. Hethrew the last cleaned fish into a bucket of water and glanced about him. The quarantine station was a bare half-mile away, and he could make outa soldier pacing up and down at sentry duty on the beach. Going into thecabin, he listened to the heavy breathing of the sleepers. He had to passso close to 'Frisco Kid to get his bundle of clothes that he decided notto take it. Returning outside, he carefully pulled the skiff alongside, got aboard with a pair of oars, and cast off. 

At first he rowed very gently in the direction of the station, fearingthe chance of noise if he made undue haste. But gradually he increasedthe strength of his strokes till he had settled down to the regularstride. When he had covered half the distance he glanced about. Escapewas sure now, for he knew, even if he were discovered, that it would beimpossible for the _Dazzler_ to get under way and head him off before hemade the land and the protection of that man who wore the uniform ofUncle Sam's soldiers. 

The report of a gun came to him from the shore, but his back was in thatdirection and he did not bother to turn around. A second report followed, and a bullet cut the water within a couple of feet of his oar-blade. Thistime he did turn around. The soldier on the beach was leveling his rifleat him for a third shot. 

Joe was in a predicament, and a very tantalizing one at that. A fewminutes of hard rowing would bring him to the beach and to safety; buton that beach, for some unaccountable reason, stood a United Statessoldier who persisted in firing at him. When Joe saw the gun aimed athim for the third time, he backed water hastily. As a result, the skiffcame to a standstill, and the soldier, lowering his rifle, regardedhim intently. 

"I want to come ashore! Important!" Joe shouted out to him. 

The man in uniform shook his head. 

"But it 's important, I tell you! Won't you let me come ashore?"

He took a hurried look in the direction of the _Dazzler_. The shots hadevidently awakened French Pete, for the mainsail had been hoisted, andas he looked he saw the anchor broken out and the jib flung to the breeze. 

"Can't land here!" the soldier shouted back. "Smallpox!"

"But I must!" he cried, choking down a half-sob and preparing to row. 

"Then I 'll shoot you, " was the cheering response, and the rifle came toshoulder again. 

Joe thought rapidly. The island was large. Perhaps there were no soldiersfarther on, and if he only once got ashore he did not care how quicklythey captured him. He might catch the smallpox, but even that was betterthan going back to the bay pirates. He whirled the skiff half about tothe right, and threw all his strength against the oars. The cove was quitewide, and the nearest point which he must go around a good distance away. Had he been more of a sailor, he would have gone in the other directionfor the opposite point, and thus had the wind on his pursuers. As it was, the _Dazzler_ had a beam wind in which to overtake him. 

It was nip and tuck for a while. The breeze was light and not very steady, so sometimes he gained and sometimes they. Once it freshened till the sloopwas within a hundred yards of him, and then it dropped suddenly flat, the_Dazzler's_ big mainsail flapping idly from side to side. 

"Ah! you steal ze skiff, eh?" French Pete howled at him, running into thecabin for his rifle. "I fix you! You come back queeck, or I kill you!" Buthe knew the soldier was watching them from the shore, and did not dare tofire, even over the lad's head. 

Joe did not think of this, for he, who had never been shot at in all hisprevious life, had been under fire twice in the last twenty-four hours. Once more or less could n't amount to much. So he pulled steadily away, while French Pete raved like a wild man, threatening him with all mannerof punishments once he laid hands upon him again. To complicate matters, 'Frisco Kid waxed mutinous. 

"Just you shoot him, and I 'll see you hung for it--see if I don't, " hethreatened. "You 'd better let him go. He 's a good boy and all right, and not raised for the dirty life you and I are leading. "

"You too, eh!" the Frenchman shrieked, beside himself with rage. "Den Ifix you, you rat!"

He made a rush for the boy, but 'Frisco Kid led him a lively chase fromcockpit to bowsprit and back again. A sharp capful of wind arriving justthen, French Pete abandoned the one chase for the other. Springing to thetiller and slacking away on the main-sheet, --for the wind favored, --heheaded the sloop down upon Joe. The latter made one tremendous spurt, then gave up in despair and hauled in his oars. French Pete let go themain-sheet, lost steerageway as he rounded up alongside the motionlessskiff, and dragged Joe out. 

"Keep mum, " 'Frisco Kid whispered to him while the irate Frenchman wasbusy fastening the painter. "Don't talk back. Let him say all he wantsto, and keep quiet. It 'll be better for you. "

But Joe's Anglo-Saxon blood was up, and he did not heed. 

"Look here, Mr. French Pete, or whatever your name is, " he commenced; "Igive you to understand that I want to quit, and that I 'm going to quit. So you 'd better put me ashore at once. If you don't I 'll put you inprison, or my name 's not Joe Bronson. "

'Frisco Kid waited the outcome fearfully. French Pete was aghast. He wasbeing defied aboard his own vessel--and by a boy! Never had such a thingbeen heard of. He knew he was committing an unlawful act in detaining him, but at the same time he was afraid to let him go with the information hehad gathered concerning the sloop and its occupation. The boy had spokenthe unpleasant truth when he said he could send him to prison. The onlything for him to do was to bully him. 

"You will, eh?" His shrill voice rose wrathfully. "Den you come too. Yourow ze boat last-a night--answer me dat! You steal ze iron--answer medat! You run away--answer me dat! And den you say you put me in jail? Bah!"

"But I did n't know, " Joe protested. 

"Ha, ha! Dat is funny. You tell dat to ze judge; mebbe him laugh, eh?"

"I say I did n't, " he reiterated manfully. "I did n't know I 'd shippedalong with a lot of thieves. "

'Frisco Kid winced at this epithet, and had Joe been looking at him hewould have seen a red flush mount to his face. 

"And now that I do know, " he continued, "I wish to be put ashore. I don'tknow anything about the law, but I do know something of right and wrong;and I 'm willing to take my chance with any judge for whatever wrong Ihave done--with all the judges in the United States, for that matter. And that 's more than you can say, Mr. Pete. "

"You say dat, eh? Vaire good. But you are one big t'ief--"

"I 'm not--don't you dare call me that again!" Joe's face was pale, and hewas trembling--but not with fear. 

"T'ief!" the Frenchman taunted back. 

"You lie!"

Joe had not been a boy among boys for nothing. He knew the penalty whichattached itself to the words he had just spoken, and he expected to receiveit. So he was not overmuch surprised when he picked himself up from thefloor of the cockpit an instant later, his head still ringing from a stiffblow between the eyes. 

"Say dat one time more, " French Pete bullied, his fist raised and preparedto strike. 

Tears of anger stood in Joe's eyes, but he was calm and in deadly earnest. "When you say I am a thief, Pete, you lie. You can kill me, but still Iwill say you lie. "

"No, you don't!" 'Frisco Kid had darted in like a cat, preventing a secondblow, and shoving the Frenchman back across the cockpit. 

"You leave the boy alone!" he continued, suddenly unshipping and arminghimself with the heavy iron tiller, and standing between them. "This thing's gone just about as far as it 's going to go. You big fool, can't yousee the stuff the boy 's made of? He speaks true. He 's right, and heknows it, and you could kill him and he would n't give in. There 's myhand on it, Joe. " He turned and extended his hand to Joe, who returnedthe grip. "You 've got spunk and you 're not afraid to show it. "

French Pete's mouth twisted itself in a sickly smile, but the evil gleamin his eyes gave it the lie. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Ah! So?He does not dee-sire dat I call him pet names. Ha, ha! It is only zesailorman play. Let us--what you call--forgive and forget, eh? Vaire good;forgive and forget. "

He reached out his hand, but Joe refused to take it. 'Frisco Kid noddedapproval, while French Pete, still shrugging his shoulders and smiling, passed into the cabin. 

"Slack off ze main-sheet, " he called out, "and run down for Hunter's Point. For one time I will cook ze dinner, and den you will say dat it is zevaire good dinner. Ah! French Pete is ze great cook!"

"That 's the way he always does--gets real good and cooks when he wantsto make up, " 'Frisco Kid hazarded, slipping the tiller into the rudder-headand obeying the order. "But even then you can't trust him. "

Joe nodded his head, but did not speak. He was in no mood for conversation. He was still trembling from the excitement of the last few moments, whiledeep down he questioned himself on how he had behaved, and found nothingto be ashamed of. 

CHAPTER XIII

BEFRIENDING EACH OTHER

The afternoon sea-breeze had sprung up and was now rioting in from thePacific. Angel Island was fast dropping astern, and the water-front ofSan Francisco showing up, as the _Dazzler_ plowed along before it. Soonthey were in the midst of the shipping, passing in and out among thevessels which had come from the ends of the earth. Later they crossedthe fairway, where the ferry steamers, crowded with passengers, passed toand fro between San Francisco and Oakland. One came so close that thepassengers crowded to the side to see the gallant little sloop and the twoboys in the cockpit. Joe gazed enviously at the row of down-turned faces. They were all going to their homes, while he--he was going he knew notwhither, at the will of French Pete. He was half tempted to cry out forhelp; but the foolishness of such an act struck him, and he held histongue. Turning his head, his eyes wandered along the smoky heights ofthe city, and he fell to musing on the strange way of men and ships onthe sea. 

'Frisco Kid watched him from the corner of his eye, following his thoughtsas accurately as though he spoke them aloud. 

"Got a home over there somewheres?" he queried suddenly, waving his handin the direction of the city. 

Joe started, so correctly had his thought been guessed. "Yes, " he saidsimply. 

"Tell us about it. "

Joe rapidly described his home, though forced to go into greater detailbecause of the curious questions of his companion. 'Frisco Kid wasinterested in everything, especially in Mrs. Bronson and Bessie. Of thelatter he could not seem to tire, and poured forth question after questionconcerning her. So peculiar and artless were some of them that Joe couldhardly forbear to smile. 

"Now tell me about yours, " he said when he at last had finished. 

'Frisco Kid seemed suddenly to harden, and his face took on a stern lookwhich the other had never seen there before. He swung his foot idly toand fro, and lifted a dull eye aloft to the main-peak blocks, with which, by the way, there was nothing the matter. 

"Go ahead, " the other encouraged. 

"I have n't no home. "

The four words left his mouth as though they had been forcibly ejected, and his lips came together after them almost with a snap. 

Joe saw he had touched a tender spot, and strove to ease the way out ofit again. "Then the home you did have. " He did not dream that there werelads in the world who never had known homes, or that he had only succeededin probing deeper. 

"Never had none. "

"Oh!" His interest was aroused, and he now threw solicitude to the winds. "Any sisters?"

"Nope. "

"Mother?"

"I was so young when she died that I don't remember her. "

"Father?"

"I never saw much of him. He went to sea--anyhow, he disappeared. "

"Oh!" Joe did not know what to say, and an oppressive silence, broken onlyby the churn of the _Dazzler's_ forefoot, fell upon them. 

Just then Pete came out to relieve at the tiller while they went in to eat. Both lads hailed his advent with feelings of relief, and the awkwardnessvanished over the dinner, which was all their skipper had claimed it to be. Afterward 'Frisco Kid relieved Pete, and while he was eating Joe washed upthe dishes and put the cabin shipshape. Then they all gathered in thestern, where the captain strove to increase the general cordiality byentertaining them with descriptions of life among the pearl-divers ofthe South Seas. 

In this fashion the afternoon wore away. They had long since left SanFrancisco behind, rounded Hunter's Point, and were now skirting theSan Mateo shore. Joe caught a glimpse, once, of a party of cyclistsrounding a cliff on the San Bruno Road, and remembered the time whenhe had gone over the same ground on his own wheel. It was only a monthor two before, but it seemed an age to him now, so much had there beento come between. 

By the time supper had been eaten and the things cleared away, they werewell down the bay, off the marshes behind which Redwood City clustered. The wind had gone down with the sun, and the _Dazzler_ was making butlittle headway, when they sighted a sloop bearing down upon them on thedying wind. 'Frisco Kid instantly named it as the _Reindeer_, to whichFrench Pete, after a deep scrutiny, agreed. He seemed very much pleasedat the meeting. 

"Red Nelson runs her, " 'Frisco Kid informed Joe. "And he 's a terror andno mistake. I 'm always afraid of him when he comes near. They 've gotsomething big down here, and they 're always after French Pete to tackleit with them. He knows more about it, whatever it is. "

Joe nodded, and looked at the approaching craft curiously. Though somewhatlarger, it was built on about the same lines as the _Dazzler_ which meant, above everything else, that it was built for speed. The mainsail was solarge that it was more like that of a racing-yacht, and it carried thepoints for no less than three reefs in case of rough weather. Aloft andon deck everything was in place--nothing was untidy or useless. Fromrunning-gear to standing rigging, everything bore evidence of thoroughorder and smart seamanship. 

The _Reindeer_ came up slowly in the gathering twilight and went to anchora biscuit-toss away. French Pete followed suit with the _Dazzler_, and thenwent in the skiff to pay them a visit. The two lads stretched themselvesout on top the cabin and awaited his return. 

"Do you like the life?" Joe broke silence. 

The other turned on his elbow. "Well--I do, and then again I don't. Thefresh air, and the salt water, and all that, and the freedom--that 's allright; but I don't like the--the--" He paused a moment, as though histongue had failed in its duty, and then blurted out: "the stealing. "

"Then why don't you quit it?" Joe liked the lad more than he dared confessto himself, and he felt a sudden missionary zeal come upon him. 

"I will just as soon as I can turn my hand to something else. "

"But why not now?"

_Now is the accepted time_ was ringing in Joe's ears, and if the otherwished to leave, it seemed a pity that he did not, and at once. 

"Where can I go? What can I do? There 's nobody in all the world to lendme a hand, just as there never has been. I tried it once, and learned mylesson too well to do it again in a hurry. "

"Well, when I get out of this I 'm going home. Guess my father was right, after all. And I don't see, maybe--what 's the matter with you going withme?" He said this last without thinking, impulsively, and 'Frisco Kidknew it. 

"You don't know what you 're talking about, " he answered. "Fancy me goingoff with you! What 'd your father say? and--and the rest? How would hethink of me? And what 'd he do?"

Joe felt sick at heart. He realized that in the spirit of the momenthe had given an invitation which, on sober thought, he knew would beimpossible to carry out. He tried to imagine his father receiving inhis own house a stranger like 'Frisco Kid--no, that was not to bethought of. Then, forgetting his own plight, he fell to racking hisbrains for some other method by which 'Frisco Kid could get away fromhis present surroundings. 

"He might turn me over to the police, " the other went on, "and send me toa refuge. I 'd die first, before I 'd let that happen to me. And besides, Joe, I 'm not of your kind, and you know it. Why, I 'd be like a fish outof water, what with all the things I did n't know. Nope; I guess I 'llhave to wait a little before I strike out. But there 's only one thingfor you to do, and that 's to go straight home. First chance I get I 'llland you, and then I 'll deal with French Pete--"

"No, you don't, " Joe interrupted hotly. "When I leave I 'm not going toleave you in trouble on my account. So don't you try anything like that. I 'll get away, never fear, and if I can figure it out I want you tocome along too; come along anyway, and figure it out afterward. What d'you say?"

'Frisco Kid shook his head, and, gazing up at the starlit heavens, wandered off into dreams of the life he would like to lead but fromwhich he seemed inexorably shut out. The seriousness of life wasstriking deeper than ever into Joe's heart, and he lay silent, thinking hard. A mumble of heavy voices came to them from the_Reindeer_; and from the land the solemn notes of a church bellfloated across the water, while the summer night wrapped themslowly in its warm darkness. 

CHAPTER XIV

AMONG THE OYSTER-BEDS

Time and the world slipped away, and both boys were aroused by the harshvoice of French Pete from the sleep into which they had fallen. 

"Get under way!" he was bawling. "Here, you Sho! Cast off ze gaskets!Queeck! Lively! You Kid, ze jib!"

Joe was clumsy in the darkness, not knowing the names of things and theplaces where they were to be found; but he made fair progress, and whenhe had tossed the gaskets into the cockpit was ordered forward to helphoist the mainsail. After that the anchor was hove in and the jib set. Then they coiled down the halyards and put everything in order beforethey returned aft. 

"Vaire good, vaire good, " the Frenchman praised, as Joe dropped in overthe rail. "Splendeed! You make ze good sailorman, I know for sure. "

'Frisco Kid lifted the cover of one of the cockpit lockers and glancedquestioningly at French Pete. 

"For sure, " that mariner replied. "Put up ze side-lights. "

'Frisco Kid took the red and green lanterns into the cabin to light them, and then went forward with Joe to hang them in the rigging. 

"They 're not goin' to tackle it, " 'Frisco Kid said in an undertone. 

"What?" Joe asked. 

"That big thing I was tellin' you was down here somewhere. It 's so big, I guess, that French Pete 's 'most afraid to go in for it. Red Nelson 'dgo in quicker 'n a wink, but he don't know enough about it. Can't go in, you see, till Pete gives the word. "

"Where are we going now?" Joe questioned. 

"Don't know; oyster-beds most likely, from the way we 're heading. "

It was an uneventful trip. A breeze sprang up out of the night behind them, and held steady for an hour or more. Then it dropped and became aimless anderratic, puffing gently first from one quarter and then another. FrenchPete remained at the tiller, while occasionally Joe or 'Frisco Kid tookin or slacked off a sheet. 

Joe sat and marveled that the Frenchman should know where he was going. To Joe it seemed that they were lost in the impenetrable darkness whichshrouded them. A high fog had rolled in from the Pacific, and though theywere beneath, it came between them and the stars, depriving them of thelittle light from that source. 

But French Pete seemed to know instinctively the direction he should go, and once, in reply to a query from Joe, bragged of his ability to go bythe "feel" of things. 

"I feel ze tide, ze wind, ze speed, " he explained. "Even do I feel ze land. Dat I tell you for sure. How? I do not know. Only do I know dat I feel zeland, just like my arm grow long, miles and miles long, and I put my handupon ze land and feel it, and know dat it is there. "

Joe looked incredulously at 'Frisco Kid. 

"That 's right, " he affirmed. "After you 've been on the water a goodwhile you come to feel the land. And if your nose is any account, youcan usually smell it. "

An hour or so later, Joe surmised from the Frenchman's actions that theywere approaching their destination. He seemed on the alert, and wasconstantly peering into the darkness ahead as though he expected to seesomething at any moment. Joe looked very hard, but saw only the darkness. 

"Try ze stick, Kid, " French Pete ordered. "I t'ink it is about ze time. "

'Frisco Kid unlashed a long and slender pole from the top of the cabin, and, standing on the narrow deck amidships, plunged one end of it intothe water and drove it straight down. 

"About fifteen feet, " he said. 

"What ze bottom?"

"Mud, " was the answer. 

"Wait one while, den we try some more. "

Five minutes afterward the pole was plunged overside again. 

"Two fathoms, " Joe answered--"shells. "

French Pete rubbed his hands with satisfaction. "Vaire good, vaire well, "he said. "I hit ze ground every time. You can't fool-a ze old man; I tellyou dat for sure. "

'Frisco Kid continued operating the pole and announcing the results, to themystification of Joe, who could not comprehend their intimate knowledge ofthe bottom of the bay. 

"Ten feet--shells, " 'Frisco Kid went on in a monotonous voice. "'Levenfeet--shells. Fourteen feet--soft. Sixteen feet--mud. No bottom. "

"Ah, ze channel, " said French Pete at this. 

For a few minutes it was "No bottom"; and then, suddenly, came 'FriscoKid's cry: "Eight feet--hard!"

"Dat 'll do, " French Pete commanded. "Run for'ard, you Sho, an' let go zejib. You, Kid, get all ready ze hook. "

Joe found the jib-halyard and cast it off the pin, and, as the canvasfluttered down, came in hand over hand on the downhaul. 

"Let 'er go!" came the command, and the anchor dropped into the water, carrying but little chain after it. 

'Frisco Kid threw over plenty of slack and made fast. Then they furledthe sails, made things tidy, and went below and to bed. 

It was six o'clock when Joe awoke and went out into the cockpit to lookabout. Wind and sea had sprung up, and the _Dazzler_ was rolling andtossing and now and again fetching up on her anchor-chain with a savagejerk. He was forced to hold on to the boom overhead to steady himself. It was a gray and leaden day, with no signs of the rising sun, while thesky was obscured by great masses of flying clouds. 

Joe sought for the land. A mile and a half away it lay--a long, lowstretch of sandy beach with a heavy surf thundering upon it. Behindappeared desolate marshlands, while far beyond towered the ContraCosta Hills. 

Changing the direction of his gaze, Joe was startled by the sight of asmall sloop rolling and plunging at her anchor not a hundred yards away. She was nearly to windward, and as she swung off slightly he read her nameon the stern, the _Flying Dutchman_, one of the boats he had seen lying atthe city wharf in Oakland. A little to the left of her he discovered the_Ghost_, and beyond were half a dozen other sloops at anchor. 

"What I tell you?"

Joe looked quickly over his shoulder. French Pete had come out of thecabin and was triumphantly regarding the spectacle. 

"What I tell you? Can't fool-a ze old man, dat 's what. I hit it in zedark just so well as in ze sunshine. I know--I know. "

"Is she goin' to howl?" 'Frisco Kid asked from the cabin, where he wasstarting the fire. 

The Frenchman gravely studied sea and sky for a couple of minutes. 

"Mebbe blow over--mebbe blow up, " was his doubtful verdict. "Get breakfastqueeck, and we try ze dredging. "

Smoke was rising from the cabins of the different sloops, denoting thatthey were all bent on getting the first meal of the day. So far as the_Dazzler_ was concerned, it was a simple matter, and soon they wereputting a single reef in the mainsail and getting ready to weigh anchor. 

Joe was curious. These were undoubtedly the oyster-beds; but how under thesun, in that wild sea, were they to get oysters? He was quickly to learnthe way. Lifting a section of the cockpit flooring, French Pete broughtout two triangular frames of steel. At the apex of one of these triangles;in a ring for the purpose, he made fast a piece of stout rope. From thisthe sides (inch rods) diverged at almost right angles, and extended downfor a distance of four feet or more, where they were connected by thethird side of the triangle, which was the bottom of the dredge. This wasa flat plate of steel over a yard in length, to which was bolted a row oflong, sharp teeth, likewise of steel. Attached to the toothed plate, andto the sides of the frame was a net of very coarse fishing-twine, whichJoe correctly surmised was there to catch the oysters raked loose by theteeth from the bottom of the bay. 

A rope being made fast to each of the dredges, they were dropped overboardfrom either side of the _Dazzler_. When they had reached the bottom, andwere dragging with the proper length of line out, they checked her speedquite noticeably. Joe touched one of the lines with his hands, and couldfeel plainly the shock and jar and grind as it tore over the bottom. 

"All in!" French Pete shouted. 

The boys laid hold of the line and hove in the dredge. The net was fullof mud and slime and small oysters, with here and there a large one. Thismess they dumped on the deck and picked over while the dredge was draggingagain. The large oysters they threw into the cockpit, and shoveled therubbish overboard. There was no rest, for by this time the other dredgerequired emptying. And when this was done and the oysters sorted, bothdredges had to be hauled aboard, so that French Pete could put the_Dazzler_ about on the other tack. 

The rest of the fleet was under way and dredging back in similar fashion. Sometimes the different sloops came quite close to them, and they hailedthem and exchanged snatches of conversation and rough jokes. But in themain it was hard work, and at the end of an hour Joe's back was achingfrom the unaccustomed strain, and his fingers were cut and bleeding fromhis clumsy handling of the sharp-edged oysters. 

"Dat 's right, " French Pete said approvingly. "You learn queeck. Vairesoon you know how. "

Joe grinned ruefully and wished it was dinner-time. Now and then, whena light dredge was hauled, the boys managed to catch breath and say acouple of words. 

"That 's Asparagus Island, " 'Frisco Kid said, indicating the shore. "Atleast, that 's what the fishermen and scow-sailors call it. The peoplewho live there call it Bay Farm Island. " He pointed more to the right. "And over there is San Leandro. You can't see it, but it 's there. "

"Ever been there?" Joe asked. 

'Frisco Kid nodded his head and signed to him to help heave in thestarboard dredge. 

"These are what they call the deserted beds, " he said again. "Nobody ownsthem, so the oyster pirates come down and make a bluff at working them. "

"Why a bluff?"

"'Cause they 're pirates, that 's why, and because there 's more money inraiding the private beds. "

He made a sweeping gesture toward the east and southeast. "The private bedsare over yonder, and if it don't storm the whole fleet 'll be raidin' 'emto-night. "

"And if it does storm?" Joe asked. 

"Why, we won't raid them, and French Pete 'll be mad, that 's all. Healways hates being put out by the weather. But it don't look like lettin'up, and this is the worst possible shore in a sou'wester. Pete may tryto hang on, but it 's best to get out before she howls. "

At first it did seem as though the weather were growing better. The stiffsouthwest wind dropped perceptibly, and by noon, when they went to anchorfor dinner, the sun was breaking fitfully through the clouds. 

"That 's all right, " 'Frisco Kid said prophetically. "But I ain't beenon the bay for nothing. She 's just gettin' ready to let us have it goodan' hard. "

"I t'ink you 're right, Kid, " French Pete agreed; "but ze _Dazzler_ hangon all ze same. Last-a time she run away, an' fine night come. Dis timeshe run not away. Eh? Vaire good. "

CHAPTER XV

GOOD SAILORS IN A WILD ANCHORAGE

All afternoon the _Dazzler_ pitched and rolled at her anchorage, and asevening drew on the wind deceitfully eased down. This, and the exampleset by French Pete, encouraged the rest of the oyster-boats to attemptto ride out the night; but they looked carefully to their moorings andput out spare anchors. 

French Pete ordered the two boys into the skiff, and, at the imminent riskof swamping, they carried out a second anchor, at nearly right angles tothe first one, and dropped it over. French Pete then ran out a greatquantity of chain and rope, so that the _Dazzler_ dropped back a hundredfeet or more, where she rode more easily. 

It was a wild stretch of water which Joe looked upon from the shelter ofthe cockpit. The oyster-beds were out in the open bay, utterly unprotected, and the wind, sweeping the water for a clean twelve miles, kicked up sotremendous a sea that at every moment it seemed as though the wallowingsloops would roll their masts overside. Just before twilight a patch ofsail sprang up to windward, and grew and grew until it resolved itselfinto the huge mainsail of the _Reindeer_. 

"Ze beeg fool!" French Pete cried, running out of the cabin to see. "Sometime--ah, sometime, I tell you--he crack on like dat, an' he go, pouf! just like dat, pouf!--an' no more Nelson, no more _Reindeer_, nomore nothing. "

Joe looked inquiringly at 'Frisco Kid. 

"That 's right, " he answered. "Nelson ought to have at least one reefin. Two 'd be better. But there he goes, every inch spread, as thoughsome fiend was after 'im. He drives too hard; he 's too reckless, whenthere ain't the smallest need for it. I 've sailed with him, and I knowhis ways. "

Like some huge bird of the air, the _Reindeer_ lifted and soared downon them on the foaming crest of a wave. 

"Don't mind, " 'Frisco Kid warned. "He 's only tryin' to see how closehe can come to us without hittin' us. "

Joe nodded, and stared with wide eyes at the thrilling sight. The_Reindeer_ leaped up in the air, pointing her nose to the sky tillthey could see her whole churning forefoot; then she plunged downwardtill her for'ard deck was flush with the foam, and with a dizzying rushshe drove past them, her main-boom missing the _Dazzler's_ rigging byscarcely a foot. 

Nelson, at the wheel, waved his hand to them as he hurtled past, and laughed joyously in French Pete's face, who was angered by thedangerous trick. 

When to leeward, the splendid craft rounded to the wind, rolling oncetill her brown bottom showed to the centerboard and they thought shewas over, then righting and dashing ahead again like a thing possessed. She passed abreast of them on the starboard side. They saw the jib rundown with a rush and an anchor go overboard as she shot into the wind;and as she fell off and back and off and back with a spilling mainsail, they saw a second anchor go overboard, wide apart from the first. Thenthe mainsail came down on the run, and was furled and fastened by thetime she had tightened to her double hawsers. 

"Ah, ah! Never was there such a man!"

The Frenchman's eyes were glistening with admiration for such perfectseamanship, and 'Frisco Kid's were likewise moist. 

"Just like a yacht, " he said as he went back into the cabin. "Just likea yacht, only better. "

As night came on the wind began to rise again, and by eleven o'clock hadreached the stage which 'Frisco Kid described as "howlin'. " There waslittle sleep on the _Dazzler_. He alone closed his eyes. French Pete wasup and down every few minutes. Twice, when he went on deck, he paid outmore chain and rope. Joe lay in his blankets and listened, the whilevainly courting sleep. He was not frightened, but he was untrained inthe art of sleeping in the midst of such turmoil and uproar and violentcommotion. Nor had he imagined a boat could play as wild antics as didthe _Dazzler_ and still survive. Often she wallowed over on her beamtill he thought she would surely capsize. At other times she leapedand plunged in the air and fell upon the seas with thunderous crashesas though her bottom were shattered to fragments. Again, she would fetchup taut on her hawsers so suddenly and so fiercely as to reel from theshock and to groan and protest through every timber. 

'Frisco Kid awoke once, and smiled at him, saying:

"This is what they call hangin' on. But just you wait till daylight comes, and watch us clawin' off. If some of the sloops don't go ashore, I 'm notme, that 's all. "

And thereat he rolled over on his side and was off to sleep. Joe enviedhim. About three in the morning he heard French Pete crawl up for'ard andrummage around in the eyes of the boat. Joe looked on curiously, and bythe dim light of the wildly swinging sea-lamp saw him drag out two sparecoils of line. These he took up on deck, and Joe knew he was bending themon to the hawsers to make them still longer. 

At half-past four French Pete had the fire going, and at five he calledthe boys for coffee. This over, they crept into the cockpit to gaze on theterrible scene. The dawn was breaking bleak and gray over a wild waste oftumbling water. They could faintly see the beach-line of Asparagus Island, but they could distinctly hear the thunder of the surf upon it; and as theday grew stronger they made out that they had dragged fully half a mileduring the night. 

The rest of the fleet had likewise dragged. The _Reindeer_ was almostabreast of them; _La Caprice_ lay a few hundred yards away; and toleeward, straggling between them and shore, were five more of thestruggling oyster-boats. 

"Two missing, " 'Frisco Kid announced, putting the glasses to his eyesand searching the beach. 

"And there 's one!" he cried. And after studying it carefully he added:"The _Go Ask Her_. She 'll be in pieces in no time. I hope they gotashore. "

French Pete looked through the glasses, and then Joe. He could clearly seethe unfortunate sloop lifting and pounding in the surf, and on the beach hespied the men who made up her crew. 

"Where 's ze _Ghost_?" French Pete queried. 

'Frisco Kid looked for her in vain along the beach; but when he turned theglass seaward he quickly discovered her riding safely in the growing light, half a mile or more to windward. 

"I 'll bet she did n't drag a hundred feet all night, " he said. "Must 'vestruck good holding-ground. "

"Mud, " was French Pete's verdict. "Just one vaire small patch of mud rightthere. If she get t'rough it she 's a sure-enough goner, I tell you dat. Her anchors vaire light, only good for mud. I tell ze boys get more heavyanchors, but dey laugh. Some day be sorry, for sure. "

One of the sloops to leeward raised a patch of sail and began the terriblestruggle out of the jaws of destruction and death. They watched her for aspace, rolling and plunging fearfully, and making very little headway. 

French Pete put a stop to their gazing. "Come on!" he shouted. "Put tworeef in ze mainsail! We get out queeck!"

While occupied with this a shout aroused them. Looking up, they saw the_Ghost_ dead ahead and right on top of them, and dragging down upon themat a furious rate. 

French Pete scrambled forward like a cat, at the same time drawing hisknife, with one stroke of which he severed the rope that held them tothe spare anchor. This threw the whole weight of the _Dazzler_ on thechain-anchor. In consequence she swung off to the left, and just in time;for the next instant, drifting stern foremost, the _Ghost_ passed overthe spot she had vacated. 

"Why, she 's got four anchors out!" Joe exclaimed, at sight of four tautropes entering the water almost horizontally from her bow. 

"Two of 'em 's dredges, " 'Frisco Kid grinned; "and there goes the stove. "

As he spoke, two young fellows appeared on deck and dropped thecooking-stove overside with a line attached. 

"Phew!" 'Frisco Kid cried. "Look at Nelson. He 's got one reef in, and you can just bet that 's a sign she 's howlin'!"

The _Reindeer_ came foaming toward them, breasting the storm like somemagnificent sea-animal. Red Nelson waved to them as he passed astern, and fifteen minutes later, when they were breaking out the one anchorthat remained to them, he passed well to windward on the other tack. 

French Pete followed her admiringly, though he said ominously: "Someday, pouf! he go just like dat, I tell you, sure. "

A moment later the _Dazzler's_ reefed jib was flung out, and she wasstraining and struggling in the thick of the fight. It was slow work, and hard and dangerous, clawing off that lee shore, and Joe foundhimself marveling often that so small a craft could possibly endurea minute in such elemental fury. But little by little she worked offthe shore and out of the ground-swell into the deeper waters of the bay, where the main-sheet was slacked away a bit, and she ran for shelterbehind the rock wall of the Alameda Mole a few miles away. Here theyfound the _Reindeer_ calmly at anchor; and here, during the next severalhours, straggled in the remainder of the fleet, with the exception of the_Ghost_, which had evidently gone ashore to keep the _Go Ask Her_ company. 

By afternoon the wind had dropped away with surprising suddenness, and theweather had turned almost summer-like. 

"It does n't look right, " 'Frisco Kid said in the evening, after FrenchPete had rowed over in the skiff to visit Nelson. 

"What does n't look right?" Joe asked. 

"Why, the weather. It went down too sudden. It did n't have a chanceto blow itself out, and it ain't going to quit till does blow itselfout. It 's likely to puff up and howl at any moment, if I know anythingabout it. "

"Where will we go from here?" Joe asked. "Back to the oyster-beds?"

'Frisco Kid shook his head. "I can't say what French Pete 'll do. He 'sbeen fooled on the iron, and fooled on the oysters, and he 's thatdisgusted he 's liable to do 'most anything desperate. I would n't besurprised to see him go off with Nelson towards Redwood City, where thatbig thing is that I was tellin' you about. It 's somewhere over there. "

"Well, I won't have anything to do with it, " Joe announced decisively. 

"Of course not, " 'Frisco Kid answered. "And with Nelson and his two menan' French Pete, I don't think there 'll be any need for you anyway. "

CHAPTER XVI

'FRISCO KID'S DITTY-BOX

After the conversation died away, the two lads lay upon the cabin forperhaps an hour. Then, without saying a word, 'Frisco Kid went belowand struck a light. Joe could hear him fumbling about, and a littlelater heard his own name called softly. On going into the cabin, hesaw 'Frisco Kid sitting on the edge of the bunk, a sailor's ditty-boxon his knees, and in his hand a carefully folded page from a magazine. 

"Does she look like this?" he asked, smoothing it out and turning it thatthe other might see. 

It was a half-page illustration of two girls and a boy, grouped, evidently, in an old-fashioned roomy attic, and holding a council of some sort. Thegirl who was talking faced the onlooker, while the backs of the other twowere turned. 

"Who?" Joe queried, glancing in perplexity from the picture to 'FriscoKid's face. 

"Your--your sister--Bessie. "

The word seemed reluctant in coming to his lips, and he expressedhimself with a certain shy reverence, as though it were somethingunspeakably sacred. 

Joe was nonplussed for the moment. He could see no bearing between thetwo in point, and, anyway, girls were rather silly creatures to wasteone's time over. "He 's actually blushing, " he thought, regarding thesoft glow on the other's cheeks. He felt an irresistible desire to laugh, and tried to smother it down. 

"No, no; don't!" 'Frisco Kid cried, snatching the paper away and puttingit back in the ditty-box with shaking fingers. Then he added more slowly:"I thought--I--I kind o' thought you would understand, and--and--"

His lips trembled and his eyes glistened with unwonted moistness as heturned hastily away. 

The next instant Joe was by his side on the bunk, his arm around him. Prompted by some instinctive monitor, he had done it before he thought. A week before he could not have imagined himself in such an absurdsituation--his arm around a boy; but now it seemed the most naturalthing in the world. He did not comprehend, but he knew, whatever itwas, that it was of deep importance to his companion. 

"Go ahead and tell us, " he urged. "I 'll understand. "

"No, you won't. You can't. "

"Yes, sure. Go ahead. "

'Frisco Kid choked and shook his head. "I don't think I could, anyway. It 's more the things I feel, and I don't know how to put them in words. "Joe's hand patted his shoulder reassuringly, and he went on: "Well, it 'sthis way. You see, I don't know much about the land, and people, andthings, and I never had any brothers or sisters or playmates. All thetime I did n't know it, but I was lonely--sort of missed them down inhere somewheres. " He placed a hand over his breast. "Did you ever feeldownright hungry? Well, that 's just the way I used to feel, only adifferent kind of hunger, and me not knowing what it was. But one day, oh, a long time back, I got a-hold of a magazine and saw a picture--thatpicture, with the two girls and the boy talking together. I thought it mustbe fine to be like them, and I got to thinking about the things they saidand did, till it came to me all of a sudden like, and I knew it was justloneliness was the matter with me. 

"But, more than anything else, I got to wondering about the girl who looksout of the picture right at you. I was thinking about her all the time, and by and by she became real to me. You see, it was making believe, andI knew it all the time, and then again I did n't. Whenever I 'd think ofthe men, and the work, and the hard life, I 'd know it was make-believe;but when I 'd think of her, it was n't. I don't know; I can't explain it. "

Joe remembered all his own adventures which he had imagined on land andsea, and nodded. He at least understood that much. 

"Of course it was all foolishness, but to have a girl like that for acomrade or friend seemed more like heaven to me than anything else Iknew of. As I said, it was a long while back, and I was only a littlekid--that was when Red Nelson gave me my name, and I 've never beenanything but 'Frisco Kid ever since. But the girl in the picture: Iwas always getting that picture out to look at her, and before long, if I was n't square--why, I felt ashamed to look at her. Afterwards, when I was older, I came to look at it in another way. I thought, 'Suppose, Kid, some day you were to meet a girl like that, what wouldshe think of you? Could she like you? Could she be even the least bitof a friend to you?' And then I 'd make up my mind to be better, to tryand do something with myself so that she or any of her kind of peoplewould not be ashamed to know me. 

"That 's why I learned to read. That 's why I ran away. Nicky Perrata, a Greek boy, taught me my letters, and it was n't till after I learnedto read that I found out there was anything really wrong in bay-pirating. I 'd been used to it ever since I could remember, and almost all the peopleI knew made their living that way. But when I did find out, I ran away, thinking to quit it for good. I 'll tell you about it sometime, and howI 'm back at it again. 

"Of course she seemed a real girl when I was a youngster, and even now shesometimes seems that way, I 've thought so much about her. But while I 'mtalking to you it all clears up and she comes to me in this light: shestands just for a plain idea, a better, cleaner life than this, and oneI 'd like to live; and if I could live it, why, I 'd come to know thatkind of girls, and their kind of people--your kind, that 's what I mean. So I was wondering about your sister and you, and that 's why--I don'tknow; I guess I was just wondering. But I suppose you know lots of girlslike that, don't you?"

Joe nodded his head. 

"Then tell me about them--something, anything, " he added as he noted thefleeting expression of doubt in the other's eyes. 

"Oh, that 's easy, " Joe began valiantly. To a certain extent he didunderstand the lad's hunger, and it seemed a simple enough task to atleast partially satisfy him. "To begin with, they 're like--hem!--why, they 're like--girls, just girls. " He broke off with a miserable senseof failure. 

'Frisco Kid waited patiently, his face a study in expectancy. 

Joe struggled valiantly to marshal his forces. To his mind, in quicksuccession, came the girls with whom he had gone to school--the sistersof the boys he knew, and those who were his sister's friends: slim girlsand plump girls, tall girls and short girls, blue-eyed and brown-eyed, curly-haired, black-haired, golden-haired; in short, a procession of girlsof all sorts and descriptions. But, to save himself, he could say nothingabout them. Anyway, he 'd never been a "sissy, " and why should he beexpected to know anything about them? "All girls are alike, " he concludeddesperately. "They 're just the same as the ones you know, Kid--surethey are. "

"But I don't know any. "

Joe whistled. "And never did?"

"Yes, one. Carlotta Gispardi. But she could n't speak English, and I couldn't speak Dago; and she died. I don't care; though I never knew any, I seemto know as much about them as you do. "

"And I guess I know more about adventures all over the world than you do, "Joe retorted. 

Both boys laughed. But a moment later, Joe fell into deep thought. It hadcome upon him quite swiftly that he had not been duly grateful for the goodthings of life he did possess. Already home, father, and mother had assumeda greater significance to him; but he now found himself placing a higherpersonal value upon his sister and his chums and friends. He had neverappreciated them properly, he thought, but henceforth--well, there wouldbe a different tale to tell. 

The voice of French Pete hailing them put a finish to the conversation, for they both ran on deck. 

CHAPTER XVII

'FRISCO KID TELLS HIS STORY

"Get up ze mainsail and break out ze hook!" the Frenchman shouted. "Andden tail on to ze _Reindeer_! No side-lights!"

"Come! Cast off those gaskets--lively!" 'Frisco Kid ordered. "Now lay onto the peak-halyards--there, that rope--cast it off the pin. And don'thoist ahead of me. There! Make fast! We 'll stretch it afterwards. Run aftand come in on the main-sheet! Shove the helm up!"

Under the sudden driving power of the mainsail, the _Dazzler_ strainedand tugged at her anchor like an impatient horse till the muddy iron leftthe bottom with a rush and she was free. 

"Let go the sheet! Come for'ard again and lend a hand on the chain! Standby to give her the jib!" 'Frisco Kid the boy who mooned over girls inpictorial magazines had vanished, and 'Frisco Kid the sailor, strong anddominant, was on deck. He ran aft and tacked about as the jib rattled aloftin the hands of Joe, who quickly joined him. Just then the _Reindeer_, like a monstrous bat, passed to leeward of them in the gloom. 

"Ah, dose boys! Dey take all-a night!" they heard French Pete exclaim, andthen the gruff voice of Red Nelson, who said: "Never you mind, Frenchy. Itaught the Kid his sailorizing, and I ain't never been ashamed of him yet. "

The _Reindeer_ was the faster boat, but by spilling the wind from her sailsthey managed so that the boys could keep them in sight. The breeze camesteadily in from the west, with a promise of early increase. The stars werebeing blotted out by masses of driving clouds, which indicated a greatervelocity in the upper strata. 'Frisco Kid surveyed the sky. 

"Going to have it good and stiff before morning, " he said, "just as Itold you. "

Several hours later, both boats stood in for the San Mateo shore, anddropped anchor not more than a cable's-length away. A little wharf ranout, the bare end of which was perceptible to them, though they coulddiscern a small yacht lying moored to a buoy a short distance away. 

According to their custom, everything was put in readiness for hastydeparture. The anchors could be tripped and the sails flung out on amoment's notice. Both skiffs came over noiselessly from the _Reindeer_. Red Nelson had given one of his two men to French Pete, so that eachskiff was doubly manned. They were not a very prepossessing group ofmen, --at least, Joe did not think so, --for their faces bore a savageseriousness which almost made him shiver. The captain of the _Dazzler_buckled on his pistol-belt, and placed a rifle and a stout double-blocktackle in the boat. Then he poured out wine all around, and, standing inthe darkness of the little cabin, they pledged success to the expedition. Red Nelson was also armed, while his men wore at their hips the customarysailor's sheath-knife. They were very slow and careful to avoid noisein getting into the boats, French Pete pausing long enough to warn theboys to remain quietly aboard and not try any tricks. 

"Now 'd be your chance, Joe, if they had n't taken the skiff, " 'Frisco Kidwhispered, when the boats had vanished into the loom of the land. 

"What 's the matter with the _Dazzler_?" was the unexpected answer. "Wecould up sail and away before you could say Jack Robinson. "

'Frisco Kid hesitated. The spirit of comradeship was strong in the lad, and deserting a companion in a pinch could not but be repulsive to him. 

"I don't think it 'd be exactly square to leave them in the lurch ashore, "he said. "Of course, " he went on hurriedly, "I know the whole thing 'swrong; but you remember that first night, when you came running throughthe water for the skiff, and those fellows on the bank busy popping away?We did n't leave you in the lurch, did we?"

Joe assented reluctantly, and then a new thought flashed across his mind. "But they 're pirates--and thieves--and criminals. They 're breaking thelaw, and you and I are not willing to be lawbreakers. Besides, they 'llnot be left. There 's the _Reindeer_. There 's nothing to prevent themfrom getting away on her, and they 'll never catch us in the dark. "

"Come on, then. " Though he had agreed, 'Frisco Kid did not quite like it, for it still seemed to savor of desertion. 

They crawled forward and began to hoist the mainsail. The anchor theycould slip, if necessary, and save the time of pulling it up. But at thefirst rattle of the halyards on the sheaves a warning "Hist!" came tothem through the darkness, followed by a loudly whispered "Drop that!"

Glancing in the direction from which these sounds proceeded, they madeout a white face peering at them from over the rail of the other sloop. 

"Aw, it 's only the _Reindeer's_ boy, " 'Frisco Kid said. "Come on. "

Again they were interrupted at the first rattling of the blocks. 

"I say, you fellers, you 'd better let go them halyards pretty quick, I 'm a-tellin' you, or I 'll give you what for!"

This threat being dramatically capped by the click of a cocking pistol, 'Frisco Kid obeyed and went grumblingly back to the cockpit. "Oh, there 'splenty more chances to come, " he whispered consolingly to Joe. "French Petewas cute, was n't he? He thought you might be trying to make a break, andput a guard on us. "

Nothing came from the shore to indicate how the pirates were faring. Nota dog barked, not a light flared. Yet the air seemed quivering with analarm about to burst forth. The night had taken on a strained feeling ofintensity, as though it held in store all kinds of terrible things. Theboys felt this keenly as they huddled against each other in the cockpitand waited. 

"You were going to tell me about your running away, " Joe ventured finally, "and why you came back again. "

'Frisco Kid took up the tale at once, speaking in a muffled undertoneclose to the other's ear. 

"You see, when I made up my mind to quit the life, there was n't a soulto lend me a hand; but I knew that the only thing for me to do was toget ashore and find some kind of work, so I could study. Then I figuredthere 'd be more chance in the country than in the city; so I gave RedNelson the slip--I was on the _Reindeer_ then. One night on the Alamedaoyster-beds, I got ashore and headed back from the bay as fast as Icould sprint. Nelson did n't catch me. But they were all Portuguesefarmers thereabouts, and none of them had work for me. Besides, it wasin the wrong time of the year--winter. That shows how much I knew aboutthe land. 

"I 'd saved up a couple of dollars, and I kept traveling back, deeperand deeper into the country, looking for work, and buying bread andcheese and such things from the storekeepers. I tell you, it was cold, nights, sleeping out without blankets, and I was always glad when morningcame. But worse than that was the way everybody looked on me. They wereall suspicious, and not a bit afraid to show it, and sometimes they 'dset their dogs on me and tell me to get along. Seemed as though therewas n't any place for me on the land. Then my money gave out, and justabout the time I was good and hungry I got captured. "

"Captured! What for?"

"Nothing. Living, I suppose. I crawled into a haystack to sleep one night, because it was warmer, and along comes a village constable and arrests mefor being a tramp. At first they thought I was a runaway, and telegraphedmy description all over. I told them I did n't have any people, but theywould n't believe me for a long while. And then, when nobody claimed me, the judge sent me to a boys' 'refuge' in San Francisco. "

He stopped and peered intently in the direction of the shore. The darknessand the silence in which the men had been swallowed up was profound. Nothing was stirring save the rising wind. 

"I thought I 'd die in that 'refuge. ' It was just like being in jail. Wewere locked up and guarded like prisoners. Even then, if I could haveliked the other boys it might have been all right. But they were mostlystreet-boys of the worst kind--lying, and sneaking, and cowardly, withoutone spark of manhood or one idea of square dealing and fair play. Therewas only one thing I did like, and that was the books. Oh, I did lots ofreading, I tell you! But that could n't make up for the rest. I wantedthe freedom and the sunlight and the salt water. And what had I done tobe kept in prison and herded with such a gang? Instead of doing wrong, I had tried to do right, to make myself better, and that 's what I gotfor it. I was n't old enough, you see, to reason anything out. 

"Sometimes I 'd see the sunshine dancing on the water and showing whiteon the sails, and the _Reindeer_ cutting through it just as you please, and I 'd get that sick I would know hardly what I did. And then the boyswould come against me with some of their meannesses, and I 'd start into lick the whole kit of them. Then the men in charge would lock me upand punish me. Well, I could n't stand it any longer; I watched my chanceand ran for it. Seemed as though there was n't any place on the land forme, so I picked up with French Pete and went back on the bay. That 's aboutall there is to it, though I 'm going to try it again when I get a littleolder--old enough to get a square deal for myself. "

"You 're going to go back on the land with me, " Joe said authoritatively, laying a hand on his shoulder. "That 's what you 're going to do. As for--"

Bang! a revolver-shot rang out from the shore. Bang! bang! More guns werespeaking sharply and hurriedly. A man's voice rose wildly on the air anddied away. Somebody began to cry for help. Both boys were on their feet onthe instant, hoisting the mainsail and getting everything ready to run. The _Reindeer_ boy was doing likewise. A man, roused from his sleep onthe yacht, thrust an excited head through the skylight, but withdrew ithastily at sight of the two stranger sloops. The intensity of waiting wasbroken, the time for action come. 

CHAPTER XVIII

A NEW RESPONSIBILITY FOR JOE

Heaving in on the anchor-chain till it was up and down, 'Frisco Kidand Joe ceased from their exertions. Everything was in readiness togive the _Dazzler_ the jib, and go. They strained their eyes in thedirection of the shore. The clamor had died away, but here and therelights were beginning to flash. The creaking of a block and tacklecame to their ears, and they heard Red Nelson's voice singing out:"Lower away!" and "Cast off!"

"French Pete forgot to oil it, " 'Frisco Kid commented, referring tothe tackle. 

"Takin' their time about it, ain't they?" the boy on the _Reindeer_called over to them, sitting down on the cabin and mopping his faceafter the exertion of hoisting the mainsail single-handed. 

"Guess they 're all right, " 'Frisco Kid rejoined. "All ready?"

"Yes--all right here. "

"Say, you, " the man on the yacht cried through the skylight, notventuring to show his head. "You 'd better go away. "

"And you 'd better stay below and keep quiet, " was the response. "We 'll take care of ourselves. You do the same. "

"If I was only out of this, I 'd show you!" he threatened. 

"Lucky for you you 're not, " responded the boy on the _Reindeer_;and thereat the man kept quiet. 

"Here they come!" said 'Frisco Kid suddenly to Joe. 

The two skiffs shot out of the darkness and came alongside. Some kindof an altercation was going on, as French Pete's voice attested. 

"No, no!" he cried. "Put it on ze _Dazzler_. Ze _Reindeer_ she sail toofast-a, and run away, oh, so queeck, and never more I see it. Put it onze _Dazzler_. Eh? Wot you say?"

"All right then, " Red Nelson agreed. "We 'll whack up afterwards. But, say, hurry up. Out with you, lads, and heave her up! My arm 's broke. "

The men tumbled out, ropes were cast inboard, and all hands, with theexception of Joe, tailed on. The shouting of men, the sound of oars, andthe rattling and slapping of blocks and sails, told that the men on shorewere getting under way for the pursuit. 

"Now!" Red Nelson commanded. "All together! Don't let her come back oryou 'll smash the skiff. There she takes it! A long pull and a strongpull! Once again! And yet again! Get a turn there, somebody, and takea spell. "

Though the task was but half accomplished, they were exhausted by thestrenuous effort, and hailed the rest eagerly. Joe glanced over the sideto discover what the heavy object might be, and saw the vague outlinesof a small office-safe. 

"Now all together!" Red Nelson began again. "Take her on the run and don'tlet her stop! Yo, ho! heave, ho! Once again! And another! Over with her!"

Straining and gasping, with tense muscles and heaving chests, they broughtthe cumbersome weight over the side, rolled it on top of the rail, andlowered it into the cockpit on the run. The cabin doors were thrown apart, and it was moved along, end for end, till it lay on the cabin floor, snugagainst the end of the centerboard-case. Red Nelson had followed it aboardto superintend. His left arm hung helpless at his side, and from thefinger-tips blood dripped with monotonous regularity. He did not seem tomind it, however, nor even the mutterings of the human storm he had raisedashore, and which, to judge by the sounds, was even then threatening tobreak upon them. 

"Lay your course for the Golden Gate, " he said to French Pete, as he turnedto go. "I 'll try to stand by you, but if you get lost in the dark I 'llmeet you outside, off the Farralones, in the morning. " He sprang into theskiff after the men, and, with a wave of his uninjured arm, cried heartily:"And then it 's for Mexico, my lads--Mexico and summer weather!"

Just as the _Dazzler_, freed from her anchor, paid off under the jib andfilled away, a dark sail loomed under their stern, barely missing the skiffin tow. The cockpit of the stranger was crowded with men, who raised theirvoices angrily at sight of the pirates. Joe had half a mind to run forwardand cut the halyards so that the _Dazzler_ might be captured. As he hadtold French Pete the day before, he had done nothing to be ashamed of, andwas not afraid to go before a court of justice. But the thought of 'FriscoKid restrained him. He wanted to take him ashore with him, but in so doinghe did not wish to take him to jail. So he, too, began to experience a keeninterest in the escape of the _Dazzler_. 

The pursuing sloop rounded up hurriedly to come about after them, and inthe darkness fouled the yacht which lay at anchor. The man aboard of her, thinking that at last his time had come, gave one wild yell, ran on deck, and leaped overboard. In the confusion of the collision, and while theywere endeavoring to save him, French Pete and the boys slipped away intothe night. 

The _Reindeer_ had already disappeared, and by the time Joe and 'FriscoKid had the running-gear coiled down and everything in shape, they werestanding out in open water. The wind was freshening constantly, and the_Dazzler_ heeled a lively clip through the comparatively smooth stretch. Before an hour had passed, the lights of Hunter's Point were well on herstarboard beam. 'Frisco Kid went below to make coffee, but Joe remainedon deck, watching the lights of South San Francisco grow, and speculatingon their destination. Mexico! They were going to sea in such a frail craft!Impossible! At least, it seemed so to him, for his conceptions of oceantravel were limited to steamers and full-rigged ships. He was beginningto feel half sorry that he had not cut the halyards, and longed to askFrench Pete a thousand questions; but just as the first was on his lipsthat worthy ordered him to go below and get some coffee and then to turnin. He was followed shortly afterward by 'Frisco Kid, French Pete remainingat his lonely task of beating down the bay and out to sea. Twice he heardthe waves buffeted back from some flying forefoot, and once he saw a sailto leeward on the opposite tack, which luffed sharply and came about atsight of him. But the darkness favored, and he heard no more of it--perhapsbecause he worked into the wind closer by a point, and held on his waywith a shaking after-leech. 

Shortly after dawn, the two boys were called and came sleepily on deck. The day had broken cold and gray, while the wind had attained half a gale. Joe noted with astonishment the white tents of the quarantine station onAngel Island. San Francisco lay a smoky blur on the southern horizon, while the night, still lingering on the western edge of the world, slowlywithdrew before their eyes. French Pete was just finishing a long reachinto the Raccoon Straits, and at the same time studiously regarding aplunging sloop-yacht half a mile astern. 

"Dey t'ink to catch ze _Dazzler_, eh? Bah!" And he brought the craftin question about, laying a course straight for the Golden Gate. 

The pursuing yacht followed suit. Joe watched her a few moments. She heldan apparently parallel course to them, and forged ahead much faster. 

"Why, at this rate they 'll have us in no time!" he cried. 

French Pete laughed. "You t'ink so? Bah! Dey outfoot; we outpoint. Deyare scared of ze wind; we wipe ze eye of ze wind. Ah! you wait, you see. "

"They 're traveling ahead faster, " 'Frisco Kid explained, "but we 'resailing closer to the wind. In the end we 'll beat them, even if theyhave the nerve to cross the bar--which I don't think they have. Look! See!"

Ahead could be seen the great ocean surges, flinging themselves skywardand bursting into roaring caps of smother. In the midst of it, now rollingher dripping bottom clear, now sousing her deck-load of lumber far abovethe guards, a coasting steam-schooner was lumbering drunkenly into port. It was magnificent--this battle between man and the elements. Whatevertimidity he had entertained fled away, and Joe's nostrils began to dilateand his eyes to flash at the nearness of the impending struggle. 

French Pete called for his oilskins and sou'wester, and Joe also wasequipped with a spare suit. Then he and 'Frisco Kid were sent below tolash and cleat the safe in place. In the midst of this task Joe glancedat the firm-name, gilt-lettered on the face of it, and read: "Bronson& Tate. " Why, that was his father and his father's partner. That was theirsafe, their money! 'Frisco Kid, nailing the last cleat on the floor ofthe cabin, looked up and followed his fascinated gaze. 

"That 's rough, is n't it, " he whispered. "Your father?"

Joe nodded. He could see it all now. They had run into San Andreas, where his father worked the big quarries, and most probably the safecontained the wages of the thousand men or more whom he employed. "Don't say anything, " he cautioned. 

'Frisco Kid agreed knowingly. "French Pete can't read, anyway, " hemuttered, "and the chances are that Red Nelson won't know what _your_name is. But, just the same, it 's pretty rough. They 'll break it openand divide up as soon as they can, so I don't see what you 're going todo about it. "

"Wait and see. "Joe had made up his mind that he would do his best to stand by hisfather's property. At the worst, it could only be lost; and that wouldsurely be the case were he not along, while, being along, he at leasthad a fighting chance to save it, or to be in position to recover it. Responsibilities were showering upon him thick and fast. But a few daysback he had had but himself to consider; then, in some subtle way, hehad felt a certain accountability for 'Frisco Kid's future welfare; andafter that, and still more subtly, he had become aware of duties whichhe owed to his position, to his sister, to his chums and friends; andnow, by a most unexpected chain of circumstances, came the pressing needof service for his father's sake. It was a call upon his deepest strength, and he responded bravely. While the future might be doubtful, he had nodoubt of himself; and this very state of mind, this self-confidence, bya generous alchemy, gave him added resolution. Nor did he fail to bevaguely aware of it, and to grasp dimly at the truth that confidencebreeds confidence--strength, strength. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE BOYS PLAN AN ESCAPE

"Now she takes it!" French Pete cried. 

Both lads ran into the cockpit. They were on the edge of the breaking bar. A huge forty-footer reared a foam-crested head far above them, stealingtheir wind for the moment and threatening to crush the tiny craft likean egg-shell. Joe held his breath. It was the supreme moment. French Peteluffed straight into it, and the _Dazzler_ mounted the steep slope witha rush, poised a moment on the giddy summit, and fell into the yawningvalley beyond. Keeping off in the intervals to fill the mainsail, andluffing into the combers, they worked their way across the dangerousstretch. Once they caught the tail-end of a whitecap and were well-nighsmothered in the froth, but otherwise the sloop bobbed and ducked withthe happy facility of a cork. 

To Joe it seemed as though he had been lifted out of himself--out ofthe world. Ah, this was life! this was action! Surely it could not bethe old, commonplace world he had lived in so long! The sailors, groupedon the streaming deck-load of the steamer, waved their sou'westers, and, on the bridge, even the captain was expressing his admiration for theplucky craft. 

"Ah, you see! you see!" French Pete pointed astern. 

The sloop-yacht had been afraid to venture it, and was skirting backand forth on the inner edge of the bar. The chase was over. A pilot-boat, running for shelter from the coming storm, flew by them like a frightenedbird, passing the steamer as though the latter were standing still. 

Half an hour later the _Dazzler_ sped beyond the last smoking sea and wassliding up and down on the long Pacific swell. The wind had increased itsvelocity and necessitated a reefing down of jib and mainsail. Then theylaid off again, full and free on the starboard tack, for the Farralones, thirty miles away. By the time breakfast was cooked and eaten they pickedup the _Reindeer_, which was hove to and working offshore to the south andwest. The wheel was lashed down, and there was not a soul on deck. 

French Pete complained bitterly against such recklessness. "Dat is ze onefault of Red Nelson. He no care. He is afraid of not'ing. Some day he willdie, oh, so vaire queeck! I know he will. "

Three times they circled about the _Reindeer_, running under her weatherquarter and shouting in chorus, before they brought anybody on deck. Sailwas then made at once, and together the two cockle-shells plunged awayinto the vastness of the Pacific. This was necessary, as 'Frisco Kidinformed Joe, in order to have an offing before the whole fury of thestorm broke upon them. Otherwise they would be driven on the lee shoreof the California coast. Grub and water, he said, could be obtained byrunning into the land when fine weather came. He congratulated Joe uponthe fact that he was not seasick, which circumstance likewise broughtpraise from French Pete and put him in better humor with his mutinousyoung sailor. 

"I 'll tell you what we 'll do, " 'Frisco Kid whispered, while cookingdinner. "To-night we 'll drag French Pete down--"

"Drag French Pete down!"

"Yes, and tie him up good and snug, as soon as it gets dark; then putout the lights and make a run for land; get to port anyway, anywhere, just so long as we shake loose from Red Nelson. "

"Yes, " Joe deliberated; "that would be all right--if I could do italone. But as for asking you to help me--why, that would be treasonto French Pete. "

"That 's what I 'm coming to. I 'll help you if you promise me a fewthings. French Pete took me aboard when I ran away from the 'refuge, 'when I was starving and had no place to go, and I just can't repay himfor that by sending him to jail. 'T would n't be square. Your fatherwould n't have you break your word, would he?"

"No; of course not. " Joe knew how sacredly his father held his wordof honor. 

"Then you must promise, and your father must see it carried out, notto press any charge against French Pete. "

"All right. And now, what about yourself? You can't very well expectto go away with him again on the _Dazzler_!"

"Oh, don't bother about me. There 's nobody to miss me. I 'm strongenough, and know enough about it, to ship to sea as ordinary seaman. I 'll go away somewhere over on the other side of the world, and beginall over again. "

"Then we 'll have to call it off, that 's all. "

"Call what off?"

"Tying French Pete up and running for it. "

"No, sir. That 's decided upon. "

"Now listen here: I 'll not have a thing to do with it. I 'll go on toMexico first, if you don't make me one promise. "

"And what 's the promise?"

"Just this: you place yourself in my hands from the moment we get ashore, and trust to me. You don't know anything about the land, anyway--you saidso. And I 'll fix it with my father--I know I can--so that you can get toknow people of the right sort, and study and get an education, and besomething else than a bay pirate or a sailor. That 's what you 'd like, is n't it?"

Though he said nothing, 'Frisco Kid showed how well he liked it by theexpression of his face. 

"And it 'll be no more than your due, either, " Joe continued. "You willhave stood by me, and you 'll have recovered my father's money. He 'llowe it to you. "

"But I don't do things that way. I don't think much of a man who doesa favor just to be paid for it. "

"Now you keep quiet. How much do you think it would cost my father fordetectives and all that to recover that safe? Give me your promise, that's all, and when I 've got things arranged, if you don't like them youcan back out. Come on; that 's fair. "

They shook hands on the bargain, and proceeded to map out their line ofaction for the night. 

 * * * * *

But the storm, yelling down out of the northwest, had something entirelydifferent in store for the _Dazzler_ and her crew. By the time dinner wasover they were forced to put double reefs in mainsail and jib, and stillthe gale had not reached its height. The sea, also, had been kicked up tillit was a continuous succession of water-mountains, frightful and withalgrand to look upon from the low deck of the sloop. It was only when thesloops were tossed upon the crests of the waves at the same time that theycaught sight of each other. Occasional fragments of seas swashed into thecockpit or dashed aft over the cabin, and Joe was stationed at the smallpump to keep the well dry. 

At three o'clock, watching his chance, French Pete motioned to the_Reindeer_ that he was going to heave to and get out a sea-anchor. This latter was of the nature of a large shallow canvas bag, with themouth held open by triangularly lashed spars. To this the towing-ropeswere attached, on the kite principle, so that the greatest resistingsurface was presented to the water. The sloop, drifting so much faster, would thus be held bow on to both wind and sea--the safest possibleposition in a storm. Red Nelson waved his hand in response that heunderstood and to go ahead. 

French Pete went forward to launch the sea-anchor himself, leaving itto 'Frisco Kid to put the helm down at the proper moment and run intothe wind. The Frenchman poised on the slippery fore-deck, waiting anopportunity. But at that moment the _Dazzler_ lifted into an unusuallylarge sea, and, as she cleared the summit, caught a heavy snort of thegale at the very instant she was righting herself to an even keel. Thusthere was not the slightest yield to this sudden pressure on her sailsand mast-gear. 

There was a quick snap, followed by a crash. The steel weather-riggingcarried away at the lanyards, and mast, jib, mainsail, blocks, stays, sea-anchor, French Pete--everything--went over the side. Almost by amiracle, the captain clutched at the bobstay and managed to get one handup and over the bowsprit. The boys ran forward to drag him into safety, and Red Nelson, observing the disaster, put up his helm and ran down tothe rescue. 

CHAPTER XX

PERILOUS HOURS

French Pete was uninjured from the fall overboard with the _Dazzler's_mast; but the sea-anchor, which had gone with him, had not escaped soeasily. The gaff of the mainsail had been driven through it, and itrefused to work. The wreckage, thumping alongside, held the sloop ina quartering slant to the seas--not so dangerous a position as it mightbe, nor so safe, either. "Good-by, old-a _Dazzler_. Never no more youwipe ze eye of ze wind. Never no more you kick your heels at ze crackgentlemen-yachts. "

So the captain lamented, standing in the cockpit and surveying the ruinwith wet eyes. Even Joe, who bore him great dislike, felt sorry for himat this moment. A heavier blast of the wind caught the jagged crest ofa wave and hurled it upon the helpless craft. 

"Can't we save her?" Joe spluttered. 

'Frisco Kid shook his head. 

"Nor the safe?"

"Impossible, " he answered. "Could n't lay another boat alongside for aUnited States mint. As it is, it 'll keep us guessing to save ourselves. "

Another sea swept over them, and the skiff, which had long since beenswamped, dashed itself to pieces against the stern. Then the _Reindeer_towered above them on a mountain of water. Joe caught himself halfshrinking back, for it seemed she would fall down squarely on topof them; but the next instant she dropped into the gaping trough, and they were looking down upon her far below. It was a strikingpicture--one Joe was destined never to forget. The _Reindeer_ waswallowing in the snow-white smother, her rails flush with the sea, the water scudding across her deck in foaming cataracts. The air wasfilled with flying spray, which made the scene appear hazy and unreal. One of the men was clinging to the perilous after-deck and strivingto cast off the water-logged skiff. The boy, leaning far over thecockpit-rail and holding on for dear life, was passing him a knife. The second man stood at the wheel, putting it up with flying handsand forcing the sloop to pay off. Beside him, his injured arm in asling, was Red Nelson, his sou'wester gone and his fair hair plasteredin wet, wind-blown ringlets about his face. His whole attitude breathedindomitability, courage, strength. It seemed almost as though the divinewere blazing forth from him. Joe looked upon him in sudden awe, and, realizing the enormous possibilities of the man, felt sorrow for the wayin which they had been wasted. A thief and a robber! In that flashingmoment Joe caught a glimpse of human truth, grasped at the mystery ofsuccess and failure. Life threw back its curtains that he might read itand understand. Of such stuff as Red Nelson were heroes made; but theypossessed wherein he lacked--the power of choice, the careful poise ofmind, the sober control of soul: in short, the very things his fatherhad so often "preached" to him about. 

These were the thoughts which came to Joe in the flight of a second. Thenthe _Reindeer_ swept skyward and hurtled across their bow to leeward onthe breast of a mighty billow. 

"Ze wild man! ze wild man!" French Pete shrieked, watching her inamazement. "He t'inks he can jibe! He will die! We will all die! Hemust come about. Oh, ze fool, ze fool!"

But time was precious, and Red Nelson ventured the chance. At the rightmoment he jibed the mainsail over and hauled back on the wind. 

"Here she comes! Make ready to jump for it, " 'Frisco Kid cried to Joe. 

The _Reindeer_ dashed by their stern, heeling over till the cabin windowswere buried, and so close that it appeared she must run them down. But afreak of the waters lurched the two crafts apart. Red Nelson, seeing thatthe manoeuver had miscarried, instantly instituted another. Throwing thehelm hard up, the _Reindeer_ whirled on her heel, thus swinging heroverhanging main-boom closer to the _Dazzler_. French Pete was thenearest, and the opportunity could last no longer than a second. Likea cat he sprang, catching the foot-rope with both hands. Then the_Reindeer_ forged ahead, dipping him into the sea at every plunge. Buthe clung on, working inboard every time he emerged, till he dropped intothe cockpit as Red Nelson squared off to run down to leeward and repeatthe manoeuver. 

"Your turn next, " 'Frisco Kid said. 

"No; yours, " Joe replied. 

"But I know more about the water, " 'Frisco Kid insisted. 

"And I can swim as well as you, " the other retorted. 

It would have been hard to forecast the outcome of this dispute; but, as it was, the swift rush of events made any settlement needless. The_Reindeer_ had jibed over and was plowing back at breakneck speed, careening at such an angle that it seemed she must surely capsize. Itwas a gallant sight. Just then the storm burst in all its fury, theshouting wind flattening the ragged crests till they boiled. The_Reindeer_ dipped from view behind an immense wave. The wave rolledon, but the next moment, where the sloop had been, the boys noted withstartled eyes only the angry waters! Doubting, they looked a second time. There was no _Reindeer_. They were alone on the torn crest of the ocean!

"God have mercy on their souls!" 'Frisco Kid said solemnly. 

Joe was too horrified at the suddenness of the catastrophe to uttera sound. 

"Sailed her clean under, and, with the ballast she carried, wentstraight to bottom, " 'Frisco Kid gasped. Then, turning to their ownpressing need, he said: "Now we 've got to look out for ourselves. The back of the storm broke in that puff, but the sea 'll kick upworse yet as the wind eases down. Lend a hand and hang on with theother. We 've got to get her head-on. "

Together, knives in hand, they crawled forward to where the poundingwreckage hampered the boat sorely. 'Frisco Kid took the lead in theticklish work, but Joe obeyed orders like a veteran. Every minute ortwo the bow was swept by the sea, and they were pounded and buffetedabout like a pair of shuttlecocks. First the main portion of thewreckage was securely fastened to the forward bitts; then, breathlessand gasping, more often under the water than out, they cut and hackedat the tangle of halyards, sheets, stays, and tackles. The cockpit wastaking water rapidly, and it was a race between swamping and completingthe task. At last, however, everything stood clear save the lee rigging. 'Frisco Kid slashed the lanyards. The storm did the rest. The _Dazzler_drifted swiftly to leeward of the wreckage till the strain on the linefast to the forward bitts jerked her bow into place and she ducked deadinto the eye of the wind and sea. 

Pausing only for a cheer at the success of their undertaking, the two ladsraced aft, where the cockpit was half full and the dunnage of the cabinall afloat. With a couple of buckets procured from the stern lockers, theyproceeded to fling the water overboard. It was heartbreaking work, formany a barrelful was flung back upon them again; but they persevered, andwhen night fell the _Dazzler_, bobbing merrily at her sea-anchor, couldboast that her pumps sucked once more. As 'Frisco Kid had said, thebackbone of the storm was broken, though the wind had veered to the west, where it still blew stiffly. 

"If she holds, " 'Frisco Kid said, referring to the breeze, "we 'll driftto the California coast sometime to-morrow. Nothing to do now but wait. "

They said little, oppressed by the loss of their comrades and overcomewith exhaustion, preferring to huddle against each other for the sakeof warmth and companionship. It was a miserable night, and they shiveredconstantly from the cold. Nothing dry was to be obtained aboard, food, blankets, everything being soaked with the salt water. Sometimes theydozed; but these intervals were short and harassing, for it seemed eachtook turn in waking with such sudden starts as to rouse the other. 

At last day broke, and they looked about. Wind and sea had droppedconsiderably, and there was no question as to the safety of the_Dazzler_. The coast was nearer than they had expected, its cliffsshowing dark and forbidding in the gray of dawn. But with the risingof the sun they could see the yellow beaches, flanked by the whitesurf, and beyond--it seemed too good to be true--the clustering housesand smoking chimneys of a town. 

"Santa Cruz!" 'Frisco Kid cried, "and no chance of being wrecked inthe surf!"

"Then the safe _is_ safe?" Joe queried. 

"Safe! I should say so. It ain't much of a sheltered harbor for largevessels, but with this breeze we 'll run right up the mouth of theSan Lorenzo River. Then there 's a little lake like, and a boat-house. Water smooth as glass and hardly over your head. You see, I was downhere once before, with Red Nelson. Come on. We 'll be in in time forbreakfast. "

Bringing to light some spare coils of rope from the lockers, he put aclove-hitch on the standing part of the sea-anchor hawser, and carriedthe new running-line aft, making it fast to the stern bitts. Then hecast off from the forward bitts. The _Dazzler_ swung off into the trough, completed the evolution, and pointed her nose toward shore. A couple ofspare oars from below, and as many water-soaked blankets, sufficed tomake a jury-mast and sail. When this was in place, Joe cast loose fromthe wreckage, which was now towing astern, while 'Frisco Kid took thetiller. 

CHAPTER XXI

JOE AND HIS FATHER

"How 's that?" cried 'Frisco Kid, as he finished making the _Dazzler_fast fore and aft, and sat down on the stringpiece of the tiny wharf. "What 'll we do next, captain?"

Joe looked up in quick surprise. "Why--I--what 's the matter?"

"Well, ain't you captain now? Have n't we reached land? I 'm crew fromnow on, ain't I? What 's your orders?"

Joe caught the spirit of it. "Pipe all hands for breakfast--that is--waita minute. "

Diving below, he possessed himself of the money he had stowed away in hisbundle when he came aboard. Then he locked the cabin door, and they wentuptown in search of a restaurant. Over the breakfast Joe planned the nextmove, and, when they had done, communicated it to 'Frisco Kid. 

In response to his inquiry, the cashier told him when the morning trainstarted for San Francisco. He glanced at the clock. 

"Just time to catch it, " he said to 'Frisco Kid. "Keep the cabin doorslocked, and don't let anybody come aboard. Here 's money. Eat at therestaurants. Dry your blankets and sleep in the cockpit. I 'll be backto-morrow. And don't let anybody into that cabin. Good-by. "

With a hasty hand-grip, he sped down the street to the depot. The conductorlooked at him with surprise when he punched his ticket. And well he might, for it was not the custom of his passengers to travel in sea-boots andsou'westers. But Joe did not mind. He did not even notice. He had boughta paper and was absorbed in its contents. Before long his eyes caught aninteresting paragraph:

 SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN LOST

 The tug _Sea Queen_, chartered by Bronson & Tate, has returned from a fruitless cruise outside the Heads. No news of value could be obtained concerning the pirates who so daringly carried off their safe at San Andreas last Tuesday night. The lighthouse-keeper at the Farralones mentions having sighted the two sloops Wednesday morning, clawing offshore in the teeth of the gale. It is supposed by shipping men that they perished in the storm with, their ill-gotten treasure. Rumor has it that, in addition to the ten thousand dollars in gold, the safe contained papers of great importance. 

When Joe had read this he felt a great relief. It was evident no one hadbeen killed at San Andreas the night of the robbery, else there wouldhave been some comment on it in the paper. Nor, if they had had any clueto his own whereabouts, would they have omitted such a striking bit ofinformation. 

At the depot in San Francisco the curious onlookers were surprised to seea boy clad conspicuously in sea-boots and sou'wester hail a cab and dashaway. But Joe was in a hurry. He knew his father's hours, and was fearfullest he should not catch him before he went to lunch. 

The office-boy scowled at him when he pushed open the door and asked to seeMr. Bronson; nor could the head clerk, when summoned by this disreputableintruder, recognize him. 

"Don't you know me, Mr. Willis?"

Mr. Willis looked a second time. "Why, it 's Joe Bronson! Of all thingsunder the sun, where did you drop from? Go right in. Your father 's inthere. "

Mr. Bronson stopped dictating to his stenographer and looked up. "Hello!Where have you been?" he said. 

"To sea, " Joe answered demurely, not sure of just what kind of a receptionhe was to get, and fingering his sou'wester nervously. 

"Short trip, eh? How did you make out?"

"Oh, so-so. " He had caught the twinkle in his father's eye and knew thatit was all clear sailing. "Not so bad--er--that is, considering. "

"Considering?"

"Well, not exactly that; rather, it might have been worse, while itcould n't have been better. "

"That 's interesting. Sit down. " Then, turning to the stenographer:"You may go, Mr. Brown, and--hum!--I won't need you any more to-day. "

It was all Joe could do to keep from crying, so kindly and naturally hadhis father received him, making him feel at once as if not the slightestthing uncommon had occurred. It seemed as if he had just returned froma vacation, or, man-grown, had come back from some business trip. 

"Now go ahead, Joe. You were speaking to me a moment ago in conundrums, and you have aroused my curiosity to a most uncomfortable degree. "

Whereupon Joe sat down and told what had happened--all that hadhappened--from Monday night to that very moment. Each little incidenthe related, --every detail, --not forgetting his conversations with'Frisco Kid nor his plans concerning him. His face flushed and he wascarried away with the excitement of the narrative, while Mr. Bronsonwas almost as eager, urging him on whenever he slackened his pace, but otherwise remaining silent. 

"So you see, " Joe concluded, "it could n't possibly have turned outany better. "

"Ah, well, " Mr. Bronson deliberated judiciously, "it may be so, and thenagain it may not. "

"I don't see it. " Joe felt sharp disappointment at his father's qualifiedapproval. It seemed to him that the return of the safe merited somethingstronger. 

That Mr. Bronson fully comprehended the way Joe felt about it was clearlyin evidence, for he went on: "As to the matter of the safe, all hail toyou, Joe! Credit, and plenty of it, is your due. Mr. Tate and myself havealready spent five hundred dollars in attempting to recover it. Soimportant was it that we have also offered five thousand dollars reward, and but this morning were considering the advisability of increasing theamount. But, my son, "--Mr. Bronson stood up, resting a hand affectionatelyon his boy's shoulder, --"there are certain things in this world which areof still greater importance than gold, or papers which represent what goldmay buy. How about _yourself_? That 's the point. Will you sell the bestpossibilities of your life right now for a million dollars?"

Joe shook his head. 

"As I said, that 's the point. A human life the money of the world cannotbuy; nor can it redeem one which is misspent; nor can it make full andcomplete and beautiful a life which is dwarfed and warped and ugly. Howabout yourself? What is to be the effect of all these strange adventureson your life--_your_ life, Joe? Are you going to pick yourself up to-morrowand try it over again? or the next day? or the day after? Do youunderstand? Why, Joe, do you think for one moment that I would placeagainst the best value of my son's life the paltry value of a safe? And_can_ I say, until time has told me, whether this trip of yours could notpossibly have been better? Such an experience is as potent for evil asfor good. One dollar is exactly like another--there are many in the world:but no Joe is like my Joe, nor can there be any others in the world totake his place. Don't you see, Joe? Don't you understand?"

Mr. Bronson's voice broke slightly, and the next instant Joe was sobbingas though his heart would break. He had never understood this father ofhis before, and he knew now the pain he must have caused him, to saynothing of his mother and sister. But the four stirring days he hadlived had given him a clearer view of the world and humanity, and hehad always possessed the power of putting his thoughts into speech; sohe spoke of these things and the lessons he had learned--the conclusionshe had drawn from his conversations with 'Frisco Kid, from his intercoursewith French Pete, from the graphic picture he retained of the _Reindeer_and Red Nelson as they wallowed in the trough beneath him. And Mr. Bronsonlistened and, in turn, understood. 

"But what of 'Frisco Kid, father?" Joe asked when he had finished. 

"Hum! there seems to be a great deal of promise in the boy, from whatyou say of him. " Mr. Bronson hid the twinkle in his eye this time. "And, I must confess, he seems perfectly capable of shifting for himself. "

"Sir?" Joe could not believe his ears. 

"Let us see, then. He is at present entitled to the half of fivethousand dollars, the other half of which belongs to you. It wasyou two who preserved the safe from the bottom of the Pacific, andif you only had waited a little longer, Mr. Tate and myself wouldhave increased the reward. "

"Oh!" Joe caught a glimmering of the light. "Part of that is easilyarranged. I simply refuse to take my half. As to the other--that is n'texactly what 'Frisco Kid desires. He wants friends--and--and--thoughyou did n't say so, they are far higher than money, nor can money buythem. He wants friends and a chance for an education, not twenty-fivehundred dollars. "

"Don't you think it would be better for him to choose for himself?"

"Ah, no. That 's all arranged. "

"Arranged?"

"Yes, sir. He 's captain on sea, and I 'm captain on land. So he 's undermy charge now. "

"Then you have the power of attorney for him in the present negotiations?Good. I 'll make you a proposition. The twenty-five hundred dollars shallbe held in trust by me, on his demand at any time. We 'll settle aboutyours afterward. Then he shall be put on probation for, say, a year--inour office. You can either coach him in his studies, for I am confidentnow that you will be up in yours hereafter, or he can attend night-school. And after that, if he comes through his period of probation with flyingcolors, I 'll give him the same opportunities for an education that youpossess. It all depends on himself. And now, Mr. Attorney, what have youto say to my offer in the interests of your client?"

"That I close with it at once. "

Father and son shook hands. 

"And what are you going to do now, Joe?"

"Send a telegram to 'Frisco Kid first, and then hurry home. "

"Then wait a minute till I call up San Andreas and tell Mr. Tate thegood news, and then I 'll go with you. "

"Mr. Willis, " Mr. Bronson said as they left the outer office, "theSan Andreas safe is recovered, and we 'll all take a holiday. Kindlytell the clerks that they are free for the rest of the day. And Isay, " he called back as they entered the elevator, "don't forget theoffice-boy. "