CHAPTER XVIII
A NEW RESPONSIBILITY FOR JOE
Heaving in on the anchor-chain till it was up and down, 'Frisco Kid
and Joe ceased from their exertions. Everything was in readiness to
give the _Dazzler_ the jib, and go. They strained their eyes in the
direction of the shore. The clamor had died away, but here and there
lights were beginning to flash. The creaking of a block and tackle
came 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 to
the 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 face
after 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, not
venturing 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 kind
of an altercation was going on, as French Pete's voice attested.
"No, no!" he cried. "Put it on ze _Dazzler_. Ze _Reindeer_ she sail too
fast-a, and run away, oh, so queeck, and never more I see it. Put it on
ze _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 the
exception of Joe, tailed on. The shouting of men, the sound of oars, and
the rattling and slapping of blocks and sails, told that the men on shore
were getting under way for the pursuit.
"Now!" Red Nelson commanded. "All together! Don't let her come back or
you 'll smash the skiff. There she takes it! A long pull and a strong
pull! Once again! And yet again! Get a turn there, somebody, and take
a spell."
Though the task was but half accomplished, they were exhausted by the
strenuous effort, and hailed the rest eagerly. Joe glanced over the side
to discover what the heavy object might be, and saw the vague outlines
of a small office-safe.
"Now all together!" Red Nelson began again. "Take her on the run and don't
let her stop! Yo, ho! heave, ho! Once again! And another! Over with her!"
Straining and gasping, with tense muscles and heaving chests, they brought
the cumbersome weight over the side, rolled it on top of the rail, and
lowered 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, snug
against the end of the centerboard-case. Red Nelson had followed it aboard
to superintend. His left arm hung helpless at his side, and from the
finger-tips blood dripped with monotonous regularity. He did not seem to
mind it, however, nor even the mutterings of the human storm he had raised
ashore, and which, to judge by the sounds, was even then threatening to
break upon them.
"Lay your course for the Golden Gate," he said to French Pete, as he turned
to go. "I 'll try to stand by you, but if you get lost in the dark I 'll
meet you outside, off the Farralones, in the morning." He sprang into the
skiff 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 and
filled away, a dark sail loomed under their stern, barely missing the skiff
in tow. The cockpit of the stranger was crowded with men, who raised their
voices angrily at sight of the pirates. Joe had half a mind to run forward
and cut the halyards so that the _Dazzler_ might be captured. As he had
told French Pete the day before, he had done nothing to be ashamed of, and
was not afraid to go before a court of justice. But the thought of 'Frisco
Kid restrained him. He wanted to take him ashore with him, but in so doing
he did not wish to take him to jail. So he, too, began to experience a keen
interest in the escape of the _Dazzler_.
The pursuing sloop rounded up hurriedly to come about after them, and in
the 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 they
were endeavoring to save him, French Pete and the boys slipped away into
the night.
The _Reindeer_ had already disappeared, and by the time Joe and 'Frisco
Kid had the running-gear coiled down and everything in shape, they were
standing 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 her
starboard beam. 'Frisco Kid went below to make coffee, but Joe remained
on deck, watching the lights of South San Francisco grow, and speculating
on 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 ocean
travel were limited to steamers and full-rigged ships. He was beginning
to feel half sorry that he had not cut the halyards, and longed to ask
French Pete a thousand questions; but just as the first was on his lips
that worthy ordered him to go below and get some coffee and then to turn
in. He was followed shortly afterward by 'Frisco Kid, French Pete remaining
at his lonely task of beating down the bay and out to sea. Twice he heard
the waves buffeted back from some flying forefoot, and once he saw a sail
to leeward on the opposite tack, which luffed sharply and came about at
sight of him. But the darkness favored, and he heard no more of it--perhaps
because he worked into the wind closer by a point, and held on his way
with 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 on
Angel Island. San Francisco lay a smoky blur on the southern horizon,
while the night, still lingering on the western edge of the world, slowly
withdrew before their eyes. French Pete was just finishing a long reach
into the Raccoon Straits, and at the same time studiously regarding a
plunging sloop-yacht half a mile astern.
"Dey t'ink to catch ze _Dazzler_, eh? Bah!" And he brought the craft
in question about, laying a course straight for the Golden Gate.
The pursuing yacht followed suit. Joe watched her a few moments. She held
an 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. Dey
are 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 're
sailing closer to the wind. In the end we 'll beat them, even if they
have 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 skyward
and bursting into roaring caps of smother. In the midst of it, now rolling
her dripping bottom clear, now sousing her deck-load of lumber far above
the guards, a coasting steam-schooner was lumbering drunkenly into port.
It was magnificent--this battle between man and the elements. Whatever
timidity he had entertained fled away, and Joe's nostrils began to dilate
and his eyes to flash at the nearness of the impending struggle.
French Pete called for his oilskins and sou'wester, and Joe also was
equipped with a spare suit. Then he and 'Frisco Kid were sent below to
lash and cleat the safe in place. In the midst of this task Joe glanced
at 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 their
safe, their money! 'Frisco Kid, nailing the last cleat on the floor of
the 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 safe
contained 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," he
muttered, "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 open
and divide up as soon as they can, so I don't see what you 're going to
do about it."
"Wait and see."
Joe had made up his mind that he would do his best to stand by his
father's property. At the worst, it could only be lost; and that would
surely be the case were he not along, while, being along, he at least
had 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 days
back he had had but himself to consider; then, in some subtle way, he
had felt a certain accountability for 'Frisco Kid's future welfare; and
after that, and still more subtly, he had become aware of duties which
he owed to his position, to his sister, to his chums and friends; and
now, by a most unexpected chain of circumstances, came the pressing need
of 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 no
doubt of himself; and this very state of mind, this self-confidence, by
a generous alchemy, gave him added resolution. Nor did he fail to be
vaguely aware of it, and to grasp dimly at the truth that confidence
breeds confidence--strength, strength.
