THE PASSENGER
They met without any formality. The new passenger was a tall, slightly
stooped man, with long hair falling down to his shoulders. Juarez was
exceedingly anxious to see him, but could make out only a dark form
moving along the deck.
"Come to the cabin, Jeems," called the Captain. "I've got something to
tell ye."
They were soon seated in the Captain's cabin. This was a good-sized
room, panelled in light wood and very neatly kept. There was quite a
broad table of the same wood as the walls and a swivel chair in front of
it. The Captain seated himself in this chair and whirled to talk to the
visitor from the shore.
It was evident that he was not a temporary visitor for scarcely had they
seated themselves in the cabin than the Sea Eagle slowly and gently
turned and they felt the pulsation of her engines as she headed once
more for sea. The man was seated on a sea chest opposite the Captain.
He wore long cowhide boots, with jeans pants thrust into their tops,
flannel shirt of a nondescript color and a corduroy jacket. His hat was
of a battered gray. The face was smooth-shaven, deeply lined and burnt
to a dull brown. The hair which came down to his shoulders had that
peculiar sun-burnt weathered tinge that comes from continual exposure to
the weather. He was not an old man, probably on the sunny side of forty.
"Well, Jeems, what is your news?" inquired the Captain.
"The government boat is in the harbor, that's all." The Captain gave a
low, peculiar whistle.
"When did she show up?" he asked.
"Two days ago, Cap'n," he replied.
"Come from the South?"
"Yes," replied the man. "Put in for coal, I reckon."
"Then put out for us," said the Captain briefly.
"Any 'baccy, Cap'n? Been out two days," remarked Jeems.
"Lift your lanky frame off that chest," replied the Captain, "and I'll
git you some."
The man sprang up with remarkable alacrity, and as he unfolded length
after length of his long figure, it seemed as if his head would touch
the ceiling of the cabin. In fact, he did not miss it by many inches.
It was a comical contrast between the short stooping figure of the
Captain and the tall stranger.
"Waal, Jeems, I wouldn't advise you to grow any more, or I'll have to
raise the roof of my cabin."
"That's what, Cap'n," replied Jeems imperturbably. "That's what happens
when you grow up in Californy. You grow all the year around, and not
like in New England where the winters makes you stubby."
Then the native philosopher seated himself on the chest again and took
long and delightful pulls at his recently staked pipe.
"Hum!" he said. "This tastes right. Did yer ever know what it war to be
starved for yer 'baccy, Cap'n?"
"No," replied the Captain, "I can't say that I ever did."
"Well, I want to tell you, Cap'n, that it is worse than going without
water and I know what that is. Been on a desert till my tongue was as
thick as a cow's, and hung out between my teeth, black."
"How long have you been away?" inquired the Captain.
"Three weeks, Cap'n."
"How are the sheep lookin'?"
"Pretty fair, Cap'n," he replied. "I think that they had a whiff of rain
over there a few days ago."
"It won't be long till we git the rains," suggested the Captain.
"I don't know, Cap'n," remarked the lanky one. "The climate of Californy
is a curious proposition. It's built on the bias down at this end."
"How's that?" asked the Captain curiously. He had a certain interest in
this particular courier's theories, however he might laugh at their
peculiarities. For there was apt to be a basis of reason in them.
"Well, it's this way, Cap'n," said James Howell, to give him his correct
name, thrusting one lanky hand deep into his jeans pocket and bending
forward awkwardly. "It's this way. You see the storms come down from the
North to the Tehatchipei mountains, where there isn't any way for them
to get through to the south. Then the clouds shift around to Arizony,
and if the wind is right they are blown through the passes of the Sierra
Madre into Southern Californy, then we get the rain. That's why I said,
Cap'n, that this dazzling climate is built on the bias."
"Waal, Jeems, as a weather prophet you can't be beat," said the
Skipper.
"In my business I get plenty of time to think, Cap'n," he remarked, "and
as they ain't much to see except climate I think about that."
"Waal, I have a good sight more than that to consider," replied the
Skipper. "I'm thinking right now about that government boat. I'm going
on deck. You can turn in."
The Captain showed him to an empty cabin and the lanky stranger
proceeded to make himself comfortable for the balance of the night,
while the Captain went up on the Bridge.
"Where are you heading this boat to?" he asked gruffly of the man at the
wheel.
Then he took the helm himself and immediately the Sea Eagle's prow
pointed to the Westward as if she were heading directly for Japan.
However, she held this course for only an hour and a half when the
Skipper swung her bow once more to the South.
Long before the morning broke, Tom and Juarez, hauled out of their
resting place, were set to scrubbing the decks and rubbing them down
with holy-stone. They waited eagerly for the first break of day to see
where they were.
Then the light came slowly through the fog-covered sky, showing a glossy
sea with a slight swell and not a sign of land anywhere. The boys'
hearts sank within them and they felt sure that they would not see their
native land again.
Once in a while they would glance up at the Bridge where stood the
Captain with his powerful stooped figure. He was evidently on the
lookout, for with his eye at a long glass, he kept scanning the sky-line
to the east. What was he looking for? Juarez knew instinctively that he
was afraid of pursuit.
If only they could be overtaken and captured, his heart thrilled at the
thought and he watched the Captain eagerly for the first sign of
excitement. About ten o'clock he saw by the Skipper's actions that
something of interest had come under his observation.
There were a number of quick, sharp orders given and Juarez noticed the
increased volume of smoke pouring from the stack. The Sea Eagle began to
show the speed that was in her trim, black form. Juarez worked around
the port side of the boat as rapidly as he dared, and his heart leaped
with hope.
He saw low upon the eastern horizon a smudge of black smoke. If he only
had known what the Skipper knew, his hopes would have risen still
higher. Certain preparations were going on upon deck. The three cannon,
one in the stern, that had fired the salute to the group on the shore,
one on either side of the quarter-deck, were divested of their canvas
jackets.
They certainly gleamed bravely in their polished brass. Then the
ammunition was got ready beside each separate gun. It begin to look like
business. The Sea Eagle began to justify her name and fly through the
water. Still the spot upon the horizon grew bigger.
Then Juarez began to have a paralyzing feeling of doubt. The steamer,
though coming up fast, did not seem to be steering the proper course to
head the Sea Eagle, bearing on her port-quarter instead of across her
bows as would have been the natural course if she wished to intercept
her.
Then the doubt in his mind was changed to disappointed certainty for the
Skipper waved his hand to the mate, who was busy on the deck below. It
was after he had taken a pull at the spyglass, which this time seemed to
have an intoxicating effect upon the Captain.
"It's all right, Bill," he yelled, "It's nothing but a steamer bound for
'Frisco. It looks like the Panama."
Juarez and Tom resumed their work doggedly. That was all that was left
for them to do. They scarcely glanced at the big steamer as she
appeared, growing constantly larger above the horizon, and then
diminishing as she steamed North towards San Francisco.
Juarez was scrubbing the deck near a cabin door when it suddenly opened,
and a tall, long-legged figure stepped out and fairly over him. He came
to the conclusion that it was the man who had come aboard the night
before.
He took in the tall, gaunt man with the smooth-shaven face and long hair
at two glances--one not being sufficient to his height.
"Well, who are you?" he inquired lounging on the rail and regarding
Juarez with mild-eyed interest.
"I'm Juarez Hopkins, deck scrubber. Who are you?"
"I'm James Howell, sheep farmer. I'll add you two lambs to my flock," he
replied, whimsically, glancing at Tom who was down the deck a way.
"You are more apt to find us wolves in lamb's hide," retorted Juarez.
"Where's your farm?"
"There," said the stranger, pointing with a long, bony finger on the
port-quarter, "that nigh island."
Then Juarez saw to his surprise, two islands that seemed to have sprung
like magic upon the South-eastern horizon. The further one lay long and
low and dark but distant beneath the fog-lined sky, the "nigh one" was
more short and dumpy in appearance.