IN THE STRAIT
As Juarez and Tom were under the kindly escort of Captain Broom and his
sailors in the whale boat on their cruise to the mysterious island, Jo,
Jim and the Spaniard had stopped at an old sycamore tree, where, as had
been promised, the Indian messenger was awaiting their coming.
"What news, Yaquis?" asked the Spaniard, who knew the Indian well.
"I saw the boat by my own eyes," he replied, "heading for the Big
Island," pointing to the South. "By her smoke she stopped in the Bow
Harbor near the lower end." So spoke the Indian, standing straight and
tall. He was a picturesque sight with his coarse, black hair cut square
and long.
"The trail is getting warm," exclaimed Jim eagerly. "Where can we get a
boat?"
"There is a small boat at the Harbor of San Pedro," replied the
Spaniard, "that is the property of a friend of mine. I doubt not we can
have the use of it."
"It is now a little after six," said Jim. "How far is it to the Harbor?"
"A dozen miles," replied the Indian.
"Is your horse too tired, Senor Sebastian, to make it by eight?" The
Spaniard's eyes flashed.
"Senor, Don Fernando is never tired. Let us start."
"We are ready," replied Jim. "Which is the shortest cut?"
"I will guide you," was the Indian's response.
"He knows this country like the foot does the shoe," assured the
Spaniard.
Without more ado, the new guide took the lead and they rode at a rapid
gait in single file. At first they went down a gentle grade for several
miles until they came to a perfectly level plain that stretched in three
directions to the sea. At the end of the land was a perfectly rounded
rise like a huge long bolster.
The party of rescuers left the Puebla de los Angeles several miles to
the East, taking the shortest way to the harbor. There was no let-up to
the speed, if anything, they seemed to be going faster, with sweaty
sides and shoulders, but with unaffected stamina. The going was fine,
over a springy turf and sometimes they tore through wide belts of tall
mustard.
Jo and Jim were in fine fettle as the end of the journey came in sight
and there was promise of their coming to close quarters with the pirates
and possibly rescuing their oppressed brothers from captivity. Then,
too, the passage of the strait in an open boat appealed to their sense
of adventure.
About eight o'clock, they came to a ranch two miles from the harbor,
where Senor Sebastian had a short talk with a man who owned the small
boat that had been referred to. He was perfectly willing to lend them
the boat and also sent a Mexican servant to bring back their horses and
put them up in his stables. Not forgetting to thank him for his great
kindness to them, the boys turned their horses' heads for the harbor,
the last lap of their long journey had begun.
In a half hour, they stood on the shore of a long, narrow inlet, at a
point where a craft was moored. From a small boat-house, they got the
oars, the mast and the sail to be used if the wind was right. Then they
were ready to get aboard. Jim looked at his watch. "It lacks ten minutes
of nine," he said.
Then they embarked. The boat was not a mere row-boat, but was found to
be of good size and about equal to a whale boat. It was staunch, too,
and sea worthy. The mooring was cast off. Jim was at the bow oar, and Jo
at the one back of him on the other side, while the Indian, Yaquis,
steered. The tide favored them as they glided quickly between the banks,
and they were not long in reaching the channel.
At first, there was a slow, heavy swell, while in the lee of the land,
that did not bother the boys but within a half hour they were in a
choppy sea with breaking crests, and now the real work for Jo and Jim
began. Fortunately, the Indian was a most skillful oar, and he kept them
from being swamped. As yet there was no breeze to help them.
"This is almost as good as running the Rapids in the Grand Canyon,"
cried Jim joyously.
The boys were in fine fettle for their work, notwithstanding their long
day in the saddle, and they buckled to it with a will, although wet
through with flying spray. They had enjoyed a good rest the night before
and after their long ride they were glad to get the kinks out of their
muscles. They really made remarkably good headway against the sea and
the stoical Indian grunted approval of their work. Ah, but it was fine,
battling with the waves through the darkness, while the boat thrashed
and beat its way ahead.
The boys stood to their oars and put all the strength of their lithe
young bodies into the stroke and they seemed tireless. The Spaniard had
made himself comfortable in the bow, where, sheltered by a short
overhead deck, he was soon fast asleep.
"Wake me when it is time to be drowned," he said. "I know it is my
fate." Jim remembered the Spaniard's melancholy of the day before, and
laughed heartily, as he promised.
"There are the lights of a vessel," cried Yaquis, who, though silent,
was ever on the watch. "Ahead of us to the Southwest."
"You are right," said Jim. The lights were like two faint, moving stars,
one aloft and the other below.
"That isn't the Pirate ship," declared Jo. "She wouldn't be showing any
light." After a while, the lights of the vessel were suddenly eclipsed,
but by the dull light of the moon, now risen, the vessel's bulk could
still be made out.
"She has gone into the further straits," said Yaquis, "between the two
islands."
A gentle breeze sprang up, but blowing directly toward them, it lent no
aid. Before midnight, the westerly breeze had died absolutely down, and
in a not very long time, the sea followed suit, leaving a long swell and
the rowing became much easier. Nothing occurred to break the monotony
for a while. There was the steady grinding of the oars in the row-locks
and the lapping of the waves in the gloom, for the moon was now obscured
by clouds. Then, of a sudden, the Indian called a halt.
"Do you hear footsteps?" inquired Jim, jocosely.
"A steamer coming, I hear her, no lights. Pull hard." In a minute, even
the boys could hear the beat of her engines and saw the occasional flare
from her stacks, then a dark form took shape through the night. They
pulled lustily for they knew their danger and who it was. How quickly
they would be run down, if discovered, and left to drown in the wide
strait, when Captain Broom found out their identity. No wonder they
pulled.
"Stop now, draw in your oars. Lie down," warned the Indian.
Not a hundred yards to the Eastward came The Sea Eagle and she was on an
even line with the boat that lay a black patch on the dark water. If
Captain Broom was not on the Bridge they would be safe.
"Boat ahoy," boomed out his voice.
"Indian fishermen," cried Yaquis. "Stop, take me ashore."
With a growl, the Captain sent his ship ahead, paying no attention to
the "Indian fisherman" in distress. There was a gleam of white teeth as
the Indian smiled at the hearty congratulations of the boys and their
glee at his stratagem. Then the Spaniard and Yaquis took the oars while
Jim steered and Jo slept.