IN FRISCO
"Well, Jim," said the chief engineer of the _Sea Eagle_, James
Darlington's yacht, "Captain William Broome, able seaman, and all round
pirate, has routed us horse and foot, taken your riches by proxy and the
yacht away from me by his own personal efforts."
"It does look like we were up against it," admitted Jim, "but we have a
fighting chance, and I propose to keep on that old codger's trail."
"Good for you, Jim," said his friend heartily, "but if I had a crew that
had been worth a tinker's curse, the night that he attacked the yacht, I
would have saved that for you! I verily believe that Broome owned
several men in my crew, and the rest of them were half breeds and
renegades, but the best that I could get together down in that forsaken
port."
"I don't blame you a bit, Chief," said Jim; "no man could have done more
for me than you did. Have some more of the olives."
"Thanks, I will."
The two were seated in a well-known restaurant, by a window looking down
on a busy thoroughfare. It was shortly after one o'clock in the
afternoon but the lights were lit, as a dense fog peculiar to San
Francisco had filled the atmosphere with an opaque gloom. There is a
peculiar attractiveness about a first class metropolitan restaurant. It
is a warm and pleasant refuge from the bleak heartlessness and merciless
activity of a great city.
Jim, in an unconscious way, was aware of this inner delightfulness of
the large softly lighted room, with the noiseless and obsequious
waiters, the flowers, the music, the presence of many women, whose
beauty and charm made the social life of this remarkable city a
brilliant one. Jim was by no means an adept social lion, but he had an
outward self-possession that stood him in good stead no matter where he
was. The music, and the lights, and the subdued gayety of the scene
about him, filled him with a certain elation.
Life seemed a very good thing to him, in spite of his present defeat,
and the fact that he was surrounded by very pressing dangers. He would
have been a very much surprised lad if he had been told that any of
these beautiful gowned women regarded him with any interest. But he
carried himself with a simple distinction and poise, that was derived
from varied and harsh experiences, that gave him a quiet self-reliance.
James Darlington was not handsome, but he was not bad looking, as he had
the power and grace of perfect health and condition. Even the few scars
of desperate encounters in the past had not disfigured him, and in his
neatly fitting gray suit, which his friend, the engineer, had helped him
select, his brown straight hair, smoothly brushed upon his long
masculine head, and clear gray eyes, Jim was a pleasant looking specimen
of American youth. The chief engineer of the _Sea Eagle_, was perfectly
aware of the certain amount of interest which Jim excited even if the
boy was entirely oblivious of it. He was a thorough man of the world and
regarded the scene which elated Jim, with a cool contentment and a
certain appraisal of contempt.
"I do hope that no girl will come along, and disturb the lad's head, he
is too good a fighting man to be made a fool of," he mused to himself,
as he noted the sparkle of interest in Jim's eyes as the boy watched the
diners at the different tables.
At that moment the orchestra in the flower hidden balcony began to play
the Mexican national anthem La Poloma, with its enchanting melody, and
the well-known strains made a deep rhythmic run through the boy's blood.
Outwardly the young masculine has no sentiment, but inwardly he is full
of a sense of romance, that he would be shy to confess.
"Here comes the distinguished personage himself," said John Berwick, the
chief engineer, "and his fair daughter, Castilians from Mexico, and that
accounts for the music. Why didn't they render 'Yankee Doodle,' when we
made our triumphal entry, eh, James?"
Jim merely grinned at his companion, and then his face sobered, and his
eyes opened wide. The new arrivals were by no means strangers to him.
The gentleman was tall and distinguished looking with white mustachios,
while his daughter was very dark after the Spanish type; the sheen of
her hair like that of a raven's wing, and her complexion of a pellucid
pallor, while her dark eyes had depth, and not merely surface.
Under the obsequious guidance of the head waiter, they passed directly
by the table where Jim and John Berwick were seated, so close indeed
that the flutter of the señorita's mantilla brushed Jim's arm. At the
second table beyond they were assigned places, the señor facing Jim. In
a way this was a relief to the youth, for he was terribly confused at
the sight of the girl and he was afforded time to collect his wits. The
señor did not even give a casual glance around, but confined his
attention to the menu.
"Old friends, Jim?" asked Berwick who was quick to note the lad's
perturbation.
"Why, yes," answered Jim, "there can be no doubt about it. I have told
you about our adventure in Mexico, where we saved the Señorita Cordova
from Cal Jenkins and his gang and were entertained at the castle by her
father. Well, there they are. I hardly think the señorita would
recognize me. It seems a long time ago."
"Don't you flatter yourself on that point," said the engineer. "Let her
once get a square look at you, and she will know you all right enough.
She had an uneasy suspicion when she went past, that she had seen the
distinguished gentleman with his back to her somewhere. She would like
to turn around now. What did I tell you, she has dropped her fan."
"You must have eyes in the back of your head," remarked James, "but the
waiter has picked it up."
"She smiles very sweetly in thanks," improvised the engineer, "but she
would like to swat him with it. These dear creatures are not as sweet as
they sometimes appear. Have you still the rose she gave you in the
castle in Spain--I mean Mexico?"
"Why, I didn't tell you about that did I?" asked the simple Jim. John
Berwick doubled over with silent laughter.
"You did not need to tell me," he said when he got his breath; "that
method is as old as the daughters of Eve."
"I guess I will go and introduce myself," said Jim hurriedly. "Come on,
Berwick."
"Hold on, Jim," said the engineer, "I don't think that is the wisest
plan. It makes it awkward for both sides, and people don't like to have
their lunch broken in on. We will wait for them in the lobby, or find
out at what hotel they are stopping and you can send up your card."
"You are coming, too, to call on them," said Jim impulsively; "I want
them to meet you." But John Berwick shook his head with slow emphasis
and decision.
"Nay, nay, James," he said, "I have a very susceptible heart. I might
become enamored with the fair señorita, that would be trouble, sequel
two ex-friends on the sea sands by moonlight, two revolvers flashing at
the signal, two beautiful corpses stretched out on the sad sea sands,
then slow music, all on account of a girl with dark hair who once wore a
red rose in it. Life to me is too interesting for any such nonsense."
Jim laughed at his friend's way of expressing himself, and tried to make
him change his mind about the proposed call, but an older man would have
told him that there was much sound sense under John Berwick's odd humor.
The truth was that the more experienced man of the world knew that the
real danger lay in the señorita's caring for him instead of the more
simple and straightforward Jim. Berwick knew that it was social
experience and knowledge that was apt to count for most in such matters.
"Lucky this isn't our busy day," remarked the engineer, as they waited
for the Señor da Cordova and his daughter to finish their lunch.
"It's Broome's move, anyway," replied Jim.
Just then there was an incident at the other table that invited their
attention.