ause
of the quarrel. In the end French Pete had his way, and the newcomers gave
in after much grumbling. After they had drunk their coffee, all hands went
on deck.

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

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

A creaking of blocks for'ard, and the huge mainsail loomed above him
in the night. Bill cast off the bowline, the Cockney followed suit with
the stern, 'Frisco Kid gave her the jib as French Pete jammed up the
tiller, 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 sharp
lookout, though all he could comprehend was that some law of navigation
was being violated.

The water-front lights of Oakland began to slip past. Soon the stretches
of docks and the shadowy ships began to be broken by dim sweeps of
marshland, 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_ cut
noiselessly through the landlocked water.

"Where are we going?" Joe asked the Cockney, in an endeavor to be friendly
and 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 new
world he was entering, he said nothing. He had already exposed himself
to 'Frisco Kid in the matter of his pronunciation of "fo'c'sle," and
he 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 and
answers which passed between Bill and the captain. Finally the sloop
was run into the wind, and the jib and mainsail lowered cautiously.

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

The _D