Frontier Boys in Frisco

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The effect upon the intruders can be easily guessed. These superstitious
Mexicans had known vaguely of a woman haunting this castle by the sea.
Sometimes they had seen a gray, creeping figure at the end of the hall
or heard a piercing cry ring out at midnight, and now this creature was
about to spring upon them and curse them to the bottomless pit. There
was a cry of fright, and in leaping back, the man near the top of the
ladder knocked over the one below, and he in turn the next, so that it
was like when a ball hits the King Pin and the others are sent
sprawling.

The searching party fled in panic and dismay out of the barn, and
nothing could have persuaded them to have set foot in those haunted
walls again, no, not even the threats of the redoubtable Captain William
Broome himself. What the outcome would have been had the captain been on
hand, it is difficult to say, for it was commonly supposed that he was
in fear of nothing.

"Well, what did I tell you, Jack?" questioned Jim smiling grimly. "There
was something on hand sure enough."

"What under the canopy was that thing doing?" exclaimed John Berwick.
"It gave me the creeps, and that is a sensation that does not bother me
very much these days."

"That was the story of a haunted house," replied Jim, "but it is safe
enough now since our friends, the enemy, have fled. Let us go out and
see for ourselves if you aren't too timid."

"Anybody who survives the excitement of following your fortunes for a
few weeks cannot be very timid," replied Berwick candidly.

Jim grinned, but made no reply, and in a few moments they emerged from
the hay into the dusk of the loft. For a few seconds they made out
nothing, and then from the deeper shadow a dim figure took shape, and
advanced towards them. Jim was the nearest to her, and Berwick was very
well pleased that this was so. Jim showed no uneasiness.

"Thank you for driving them away," he said quietly, peering down at the
strange face that looked up at him from its hooded gray, and then she
laughed at him with insane mirth. It would have done severe damage to
less hardy nerves than those which our "hero" possessed. Jim regarded
her with unwavering kindness, which seemed to reach through the gray
cloud of her unhappy condition, much as the clear sun penetrates the
mist.

"The old devil has gone," she volunteered.

"Ah, the captain," said Jim to Berwick quietly.

"She could mean no other," agreed his friend. "Perhaps we had better
follow his example."

"And the young lady?" questioned Jim.

There was a nod of the head, and even while they were speaking, the
woman had faded back into the shadows. They did not disturb her, for it
would be to no purpose.

"How had we better get out of here, that is the question," continued
Berwick.

"I thought we might go out the back way," remarked Jim.

"How, jump?" inquired Berwick, who remembered the cliff, one hundred
feet sheer descent, that bounded the precincts of the castle, except
that shut in by the iron fence.

"It won't be hard," said Jim, "if we can find a rope around here, and I
think we can."

"If we do, we will keep enough to hang the captain with," said Berwick
grimly.

"There's a souvenir hanging from the chimney," said Jim with a grin.

"Better leave that for Santa Claus," remarked the engineer thoughtfully.

"Santa Claus doesn't come to California," replied James; "they don't
have Christmas weather here."

"Get lost in the fog, that's a fact," remarked Berwick.

"Come," cried Jim, "let us find some rope."

Down the stairs they went, and it did not take them long to discover a
tar-hued rope coiled in one of the empty feed bins.

"Here's our treasure," said Berwick; "it belongs to the old sea dog
evidently. I suppose you want me to hold it, while you climb gracefully
down."

"Hardly," mocked Jim. "I'd land so suddenly that it would drive my heels
into my head. Here's a sliding window at the back here. Let's see how it
looks below."

At the word, Jim pushed back the window and poking his head out took a
good long look.

"Overhangs the water," exclaimed Jim as he pulled back.

"Let me have a peek," said the engineer, and looking down he saw the
waves rushing in against the black rock of the cliff a hundred feet or
more beneath. When the water withdrew there was a wet stretch of sandy
cove, and then the waves came in with a foaming rush.

"It's pretty near high now," said Berwick, as he pulled his head in.

"I don't think it would be much of a trick to get around that projection
of the cliff to the beach," remarked Jim.

"Maybe," replied Berwick noncommittally, with a slight shrug of his
shoulders.

"You can swim like a fish," put in Jim who had noted the shrug of his
comrade's shoulders.

"But I was thinking of you, my poor friend," replied the engineer. "What
would become of you if the hungry ocean should seize upon you with its
white and foaming teeth?"

"Oh, I'd wade out," remarked Jim nonchalantly.

"Humph," grunted Berwick; "by the way, Jim, I think I can find something
of real interest here."

He got down on his knees and began very carefully to brush away with his
hands the debris on the floor.

"You ain't lost that diamond ring I gave you?" questioned Jim in mock
anxiety.

He, too, got down on the floor and began to dust for himself.

"I've found it," cried Berwick; "just get your hulk off this door."

Jim obeyed promptly, exclaiming, "Hully Gee, it's a trap!"

"What would you expect?" replied the engineer. "The captain could use
this nicely in his line of trade I'm thinking."

"That is where that poor fellow would have been sent, whom we found in
the gulch," exclaimed Jim.

"Certain thing," agreed his friend.

"I've got an idea," said Jim, lying flat on the floor. He stuck his head
through the trap door while his friend held him solicitously by his legs
so he could not do the sudden disappearance act.

"I can fix it," declared Jim as he pulled his head back; "just let me
have the end of that rope."

The engineer did as requested, and Jim slipped the rope's end around one
of the log joists and tied it securely.

"It will be a good thing to have this fastened here, in case we should
have to come back," remarked Jim.

"Which I hope we won't until we get something to eat," said Berwick, who
was not so young and enthusiastic as to find sufficient food in an
adventure as Jim did.

"Might fish through here," remarked Jim.

"Yes, with a bent pin," replied the engineer caustically, "as far as
getting anything to eat."

Jim laughed gleefully.

"Well, I'm off, or down rather," he said, his face growing sober.
"You're next, Chief."

CHAPTER XXVIII

A SQUARE MEAL

However, before Jim began his descent, he cut off some of the rope.

"That might come in handy, you know," he said.

Then without any more adieu he let himself down, caught the edge of the
trap, then dropped, seizing the rope and thus hand over hand until he
was within a few feet of the water, then watching his chance as a wave
receded, he dropped onto the sand and at top speed made around the
projecting cliff. It extended, however, farther than he had thought, and
the returning water caught him and it was only by his exerting himself
to the utmost that he was able to grip a narrow outcrop of the rock from
the face of the cliff. Instantly he thought of his comrade, who was much
lighter than himself, and though he could swim it would not help him
much against the fierce rush of the water. A little above him there was
quite a wide ledge. This he gained as quickly as he could. Meanwhile
John Berwick had let himself through the trap door, closing it down, and
began his descent of the rope.

"Look out, John!" came Jim's voice from an unexpected quarter; "it's
dangerous around that curve. I'll fling you a rope if you don't make
it."

"Aye, aye, sir," cried the engineer; "here goes."

Then he dropped on the skirt of the retreating waves and dashed around
the promontory, but the water coming back caught him. However, he got
further than Jim because he was even quicker and more active.
Nevertheless, the charging water clutched him all the more fiercely
because of the nearness of his escape, and it took him up towards the
beach side of the cliff.

"Catch it," yelled Jim, flinging him the rope.

But to his surprise and dismay, the engineer made no effort to seize the
rope. Perhaps, thought Jim, he was already overcome, but this was not
the case. Berwick, who was an excellent swimmer, had a plan of his own,
for he was not bewildered or frightened and he had noted one or two
things even as the wave caught him. He would not catch the rope flung to
him because of the chance of dragging Jim off his perch in spite of the
latter's great strength, and then, too, he was liable to be hurled
against the cliff and be badly injured, so he let the wave carry him
back, exerting himself so as to be brought nearer the beach on the
return. Being a splendid swimmer, as has been said, he made it with a
few yards to spare between the edge of the cliff and the sand. Jim drew
a big sigh of relief when he saw his friend safe and prepared to get out
of his own difficulty. He was able by careful climbing to edge and work
his way down until at last he was within a twelve-foot leap of the
beach. This he did with ease, lighting gently in the soft sand.

"Why, John, you look damp," he said as his friend joined him. "Been in
swimming?"

"I always like to take a salt bath before eating," replied his friend;
"gives you a relish for your dinner, you know."

"By Jove, if you are going to get any more relish for your meal, I will
be hanged if I am going to pay for it," said Jim with a laugh.

"Come on," said Berwick, paying no attention to Jim's persiflage.

Away they trudged across the sandy beach towards the funny little
restaurant of two cars where they had eaten the night before. Whatever
surprise the stout German may have felt at seeing them altogether soaked
and disguisedly dirty, and likewise alive, he showed none; he was
strictly business.

"Vell, gentlemans, and vat vill you haf this time?" he inquired.

"Everything you've got," said Berwick shortly.

"A salad and after dinner coffee for my friend," put in Jim, "and I will
take"--and here Jim enumerated a bill of fare that would have done
credit to two men.

"The same for me," said the engineer, imperturbably, when James had
finished his little spiel.

"I denk you gentlemens are hungry," said Herr Scheff, as he saw a chance
to make a big profit.

"Mein Gottness!" it was the voice of Frau Scheff, "mein kindlins, you
are drowned, poor tings, come, fix you fine and gute. You go ahead and
cook dem blenty," she commanded her husband as she saw a frown on his
forehead.

He knew that tone of voice and obeyed. The two comrades followed her
into the cozy bedroom.

"I vill haf to give you mein Herr's clothes, it's all I haf," and she
smiled broadly.

"Thank you, Frau Scheff," replied Jim; "while ours are getting dry it
will give us more room to eat."

"Aye, dot is a true wort," and she laughed with a jolly, shaking
heartiness.

It was comical beyond words when they made the change in clothing,
while Frau Scheff had gone to the front to help her husband to prepare
the meal for the two guests. The engineer, who was short, was almost
lost in the voluminous trousers of mein host, and could have easily tied
them around his neck, while another pair came to half mast on the
long-legged Jim, and were much too large so that they flapped like a
sail.

"Talk about dressing for dinner, John, you ought certainly to be
pleased," said Jim with a grin.

"No time for humor," declared the engineer; "I am too weak to laugh."

At this saying, he tripped in his newly acquired garments and fell full
length, and Jim over him. They were both so exhausted from laughing they
could scarcely get up. Jim was the first to arise and he helped up the
other "end man," for that was the character the two suggested to each
other. When they got in the quaint restaurant car, the proprietor
accepted their appearance with professional gravity, only growling under
his breath, "It's a wonder Lena didn't let them have mein best suit."

What a repast the two comrades found on the little round table in the
corner, covered with a snowy cloth! Two big thick tender steaks well
garnished with potato salad, the handiwork of Frau Lena Scheff, creamed
potatoes, huge cups of delicious coffee and a grand finale of broad,
sugar-frosted, German pancakes.

By the time this feast was finished their own garments were thoroughly
dry, and as lightning change artists they appeared in their own clothes,
renewed in body as well as in appearance.

"We have fed and slept," said Berwick, "and ought to be ready for the
next move."

"Herr Scheff," questioned Jim, "do you happen to know where we can get a
good rowboat?"

This gave to his comrade some indication of what the next move would be.

"Yah! Yah! mein freund," replied the German, who felt as gracious as it
was possible for him to feel. "You go down the beach haf a mile and you
find a fisherman and him got two very nice boats."

Thanking their German acquaintance, they spoke a hearty good-by to Frau
Scheff who bade them a cheerful and affectionate farewell, making them
promise to come to the restaurant when they needed food, clothing or
shelter. The two comrades started down the beach, continuing until they
came to a sheltered cove where, in a small, ship-shape hut, they found a
weazened old fisherman who regarded them with taciturn scrutiny when
they told him what they wanted.

"For a couple of days you want my boat? All right, I charge you five
dollars."

Jim readily agreed to this.

"We haven't got much sense," exclaimed the engineer suddenly. "If we are
going on a cruise we ought to have some provisions." Jim hit his skull a
sound rap.

"Dunkerhead," he exclaimed. "I tell you, John, when we select the boat
we will row up to Frau Scheff's and lay in a supply. That must have been
my original plan, but I forgot it," concluded Jim brazenly.

Berwick threw back his head and laughed heartily.

"There is no getting away from it, Jim, you have a good opinion of
yourself."

This gave Jim a certain shock as the expression of his face showed.

"I was only joshing," he said, and there was a slight sense of hurt in
his tones that Berwick was quick to recognize.

"That's all right, old chap," he said, "your head is level."

This straightened out, they went and took a look at the old sailor's
two boats in the cove. One was painted white with a red stripe, and the
other was as black as a Venetian Gondola.

"That's a beauty," exclaimed Jim enthusiastically, looking at the lines
of her, and he pointed to the black boat.

"She oughter be, I built her myself," said the old sailor, "and I know
somethin' about boats, too."

"Got speed?" ejaculated Jim.

"Enough to burn a streak across this bay, boy."

Jim laughed good-naturedly, and the old sailor was evidently pleased
with his appreciation.

CHAPTER XXIX

A REMINISCENCE

The bargain completed, the two comrades were about to board the craft
when the old sailor of the cove interposed.

"I reckon you ain't in any sort of a hurry. If you start across the bay
now before it gets plumb dark old Bill Broome is liable to ketch yer,"
and the aged fellow gave Jim a shrewd look from under his grizzled
eyebrows.

"I guess that he wouldn't really do us any damage," replied Jim, with an
assumed carelessness.

"I should think that you would have to look out for him, yourself," put
in the engineer; "he's just as likely as not to drop in on you sometime,
and take your two boats and such ballast as you have stowed away in your
cabin, that he might take a fancy to."

"Him," said the old sailor with indescribable contempt; "why, old Bill
wouldn't come within a mile of my cabin, unless he was drug here. I had
quite a set-to with him a few years ago, and since thet time he don't
even pass the time of day with me." He was quick to see that he had
roused the deep interest of his two visitors. "Come in to my cabin,
while I smoke a pipe," he continued, "and I'll tell yer about that
fracas between old Broome and myself."

"Certainly we will come in," said the engineer; "we are in no rush that
I know of."

"Suits me," agreed Jim tersely.

They entered the cabin through a low doorway that caused Jim to stoop
his proud crest as it were. The interior was snug and cozy with
brown-hued walls and wooden beams that gave the room the appearance of a
ship's cabin. A large lamp swung from the center of the ceiling gave a
tempered light through a green shade.

There were several nautical prints upon the wall, and in front of a
small stove, wherein glowed coals through its iron teeth, lay on a rug
of woven rags a huge yellow cat stretched out at full and comfortable
length. Everything was scrupulously neat about the place, and kept in
ship-shape condition. The old man seated himself in a hacked wooden
chair with semicircular arms and a green cushion. Jim took his place on
a sea-chest, once green but now much faded, and with heavy rope handles,
while the engineer occupied the other chair. After the sailor's
wrinkled old wife had brought in some coffee for his two guests, and he
had filled his short black pipe, he began his narrative of his once-time
scrap with Captain William Broome, of unpious memory.

"That was one of the most unusual jobs I ever tackled when I took
command of the _Storm King_ for J. J. Singleton."

"That's the famous mining man, who used to live in San Francisco,"
remarked John Berwick.

"The same fellow," continued the old sailor, "and in spite of his money
he had a lot of sensible ideas. You see, old 'J. J,' as he was known
hereabouts, had three sons, the oldest seventeen, and their mother being
dead for some years he brought 'em up according as he thought best. Had
'em work in one of his mines learning to run an engine and earning their
own money. The youngest was on a big cattle ranch that the old man owned
down in the southern part of the state.

"He told the boys that when they earned a certain amount they could put
it into a steam yacht and what was lacking he would make up. Maybe those
kids didn't work hard for some years until they had what was needed. I
had been in command of one of Singleton's coasting ships and the old
man picked me to take charge of the _Storm King_, which was the fool
name of the yacht that they invested in, but there was nothing the
matter with the boat herself.

"'Teach 'em navigating, Captain,' he says to me in his final
instructions, 'and give 'em a taste of the rope's end if they ain't
sharp to obey orders.'

"But shucks, I had no trouble with them boys, they weren't like rich
men's sons, but knew what hard work meant and could obey orders as well
as give 'em. The oldest one's name was John--about your size," pointing
to Jim, "but one of those sandy complected chaps, with white eyelashes
and cool, gray eyes and no end of grit. The other two named Sam and Joe,
were active, competent lads, and they had brought with them a friend off
the cattle ranch, whom they called 'Comanche,' and I want you to know
that boy was some shot with a revolver, rifle or cannon.

"Well, the second day out was where Captain Bill Broome put in an
appearance. He was a smuggler and cutthroat in those days, and did a
little kidnaping on the side."

"He hasn't reformed yet either," put in Jim.

"Not him," agreed the narrator; "he thought that he would make a rich
haul on this occasion if he could get hold of the three Singleton boys
and hold them for ransom. As soon as I saw the long, gray _Shark_, which
I was quick to recognize, and noticed how she hung on our course, I knew
what the game was and, as she had the speed on us, I saw that it was a
case of fight or surrender. I can tell you it wasn't a pleasant
situation for me. I felt my responsibility and I didn't want to face old
Singleton if anything happened to those boys. I told 'em exactly what we
was facing, and it would warm your heart to have seen the spirit they
showed.

"The oldest one declared that their father would never give up one cent
if they surrendered until their ship sank under 'em, and I guess the lad
was right. Now we had three cannon aboard, a long, black, six pounder
mounted aft, which the boys had named 'Black Tom,' and two smaller brass
cannon forward on the bridge deck on either side. I had grinned at these
guns when they were first taken aboard, considering that they were part
of a kid game, and said to the old man that I wasn't qualified to
command a man-of-war and that we might be able to trade the brass pieces
for an island to some chief in the south seas, but now I saw that they
might come in handy, and enable us to land a few kicks in old Bill's
side even if he got us later, as was almost certain, for he was sure to
have the range on us.

"I could see a long, wicked gun that the _Shark_ carried forward, and
there were three cannon on a side; these I could make out clearly
through my glass. 'I'll navigate the ship,' I said to John Singleton,
'and you fight her.'

"'Agreed to that, sir,' he answered, gripping my hand, and I was soon to
learn that he was no kid at the fighting game either. It was now about
eleven of a clear morning, with a smooth and slightly rolling sea; the
_Shark_ was drawing up slowly and steadily, and was about five miles
astern.

"'I reckon it will be an hour and a half before she gets within range,
Captain,' said John Singleton.

"'Just about that,' I replied, wondering how he had estimated it so
closely, but he was one of the most practical chaps I ever saw.

"That will give us time for a good sound feed," remarked John. 'But I
don't feel like eating, Jack,' protested his younger brother, Sam.

"'Sure you've got to eat, Sam,' replied John; 'this game isn't going to
be anything like as fierce as what you and I have faced in the mining
camp. Take my word for it, you won't be fit for anything unless you have
a square meal.' I couldn't help but admire the way in which the lad put
heart into his brothers, and I felt confident that he would more than
hold his end up when it came to the fighting. However, it seemed to me,
the contest could end only one way and as a forlorn hope, I steered
southwest on the chance of cutting across the course of one of the
Pacific steamers, but all I succeeded in raising was the sail of a
Borkentine low down to the south and a few points west.

"About half past two that afternoon the trouble began. The _Shark_ was
nearing the half-mile limit; a long, gray boat of iron, built for speed
and stripped of all superfluous tackle.

"'They are getting ready to show their teeth,' remarked John, pointing
to a group of three men in the bow.

"Besides the men in the bow of the _Shark_, there were several in the
waist leaning over the rail and sizing up the _Storm King_ with cold and
calculating eyes.

"'Let's give 'em a shot, John,' I heard Joe urge.

"'No hurry,' replied his brother; 'don't let them worry you into wasting
any ammunition.'

"In a few minutes John Singleton turned to me, 'could you turn her
course a few points to the north, Captain?' he asked.

"'Certainly,' I replied.

"'Thank you,' responded the lad, 'I've a plan and it won't take over
five minutes.'

"Then he and his friend, Comanche, lowered one of the ship's boats on
the starboard side, where it was sheltered from the sight of the enemy
by the deck cabins just abaft the midships. In this boat were two
rifles, heavily loaded and ready for action. What the boy's scheme was I
did not foresee but it was to develop a short time later.

"Upon the quarter deck of the _Shark_ paced the figure of Captain
Broome, with his long, swinging gorilla-like arms. Suddenly he stopped,
put his hand to his mouth and shouted an order to the men in the bow of
the ship. Then came the quick move of one of the men. A flash leaped
from the mouth of the forward gun, a dull detonation, and a white cloud
of smoke curled back over the bow of the _Shark_, while the shell
plunged into the water directly in front of our prow.

"'That's for us to heave to,' cried John; 'give him our answer,
Comanche, and give it to him hard!'

"Comanche obeyed with belligerent willingness, and with an accuracy of
aim that was utterly surprising to old Bill Broome, for the round shot
struck his boat amidship, and it fell back into the water. The distance
was too great to do execution, but a yell of triumph went up from the
boys on the deck of the _Storm King_.

"'Just a little higher next time,' cried Jack Singleton; 'sweep the
rascal's decks for him.'

"It was good advice and now the fight was on, and it was like a real
naval engagement, with the constant bark of the guns, the heavy clouds
of white sulphurous smoke rolling over the quiet sea between the
combatants, and the thrusting flames from the mouths of the guns
flashing into the smoke. But the fire of the enemy was becoming more
accurate and deadly, and it was a question of only a few minutes before
a well-directed shot would completely disable us.

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