Chapter IV: Buffeted

"I don't know how you feel, chief," remarked Jim, when the two were out on the street again, "but it strikes me that, as we have something of a busy day ahead of us, and don't know just where we shall bring up, it wouldn't be a bad plan to make sure of some lunch now."

"I don't see any objection to it," replied the engineer.

"Didn't think you would," answered Jim with a laugh. "Never knew you to refuse a meal yet. If I remember rightly there's a restaurant just around the corner where we can get something to eat and get a chance to map out our plans. The cooking isn't quite up to the Delmonico standard, but it is good and there is plenty of it."

"Well, that means there's enough of it such as it is," said the engineer, "but I guess I can stand it if you can. Lead on, Jim."

Jim led the way around the corner, not, however, without casting a glance back and walking for several doors past the place he had spoken of. Then, after looking about him, he retraced his steps and entered the restaurant, which was an unpretentious place on a side street.

"There's a table over there," he said, indicating one in the rear of the room, "that will suit us. We can see all who come in and won't be conspicuous ourselves."

"What's all this mystery, Jim?" asked the engineer, when they had taken their seats and given their order.

"I have a feeling that that Mexican imp of deformity, Manuel, isn't far away, and we can't afford to take any chances."

"You are right there, Jim," responded Berwick heartily. "That chap gives me the shivers. He's more like a snake than a man."

"That's just it. He's so confoundedly slippery, it almost seems that you never can get a hold on him, and if you did, what can one do with such a miserably deformed body? Ugh!"

"One never feels easy when he's anywhere about," admitted Berwick.

Jim made no further comment, but he was evidently thinking deeply.

"The next thing to do," began Jim, when the meal had been served and the waiter gone to attend to other duties, "is to see if we can get a ship--"

"And follow them," put in the engineer.

"I'd like to get there ahead of them if we could."

"If we only knew where the place was."

"Oh, I know that," said Jim quietly.

"You do!" exclaimed the engineer in astonishment. "Where is it?"

"San Matteo Bay--"

"San Matteo. Where is that?"

"About seventy-five miles down the coast."

"How did you find it out?"

"Mr. Reynolds told me."

"Mr. Reynolds!" echoed the engineer, "When?"

"When we were there," replied Jim laughing at the look of astonishment on his companion's face. "You remember that he told us that the Senor had gone into the northern part of the State."

"But you just said that San Matteo was 'down' the coast."

"Of course," responded Jim, a trifle impatiently. "Don't you see that he wanted me to think that he went the other way from what he did?"

"I see. Then when he said he went north--"

"It was then," broke in Jim, "that I happened to catch a glimpse of a paper on his desk with a name on it. I wouldn't have noticed it only for his anxiety to cover it up when I was standing there, and I just caught this much--'San Mat--'"

"Why do you think it meant San Matteo?"

"Because San Matteo is just the place that would suit Broome for his purpose. There is scarcely anyone living around there. It's about three or four days' journey by land and about two by water, so Broome can give the Senor a couple of days start and see if he makes any attempt to evade the conditions, and still be there to meet him on time."

"I see, you have a long head, Jim, but what is to prevent Broome from getting the ransom and still keeping the girl?"

"You and I."

"Humph!" returned the engineer, "that looks to me like a pretty big contract we are taking up."

"It is," responded Jim, "but we have got to carry it through."

"It looks to me," went on the engineer, "as if we were going to be pretty busy for the next few days."

"And the sooner we get started, the better," added Jim.

Leaving the restaurant, Jim and the chief engineer walked leisurely to the corner, where they stood for a few minutes, ostensibly watching the hurrying crowd of people on the street, but nevertheless keeping a watchful eye for anyone who might be dogging their footsteps.

"Seen anything of that imp of darkness?" asked the engineer.

"No," replied Jim, "he isn't anywhere in sight, but I don't believe he is very far away."

"Can't we shake him off some way?"

"That's rather doubtful, but we can lead him a merry chase."

"That's something. What's the plan?"

"We will walk down the street," explained Jim, "as if we had no particular purpose in view, then we will separate, and you will go one way and I the other. Then, unless, as Tom says, 'he is two gintlemen in wan,' and can go both ways, he won't know which one of us to follow."

"Trust him for that," said the chief engineer, "he's sure to follow you."

"So much the better," returned Jim. "I think I'll manage to keep him busy for the rest of the afternoon."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You can go down to the maritime exchange, and see if you can learn of something in the way of a yacht that will serve us until we can get the Sea Eagle back. One to buy or hire, whichever is offered. You know what we want."

"All right. I guess I can locate something."

"Meantime," continued Jim, "I will go up the bay and look over anything in the harbor. That will puzzle Manuel if he is after me."

They separated, and the engineer sprang into a passing street car, and with a "so long, Jim," disappeared. Jim reached the wharves through another street, secured a rowboat and started on his quest, which occupied his time for several hours.

It was a little after the appointed time when Jim arrived at the designated meeting place coming from across the bay in his boat.

"Call this five o'clock?" grumbled the engineer, when he joined him a moment later. "I was beginning to think that gorilla Broome had gobbled you at last. I have been hanging around for the last hour waiting for you. Well, what luck?"

"Found some makeshifts, but not just what I want. How was it with you?"

"Failed entirely."

"Well, get into the boat," directed Jim, "and we will talk things over as we go along."

"Where are you going now?"

"Out to take a look for the Sea Eagle, and see if she is still there."

"You haven't told me what you found," persisted Berwick.

"One thing I am sure of, I lost that fellow Manuel."

"See anything of him?"

"Not a thing. Maybe he was after you instead of me."

"Heaven forbid," ejaculated Berwick, with a half glance backward.

"So you did not find a ship for us?" repeated Jim.

"There doesn't seem to be anything in port that we can get. Just missed getting one, though. Martinex sold a ship this morning that would have just suited us."

"That's tough," sighed Jim. "We have got to have one before Broome gets away."

"Don't know where you are going to get it."

"Neither do I," returned Jim. "But we are like the boy and the hedgehog, 'We have just got to get one.'"

By this time they had come within sight of where the Sea Eagle lay riding quietly at her anchor, but not going close enough to be recognized by any on board who might be on the watch.

"There isn't any signs of their getting ready to sail," decided Jim, after a few moments study of the yacht. "So I think we are safe for another day."

"There is something that would suit us to a T," remarked Berwick on their way back, indicating a trim looking schooner-rigged yacht. "She's a beauty," he observed enthusiastically.

The yacht seemed to rest as lightly upon the water as a sea bird. Long, low, with not too much freeboard, it rose and fell on the waves, tugging at the anchor chains as though impatient to slip her leash and bound away on her course. It was painted in a pale metallic yellow that glittered in the rays of the setting sun like gold.

"The owner of that boat won't hire her," declared Berwick. "I bet he thinks more of her than he does of his wife."

"I don't believe he has one," declared Jim. "Almost as good as the Sea Eagle, isn't she?"--which was high praise from Jim. "Perhaps we could hire her. We might take a look at her."

"The Storm King!" he exclaimed, when they came near enough to read the name on the bow. "Why that is the boat the old captain told us about when he had the brush with Broome."

"_Brush_ with _Broome_ is good," said Berwick, with a laugh, "but I thought he said that boat was in the South Seas."

"Must have come in. The captain said Singleton owned her. Maybe he would like to charter her. We'll try him anyhow. Storm King, ahoy!" hailed Jim pulling up to the side of the yacht.

"Boat ahoy," answered a sailor on deck.

"Is the captain on board?" asked Jim.

"D'ye mean Captain Wilkins?"

"I guess yes," answered Jim, "I would like to speak to him."

"I admire your nerve, Jim," said Berwick, in an undertone.

"Coming on board, sir?" asked the sailor, making ready to heave a small line.

"Yes," returned Jim, "heave away."

Catching the line the sailor had thrown, Jim and Berwick climbed the gangway ladder to the deck where they were met by Captain Wilkins, a grizzled old seaman, attired in an undress uniform. He was tall, stoutly built, with an alert air about him that impressed both Jim and Berwick favorably at the start.

"How do you do, gentlemen?" The captain greeted them with punctilious politeness, "glad to meet you."

"And we are very glad to meet you, Captain Wilkins," returned Jim. "This is a fine boat you have."

"Isn't she," returned the captain with enthusiasm. "There was never a better come out of a shipyard. Look at her lines. Why she sets on the water like a duck. And roomy, too. She ain't one of the slim waisted kind where you don't have room to turn around. Why, Lord love you, lads, ye could be no more comfortable if you put up at the Palace Hotel."

"You're right there, captain," agreed Berwick, "I never saw a prettier boat. I can see you carry quite an armament."

"Oh, that was for use in the South Seas. She was engaged in trade down there, and we used to have a brush occasionally with the pirates. Not of late, however, for they learned to leave her alone."

"Do you own her?" asked Jim.

"Haven't such good luck. Wish I did. No, she belongs to a professor with a long name, though I'm blessed if I know what he's going to do with her. Just bought her a couple of months ago, and fixed her all up. Overhauled the hull and rigging, put in new tackle and fixed up the engines as good as new."

"Do you think he would sell her?" asked Jim.

"Not him," responded the captain. "He has just got her fixed to suit him. She's fit for a queen now. Just come below and take a look around."

Accepting the invitation, Jim and Berwick went below and inspected the staterooms and found that they fully justified the captain's praise.

"Ye gods and little fishes!" exclaimed Berwick, "it looks more like a lady's boudoir than a ship's cabin."

"I fancy you've hit it, don't you know," agreed the captain, "I kind of fancy that he's going off on a bridal tour."

"Where is the professor now?" asked Jim.

"He's off East somewhere," replied the captain. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's gone after the lady."

"Much obliged to you, captain," said Jim, when they had gone up on deck again, "I'm awfully sorry she can't be bought. I think she would have just suited us."

"You can't never tell," observed the captain, philosophically, when they were leaving, "you might hunt up the perfesser when he gets back. Perhaps the lady might change her mind. Such things have happened."

"So I have learned," laughed Berwick. "Well, goodbye, captain. We may act on your advice."