“Ah, you see! you see!” French Pete pointed astern.

The sloop-yacht had been afraid to venture it, and was skirting back and forth on the inner edge of the bar.  The chase was over.  A pilot-boat, running for shelter from the coming storm, flew by them like a frightened bird, passing the steamer as though the latter were standing still.

Half an hour later the Dazzler sped beyond the last smoking sea and was sliding up and down on the long Pacific swell.  The wind had increased its velocity and necessitated a reefing down of jib and mainsail.  Then they laid off again, full and free on the starboard tack, for the Farralones, thirty miles away.  By the time breakfast was cooked and eaten they picked up the Reindeer, which was hove to and working offshore to the south and west.  The wheel was lashed down, and there was not a soul on deck.

French Pete complained bitterly against such recklessness.  “Dat is ze one fault of Red Nelson.  He no care.  He is afraid of not’ing.  Some day he will die, oh, so vaire queeck!  I know he will.”

Three times they circled about the Reindeer, running under her weather quarter and shouting in chorus, before they brought anybody on deck.  Sail was then made at once, and together the two cockle-shells plunged away into the vastness of the Pacific.  This was necessary, as ’Frisco Kid informed Joe, in order to have an offing before the whole fury of the storm broke upon them.  Otherwise they would be driven on the lee shore of the California coast.  Grub and water, he said, could be obtained by running into the land when fine weather came.  He congratulated Joe upon the fact that he was not seasick, which circumstance likewise brought praise from French Pete and put him in better humor with his mutinous young sailor.

“I ’ll tell you what we ’ll do,” ’Frisco Kid whispered, while cooking dinner.  “To-night we ’ll drag French Pete down—­”

“Drag French Pete down!”

“Yes, and tie him up good and snug, as soon as it gets dark; then put out the lights and make a run for land; get to port anyway, anywhere, just so long as we shake loose from Red Nelson.”

“Yes,” Joe deliberated; “that would be all right—­if I could do it alone.  But as for asking you to help me—­why, that would be treason to French Pete.”

“That ’s what I ’m coming to.  I ’ll help you if you promise me a few things.  French Pete took me aboard when I ran away from the ‘refuge,’ when I was starving and had no place to go, and I just can’t repay him for that by sending him to jail.  ’T would n’t be square.  Your father would n’t have you break your word, would he?”

“No; of course not.”  Joe knew how sacredly his father held his word of honor.

“Then you must promise, and your father must see it carried out, not to press any charge against French Pete.”

“All right.  And now, what about yourself?  You can’t very well expect to go away with him again on the Dazzler!”