Not a sail was visible, nor the faintest indication of smoke in all that stainless blue, sweeping in a great arc from the northern to the southern limits of visibility.
No one was present to watch Ginnell and what he was about to do. No one save God and the sea gulls--for Chinese don’t count.
“Hello!” answered Harman, from below. “Whacher want?”
“It’s about the Bank of California I want to speak to you,” replied Ginnell.
Harman’s round and astonished face appeared at the foot of the ladder.
“Bank of California?” said he. “What the blazes do you mean, Pat Ginnell?”
“Why, you said you’d put me share of the salvage in the Bank of California, didn’t you?” replied Ginnell. “Well, I just want to say I’m agreeable to your proposal--and will you be plazed to give the manager me love when you see him?”
With that he shut the hatch, fastening it securely and prisoning the two men below, whose voices came now bearing indications of language enough, one might fancy, to lift the deck. He knew it would take them a day’s hard work to break out, and maybe two. Bad as Ginnell might be, he was not a murderer, and he reckoned their chances were excellent considering the provisions and water they had, their own energies, and the drift of the current, which would take them close up to Santa Catalina.
He also reckoned that they would give him no trouble in the way of pursuit, for he had literally made them a present of the _Heart of Ireland_.
Having satisfied himself that they were well and securely held, he sent the whaleboat off to the _Tamalpais_, laden with the crew’s belongings, consisting of all sorts of quaint boxes and mats. This was managed in one journey; the boat came back for him, and, in less than an hour from the start of the business, he found himself standing on the deck of the _Tamalpais_, all the crew transferred, the fellows hauling on the halyards, Chopstick Charlie at the helm, and a good schooner, with a cargo worth many thousands of dollars, underfoot.
He turned to have a look at the compass and a word with the steersman before going below.
Down below he had a complete turnout of the Captain’s cabin, and found the log for which Harman had hunted in vain; it had got down between the bunk bedding and the panelling, and he brought it into the main cabin, and there, seated at the table, he pored over it, breathing hard and following the passages with his horny thumb.