“Dat ’s right,” French Pete said approvingly.  “You learn queeck.  Vaire soon you know how.”

Joe grinned ruefully and wished it was dinner-time.  Now and then, when a light dredge was hauled, the boys managed to catch breath and say a couple of words.

“That ’s Asparagus Island,” ’Frisco Kid said, indicating the shore.  “At least, that ’s what the fishermen and scow-sailors call it.  The people who live there call it Bay Farm Island.”  He pointed more to the right.  “And over there is San Leandro.  You can’t see it, but it ’s there.”

“Ever been there?” Joe asked.

’Frisco Kid nodded his head and signed to him to help heave in the starboard dredge.

“These are what they call the deserted beds,” he said again.  “Nobody owns them, so the oyster pirates come down and make a bluff at working them.”

“Why a bluff?”

“’Cause they ’re pirates, that ’s why, and because there ’s more money in raiding the private beds.”

He made a sweeping gesture toward the east and southeast.  “The private beds are over yonder, and if it don’t storm the whole fleet ‘ll be raidin’ ’em to-night.”

“And if it does storm?” Joe asked.

“Why, we won’t raid them, and French Pete ’ll be mad, that ’s all.  He always hates being put out by the weather.  But it don’t look like lettin’ up, and this is the worst possible shore in a sou’wester.  Pete may try to hang on, but it ’s best to get out before she howls.”

At first it did seem as though the weather were growing better.  The stiff southwest wind dropped perceptibly, and by noon, when they went to anchor for dinner, the sun was breaking fitfully through the clouds.

“That ’s all right,” ’Frisco Kid said prophetically.  “But I ain’t been on the bay for nothing.  She ‘s just gettin’ ready to let us have it good an’ hard.”

“I t’ink you ’re right, Kid,” French Pete agreed; “but ze Dazzler hang on all ze same.  Last-a time she run away, an’ fine night come.  Dis time she run not away.  Eh?  Vaire good.”

CHAPTER XV

GOOD SAILORS IN A WILD ANCHORAGE

All afternoon the Dazzler pitched and rolled at her anchorage, and as evening drew on the wind deceitfully eased down.  This, and the example set by French Pete, encouraged the rest of the oyster-boats to attempt to ride out the night; but they looked carefully to their moorings and put out spare anchors.

French Pete ordered the two boys into the skiff, and, at the imminent risk of swamping, they carried out a second anchor, at nearly right angles to the first one, and dropped it over.  French Pete then ran out a great quantity of chain and rope, so that the Dazzler dropped back a hundred feet or more, where she rode more easily.

It was a wild stretch of water which Joe looked upon from the shelter of the cockpit.  The oyster-beds were out in the open bay, utterly unprotected, and the wind, sweeping the water for a clean twelve miles, kicked up so tremendous a sea that at every moment it seemed as though the wallowing sloops would roll their masts overside.  Just before twilight a patch of sail sprang up to windward, and grew and grew until it resolved itself into the huge mainsail of the Reindeer.