“Santa Cruz!” ’Frisco Kid cried, “and no chance of being wrecked in the surf!”

“Then the safe is safe?” Joe queried.

“Safe!  I should say so.  It ain’t much of a sheltered harbor for large vessels, but with this breeze we ’ll run right up the mouth of the San Lorenzo River.  Then there ’s a little lake like, and a boat-house.  Water smooth as glass and hardly over your head.  You see, I was down here once before, with Red Nelson.  Come on.  We ’ll be in in time for breakfast.”

Bringing to light some spare coils of rope from the lockers, he put a clove-hitch on the standing part of the sea-anchor hawser, and carried the new running-line aft, making it fast to the stern bitts.  Then he cast off from the forward bitts.  The Dazzler swung off into the trough, completed the evolution, and pointed her nose toward shore.  A couple of spare oars from below, and as many water-soaked blankets, sufficed to make a jury-mast and sail.  When this was in place, Joe cast loose from the wreckage, which was now towing astern, while ’Frisco Kid took the tiller.

CHAPTER XXI

JOE AND HIS FATHER

“How ’s that?” cried ’Frisco Kid, as he finished making the Dazzler fast fore and aft, and sat down on the stringpiece of the tiny wharf.  “What ’ll we do next, captain?”

Joe looked up in quick surprise.  “Why—­I—­what ’s the matter?”

“Well, ain’t you captain now?  Have n’t we reached land?  I ’m crew from now on, ain’t I?  What ’s your orders?”

Joe caught the spirit of it.  “Pipe all hands for breakfast—­that is—­wait a minute.”

Diving below, he possessed himself of the money he had stowed away in his bundle when he came aboard.  Then he locked the cabin door, and they went uptown in search of a restaurant.  Over the breakfast Joe planned the next move, and, when they had done, communicated it to ’Frisco Kid.

In response to his inquiry, the cashier told him when the morning train started for San Francisco.  He glanced at the clock.

“Just time to catch it,” he said to ’Frisco Kid.  “Keep the cabin doors locked, and don’t let anybody come aboard.  Here ’s money.  Eat at the restaurants.  Dry your blankets and sleep in the cockpit.  I ’ll be back to-morrow.  And don’t let anybody into that cabin.  Good-by.”

With a hasty hand-grip, he sped down the street to the depot.  The conductor looked at him with surprise when he punched his ticket.  And well he might, for it was not the custom of his passengers to travel in sea-boots and sou’westers.  But Joe did not mind.  He did not even notice.  He had bought a paper and was absorbed in its contents.  Before long his eyes caught an interesting paragraph: 

  SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN LOST