s boat at the pier, he first goes to the office of the
ship-agent, and delivers the message entrusted to him.

After that, contracting with a truckman, he proceeds to the "Sailor's
Home," releases his _impedimenta_, and starts back to embark them in his
boat. But not before giving the bar-keeper, as also the Boniface, of
that establishment, a bit of his mind.

Spreading before their eyes the crisp hundred pound note, which as yet
he has not needed to break, he says tauntingly:

"Take a squint at that, ye land-lubbers! There's British money for ye.
An' tho' it be but a bit o' paper it's worth more than your gold-dross,
dollar for dollar. How'd ye like to lay your ugly claws on't! Ah!
you're a pair of the most dastardly shore-sharks I've met in all my
cruzins; but ye'll never have Harry Blew in your grups again."

Saying this, he thrusts the bank-note back into his pocket; then paying
them a last reverence with mock-politeness, and giving a twitch of his
trousers, he starts after the truckman, already _en route_ with his kit.

In accordance with the wishes of Captain Lantanas, he stays a little
longer in the town, trying to pick up sailors. There are plenty of
these sauntering along the streets and lounging at the doors of
drinking-saloons.

But even double wages will not tempt them to abandon their free-and-easy
life; and the _Condor's_ first officer is forced to the conclusion, that
he must return to the ship _solus_.

Assisted by the truckman, he gets his traps into the gig; and is about
to step in himself, when his eye chances to turn upon the _Crusader_.
There he sees something to surprise him--the _Blue-Peter_. The frigate
has out signals for sailing! and he wonders at this; for there was no
word of it when he was aboard. He knew, as all the others, that she was
to sail soon--it might be in a day or two. But not as the signal
indicates,--almost immediately!

While conjecturing what may be the cause of such hasty departure, he
sees something that partly explains it. Three or four cables' length
from the frigate is another ship, over whose taffrail floats the flag of
England. At a glance, the ex-man-o'-war's man can tell her to be a
corvette; at the same time recalling what, the night before, he has
heard upon the frigate: that the coming of the corvette would be the
signal for the _Crusader's_ sailing.

While his heart warms to the flag thus doubly displayed in the harbour
of San Francisco, it is