e century and the waters of San Francisco Bay would permit. Spider had
already agreed to sail with me as my crew of one, and, also, as cook
while I did the deck work. We would outfit our grub and water in the
morning, hoist the big mainsail (which was a bigger piece of canvas than
any I had ever sailed under), and beat our way out the estuary on the
first of the seabreeze and the last of the ebb. Then we would slack
sheets, and on the first of the flood run down the bay to the Asparagus
Islands, where we would anchor miles off shore. And at last my dream
would be realised: I would sleep upon the water. And next morning I
would wake upon the water; and thereafter all my days and nights would be
on the water.

And the Queen asked me to row her ashore in my skiff, when at sunset
French Frank prepared to take his guests ashore. Nor did I catch the
significance of his abrupt change of plan when he turned the task of
rowing his skiff over to Whisky Bob, himself remaining on board the
sloop. Nor did I understand Spider's grinning side-remark to me: "Gee!
There's nothin' slow about YOU." How could it possibly enter my boy's
head that a grizzled man of fifty should be jealous of me?

CHAPTER VIII

We met by appointment, early Monday morning, to complete the deal, in
Johnny Heinhold's "Last Chance "--a saloon, of course, for the
transactions of men. I paid the money over, received the bill of sale,
and French Frank treated. This struck me as an evident custom, and a
logical one--the seller, who receives, the money, to wet a piece of it in
the establishment where the trade was consummated. But, to my surprise,
French Frank treated the house. He and I drank, which seemed just; but
why should Johnny Heinhold, who owned the saloon and waited behind the
bar, be invited to drink? I figured it immediately that he made a profit
on the very drink he drank. I could, in a way, considering that they
were friends and shipmates, understand Spider and Whisky Bob being asked
to drink; but why should the longshoremen, Bill Kelley and Soup Kennedy,
be asked?

Then there was Pat, the Queen's brother, making a total of eight of us.
It was early morning, and all ordered whisky. What could I do, here in
this company of big men, all drinking whisky? "Whisky," I said, with the
careless air of one who had said it a thousand times. And such whisky! I
tossed it down. A-r-r-r-gh! I can taste it yet.

And I was appalled at the pr