"That cell?" observed Sir Charles. "Then that is--"

"The convict I was telling you about! The 'Pet of 'Frisco.' The 'Pride
of Golden Gate.'"

* * * * *




CHAPTER II

A MESSAGE TO THE ADMIRALTY


The following night, Captain Macpherson in his cabin, rolled up
carefully the chart he had been scanning, deposited it in a copper
cylinder and drew from his pocket a small pipe. As he filled and lighted
it, exhaling the smoke of the black weed and leaning more comfortably
back in his low, swinging chair, the expression of his iron countenance
exhibited, in the slightest degree, that solace which comes from the
nicotine. Occasionally, however, he would hold his pipe away from his
mouth, to pause and listen. The weather had turned nasty again; above,
the wind sounded loudly. Now it descended on the ship like a
fierce-scolding virago, then rushed on with wild, shrieking dissonance.
The _Lord Nelson_ minded not, but continued steadily on her way.

Her captain emptied his pipe, glanced toward his bunk and started to
take off his coat. Human nature has its limit; he had passed many
sleepless nights and now felt entitled to a brief respite, especially as